Later That Night

Captain for a Day

When Smoker lends you his giant Marine coat to keep warm, you accidentally become G-5's newest "Vice Admiral" for the day — much to his horror (and secret amusement).

smoker x gn! reader | ONE SHOT Tags: fluff, sfw, G-5 chaos a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc word count: 938

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

You should have known better than to complain about being cold on a Marine base, of all places.

Especially near a certain grumpy, cigar-smoking, Vice Admiral.

It was a chilly morning on G-5 base, and you were standing awkwardly near the training yard, your arms wrapped around yourself. You hadn’t realized just how thin your jacket was until the cold ocean wind decided to slap you right in the soul.

"Cold?" Smoker's gruff voice rumbled from behind you.

You turned to find him standing there, arms crossed, two cigars burning away like little smoke chimneys.

"I'm fine," you said, teeth chattering audibly.

Smoker narrowed his eyes at you for exactly 0.2 seconds before shrugging off the massive white Marine coat draped over his shoulders — you know, the one with the fuzzy collar, the gold epaulets, the one that absolutely screamed Important Marine Guy.

Before you could protest, he was tossing it over your head like a blanket.

"Don't argue," he muttered, already turning away like it was no big deal.

You froze under the weight of the coat. It was huge. It practically swallowed you alive. The hem almost touched the ground. You could barely peek out from under the fluffy collar.

You stared after Smoker’s retreating back, then tugged the coat tighter around yourself.

Warm. Very warm.

You weren’t going to complain.

The first salute happened thirty seconds later.

You were shuffling across the training yard, trying not to trip over the coat, when a young Marine spotted you.

"VICE ADMIRAL, SIR!" he barked, snapping to a crisp salute so fast he almost gave himself whiplash.

You blinked at him. "Uh… what?"

The Marine’s face turned beet red when he got a closer look at your very not-Smoker face, but he'd already committed. He stayed frozen in salute until you awkwardly shuffled away, half-waving.

Maybe that was just one guy, you thought, chuckling to yourself. No big deal.

It was not one guy.

Within an hour, you had been saluted by no less than twenty Marines.

Two mistook you for some "new Vice Admiral from Headquarters" and started escorting you around the base like bodyguards.

One extremely nervous ensign offered you his lunch.

Another, somehow, asked if you needed a "cannon fired in your honor."

You tried to explain that you were just borrowing the coat.

You really tried.

But the moment you said "I'm just—", some recruit would shout "SIR, YES SIR!" and start sprinting laps around the yard to "impress" you.

At one point, you caught a glimpse of yourself reflected in a window.

The Marine coat — slightly too big, regal-looking, with the Justice kanji on the back — Your slightly confused but determined expression — The way you nodded politely whenever someone yelled "Vice Admiral!" —

You looked like a tiny, lost, but somehow commanding officer.

You laughed until you almost collapsed.

The situation escalated — fast.

At lunchtime, Marines cleared an entire table for you at the mess hall.

They nervously placed a "Reserved for Vice Admiral" sign (hastily made with a napkin and a fork) in front of you.

You tried to slip away quietly, but every step you took, another Marine would open a door, bow, or panic because "the Vice Admiral needs more soup!"

By the time you escaped to the courtyard, you were slightly dizzy from all the awkward attention.

This is getting ridiculous… you thought.

You needed to find Smoker and give his damn coat back before this turned into a full-blown military parade.

You found Smoker near the docks, yelling at Tashigi.

He noticed you instantly — hard not to, considering you were basically wearing his entire upper wardrobe — and his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"You," he growled, stalking over.

You gulped. "Smoker, I can explain—"

Before you could say more, two Marines sprinted past, saluting so hard their hats flew off.

"VICE ADMIRAL! BASE SECURITY IS DOUBLE-TIGHTENED AS REQUESTED, SIR!" one of them screamed.

"I… didn't request that?" you said weakly.

Smoker stared at the chaotic scene unfolding around you. Marines were tripping over themselves trying to impress you. Someone started unfurling a "WELCOME, HERO OF THE SEAS" banner.

Another Marine dropped a crate of cannonballs at your feet, panting, "For your personal arsenal, sir!"

"… What the hell," Smoker muttered under his breath, smoke billowing furiously.

You gave him a sheepish little smile from under the fluffy collar.

"Maybe your coat's a little…too recognizable," you offered.

Smoker dragged a hand down his face, groaning.

Tashigi tried very hard not to laugh — she failed.

"You’re returning the coat," Smoker grunted five minutes later, practically yanking it off you himself. (Gently though. Very gently.)

"Aw, but it’s so warm," you teased, shivering dramatically once it was gone.

He huffed and — to your complete surprise — slung an arm around your shoulders to pull you close to his side, sharing body heat like it was no big deal.

"If you keep causing scenes like that, I'll have to promote you," he muttered gruffly.

You choked on your own breath. "Promote?"

Smoker shrugged, totally deadpan. "Captain, minimum. Maybe Commodore. Depends how many idiots you can wrangle."

You grinned up at him. "Does being Vice Admiral's favorite qualify me?"

His lips twitched, just slightly.

"Maybe."

.

.

Rumor traveled so fast through G-5 that by sunset, the base was convinced that Smoker was secretly training you to be his "successor."

You and Smoker both refused to confirm or deny it.

(Privately, Smoker started carrying a second coat around. "In case you get cold again," he said. Totally deadpan. Totally not flustered.)

(You kept stealing it anyway.)

Hi! Could you write about katakuri and his childhood sweetheart. Like they were pretty close friends since childhood, she has been friends with him from when he didn't used to cover his face. But they never said 'I love you' to each other. And now that they've grown up, Big mom has asked(ordered) the reader to marry Cracker/Oven. She maybe confesses her love to katakuri, but him being the perfect son he is, doesn't want to disobey his mom, so he let the marriage happen.

I know requests are off, but if you like the idea, please do write about it, idc even if it takes like a month or two. I'm absolutely in love with your writing.

oohh! that is good! tis not much but, hope u like this!

The Sweetness We Never Tasted

You’ve loved Katakuri since you were kids. But Big Mom has chosen another path for you—and he won’t fight her to stop it.

katakuri x reader

tags: sfw, arranged marriage, childhood sweethearts, angst

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff cringe, and akward

word count: 1.1k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The air in Totto Land always smelled faintly of sugar, but today it was too sweet—so sweet it made your stomach twist.

You stood in the rose garden behind the Chateau, the very place where you and Katakuri used to sneak pastries as children, hiding behind the candy-cane columns and daring each other to steal more from the kitchen. Those days felt like dreams now—soft, distant, and a little too painful to look at directly.

And now, you were waiting for him.

You clenched your fists, heart pounding. He was late. Or maybe he was avoiding you.

No. He wouldn’t.

“(Y/N),” a deep voice rumbled behind you.

You turned.

Katakuri stood there, tall as ever, shadows cutting across his face from the low afternoon sun. His scarf was on, of course. He didn’t show his mouth anymore. Not to anyone.

Except you—once.

"You're late," you said, forcing a smile.

"I came as soon as I could."

There was always something different in his voice when he spoke to you. A softness hidden under the gravel. He glanced around before walking over to stand beside you, close enough that his arm nearly brushed yours. He didn’t touch. He never did. Not anymore.

"So..." You stared down at your boots, trying to summon the courage that had kept you alive in this family all these years. "Have you heard?"

He didn’t answer immediately. The silence dragged between you like the end of a rope—fraying, tension snapping strand by strand.

"Yes," he finally said. “Mama told me.”

You swallowed hard. “She wants me to marry Cracker.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t react. Only a subtle clenching of his jaw beneath the scarf gave him away.

“I didn’t think she’d do it,” you whispered. “I thought… I thought she’d at least ask me. Or you would. Before it got this far.”

Katakuri turned his face away, eyes focused on something in the distance. Maybe he was looking at the horizon. Maybe he just couldn’t bear to look at you.

“I’m not surprised,” he said. “It makes sense politically.”

You laughed bitterly. “Of course. Because that’s what marriage is in this family. Strategy.”

Another beat of silence. Your voice shook when you said his name.

“Katakuri.”

He looked at you now. Directly. It hurt.

“I need to know,” you said, barely above a whisper. “Did you ever feel it too?”

His shoulders tensed.

“When we were kids… when we were teens… when we’d sneak out after dinner to watch the stars from the rooftops… when you showed me your mouth and told me I was the only one you weren’t ashamed around… Did that mean nothing to you?”

You didn’t mean to cry, but the tears came anyway—quiet, burning down your cheeks.

“I always thought we’d have time,” you said. “That one day we’d stop pretending and actually say it. I waited for you to say it first. I waited for years.”

He took a step toward you. His hands twitched like he wanted to hold yours.

“I wanted to,” he said.

"Then why didn’t you?"

"Because I knew this would happen."

You blinked. “What?”

“I knew Mama would never allow it,” he said, voice low. “She doesn’t choose based on love. She chooses for power, for bloodlines, for strength. Cracker is a biscuit soldier commander—strong, obedient. You’ve always been one of her favorites. Of course she'd put you with someone she trusts.”

“But you’re her favorite too. More than Cracker. If you’d said something—if you’d just told her we wanted—”

“I couldn’t,” he cut in. “I’m not just her son, (Y/N). I’m her soldier. Her perfect creation. I do not defy her.”

You stared at him. “Not even for me?”

His silence was louder than any answer.

You stepped back like he’d slapped you. “You would’ve let me go without a word. Without knowing.”

“I thought it would be easier,” he said. “If you hated me. It would hurt less.”

You covered your mouth, choking on the sound that wanted to escape. “You coward.”

“I know.”

“I would’ve fought for you,” you said. “I would’ve burned everything down for you.”

“I know.”

You turned to leave. You didn’t want him to see you fall apart.

But his hand caught your wrist.

“(Y/N).”

You froze.

“I love you.”

Your breath hitched. You turned to face him again, slowly.

“What?”

He stepped closer. “I loved you then. I love you now. I’ll love you after the wedding, and I’ll hate myself every day for not stopping it.”

You stared at him, heart breaking in slow motion. “Then stop it.”

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Why?” Your voice cracked. “Why not fight for once? Why not just—”

“Because if I do, Mama will kill someone,” he said. “Maybe Cracker. Maybe you. Maybe one of your crewmates. You think she wouldn’t?”

Your voice died in your throat.

“I can’t risk your life,” he said. “I’d rather lose you than bury you.”

You collapsed into his arms without thinking, fists pounding against his chest.

“I hate you,” you sobbed. “I hate you for not loving me enough to try.”

He didn’t say anything. Just held you, trembling.

The embrace didn’t last long enough.

The wedding day arrived too quickly.

You wore the gown Mama picked. Something ridiculous and pastel with lace up to your chin and jewels that dug into your collarbones. Cracker looked pleased enough, though he kept grumbling about how annoying formal events were. He barely looked at you.

Your mind was elsewhere anyway.

Katakuri stood near the front, expression blank. You couldn’t read anything behind that scarf and those crimson eyes.

You were numb as the vows were spoken. Your lips moved, but they weren’t your words. When the crowd cheered, it felt like your ears had gone underwater.

Your heart stayed behind in that garden.

That night, you sat alone on the balcony while the festivities carried on below. Cracker was off getting drunk with Opera and Snack, bragging about how ‘lucky’ he was to get someone like you. You felt sick.

Behind you, the door creaked open.

You didn’t turn. You knew the footsteps.

“Shouldn’t you be with your husband?” Katakuri asked quietly.

You didn’t answer.

“I shouldn’t have come.”

“Then don’t stay.”

He hesitated. You could hear the tightness in his breath.

“Did you mean it?” you asked.

“Mean what?”

“When you said you love me.”

“Yes.”

“Do you still?”

“Yes.”

You turned to him. “Then why did you let them take me?”

He looked like he wanted to shatter.

“Because I thought I was strong,” he said. “But I’m just her puppet, (Y/N). We all are.”

You walked up to him, slowly.

“I would’ve run with you,” you said. “I would’ve left everything behind.”

He looked down at you. “You still could.”

“No,” you whispered. “Not anymore.”

You leaned up and kissed the scarf covering his mouth, just once.

Then walked past him, back into the room.

That night, Katakuri stood alone on the edge of the island, staring out at the moonlit sea.

He didn't cry.

But if he had, the ocean might’ve wept with him.

Hello, thank you so much for writing this story about Marco. I loved it. I've never read a good ending to the war. One of the best. You're a goddess.

hii~ thank uu sm! i really appreciate it!! im worried that its still missing some things but either way im glad u enjoyed it!

Marshall D. Teach

When he faced Ace and defeated him, he was ready to hand him over to the Navy. But Ace's sister appeared, saving him at the last minute. Ace was almost unconscious, but he recognized his sister

Blackbeard recognized the young woman. He began to laugh, inviting her to join his crew. Before Perl could finish his sentence, a Navy ship fired at the pirates' ship. The young woman placed her brother on her shoulder and escaped.

a/n: hope u like it!~

I Won't Leave You

He never ran from a fight, and you would never run from him.

Ace x Sister!Reader

tags: angst, sfw, near-death experience, hurt/comfort, happy ending, v!olence

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe

word count: 1.3k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The world smelled like blood, burning wood, and the sickening sweetness of betrayal.

You skidded to a halt at the edge of the clearing, heart hammering against your ribs as your eyes locked onto him — Ace — crumpled on the scorched deck, shirtless and broken under the heavy boot of Marshall D. Teach.

His skin was mottled with bruises, cuts, and blackened burns, the once-vibrant freckles on his shoulders drowned under smears of blood. His arms lay limp, wrists scorched raw from seastone cuffs. His chest, usually so strong and proud, rose and fell shallowly, each breath a struggle. He looked half-dead.

But it was the expression on his face that gutted you the most.

Even as Blackbeard sneered down at him, even as pain wracked his body, Ace’s jaw was clenched tight. His eyes, half-lidded but burning, glared up at his enemy with undying fury. He would never beg. He would never run.

“Ace...” you breathed, the name nearly crumbling in your mouth.

His head stirred weakly at the sound, barely lifting.

And then, he saw you.

A flicker — a raw, shattered light — flashed across his bloodshot eyes. His lips parted, like he wanted to call to you, to warn you, to tell you to run — but no sound came out. Only a broken, rasping cough as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

“Oh-ho?” Blackbeard rumbled, turning, grinning like a madman. His teeth gleamed in the firelight. “Zehahahaha! Well, well, look what we got here! If it ain't the little sister."

You didn’t move. Your fists clenched at your sides until your nails cut into your palms.

Ace struggled weakly. "Y/N… run… he's—"

"Quiet, Ace." You didn’t even glance at him. "You’ve done enough."

You remembered Ace as a boy, standing battered in front of you after a fight, a black eye blooming across his face, fists still raised even as the odds towered against him.

"I don't care if they're bigger," he had said, bloody-nosed but grinning. "I’ll never run away in a fight. Not when it matters!"

Your throat burned.

“You got guts, girlie,” Teach chuckled, raising a thick, calloused hand. “Y’know... you could join me. Family stickin' together, huh? You're wasted on that washed-up old man Whitebeard.”

You didn't answer. You didn't blink. Your entire world had narrowed down to the battered figure barely holding on at Blackbeard’s feet.

Ace tried to move again, a hoarse growl clawing up his throat. His body shuddered violently, trying to rise, trying to shield you even now — even while seastone sucked the life from his veins, even while blood poured from open wounds.

Tears blurred your vision, but you forced them down.

You were his sister. You were Portgas D. Ace’s sister. You would not break.

Teach's mouth twisted into something cruel. "Come now, girlie. Don’t be stupid. Join me, and maybe I won’t hand your brother here to the marines. Zehahahaha!"

Ace, barely conscious, bared his teeth in a snarl. “Don’t... don’t listen to him..." he rasped, voice shredded. "Run... idiot... run...”

He could barely even lift his head. And still, he tried to protect you.

You snapped.

A roar shattered the air — but it wasn’t you. It was the Marines.

Cannonfire screamed past overhead, splintering the already-ruined deck. Shouts erupted as marines flooded toward the island. Panic rippled through the pirates.

In the chaos, Blackbeard turned to bark orders at his crew — and you moved.

Faster than thought, you sprinted across the ruined planks, heart in your throat. Ace saw you — and tried, gods, he tried — to push himself up to shield you, but his body gave out, collapsing with a low, agonized sound.

You dropped to your knees beside him.

“Ace,” you gasped, hooking an arm under his shoulders. His body was terrifyingly hot and terrifyingly heavy — the deadweight of someone clinging to life by a thread. He smelled like smoke, salt, and blood.

“No... y-you can't... stay,” he mumbled against your shoulder, trying to shove you away weakly. “Run... don't... don’t die here.”

You pressed your forehead against his burning temple.

“Shut up, you idiot,” you whispered fiercely. “I’m not leaving you. Never.”

Somewhere behind you, Blackbeard roared your name.

You didn't look back. You didn’t hesitate.

Grunting under his weight, you heaved Ace onto your back, wrapping his arms over your shoulders. His seastone-cuffed wrists dangled heavily across your chest. His bare chest was slick with blood against your back. You could feel every stuttering breath he fought for.

Memories crashed into you — Ace at ten years old, hauling you out of a river when you couldn’t swim; Ace at fifteen, punching three grown men to defend your name; Ace at seventeen, bleeding and laughing after fighting an entire gang because they "looked at you wrong."

"As long as I can stand," he had grinned, split-lipped and proud, "I’ll always protect you!"

You gritted your teeth, blinking away tears.

"You saved me all those times," you whispered. "Now it’s my turn."

The ship rocked violently as another cannonball struck.

You bolted.

Bullets whistled past you. Pirates cursed and shoved. Blackbeard’s furious roars echoed behind you. You didn't dare look back — every ounce of your strength was focused on one thing: getting Ace out alive.

He groaned faintly against your back.

"Hang on," you gasped, stumbling through smoke and chaos. "Just a little further, Ace. Please."

His fingers twitched weakly against your chest — like he was trying to hold onto you.

Like he was trusting you.

You made it to the edge of the ship — a rope ladder dangling wildly where a smaller escape skiff bobbed below. It would be risky. The seas were rough, the navy ships were closing in, and you had Ace’s full weight on you.

But you had no choice.

You tightened your grip on his legs, whispered a shaky apology — and jumped.

The impact rattled your bones, but somehow, you landed half-right in the skiff. Ace tumbled limply into the bottom of the boat, coughing raggedly.

You scrambled up, grabbed the oars, and shoved off with all the strength you had left.

Gunshots peppered the waves around you. Blackbeard’s enraged bellow tore through the smoke.

But you didn’t stop.

Ace’s eyelids fluttered weakly as the sea breeze hit him, cooling his feverish skin. He turned his head slightly toward you.

"...thought I told you..." he croaked, voice barely a whisper, "...not to... run into fights..."

You let out a half-hysterical, half-relieved laugh, tears streaking your face.

"And I thought I told you not to be a suicidal idiot," you shot back, rowing faster. "Guess we both suck at listening."

Ace gave a breathy, broken chuckle — then winced sharply, clutching his side.

You dropped the oar immediately, sliding down beside him. You pressed trembling hands to his ribs, feeling the jagged, shallow breaths rattling through him.

"Stay with me, Ace," you whispered fiercely, pressing your forehead against his. "Stay awake. Please."

He was silent for a long moment.

Then, in the faintest, rawest voice:

"...'course... I'm not going anywhere..."

He smiled — small, bloodied, stubborn as hell — the same way he had when he was a kid, swearing he'd protect you from the whole damn world.

Your heart shattered — and healed — in the same beat.

You pulled him into your arms as gently as you could, cradling his battered body against your chest, feeling the heat of his skin, the faint but steady beat of his heart.

The navy ships shrank behind you. The gunfire faded. The sea rocked you both like a lullaby.

You were safe. You had him. You weren’t letting go.

Not now. Not ever.

Later, drifting under the stars in the quiet safety of night, Ace mumbled something against your shoulder:

"Hey... thanks for coming back for me..."

You smiled through your tears, kissing his sweat-damp hair.

"I always will," you whispered. "You're my brother, Ace."

He sighed, heavy with exhaustion, but peaceful now.

"Love you, sis..."

Your arms tightened around him, protecting, promising.

"I love you too, Ace."

The sea carried you onward — battered, bleeding, broken — but alive. Together.

You had survived. And you would never, ever leave each other behind.

Hello!! Please do a reader that has a relationship with shanks, they're like a admirable couple but one day Shanks cheated on the reader, and she said to shanks that she knows it from the very first that he was cheating on her ( unfortunately shanks has been cheating on her for so long now, and even though she knows what his been doing she still loves him. But, now she had enough). After they broke up, the reader left the red force. And, after 3 years, they meet again. But, she is now with another man's arm which is King of the beast pirates. Hehehe please make this, im begging you! 😭😭

hello! unfortunately requests are off atm since i have a pooling requests to make.

and also i alr made a similar one already which is this one , soo im sorry🥺🫶🏻

maybe i need a whole fic with luffy x reader married now... i'm not charging you, maybe i'm just in love with your writing

a/n: thank u <3 hope u like this~

Wait… Luffy’s WHAT?!

Luffy reunites with his childhood sweetheart, who also happens to be his secret spouse. The crew thought he was joking… until they weren’t laughing anymore.

LUFFY X GN!READER | ONE SHOT

tags: fluff, sfw, ooc, marriage, reader is opposite of luffy

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe

word count: 1.3k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The Thousand Sunny drifted through the final tunnel, water glistening against its protective bubble as Fishman Island came into view.

“WOAAAH!” Luffy yelled from the deck, eyes wide. “It’s so shiny!”

“I can’t believe it’s real!” Chopper spun around.

Robin smiled behind a hand. “The architecture here is said to be older than the Grand Line itself.”

“I heard the royal family is pretty generous,” Nami added. “If we play this smart, we could stock up for weeks.”

But Luffy? His mind was somewhere else entirely. Or rather, on someone.

He leaned against the rail, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“I wonder if they’re here…”

“LUFFY, GET BACK HERE, YOU CAN’T JUST–!”

“NAMI!, I SMELL MEEAAT!”

He was already gone. Sprinting like a man possessed through the bustling bubble streets of Fishman Island, eyes wide, tongue out, arms flailing in glee.

“Captain,” Robin said with a small smile, “seems excited.”

“He's always excited,” Zoro muttered, arms crossed. “But this time he’s extra stupid.”

Brook hummed thoughtfully. “Yohohoho, I wonder if the meat will marry him too.”

“Wait, did you say marry?” Usopp blinked. “Oh yeah! Didn’t Luffy say he was married once?”

“…Didn’t we all think he was joking?” Franky asked, brows raised.

“Yeah,” Chopper added with a little snort. “He said something like ‘I already got a wife, and they’re way stronger than all of you!’ and we just laughed.”

The crew exchanged glances.

“…You think he was serious?”

MEANWHILE.

Luffy skidded around the corner, bonking a coral lamp post with his forehead. “Ow–!”

“Still no sense of direction?”

He froze.

That voice.

He knew that voice like the back of his hand — or the taste of meat. Slowly, his wide eyes turned toward the source.

There, standing with arms crossed and an eyebrow raised, was you.

Stoic, calm, one eyebrow raised, and totally unamused as always.

“Y/N!!” Luffy beamed, bolting toward you. “Y/N Y/N Y/N! YOU'RE HERE!!”

Before you could scold him, he’d wrapped you in a tight hug that nearly knocked you back.

“Still a hugger as usual, huh?” you mumbled, eyes softening just a bit.

“Missed you! SHISHISHI,” he grinned into your shoulder.

“You saw me six months ago,” you said, deadpan.

“Yeah!, but that’s like…so long!!”

You sighed, though your hand was already resting on his back, grounding the chaotic ball of sunshine that had stolen your heart all those years ago.

“…You never change.”

FLASHBACK - Windmill Village

“You’re so noisy.”

“C’mon Y/N, let’s go punch that tree again!”

Putting your book down, you sat with your arms folded, watching as young Luffy jumped up and down with excitement, a stick in his hand like it was the strongest sword in the world.

“We’ll get stronger together! Then we’ll go on adventures and eat meat every day!”

You blinked. “That’s your dream?”

“Yup! What’s yours?”

You shrugged. “I don’t have one.”

“Then make one with me!”

You raised an eyebrow. “Make a dream with you?”

He nodded seriously. “We can share. Like best friends. Or… like married people!”

“…That’s not how marriage works.”

“Then I’ll change the rules!”

You stared at him.

“…Fine.”

“Hey, Y/N.”

“What now.”

“If we ever get married, can I still eat meat at the wedding?”

You looked up from your book. “Obviously. I won’t marry someone who doesn’t love meat.”

He blinked, surprised. “So you will marry me?”

You went back to reading. “Didn’t say I wouldn’t.”

His heart exploded like fireworks.

BACK TO PRESENT

“Wait,” Sanji whispered from the side of the plaza, crouched with the rest of the crew behind some candy-colored seaweed. “Is that them?! MELLORINEE~~”

“THEM?!” Usopp whispered. “You know them?!”

“I’ve heard rumors,” Sanji sighed dreamily. “That’s Y/N — calm as the sea before a storm. Feared in the Grand Line and cold-hearted~"

“Yeah, but they’re…” Chopper tilted his head. “Letting Luffy carry them like a backpack right now.”

“Are they… cuddling?” Zoro’s eye twitched. “In public?”

“I’m SUPER! emotionally confused,” Franky muttered.

“Yohohoho,” Brook said softly. “So our captain is… married.”

“And he was serious,” Robin added, intrigued.

Luffy still hadn’t let go. You were currently being dragged around the island as he loudly pointed at every fish-person, street food stall, and bubble coral with endless excitement.

“Look, Y/N, look!! That octopus is playing drums!!”

You nodded. “Mm.”

“And that shark guy has THREE swords!”

You blinked. “Impressive.”

“Oh! That candy shop sells meat-lollipops!! Want one?”

“…Fine.”

He gasped, eyes shining. “You said yes! You never say yes to candy!”

“It’s for you, dumbass.”

He beamed so hard it could’ve powered the Sunny.

LATER, WITH THE CREW

“LUFFY!!”

He turned mid-bite of his meat-lollipop. “Huh?”

“WHAT. IS. GOING. ON?!” Nami shrieked.

You were sitting beside him, sipping seaweed tea calmly. “Can I help you?”

“YEAH, YOU CAN EXPLAIN HOW YOU’RE—MARRIED TO LUFFY?!”

He tilted his head. “I told you guys already.”

“YEAH BUT YOU SAID IT WHILE EATING A SEA KING LEG!!”

Franky pointed dramatically. “That’s not the time for SUPER confessions, bro!”

You raised a hand. “We’ve been married for years. It’s just not something we flaunt.”

“…You married Luffy. As in legal.”

“Technically yes. I still have the officiation snail photo. Luffy drew a mustache on it.”

“HE LOOKED SO FUNNY!! SHISHISHI” Luffy grinned, remembering it fondly.

“WHAT ABOUT YOUR PERSONALITY?! YOU’RE THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE!” Usopp flailed.

You stared at him. “What about it?”

“I dunno!! It’s just… Luffy’s sunshine! You’re like… moonlight. That can kill people.”

Zoro finally snapped. “Okay, no offense, but how do you even deal with him?”

You sighed, placing a hand over Luffy’s head as he practically melted beside you.

“…I’ve dealt with worse than a meat-goblin with a hero complex and zero sense of personal space.”

“That’s me!!” Luffy said proudly.

Robin giggled. “You really are opposites.”

“They’re so cool,” Sanji whispered, nose bleeding. “They’re scary. But like, in a hot way~”

“Are you crushing on our captain’s spouse?!” the crew hissed.

“Can’t help it~”

LATER THAT NIGHT ON THE SUNNY

You sat at the edge of the deck, legs dangling above the water, watching the glowing sea beneath.

Luffy flopped beside you, resting his head in your lap like he always did when the sky was quiet.

“You’re really okay with all this attention?” you asked, fingers brushing his hair.

“Mmhmm. Why wouldn’t I be?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You never cared about showing people.”

“I didn’t think I had to. You're mine. That’s already the best thing ever.”

Your hand paused. Then resumed slowly.

“You’re still dumb.”

He grinned. “Yeah, but I’m your dumb.”

“…Yeah. You are.”

He yawned, curling closer. “Remember the promise we made?”

“Which one? You made a lot.”

“The one about sharing dreams.”

You looked up at the stars. “Yeah. I remember.”

“I still wanna do that. Even if it’s dumb. Even if I die trying.”

You tapped his forehead.

“You won’t die. I’ll kill anyone who tries.”

NEXT MORNING — FISHMAN ISLAND MARKET

“I WANT TO BUY THAT ONE!”

“Luffy, that’s a pearl the size of a cannonball.”

“I WANT IT!!”

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

“Luffy, if I have to carry another crate of your ‘souvenirs’ I will drown you.”

He gasped. “Y/N!! That’s mean!”

“…You like that.”

“I DO!”

“Ew, please stop flirting where I can hear you,” Nami groaned as she walked by.

Zoro muttered, “Every time I think they’ll kill each other, they end up flirting again.”

“Do you think they’ll ever kiss in front of us?” Chopper asked innocently.

Sanji's eye turned into fire. “NO WAY! I'LL KICK YOU! YOU DAMN MONKEY!!!"

“Luffy, stop licking the pearl.”

“You know,” Robin said later that evening, watching you drag Luffy back from trying to arm-wrestle a sea king, “they’re oddly perfect together.”

“Opposites attract,” Franky nodded.

“They’re like fire and ice,” Brook added.

“More like hyper gremlin and emotionless murderbot,” Nami muttered.

“…Still somehow works,” Zoro said.

Sanji sobbed. “WHEN WILL MY TURN COME?!"

.

.

— A FEW DAYS LATER

“Hey, Robin,” Usopp whispered as the ship cruised along the current.

“Yes?”

“…Do you think we should throw them a wedding party?”

She sipped her tea. “I think if you try, you’ll die.”

“Right.”

“Besides,” she added, glancing at the couple watching the sunset at the bow of the ship, Luffy wrapped around you like a sleepy octopus, “I think they already had the only wedding they needed.”

Hello, good morning, I hope I'm not bothering you. But I can make a request for Whitebeard and Fem Reader, which is a story of forbidden love where he is a pirate we know and she is an admiral. Respected that they nicknamed her mother to those who go with them, they had a secret relationship a few years ago before Roger's death that he also knew but unfortunately A reader like her had a devil fruit that was mysterious and valuable that deals with control From the dreams, some powers similar to those of MLP's Moon or Maleficent. But she had to sacrifice herself to save her men whom she considers sons. Against a pirate who was a Yonko who was protected by the navy And that devastated Whitebeard and those who knew her, but after a few years Whitebeard met a boy who was his son and reader Only he was raised with Garp who is practically the adopted brother of Ace Luffy and Sabo

Oh, I dreamed it and I swear I woke up crying. But I said it would be interesting to read. Take your time thank you ❤️

sounds cool anw tried my best>< tis not much but, hope u like it!

When the Sea Dreams of You

A powerful admiral, once known as "Mother" to her men, sacrifices herself to save them—leaving behind a secret love and child with Whitebeard. Years later, fate delivers the boy back into his father's world.

whitebeard x fem! reader | ONE SHOT

tags: slight angst, sfw, ooc, major character death, grief, oc

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe and akward

word count: 1.1k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The sea remembered her name even if the world had tried to forget it.

She had once stood atop warships with the wind billowing her cape, marines at her side, and fear in the hearts of pirates. An admiral—respected, strategic, and maternal in a way that felt divine—earning her the nickname “Mother” from those who served under her.

But Edward Newgate had once called her something else. Something softer. Something forbidden.

“Y/N.”

Their love had bloomed like moonlight on water—beautiful, distant, unreachable to anyone else. Back when the world was simpler. Before Roger died. Before Yonko politics became tangled with Navy ambition. Before dreams became dangerous things.

She had eaten a devil fruit so rare that even the elders of Mariejois feared it: the Yume Yume no Mi, Dream Dream Fruit. It granted her the power to shape dreams, trap enemies in illusions, or soothe nightmares into serenity. Some whispered she could walk between minds in their sleep, learn secrets, or even leave part of herself behind in another’s subconscious.

The World Government had seen her as both an asset and a threat. So they used her… and then allowed her to die.

At least, that’s what the world believed.

.

.

It began in silence—after battles, beneath stars, stolen moments between two great forces who knew what their love would cost.

"You know," she whispered against his chest, fingers tangled in his wild blond hair, "this can never be more than a dream."

Whitebeard chuckled, arms like mountains holding her close. "Then let’s never wake up."

They had found each other between skirmishes, on islands not marked on maps, during ceasefires no one else knew about. She would arrive wearing her navy coat, only to drop it at his feet like a surrender flag. He’d tease her, call her dangerous in more ways than one, and then hold her like the war would never reach them.

Only a few knew—Roger had been one of them. He had laughed when he found out, slapping Whitebeard on the back.

"You're crazier than I thought, Newgate! Falling for the Navy's ‘Mother’? You really wanna die, huh?"

But Roger understood. In his own way. And then he died.

And everything changed.

.

.

The pirate was brutal. A Yonko, protected by politics, feared by soldiers. He had come for her fleet—not her—and underestimated what a mother does for her children.

Her men had screamed for retreat. She stayed.

The battlefield twisted around her as she activated the forbidden side of her fruit. A nightmare realm bloomed into existence—a dreamscape that would swallow both her and the Yonko into an endless illusion, locking them in a dimension between sleep and wakefulness.

It was her final act. Her fleet escaped. Her body was never recovered. The navy quietly declared her dead, sealing all files. Honoring her in silence.

But Whitebeard knew the truth. He felt it—like a tear in his soul.

And he never forgave them.

Years Later

He appeared on Sphinx Island on a slow afternoon, knocking over crates trying to carry supplies. Hair as wild as the sea, grin just familiar enough to sting.

Marco had noticed first. “Oyaji, you might wanna come see this-yoi…”

The boy stood with a seagull feather in his messy hair and a Marine jacket tied around his waist like a belt. His laugh—loud and reckless—could’ve belonged to Ace. But there was something calmer beneath it. More… deliberate.

“What’s your name, brat?” Whitebeard asked, looming above him like a mountain.

The boy looked up. His eyes were her eyes.

“Hoshi.”

Silence fell.

“My full name’s Hoshi. Don’t really use my last name. Garp-jiji says it stirs trouble.”

Marco blinked. “Garp? As in—Vice Admiral Garp?”

“Yeah. He's kinda like my grandpa. I grew up with his other grandkids. We were like brothers.” He scratched his head. “But I don’t look like them much. People always said I looked more like… her.”

Whitebeard’s breath caught.

The boy looked up. “My mom was an admiral. ‘Mother,’ they called her. I know she’s gone. But Garp-jiji said she loved me. Said I was a dream she left behind.”

Whitebeard’s knees nearly buckled.

He whispered, “And your father?”

“Dunno. Garp-jiji wouldn’t say. But sometimes… I dream of a voice. Loud, laughing. Warm. It’s dumb.”

Whitebeard was trembling now. Marco placed a hand on his shoulder, steadying him.

“It ain’t dumb, brat,” the old pirate said hoarsely. “You ever hear the name Whitebeard?”

Hoshi tilted his head. “Course I have. Big ol’ sea legend.”

Whitebeard knelt down so their eyes met.

“I’m Edward Newgate. Your father.”

The revelation shook the crew to its core. Most knew of her in whispers and unspoken glances. Thatch remembered her as the admiral who once spared his life. Vista swore he saw Whitebeard smile softer the weeks after her visits.

Hoshi adjusted fast. He sparred with Marco, pestered Jozu for strength training, and charmed even Izo with his mischief. But some nights, he asked Whitebeard to tell him stories about her.

And Whitebeard did.

“Your mother used to make even the sea stand still,” he’d murmur, staring out at the tide. “She held nations in her hand, but always chose to cradle her boys instead.”

“Did you love her?”

“With every bone in this old body.”

.

.

One night, Hoshi woke screaming. The crew rushed in—swords drawn, ready to fight.

“She was there!” he shouted. “I saw her! She said my name. She held me!”

Marco looked pale. “A dream?”

Whitebeard stepped in. “No… more than that.”

The Dream Dream Fruit never truly dies. Some powers linger. Some souls too stubborn to fade.

That night, as Whitebeard slept, he dreamed of a silver shore, and there she stood—older, transparent, wrapped in moonlight.

“Edward,” she said, and his heart cracked open.

“I never stopped,” he choked. “You should have told me about the boy.”

“I was protecting him. The world wasn’t ready. You weren’t safe. I thought… if he had even a chance at peace, he deserved it.”

Whitebeard reached for her. His hand passed through light.

“Is this real?”

She smiled. “As real as dreams can be.”

“Can I bring you back?”

“No. My body is gone. My soul… remains here. The price of my power.” She cupped his cheek with fingers made of stars. “But I’ll watch over him. And you.”

He wanted to scream, but all he could do was weep.

“Tell him,” she whispered, fading, “that I loved him more than life itself.”

.

.

Hoshi grew into his power, showing hints of the Dream Dream Fruit awakening within him. He spoke of visions, soft voices in sleep, sometimes warnings.

He stayed with Whitebeard’s crew, not as a soldier, but as a bridge—between past and future.

And sometimes, when the moon was high and dreams felt close enough to touch, he would feel her again.

A lullaby in the tide.

A hand on his shoulder.

The sea remembering her name.

LET'S ROCK 🔥

Hi, could you write something about Fukaboshi (shirahoshi's brother) and a strawhat reader? And/or maybe something with Blackbeard (ik he's hated a lot, hell I hate him too, but uh he's like super powerful soooo...)

oohh, fukaboshi...hes so underrated, good looking among his brothers too wwww~ here's some fluff w fukaboshi, hope u like it! as for blackbeard...hmmm idk abt it yet, i dont really have an idea for the guy lolol

Shell Shocked

A peaceful shell collecting date on Fishman Island turns into a hilariously competitive (and surprisingly romantic) showdown between you and Prince Fukaboshi

Fukaboshi X gn! reader | ONE SHOT

tags: fluff, sfw, beach date, shell hoarding, goofy flirting, (post-fishman Island arc, straw Hats visiting for a break)

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe

word count: 845

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

You were supposed to be relaxing. That was the plan.

A peaceful afternoon on the sands of Fishman Island. Just you and Fukaboshi. No Luffy accidentally declaring war on someone. No Zoro getting lost. No Sanji turning into a nosebleed geyser.

Just shells. Sunlight. Maybe some hand-holding.

But no.

Because somewhere between “let’s go shell collecting” and “whoever finds the rarest shell wins,” the Crown Prince of the Ryugu Kingdom had decided this was combat.

“Twenty-seven shells and counting!” Fukaboshi shouted triumphantly, holding up a glimmering blue conch like it was the One Piece.

You scowled. “You tackled me for that last one.”

“You hesitated. The battlefield shows no mercy.”

“I blinked, you lunatic.”

“You blinked slowly.”

You hurled a clam shell at him. He caught it with one hand, smirked, and added it to his basket.

This had all started when the Straw Hats returned to Fishman Island for a celebratory visit after the chaos with Hody Jones. Fukaboshi had offered to show you around. You—being the only Straw Hat who actually knew how to relax without causing international incidents—agreed.

It was just supposed to be a beach stroll. Maybe a little flirting. Very light competition.

But you forgot one crucial fact:

Fukaboshi was insanely competitive. Even in a calm, handsome, princely way.

You’d said, “Let’s collect shells!”

He heard: “Let’s engage in psychological warfare, armed with nothing but beach debris and sexual tension.”

Now you were knee-deep in a tidepool while your royal date was wrestling an octopus to get to a rare cowrie.

“Fuka—babe, please,” you said. “That mollusk looks pissed.”

“I’m not afraid of a cephalopod,” he grunted, prying the shell free.

The octopus slapped him with a tentacle and slithered off in a huff.

You stared.

He held the shell up triumphantly. “Worth it.”

You sighed and tossed a coral chunk into your bucket. “I’m going to tell your brothers you lost a duel with a sea pancake.”

“They’ll understand.”

“No, Ryuboshi will write a song about it.”

“He would, too.”

You flopped onto a rock to eat the snacks Fukaboshi had packed—sweet kelp rolls, bubble-fruit, and some very smugly presented coral chips “for champions only.”

“Do you get like this during formal events too?” you asked, nibbling.

“Only when I care about the outcome.”

“Oh? And you care about shell collecting?”

“I care about beating you at shell collecting.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop smiling.

He noticed.

“Admit it,” he said smugly. “You’re having fun.”

“No,” you said flatly. “This is miserable.”

“You’ve been smiling for an hour straight.”

“That’s because I’m hallucinating from heatstroke.”

“Romantic heatstroke,” he corrected.

You snorted, nearly choking on your snack.

The chaos escalated when Luffy showed up.

“WHOA! Are you guys FIGHTING?!”

Fukaboshi and you exchanged a glance of pure dread.

Before either of you could speak, Luffy had launched himself into the tidepools, shouting, “I WANNA HELP Y/N WIN!”

Fukaboshi froze. “That’s illegal.”

“THERE ARE NO RULES!” Luffy cackled, slapping at the water like a hyperactive seal.

From a distance, you heard Nami shout, “DON’T ENCOURAGE HIM!” and Sanji yell something about “shells of love.”

You sighed and palmed your face.

Fukaboshi leaned over and whispered, “We need to relocate.”

“Agreed. Before he brings a sea king into this.”

Eventually, you found a quiet spot away from your crew’s chaos. Just you, Fukaboshi, and the sound of gentle waves lapping against coral sand.

You crouched by a tidepool and picked up a pink scallop. He leaned over your shoulder, the heat of his body warm even through the water.

“That’s a nice one,” he murmured.

“Better than anything in your bucket.”

“I disagree.”

He nudged his collection closer.

Your jaw dropped. “You have forty. Are you building a shell throne?”

“Yes,” he said seriously. “So you can sit beside me.”

You blinked.

“Oh,” you said, voice small.

He smiled. “Caught you off guard?”

“Just didn’t expect my boyfriend to flirt mid-shell war.”

“I contain multitudes.”

Later, as the sun filtered down through the water above, casting rainbows through the kelp canopy, you both sprawled out on the sand.

Tired. Salty. Happy.

“I think it’s a draw,” you said, yawning.

“No way,” he said. “I clearly won.”

“You got slapped by an octopus.”

“You fell into a crab pit.”

“You pushed me into it.”

“It was a tactical move.”

You threw a shell at him. He let it hit him in the chest and then dramatically collapsed like you’d slain him in battle.

You scooted closer, nudging him. “Still breathing?”

“Barely. Your power overwhelms me.”

You chuckled and rested your head on his arm. “Thanks for today.”

He turned to look at you, expression warm.

“Thanks for coming back,” he said quietly. “Fishman Island feels brighter when you’re here.”

Your heart did a little somersault.

“…You’re just saying that because I beat you at shell collecting.”

“You wish.”

You kissed his cheek, salty and sun-warmed. “Rematch tomorrow?”

He grinned. “I’ll bring blueprints for our shell fort.”

You laughed. “I’ll bring Luffy as a distraction.”

“Unfair.”

“All’s fair in love and mollusks.”

You Punched a Yonko?

In which the reader, quietly trying to study Poneglyphs in peace, accidentally punches a Yonko and ends up entangled with the flirtatious chaos.

PART 2 OF READER WHO CAN READ PONEGLYPH

red hair pirates x fem!reader ౨ৎ💗 ONE SHOT

main characters: shanks, benn, limejuice, hongo

tags: fluff, sfw, harem, soft

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ffs cringe and oc

words count: 1.4k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

You really weren’t trying to punch a Yonko.

In fact, your goal for the day was to peacefully study a centuries-old Poneglyph hidden beneath a sleepy island temple. Instead, you were now standing in front of a red-haired man grinning at you with blood trickling from his nose, surrounded by his crew, who all looked one second away from drawing their weapons.

“…Okay,” you breathed. “In my defense, you startled me.”

“You punched him in the face,” a blond man in sunglasses said, his voice straddling awe and amusement.

“Yeah, but like—accidentally.”

Shanks wiped his nose with the back of his hand, still smiling like you’d just offered him a drink. “DAHAHAHA strong punch though! You train often?”

“I didn’t know you were behind me! I thought you were a thief trying to steal the stone!” you pointed at the half-buried Poneglyph glowing faintly behind you. “You snuck up on me!”

Benn Beckman gave an exaggerated sigh from where he was puffing on his cigar. “He always does that.”

“You should wear a bell,” Hongo added dryly, as he examined your clenched fists. “You nearly broke his nose.”

“I think I’m in love,” Shanks muttered, still grinning at you like an idiot.

You blinked.

“…What?” You deadpan at him.

Lime Juice snorted. “I told you not to lean in so close when people are muttering to themselves. She was clearly in the zone.”

“I was reading an ancient, world-changing text,” you snapped, still frazzled. “I didn’t expect someone to breathe down my neck!”

“To be fair,” Benn chimed in smoothly, “not many people can actually read those things.”

That made you hesitate. Your breath caught in your chest. Most people only guessed at what the stones meant. And those who could decipher them—like the Ohara scholars—were erased for it.

The crew noticed your shift.

Shanks tilted his head. “Hey… you alright?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re being very casual about all this.”

“Well, you punched me.” He rubbed his jaw. “That kinda earns you a place at the table.”

“What table?”

“Our lunch table,” Lime Juice said, gesturing broadly to a blanket on the grass behind the trees. “We were picnicking. Captain wandered off to chase ‘Poneglyph energy.’”

“You tracked me?”

Shanks shrugged. “You glow like a beacon when you read those stones.”

Your jaw dropped. “That’s not—?! That’s not normal!”

“Nope,” Hongo agreed. “Very intriguing.”

“And very pretty,” Shanks added.

You turned on your heel. “I’m leaving.”

“No wait!” Shanks called after you. “Join us for lunch! I promise not to get punched again!”

You paused, hesitating. The idea of eating with the Red-Hair Pirates seemed… suicidal. You’d spent years hiding your ability, keeping a low profile, ducking Marines and bounty hunters alike.

But they didn’t look like they were planning to turn you in.

And the smell of roasted fish was really good.

“…I’m watching all of you,” you muttered, stomping over.

“Great!” Shanks beamed. “You can sit next to me! DAHAHAHA”

“Absolutely not.”

Lunch with the Red-Hair Pirates was insane.

You had to admit: they were nothing like you’d expected.

Shanks, despite being a Yonko, acted more like a chaotic older brother than a fearsome warlord. He kept nudging plates toward you like a golden retriever trying to feed its owner, all while regaling you with stories that involved an alarming number of explosions and nudity.

Benn Beckman, calm and poised, sat at your other side. He didn’t say much, but you noticed how his eyes never left you—watchful, calculating, but not in a threatening way. More like… protective.

“You always travel alone?” he asked quietly.

You nodded. “Easier to hide.”

He hummed. “Doesn’t sound easier to live.”

His words stuck with you longer than you cared to admit.

Lime Juice kept trying to impress you with “tricks,” most of which involved lighting things on fire or juggling knives. When he tried to balance a plate on his head and walk backward up a tree, you genuinely feared for his life.

“I’m very flexible,” he claimed proudly as he slipped and crashed into Shanks’ lap.

“Yeah, flexible like a bag of rocks,” Hongo muttered under his breath, flipping through a medical book beside you. Occasionally, he asked you questions about ancient glyphs and your translation methods, clearly more interested in your brain than your punching skills.

Which, okay, was kind of flattering.

You didn’t know when it happened, but by the end of the meal, you were… laughing.

You were laughing with people you’d met barely an hour ago. People who, by all logic, should’ve either kidnapped you or sold your secret to the highest bidder.

Instead, they argued about who could get you to smile the fastest.

“You like wine?” Benn asked, offering you a rare vintage.

“You like beer?” Shanks grinned, popping open a keg.

“You like really strong mystery juice I made last night?” Lime Juice offered, holding a bubbling bottle that Hongo promptly knocked out of his hands.

“Do you guys always compete like this?” you asked, bewildered.

“Only when it’s worth it,” Shanks winked.

You choked on your drink.

The day slipped by quickly after that.

You showed Hongo how Poneglyphs resonated when you hummed certain tones. He looked at you like you were the eighth wonder of the world and scribbled notes furiously.

You sparred—lightly—with Lime Juice, who was surprisingly nimble when not setting himself on fire.

You chatted with Benn about navigation, philosophy, and—when Shanks wasn’t listening—what kind of wine pairs best with sea-king meat.

And Shanks? Shanks hovered. Endearingly. Annoyingly. Constantly.

“You know, I could protect you,” he offered at one point, lying back on the grass beside you with a grin. “If you joined us. Nobody would ever dare come after you again.”

“Why would I ever trust a Yonko?” you teased, resting your chin on your hand.

Shanks tapped his temple. “Because I’m handsome and charming.”

“Debatable.”

“Because I didn’t press you about your ability.”

You paused.

“…Less debatable.”

He turned his head toward you, more serious this time. “I know what it means. What you can do. I know the world will hunt you for it. And I also know—without a doubt—anyone who tries will have to go through me first.”

You stared at him, heart hammering. “That’s very dramatic.”

“Have you met me?” he grinned.

Before you could reply, Benn’s voice called over, “Captain, stop seducing our guest and help clean up.”

“I am helping,” Shanks called back. “With my charm.”

Benn just groaned and threw a towel at his head.

Night fell.

You sat with Lime Juice and Hongo near the fire while Shanks played a drunken game of darts with a tree (he kept missing) and Benn nursed a glass of something expensive, eyeing his captain like a babysitter on overtime.

Lime Juice offered you his coat when the wind picked up. “You know,” he said, voice quieter now, “you’re kind of amazing.”

You turned. “Me?”

“Yeah. Punching a Yonko. Reading the un-readable. And laughing at my jokes. Triple threat.”

You laughed. “Thanks, I think?”

“Don’t let Shanks hog you too much,” he added. “Some of us want a shot too.”

Hongo hummed behind his book. “I’ll second that.”

You looked between them, blinking. “Wait, what?”

Benn walked over, his cigarette glowing faintly. “They’re not joking.”

Shanks stumbled into the circle, arms wide. “Did I hear flirting?! I object! You’re all banned.”

You stared at the four of them.

“You’re telling me,” you said slowly, “that all of you are flirting with me… at the same time?”

There was a beat.

Then Shanks, Benn, Lime Juice, and Hongo all nodded in sync.

You buried your face in your hands. “This is absurd.”

Shanks grinned. “Absurdly charming.”

“I need a drink,” you muttered.

Benn passed you his glass without a word.

You didn’t leave the next morning.

Or the next.

Or the next after that.

Somewhere between watching Shanks get his foot stuck in a barrel, Lime Juice trying to build you a “romance swing,” Hongo diagnosing him with “chronic dumbassery,” and Benn pulling you aside just to ask how you were holding up, you realized something:

You were happier than you’d been in years.

For the first time, you weren’t hiding.

You weren’t running.

You were laughing. Living. Loved.

And sure, maybe the world still wanted your head.

But you had a Yonko, his second-in-command, a chaotic firecracker, and a broody medic wrapped around your finger.

If the world wanted to come for you?

Let it.

You had your crew now.