aoashinoducky

[aoashinoducky]

I'm super late to your post asking about One Piece headcanons but I have a headcanon about Sanji that's sort of romantic (Idk I just really like him but it can be interpreted as platonic love give One Piece's characters are very love centered)...

Sanji calms down a lot from his pervertedness when he's given attention and affection. Based on how he grew up surrounded by rugged sailor men and an all-men kitchen? Sanji didn't get many cuddles growing up but more of a tougher love (also I love pointing out how Sanji grew up in a sort of agressive enviroment as a professional kitchen and Zeff very strict, but still never doubts he is loved by Zeff and the rest of them is so beautiful).

So he's not used to the gentleness, or well, not the receiving end of a tender care (not that he didn't get any but it just wasn't the norm), and it would really calm him down getting stuff like cuddles, playing with his hair, rubbbing his shoulders, tickling the daylights out of him, cupping his cheek to rub your thumb across it, and just being affectionate with him would ease up on his perverteness because it all seems to be born out of being touch starved and craving to be loved, given how even most of his pervertedness and values as a whole stem from romancism (like his love for fairtytales)... he would cry and end up in Chopper's care the first few times he just would be beyond thrilled beyond what his pretty little heart can handle.

Also he would desperately want to return the favor because my poor angel struggles with self-worth a lot and needs to be assured that he is being offered such attentions simply because he is loved.

omg yes yes yes, I love this hc so much 🥺

He's just a touch starved babee 😭

A slightly overzealous fan of any lady who melts at the slightest manifestation of mutual (even platonic) sympathy, yes yes yes

[aoashinoducky]

When you kiss them in places they don't expect

Didja miss me? Hehe, yeah a lot of things happened emotionally and otherwise. Enjoy! And seriously. Give me more requests. I love those.

Crocodile

The man is private for goodness sake. Why would you kiss him in public unless it's warranted? Because you damn well love him too fucking much that's why. How can you not want to kiss him when he looks so beautiful to you? If you could you would compose poems, carve his face into marbles, paint him in likeness even when no one else will buy or care about them and because you couldn't care less. You love him after all. Even if he has his own rules of what to and not to do in public or in certain spaces, you'd happily follow them regardless. Anything as long as you could stay next to him after all. Anything in the four seas if it means staying in a relationship with him.

But, there are times where you bite your lip and have to stop from actually drowning the poor man in kisses. This is one of them, where he's walking with you and he's kneeling down letting a tiny puppy lick his fingers as he scratches it's belly. Seas, you shouldn't. You shouldn't. Don't focus on how cute he looks, don't focus on how adorable this is, don't-

"Aren't you a cute thing?" He coos and fuck it.

When he looks at you, you press a kiss to his lips. Out in public. Hands cupping his face. He pauses, then raises an eyebrow at you, a slight frown on his face. The crowd which was slowly forming is now filled with 'aww's and 'that's so cute!'

You huff, leaving his face. "Don't blame me here, you usually aren't like this." There's a grin on your face you can't seem to remove though.

He rolls his eyes, and then comes to his full height as the owner of the puppy -a young child- comes for it, picking it up and looks at him, thanking him for finding it. Giving a vague, single nod he whisks you two away in a cloud of sand, reforming at the doors of Rain Dinners.

"Brat. Think before doing that again." He ruffles your hair. You grin. Looks like he didn't mind so much, maybe you could do it again....

Corazon.

To be clear, you don't know much about the man more than he lets you know. You know him as 'Corazon, Younger brother of the Warlord Doflamingo' but tonight when you two met in the same inn, he sat on the edge of the too-small bed, spreading his legs and letting you stand in between them, close to him as he rests his hands on your hips. He writes to you that he has a secret, you loop your arms around his neck and let one hand play with one of the tails of his hat. You're reassuring him both in speech and body language that you'll listen and you'll keep it to yourself. His amber eyes search yours for a moment more, before leaving one side of your hips to snap his fingers, saying, saying, "Silent."

The noises around you quieten. You don't hear the vendors downstairs bark their wares, you don't hear the chatter and sound of the inn below you two. You don't hear the slight moans of the couple opposite to your room. But you do hear him speak. "My name is Donquixote Rosinanate, Marine Commander code 01746 on a mission from Fleet Admiral Sengoku to stop operations of Warlord and pirate Donquixote Doflamingo."

Your jaw drops, and you stare at him in surprise as he holds your hips again, telling you the story of how he came to be in this wretched situation. Of how his heart holds so much rage and hatred, of his worry and sadness. He tells you in that low, melodious voice of his and you just stand there starstruck as you picture the unwoven scroll of the man you love's past as he tells you. As soon as he's done, he has a mixed picture on his face, of weariness, and exhaustion. So of course you pull his head to your chest, to your heart, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"You brave, wonderful man" You mumble. Your heart is breaking and mending itself, newfound love, appreciation ,and fear now entering with the new information he gave you. "You strong, handsome, perfect man"

He freezes, but soon comes to hold you tighter against him, tension seeping out of his body, as he listens to you. One or your hands goes up his hat, fingers tangling within the strands as you hold him tighter. "Loverboy, look at me please"

When his eyes meet yours you smile, pressing a kiss to his nose. "I'm so proud of you." You whisper, watching his eyes grow wide, a goofy smile blooming on his own.

That night, you two don't do much. You talk some more, and fall asleep, his much larger frame curled around yours, your hands holding his head close, tucked under your chin, face buried in his hair.

Sanji.

It's late, and you wake up with your hair mussed, with the sad, miserable feeling that it's too cold and where the Hell is your warm, snuggly lover coupled with a scowl on your face. So you stumble to the one place he's most likely to be. The kitchen. There have been times when you've genuinely been looking for him because you thought he was not in the kitchen only to find out that he is, in fact in the kitchen, he was just looking for something in the lower cupboards and couldn't hear you. Hell, you've chided him a few times for working in the kitchen even after a big fight, so it's safe to assume that really, the blonde would be in the kitchen. You once sat and watched him, wondering that if it was legitimate, would he be this planet's greatest cook in the world, would be allowed to show at competitions? Would he be sought after then? But oh well.

When you finally get to the kitchen, you see him, baking. Uh oh. Now see, baking at night isn't the issue here. You've helped him make croissants and all sorts of stuff in the dead of night. The real issue is that he's doing it alone, at.....you spare a glance at the clock, 4:45 AM. By the four seas......so yes it's an issue. So yes, it's bad, when it isn't baking before he went to sleep. It's bad when he went to sleep in your bed, all snuggly and warm, and woke up in the ass crack of dawn to bake. Hell, it's even worse than in the ashtray next to the knives, it's filled. That means it was something he was terrified of, or something that came to him and he couldn't shrug off.

You run a hand through your hair and enter. Neither of you says anything just yet, and you take your time settling comfortably into the chairs in front of the counter, hand supporting you head as you watch him do his stuff. Your eyes fall onto his frame where you can see some tension in his movements, a slight jitter to the usual grace which he does his job in. Your eyes move to the tiny snail in the corner which plays music. You switch it on, and watch as the music ebbs and flows. And with it, so does the tension, the stress emanating in the gallery.

Some time later which could have been hours, or even minutes later you get up and come behind him, looping your arms around his hips from behind. "How're you feeling, sunflower?" You murmur.

He pauses in his work, most of them done anyway, and takes a drag from his cigarette, blowing out smoke. ".....Better"

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really"

"Okay. Wanna take a break?"

"....Fine. Let me just pop them into the oven"

30 minutes later, Robin walks in as per her usual timing to see him, head pillowed on your lap snoring softly, one of your hands in his hair, and the other holding one of his to your mouth, pressing a kiss to his palm. You smile slightly at her arrival and point at the oven. "Could you take them out? Blondie here wanted me to wake him up when they were done but...."

She chuckles, nodding. "I'll handle it. Want some tea?"

"That sounds lovely"

Shanks.

Shanks was open about a lot of things. Laughing, being an oaf, and acting like a goofball, many things. Another thing he was very open about was his relationship with you and the affection he showered on you just so. He would give kisses, hugs, and even random spanks on your ass when he could. He would laugh if you threw a fit but you couldn't help but also want to trip him up just so. Just once.

Your chance finally came when he got injured in battle, causing Hongo to order bed rest and STRICTLY bed rest "No leaving the bed for at least a WEEK, captain. That's an order"

"What? Nooo, I can't!" Whined your boyfriend

Hongo sighed, looking like he was ready to strangle the man based on what shenanigans he would probably start to pull to get out of bed. "Captain, please. Just a week. 5 days is all I'm asking here."

"3!"

"5"

"4!"

"5. No more, no less"

The redhead huffed, turning over in bed "Awful doctor, no man should ever treat his captain this way"

Hongo now looked at you, looking three seconds from yanking his hair out and with desperation. You sighed, sitting on the bed next to him and trying to reassure him.

"Come on, Shanks. Listen to the poor guy. I'll be here helping when I can anyway."

He shifted. Gave you a look. This dumbass.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Shanks, I swear to-"

And that was that. You'd help him when you could, not that you minded. However, when he tried to do anything with you, kissing, hugging, you'd pull away, a grin on your face. In fact, you'd end up giving him kisses where he didn't expect it. Is he leaning in for a kiss on the lips? You kiss the bridge of his nose. He wants to hug you? Lean away and a pat on the head. He tries to kiss your cheek? You move and kiss his ear. It drove him nuts.

"Aw c'mon, not again! What did I do to deserve this!" He complained after you had successfully dodged his attempt to kiss you on your lips. Only to be thwarted when you kissed his jaw instead.

"This is payback baby." You grin, sly and fun.

Then it clicks and he laughs that full, happy, lively laugh of his.

"Awright. But as soon as I'm rested up and good to go...." His eyes gleam with a spark of mischievousness. "You're gonna get it, babe"

True to his word, as soon as Hongo says the word "okay", Shanks leaps out of bed and starts running. You were in the fields of the island, looking around and wandering. You flinch as you feel a familiar presence behind, and you've barely turned your back to see who it is, before he crashes into you, scooping you up and lifting you in his arms.

"Caught you!" He yells with glee and all you can do is laugh and squeal with joy, before curling into him and kissing him on the lips.

[aoashinoducky]

𓂃 sanji who, above all else, makes sure his hands are well taken care of. he never scars them, never uses them any longer than he has to when he's not in the kitchen. he keeps them clean and soft. he moisturisers them daily and uses the gentlest soap possible. he cares for his hands like they're the most precious thing in the world to him.

so imagine how it would feel to be the one that gets to hold them.

he lets you play with his fingers, he watches with hearts in his eyes as you curl your digits around his lanky ones.

he never pulls his hands away from you when you're holding them, no matter the time or place or how badly the crew wants him to start breakfast.

if your hands are in his then there's nowhere else he'd rather be.

[aoashinoducky]

Boys accidentally see you naked or in your underwear (part 1)

Luffy

They had arrived at a new island and were about to disembark to buy supplies. Luffy hadn't seen you, so he went to your cabin to warn you. What Luffy didn't expect was to see you naked.

"Damn it, Luffy!" you shouted, desperately trying to cover yourself. You had grabbed the towel from the floor, but because of your nerves, you couldn't fully spread it and cover yourself properly.

Luffy looked at you, confused and unfazed by your nakedness.

"Now you want to walk around shirtless like me?" he asked when he saw your bare chest. Your cheeks were flushed.

"Get out!" you shouted, annoyed. Luffy flinched at your scream and left, apologizing.

"What happened?" Nami asked worriedly. Luffy shrugged.

"I was going to tell her about the island and I saw her naked. I thought she wanted to copy my style," Luffy said simply, not caring. Nami turned red and punched him in the head.

"Idiot!" Nami yelled angrily as she ran over to check on you. Luffy rubbed his head with a grimace.

"So what did I do now?" he asked Usopp, who was standing there. The marksman just shook his head and walked off, leaving Luffy confused.

Sanji

Everyone was eating except you, so he decided to go to your cabin and warn you. If he didn't, you wouldn't eat. It was always the same thing. You got excited writing that you'd forgotten to eat.

With an apology and a threat to Luffy that he wouldn't eat your food, he went to your cabin to warn you.

When he arrived, he saw your door ajar and entered. You must have fallen asleep. What he didn't expect was to see you in your underwear.

You were behind him, pulling up your pants, leaving your butt exposed. Sanji blushed at the black thong that exposed your buttocks. You turned around after finishing and saw Sanji frozen in the doorway.

Your scream made the cook react and he ran out, apologizing.

"Damn it!" he whispered as he slammed the door. He felt his face burning. He immediately went to his room. He would splash cold water on his face and try to get the image of you in a thong out of his head, as well as get rid of the erection he had.

Zoro

They had landed on an island, everyone had left except him and you, and they had left you on the ship to keep watch.

After leaving Zoro to keep watch, you went to your room, claiming to have taken a spiritual shower. Honestly, Zoro didn't even hear you properly.

Everything was going well until Zoro felt the need to go to the bathroom. After so much watching (or rather, sleeping), he got up from his comfortable seat and went to the bathroom. What he didn't expect was to see you standing in the hallway naked with only a towel on your head.

"Fuck, woman!" Zoro shouted when he saw your exposed body. You screamed and fell to the floor. Zoro covered his blushing face and turned around. "Cover up, damn it!" he yelled desperately.

"Rea...Ready, Zoro!" Your shaky voice was heard. Zoro turned to look at you but immediately looked down.

You had put on the towel you had on your head, but it was too small compared to the others you used, almost covering your legs and private parts. Zoro just nodded.

"Yeah, well, don't walk around the hallway like that, woman," he scolded you, scratching the back of his neck, then turned around and left angrily.

He sat down where he had been before and closed his eyes, trying to sleep and forget this incident, only for his dreams to turn into wet dreams, of you naked or of both of you naked and doing inappropriate things.

"Damn woman," he cursed as he woke up from that erotic dream.

[aoashinoducky]

“I’m Pretending I Don’t Love You” Behaviors

Lowkey thinking about doing some one piece x reader prompts with this post but I don't have time so this is all I've got :|

Zoro is definitely staring too long. Chopper would have to treat him for whiplash with how fast he turns his head away from you when he's been caught staring. Red creeping across his cheeks all the way to his ears. He'd make some dumb half-assed comment under his breath. He just can't help it. He stares at you often trying to put all the pieces of you together in his head. You're one of the few things that float in his mind all day: his dream, the crew, booze, and you.

Luffy is "coincidentally" showing up wherever you are. Every few islands, Luffy crash lands into your world bringing a bright smile, a bone-crushing hug, and absolute chaos with him. The "game" doesn't last long, even though it's fun for him to find a way to be wherever you are. He's quick to declare how annoying it is following you around and asks you to just join his crew already so he can be near you all the time.

Sanji is looking away from you when you laugh. You'd think he'd exactly what food you like, he does, of course! But he does that with everyone and you're not "everyone." You're you and sometimes he feels like he shouldn't even be allowed to look at you you're so perfect. When you smile so wide and laugh unabashedly, it's like trying to stare at the sun. He has to look away, his heart hammering in his chest like he's just run a marathon.

Sabo is soooo jealous when anyone flirts with you and he has no idea why. They just...shouldn't?! He tells himself you're too smart and too interesting and too funny for just any ol' bozo to think they can get with you. He's tweaking. Hands twitching to punch whoever is talking to you. Flames threaten to lick at his skin just at the thought of you with anyone. He knows he's jealous, but the reason why escapes him completely. You're just too special.

Law is volunteering to be with you, always. You'd think it'd be patching you up or telling you (coldly) to be careful, but he does that with his crew or anyone in his small circle. He doesn't have to tell you to be careful because he's right next to you and he won't let anything happen. Law goes through loops of logic to justify your being with him on important missions. He needs you, you calm him, give him peace of mind. He knows it's a little unhealthy, but he can't stop himself.

Ace is teasing you constantly. Little stuff that gets a chuckle and an eye roll out of you. He can't have you getting too close, can't imagine you taking him too seriously...even though he kind of wants you to. Getting a little reaction out of you, a blush, a laugh, an eye roll, swatting him away like he's a mosquito, is all he's willing to take from you because he's pretty sure that's all he'll ever get. And he's so smitten he'll take anything you're willing to give him.

[aoashinoducky]

pat pat.png

[aoashinoducky]

When he realized the full depth of his best friend's obsession (Yes, he has a boner for responsibility, don't look there, he is reacting normally! (No)

[aoashinoducky]

"Like to hold?" left me on the floor

Today in my android Sanji au the crew accidently stumble across the inherent trans theme that can be read in stories with androids and body modifications

If your confused about why Sanji's an android click here and here

[aoashinoducky]

Show Me Your Desire pt. 2

A/N: Heartbreak Edition, so many of you asked for more of this and now you get this one followed by two dilf editions, god I was so sad writing this. First time writing Cora and Thatch so sorry if it's OOC, and this is GN but at the Whitebeard part there is talk about a daughter so - choose for yourself if she's from a pregnancy or an adoption, oh and i know thatch's is shorter than the others but i got so fucking sad that i didn't want to do more 🙈

Part 1 | Part 3

Plot: you ate the Yoku Yoku No Mi - the desire desire devil fruit - that shows you glimpses of someones deepest desires when you touch them. Therefore you made sure to avoid touches and insight into those personal moments. But things get unwillingly touchy.

Warnings: angst, hurt, no happy ending for these 4 beautiful men 💔, maybe some spoilers if you're not familiar with the marineford or dressrosa arc, not proofread

Characters: Corazon, Whitebeard, Ace, Thatch (separately) x GnReader (though written with freader in mind)

Corazon

You had known him for years.

You met him during a meeting arranged by his brother Doflamingo. Rosinante had appeared from the shadows in a swirl of red feathers, clumsy yet somehow silent, a towering man with sad eyes peeking out from a painted grin.

You weren’t sure why he stood out. Maybe it was the way he hunched his shoulders, as if he could hide from the world even while standing six feet tall. Maybe it was the glint of kindness you thought you saw beneath the black makeup.

From  that day on though you and him shared a special bond. Not physical, not yet maybe, but emotional.

Rosinante was unpredictable, clumsy, secretive and yet, maddeningly kind. The kind of man who made you coffee when you were sad, then spilled it all down his pants in the same moment. He smiled through bruised ribs and burned trust and always was there for you when you needed him the most.

But he also never let you touch him. Not really.

Not even once.

You assumed it was part of the act. Some odd quirk of his Devil Fruit.

But the truth came during a storm.

You slipped during a mission too dizzy to see straight and you collapsed but before you could hit the floor he caught you.

His hands closed around your arms, large and gentle. Your palms pressed against his chest.

Skin met skin.

And that cursed power surged through you.

He held you in his arms, barefoot on the sand, laughing under a sunset. Your head rested against his chest. No Marines. No Doflamingo. No war. Just peace. The vision switched and you saw yourself smiling up at him, untouched by blood or betrayal, wrapped up in his oversized coat, tucked beneath his chin. It wasn’t a vision so much as a flood. A torrent of feeling, thick and suffocating. You felt his desire like it was your own: a desperate, screaming need to protect you from everyone, he wanted you yes but more than that he needed you to be okay. And the thought he tried to bury so deep it cracked his bones “Please let me live long enough to tell them I love them”

You gasped as the vision faded, his eyes widened, looked wounded, and he quickly stuffed his hands into his pockets, stepping back.

“Are you hurt?” His voice was low and raspy, almost inaudible over the noise around you.

“I’m fine,” you lied, breathless. “Just… dizzy.”

He nodded once, but his gaze flicked around then he pulled something from his coat - a scrap of cloth, a bit of bandage. He offered it with both hands, avoiding your skin.

“For your hand,” he mumbled.

You looked down. In your panic, you had cut your palm and blood welled up in a small crimson pool.

Before you could protest, he crouched delicately wrapping your hand with the same tenderness you had felt in his desire. His fingers never brushed your skin again. He made sure of it.

But when his eyes found yours after he finished wrapping everything up he saw it, the ache in your eyes and he knew something had happened, he didn’t know exactly what it was but he knew something was different now.

After that… everything changed.

He avoided you. More than before.

Disappearing for days, coming back with scraped hands and tired lies.

And you, you tried to understand.

But it was like watching someone drown in a glass tank, fists pressed to the walls, refusing to let you in.

Until one night, the tension boiled over.

“You saw it, didn’t you?” he whispered, voice cracking. “When you touched me.”

Your breath caught. He had figured it out.

You nodded slowly.

His shoulders sagged as if the weight of the entire sea had landed on him. “I… I’m sorry,” he stammered, voice breaking. “I shouldn’t….I shouldn’t feel that way. But I do. And I… I can’t stop.”

Tears stung your eyes. Because you understood now that this wasn’t lust, or selfish obsession like the others. His desire was pure, painful, and impossibly kind. And it was tearing him apart.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you blurted, before your fear could catch up to your honesty.

His eyes snapped to yours, wide and vulnerable.

“I’ve seen what the others want,” you went on, voice shaking. “They want to break me. Own me. Use me. But you… you just want to save me.”

His cigarette fell from his lips, landing at his feet.

“You love me,” you whispered, cornering him in the hallway of some run-down safehouse.

His smile twitched. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

You stepped closer. “I saw it, Cora. You were holding me. Laughing. Wanting a future. Yours. Mine. Ours.”

His expression finally cracked.

“You know that this can never happen,” he suddenly said.

You froze not expecting these words from him.

“Why not?”

“Because this is dangerous, being with me is dangerous,” he said simply. “And if you get too close, you’ll go down with me.”

The silence between you hit like a gunshot.

“You’ve already decided, haven’t you?” Your voice trembled. “You’ve already written the ending without even giving me a choice.”

His jaw clenched.

“I need to go,” he said softly, voice raspy as ever. “There’s a Devil Fruit I have to steal. It’s the only way to save him.”

You turned to him, tears already welling up. “And if it gets you killed?”

He flinched. Then he reached out hesitant and cupped your cheek. His fingers brushed your skin. The curse activated, and his raw, desperate desire poured into you like fire.

“I wish I could stay. I wish I could take you far away from this world. I wish I could give you a life where you never have to run again. But I can’t. I’m sorry.”

It shattered something inside you.

You grabbed his wrist, pressing his hand closer. “Then don’t go. Stay with me. We can hide together. Please.”

He let out a quiet laugh—sad, hollow. “You know I can’t. If I don’t do this… that boy dies. And if he dies, everything I’ve tried to do will be meaningless.”

You leaned your forehead against his chest, breathing in the scent of his coat, the lingering smoke.

“Promise me you’ll come back,” you whispered.

He didn’t answer.

Because some people were meant to save the world…

…but never get to stay in it.

The next morning he was gone and you found Corazon’s goodbye letter.

It was folded carefully, tucked inside the coat you used to mend for him, sealed with a stain of black coffee (he spilled it. Of course he did).

But the ink? The ink held his truth.

To you, The one I wanted to choose, But never could— By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. Not forever, I hope. But long enough that it might feel that way. I want to start with this: You didn’t imagine it. What you saw through your cursed fruit, my desire to hold you, laugh with you, build something gentle with you it was real. It is real. You are the one place I ever felt… human. Not a spy. Not a Donquixote. Not a broken mess in clown paint. Just a man. Just yours. But here’s the part that never stopped clawing at me: I don’t get to keep you. Because if I choose you, I can’t protect him. And if I choose him, I can’t come back to you. You always saw too much. The way you looked at me like I was already forgiven. Like I wasn’t a walking graveyard of secrets and second chances. But I am. And I know it. And I won't let you bleed because I was too selfish to walk away. So here’s the deal: If I come back, I’ll come with clean hands and a promise. If I don’t… then let this be my truth, buried in paper and ink: I love you. I loved you when you laughed at my coat. I loved you when you yelled at me for disappearing again. I loved you when you touched my hand and saw everything I tried to hide. And even now, I love you too much to drag you into this war. Take care of yourself. Find someone who chooses you with both feet planted. Someone who’s not always halfway out the door. But if you ever feel like waiting for someone foolish, You know where to find me: Somewhere between a lie and a last hope. Yours quietly, always, Cora

Weeks later, you learned the truth. The Ope Ope no Mi was used to save Law but Corazon was gone. Killed by his own brother.

They said he died smiling.

You wondered if, in his last moment, he thought of you. You wondered if he felt your heart break as his stopped.

And you promised, as you read his letter over and over beneath the dawn light, that you’d keep living. That you’d carry the memory of the man who taught you love and the price it demanded. And you promised to keep looking out for the young boy Cora gave his life for.

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔���💔💔💔💔💔💔

Whitebeard

You had joined the Whitebeard Pirates on a whim. Not as a fighter but as a mapmaker, someone who could laugh too loud and carry a bottle of sake twice their weight. Pops had taken you in like he did all the others: without question, with that massive grin and a hand on your head like a crown.

The first time Whitebeard touched you, it wasn’t grand.

It wasn’t a crushing grip or a possessive reach. It was the brush of his knuckles down your back after you slipped in the ship’s hallway.

“Careful, little one,” he said, voice a low, weather-worn rumble. “Wouldn’t want you crashing through the deck.”

That was the last thing you heard before your knees buckled and the vision hit you.

A vision so vivid your ribs ached from the weight of it.

You saw yourself, years older, laughing. Sitting at a massive table beside him. His hand in yours. A feast. A family. You saw his sons, your “brothers” and a small little girl. You felt the crushing warmth in his chest, the longing, the bone-deep ache that wanted nothing but time and a family…..time to grow old with you and his family.

The vision shattered as you gasped and almost stumbled again.

He caught you with a frown this time no skin to skin contact. “You alright?” he asked a little worried.

All you managed was a small mumble he didn’t quite understand before you turned and fled the deck, your heart in your throat.

Because that vision wasn’t lust. It wasn’t even really romance.

It was something more dangerous.

He wanted a future with you and the crew. A quiet one.

And he knew, you both knew, that the world would never allow it.

He didn’t come after you at least not at first. Whitebeard was many things but he wasn’t reckless. He waited. Watched. Gave you space.

And you… You avoided him like he was fire and you were soaked in oil.

But even from a distance, the vision clung to you. You saw it in the way he sat in silence after he watched the crew, after they laughed and smiled. You saw the way he glanced at the empty chair next to him – your chair.

He wanted you there beside him.

“You’ve been runnin’.”

Marco found you perched on the edge of the ship’s figurehead one evening, staring at the sea like it might swallow you up and keep the truth down with it.

“I’m not running,” you murmured.

“Then tell Pops why you can’t look him in the eye anymore.”

You clenched your jaw. “I touched him.”

Marco blinked and then frowned.

“I saw it. The desire. The future he wanted. It was…” You looked away. “Too much.”

Marco sat beside you, voice gentle. “He doesn’t want to scare you.”

“He didn’t,” you whispered. “That’s the worst part,” you whispered softly with that familiar ache in your chest.

Marco looked at you and then placed a hand on your shoulder giving it a slight squeeze. “You should talk to him” he said before he turned and walked away leaving you with your thoughts.  

Later that night though, Whitebeard came to you.

He waited until the ship was asleep. Until even the ocean seemed to hold its breath.

You heard his footsteps before you saw him, slow, heavy, deliberate and unmistakable.

He came to your side, towering over you as you sat there. His presence wrapped around you like the tide inescapable, steady.

“Why do you avoid me little one?” he asked cautiously.

“I didn’t mean to…I just when you touched me I..” you stopped yourself from revealing too much not wanting to bother him with this or have him know. He already had enough on his plate you didn’t want to add up on it.

“I saw it,” you said, finally. “What you want.”

“You what?”

“I felt safe and you caught me a little off guard, your hand is really warm and it felt not bad” you said not outright a lie but also not the whole truth.

A beat of silence spread between you two and the he smiled at you.

“You know sometimes I dream about peace, just us, you, me, the boys, sailing across the sea without all the chaos in the world. Living a peaceful and long life. Watching you and those idiots grow old together and see who will have the most wrinkles” he confessed suddenly.

“I know” you said “I mean I know that feeling I…..I’d want that too” you added.

“It’s a desire, a wishful thinking,” he said carefully before he closed his eyes, his massive frame casting long shadows over the deck.

“Don’t say that”

“Little one you know as good as me that the world won’t let us have this. Not now. Not with all this chaos. I’m not saying that there will never be any peace but I’m saying that when this will happen I will no longer be with you,” he explained voice firm and yet you could hear the yearning in it, the sadness.  

You were crying now, not loudly, not brokenly just… quiet, unbearable tears because you remembered the vision and now hearing him talk about the fact that he had already made peace with the fact that his desire will never come true was heart-breaking.

He looked down at you, his eyes for once looked human. Not like the eyes of the world’s strongest man, not the Yonko.

Just a man who was tired.

“Don’t cry little one, we still got some time together before you get rid of me” he joked softly and you let out a small chuckle through the tears.

Gently, so gently, his hand came up to your cheek to brush the tears away.

And this time you let it happen let the vision, painful as it was, consume you.

Once again you saw yourself older, the crew older and him sitting on his usual throne like chair on the Moby Dick, a little girl on his lap, a girl who had his smile. The crew was being a chaotic mess but his chaotic mess and you felt the warmth, the safety and the feel of home.

When the vision ended you blinked a few tears away and looked up at him smiling before you leaned into him fingers curling around his coat as you held onto it like a lifeline.

“I’ve fought gods, demons, and kings,” he said, voice low and broken. “But I don’t know how to fight the part of me that just wants to be yours,” he suddenly said as his hand came to rest at your back holding you.

“You don’t have to fight it,” you whispered. “You just have to let yourself have it”

After that night everything changed.

Not out loud.

He didn’t call you his lover. Didn’t pull you into his bed or kiss you in front of the others.

But he always looked for you when he laughed and you always found him when he was quiet.

You started sharing sake just the two of you in shared private moments were words weren’t needed. A ritual for two ghosts in waiting.

And every time your fingers brushed, your Devil Fruit showed you the same vision: A future full of love, peace, you, the crew and a little girl by his side.

But then came the war.

You knew no matter what you said he wouldn’t stop from rescuing Ace because that was just how Whitebeard was.  

He looked at you with that old grief. The kind that said he had already made peace with dying.

And he touched you again.

Not by accident, not to steady you.

His massive hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin.

The vision flooded back.

The two of you on the Moby Dick. Older. Scarred. But alive. A daughter on your hip. Laughing. And the crew behind you. He looked… happy, peaceful and like he finally found his own personal One Piece.

“I dreamed of that once,” he murmured.

You looked up, startled. “You… know?”

“Aye.” His thumb lingered. “I knew the moment I touched you. The fruit… showed you what I buried.”

You wanted to cry but fought the tears. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He smiled, tired and soft. “Because I’m not a man who gets to want things, little one. I’m a man who protects them.”

You wrapped your fingers around his wrist. “Then protect me by living.”

He laughed quiet and rough and heartbreakingly fond.

“I’ll try. But if I don’t come back, know this,” he said. “I never regretted loving you.”

The night before he left to save Ace you ended up in his bed for the first time, giving in to the desire between you two.

Whitebeard died standing, died protecting his family.

And in his final moments, he held something in his hand: a folded scrap of parchment.

You recognized it when it washed ashore weeks later.

It was your handwriting.

One line.

“If ever you forget yourself, remember there’s a man inside you a man I loved, a man the world never saw but I did.”

You sat long nights at his grave, hand on your belly and sometimes when you were quiet, when the sea was still, you swore you felt a hand at your back, steady as the world, whispering "I never regretted loving you."

Years later, on Sphinx island, you sat by a dock with a little girl who had his smile.

Your daughter.

Your only treasure.

And when she asked why you cried when it rained, you told her a story.

About a man who was the strongest man in the world and was called a monster for that.

But you?

You knew better.

He was a man who once dreamed of peace, a family and loved you so quietly, it nearly broke your heart.

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

Ace

You didn’t mean to brush against him. The table was too small. The conversation too loud. The meeting too crowded. One wrong lean, and his hand grazed yours.

Bare skin touching and that was all it took.

A vision flooded your brain, no, not a vision. A need. A longing so powerful, so raw it made you gasp before you could hide it.

You saw his hands on your cheeks, trembling—not with lust, but desperation. His voice hoarse, whispering your name like a prayer. His forehead pressed to yours, his eyes shimmering with something like relief… or grief. His whole body shaking with the desire to keep you. "Don’t go. Please… don’t leave me." It wasn’t desire in the way you had expected. Not hunger. Not lust. It was deeper. It was love. But not the sweet, easy kind. This was haunted love, fragile and fierce and terrified. He wanted you like a dying man wanted air. Not because it was beautiful but because he didn’t know how to keep breathing without it. He never thought and never let himself believe he deserved this, deserved you.

And when the image vanished and you were back, staring at the man across from you, you couldn’t breathe.

Not when Ace was still looking at you with that dumb, sunlit smile, oblivious to what you now knew. What you now carried.

You avoided him for days.

You said you were tired. Sick. Busy. Anything to keep from touching him again.

Because how could you look at him when you knew? Knew that behind every laugh, every teasing nudge, every casual, friendly grin was a heart that ached for you?

And he didn’t even know you knew.

That was the cruellest part. You knew too much while he didn’t know at all.

He found you three nights later, sitting at the edge of the deck under a moonless sky.

“Hey,” he said softly, voice without its usual spark. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

You didn’t answer.

He walked closer and sat beside you, letting his legs hang over the edge like yours.

Silence stretched between you. Wind tugged at your shirt. The sea below shimmered, black and restless.

“You mad at me or something?” he asked.

“No,” you whispered.

“Then why won’t you even look at me?”

You hesitated and you could feel him watching. Waiting.

Finally, you forced yourself to meet his gaze.

“I just…” You swallowed. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

He blinked. “What? Why would you—”

Your voice cracked. “Because I know.”

He froze. “Know what?”

You turned away. Hands clenched in your lap.

“Ace… when you touched me. I—I saw it.”

His voice dropped. “Saw what?”

You looked up at him. Moonlight caught in your eyes, even if there was no moon.

“Your desire,” you said. “What you want. The Yoku Yoku no Mi... it showed me.”

He stared at you like you had ripped the air out of his lungs.

You kept going, voice barely a whisper. “You want me. Not just like that, not like the others. You want me like it’s killing you. Like you’re scared if you ask that I’ll disappear. Like you’d rather burn than be the one to hold on too tight. I saw that you were afraid to let yourself feel loved because you think you don’t deserve it.”

You saw it all of it. Every moment he kept buried under fire and smiles. The loneliness. The fear. The way he’d convinced himself you deserved better. The way he wanted to stay beside you but never dared to hope.

“I saw it,” you said again, softer this time. “I felt it.”

He looked away, his shoulders tense.

For a long moment, he didn’t speak.

When he finally did, his voice was low. Barely there.

“…Guess there’s no point lying, then.”

Your heart clenched.

“Ace—”

“I didn’t mean for you to find out,” he muttered. “I thought… if I could keep it quiet, maybe it wouldn’t ruin anything.”

“It didn’t ruin anything,” you said quickly.

He laughed bitterly. “Didn’t it?”

You reached out with a trembling hand. Slowly, you touched his fingers brushing his knuckles.

It was enough.

The desire flared again, faint but familiar. That same image. His lips against your forehead. That quiet, desperate plea:

“Don’t leave.”

But this time… it didn’t hurt.

Because now, you wanted it too.

“Ace,” you said gently. “You don’t have to be scared. Not with me.”

His head dropped forward. Hair hiding his eyes.

“You don’t get it,” he whispered. “People leave. Or I leave them. It’s just how it goes.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You say that now.”

“I mean it.” You turned his hand over and placed your palm flat against his. A full contact.

He closed his eyes, a bitter laugh escaping.

“You think I deserve love?”

Your heart shattered at that stupid question.

“I know you do.”

But you felt it the way the distance between you two seemed to suddenly grow. The fear of being vulnerable was a wall you couldn’t break at least, not yet

“I’m sorry,” he whispered pulling away. “I can’t be what you want, what you deserve.”

You wanted to scream, to beg him to stay, but all you could do was watch him walk away fire burning behind his steps, and your heart burning with him.

Later that night when everything was still, but your world felt shattered, you stood alone on the deck in a small corner until you saw Ace walking up to you stopping before you, the flickering lanterns casting shadows on his face the same face that once smiled so freely, now etched with pain and resolve.

His eyes searched yours, desperate, but guarded.

“I can’t,” he said softly, voice breaking. “Not like this. Not with all this… inside me.”

You reached out, fingers trembling, but he stepped back, avoiding your touch.

“I’m not the man you deserve. I’m fire that burns too fiercely, too recklessly, there is so much bad blood in me.”

“Please,” you whispered, tears blurring your vision “don’t leave.”

He shook his head, a bitter smile flickering.

“Sometimes love means letting go. For your sake… and mine.”

His hand brushed your cheek, gentle, warm, a fleeting touch that said everything words could not.

A small vision that showed you how much you meant to him but how much he feared letting you close

“I’ll carry you with me,” he promised. “Even if we never meet again.”

And with that, Ace turned away, the weight of his pain heavier than the sea wind that tore at your hair.

You stood frozen, the echoes of his footsteps fading into the night, and the silent ache of goodbye settling deep inside you.

Time passed until you found yourself on the battlefield, the roar of battle thundered all around. Smoke choked the air - screams tore through the chaos. You found yourself pressed between chaos and desperation only one thing was clear, save Ace.

You had to reach him.

Through the blood and fire, you pushed forward, heart pounding.

And then there he was standing next to his younger brother Luffy. Ace’ proud, fierce eyes locking onto yours, a flicker of hope in the storm.

He smiled just for a moment but it was enough to make your heart flutter.

“I’m okay,” he said, breath ragged. “Didn’t think you’d make it.”

You swallowed tears. “I’m not leaving you.”

He reached out, fingers brushing your cheek, skin against skin, and your cursed fruit flared.

Not battlefields. Not dying screams. Just you and him, safe. A quiet smile, a gentle touch, a whispered promise. “I want to live for you because I finally see that I deserve it, I deserve you.”

But fate was cruel.

Before you could hold him, the world tilted, the strike came fast and then Ace fell.

You screamed, reached for him, but the weight of the impossible dragged him away as he collapsed against Luffy.

His eyes found yours one last time as you rushed to his side, pain, love, and regret mingled there.

“Forgive me,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I can’t stay.”

And then the light faded.

You collapsed beside him, tears burning hotter than any flame.

The cursed fruit’s visions haunted you, not just desire, but loss, the unbearable cost of love in a world broken by war.

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

Thatch

Most of the time the things you saw when you touched one of the crew, it was harmless. Boring. A snack, a promotion, a quiet nap, a woman for a night.

But then came Thatch..

You had tripped on the stairs. He had caught you, calloused hands gripping your bare forearm.

It was instinct. Reflex. He held you like it was nothing.

But it hit you like a cannonball.

A vision, a future you didn’t know he imagined.

You laughing in a kitchen filled with light. A ring on your finger. His jacket over your shoulders. His lips on your neck as he hugged you from behind. A home. A love. You and him. Happy.

You jolted, gasped, scrambled away like he burned you. The tray crashed to the ground. He blinked, confused.

“…You okay, sweetheart?”

You stared at him. Too long. Too hard.

And he looked at you like you were precious, like you were the One Piece.

“You’ve got eyes like a trap, sweetheart. I walk in, and I don’t wanna leave.” He said with a charming smile.

And you suddenly couldn’t bear it.

You thought maybe if you gave it time, the feeling would pass. His desire would fade. He’d meet someone else, flirt with some girl at a port bar like he always did.

But it didn’t fade no in fact it only grew stronger.

Every time he touched you, you saw more and more and always you and him together, always a ring on your finger, always him cherishing and loving you.

And the worst by now you wanted it too.

But what if it was just a fantasy? A fleeting thought sparked by the fruit? You couldn’t trust what you saw. You shouldn’t trust it. So you kept your distance because you were a coward.

And Thatch noticed.

“Did I do something?”

His voice was quieter than usual. No teasing. No smug grin.

You looked up from your mug. You hadn’t even realized he was in the galley.

“…No,” you said quickly. “I’ve just… had a lot on my mind.”

He nodded slowly.

Then, he walked to you, stood close and gently placed his hand on yours.

The heat surged and another vision flooded you.

You and him under the stars and him leaning in kissing you underneath the moonlight. Whispering your name like a prayer, his eyes full of love. “You’re the only one I’d never stop chasing because you’re worth it.” And then he knelt and pulled out a small box with a ring inside, it was his dream idea to ask you to marry him.

You bit your tongue when the vision ended.

“I think about you a lot,” he said. Honest. Low. “Not just in the way you probably think. Not just for a night.”

You swallowed.

“I know you’ve got secrets. Everyone here does.” His thumb brushed your knuckle. “I won’t ask for them. But if you ever want to talk, or, hell, even yell at me, I can take it.”

You didn’t respond.

You were afraid if you opened your mouth, you’d tell him you saw every secret he didn’t know he had.

And god how you loved him for it and that was eating at you.

A few days later Thatch burst into your quarters with the giddy energy of a boy who found buried treasure.

“You won’t believe what I found”

You blinked blearily from your hammock. “If it’s more spiked jam, I swear I’ll kill you.”

“Nope. Better.” He held out the chest.

Inside sat a strange black fruit, spiraled and sinister. It gave you a strange feeling.

“…Is that a Devil Fruit?” you asked cautiously.

He nodded. “I checked the book. Yami Yami No Mi. Darkness. Gravity. Crazy stuff.”

You sat up. “Where did you get this?”

“Found it,” he smirked brightly.

“You wanna consume a Devil Fruit that gives….really bad vibes” you asked carefully and he just gave you that charming smile.

“Probably, you should have seen Teach I think he’s a little jealous that I found this beauty” Thatch joked but you didn’t think this was a joking matter.

“…Thatch, I don’t like this”

He waved you off. “Ah don’t worry sweetheart, I’m still debating when to bite into it, by our rule – finders keepers.”

“Just be careful,” you muttered.

He chuckled. “Aren’t I always?”

You looked at him.

“No. You’re not that’s why I said it.”

He smiled and stepped close and before you knew it cupped your cheek. His thumb grazed your skin and the desire hit again.

He wanted to tell you he loved you. Not someday. Tomorrow. Out on the deck. You and him the morning breeze the sun rising and him holding your hand, kissing you and telling you those three words.   

Your heart was racing, your cheeks heating up and you almost said it back.

But fear won again and you still didn’t dare telling him about your power about the fact that you felt for him, what he felt for you. You sighed….tomorrow, tomorrow you’d tell him, tomorrow when those three words would leave his lips you would tell him everything you decided.

The next morning you woke up to shouting. Marco. Vista. Ace.

You staggered out of bed barefoot, heart thundering.

You knew, you felt it that something was wrong.

“Where’s Thatch?”

No one answered you but the looks on their face said enough.

You stormed onto the deck and found him there. Face down. Crumpled. Bleeding.

Your knees gave out.

The Yami Yami no Mi was gone. So was Teach.

Thatch’s lips were still. His body still warm.

And all you could think was: He died wanting me. And I never said it back.

They buried him at sea. You didn’t cry. Not at first. You were too angry. At yourself. At Teach. At fate.

But that night, alone on deck, you finally whispered the words:

“I saw you. Every time you touched me. I saw how you felt and I loved you too. ”

The stars said nothing.

You swallowed, grief and regret washing over you. Regret you never told him, you never let him in on your secret, on the fact you felt the same, that you wanted to kiss him as badly as he wanted to kiss you.

“I felt it too. But I was afraid… that maybe it wasn’t real. That it was just the fruit messing with my head.”

You touched your own arm, where he used to hold you.

“…But it was real, wasn’t it?”

You smiled. Broken. Tired.

“I would’ve said yes, Thatch. If you had asked.”

The wind carried nothing back but salt and silence.

“If you ever want to catch me,” you whispered to the waves, “you’ll have to come back first.”

[aoashinoducky]

Show Me Your Desire Pt. 3

A/N: because a lot of you asked for more of this I decided to make a Dilf edition (other DILFs will follow here's a hint on who 🤡💨🦩🍩)

Part 1 | Part 2

Plot: you ate the Yoku Yoku No Mi - the desire desire devil fruit - that shows you glimpses of someones deepest desires when you touch them. Therefore you made sure to avoid touches and insight into those personal moments. But things get out of hand

Warnings: none, sfw, maybe a tiny bit of angst?, not proofread, GN but written with FReader in mind

Characters: Shanks, Beckman, Marco, Rayleigh (all separately) x GnReader

Shanks

You didn’t belong here. Not at this level. The meeting was meant for powerful men, warlords, emperors, and their most dangerous commanders. But the underworld needed a liaison, and you had information they wanted.

That was your ticket in.

They called it a neutral summit, but the tension was razor-wire tight. Eyes slide over you like knives, curious, dismissive, predatory.

You kept your gloves on because there were too many people and things could spiral too fast out of hand.

Shanks entered late, laughing like this wasn’t some high-stake meeting. Coat slung over one shoulder. Hair like fire and an annoyingly charming smile that would disarm whole navies.

You pretended not to notice him but of course he noticed you.

It was at dinner. A toast was held, ironically meant to seal peace.

You didn’t drink. Not with strangers. But when your hand accidentally knocked into his glass, he steadied it and his fingers touched yours because you thought it was a good idea to keep the gloves off during dinner and now there was bare skin to bare skin.

You sucked in a breath and everything changed the vision hit you.

Not a fantasy. Not lust. A quiet moment. You. Standing beside him on the deck of the Red Force. Wearing his coat. Laughing. Eyes full of wild joy. His desire? Not to bed you. Not to control you. To love you.To choose you. A captain’s desire. Intimate. Terrifying and utterly real.

You ripped your hand back a little too fast making the wine slosh and the conversation around you dulled for a moment.

Shanks just watched you, head tilted slightly, like a man watching the sea change colors under moonlight.

And then he smiled, slow and knowing before you excused yourself and left the room.

After that incident you tried to avoid him.

You made up excuses to stay near the table’s edge, offered vague, polite nods or sometimes stood at the very back of the room.

But it was useless because the next day he found you alone at the edge of the cliff overlooking the ocean.

You didn’t hear him approach. You just felt him.

“I’m not that scary, am I?”

You kept your gloves tight and your eyes forward. “Depends, who’s asking.”

He huffed a laugh. “Didn’t think I made that bad of an impression.”

“You didn’t.”

“But?”

You bit your lip and said nothing.

Shanks stepped beside you, close enough that you could feel the heat of his body but not close enough to touch you.

“Something changed when I touched you.”

Your stomach flipped at his words and you unintentionally brushed over your gloves.

“I felt it,” he continued softly. “You flinched. You looked at me like I had opened a door I shouldn’t have.”

Your hands lowered to the railing grip tightly around it to somehow ground you. “It wasn’t you. It’s… me.”

“That so?”

He didn’t push. Not yet but he lingered.

And his silence was somehow worse. Because the Shanks everyone always talked about was loud, lighthearted, a flirt and annoyingly charming.

This one?

This one was dangerous.

Because he was watching and he saw far too much and you knew that he wouldn’t let it slide like this forever sooner or later he would confront you again.

He caught you days later. This time in the moonlight, at the edge of the port, where the ships waited like sleeping beasts.

You went there because you needed to be alone, needed space and you didn’t expect him to join you.

“I figured it out,” he said, like a secret between you. “What it is you’re hiding.”

You froze and looked a little scared at him. “No you didn’t.”

“You ate a Devil Fruit. Didn’t you?”

You inhaled sharply but didn’t say anything.

He took one slow step forward.

“You don’t like being touched. Not because of trauma. Because of something else. Something….new.”

You kept backing up until your spine hit a post and Shanks stopped inches from you.

“And when I touched you…” He trailed off. “You looked at me like I broke something precious.”

You finally spoke, your voice cracking. “Because you did.”

His brows furrowed.

“I see it,” you whispered. “When people touch me. I see what they want. Their deepest desire. And I can’t make it stop.”

Silence.

He didn’t laugh, he didn’t scoff, he just took one slow, measured and final step forward

“And mine?” he asked.

You looked away and didn’t answer.

“Tell me,” he said, softer this time. “What did I want?”

You didn’t want to say it. Because once you did, it won’t be pretend anymore. It would be real but you couldn’t keep it in you any longer, you needed to finally say it out loud so you turned to face him.

“You wanted peace,” you whispered. “You wanted me. With you. Free. Loved.”

His lips parted.

You looked away again. “Don’t pretend you don’t remember it. Because I do. I felt it. You wanted to keep me. Not as some prize. Not for sex. Just… me.”

There was a long silence between you during which neither of you moved.

“I’m sorry,” he suddenly said.

That made you laugh, bitterly, maybe a little too bitter. “For what?”

“For making you feel like it was a crime to be wanted, not as a prize but for someone precious.”

He gave you a small smile before he walked away leaving you to your thoughts, giving you space and worse, making you feel so utterly confused and overwhelmed.

The next few days Shanks visited you again and again. He never asked anymore questions about what you saw or your powers, no more demands, just him, his presence.

Sometimes he talked and joked. Sometimes he didn’t and let the silence settle between you both but not uncomfortable anymore.

But always during these times he let you choose how close he was allowed to get. Never touching, never crowding.

And that was what broke you.

Because he didn’t act on desire no matter how much he wanted it.

He honoured it.

He waited.

Until one night, when you sat beside him under the stars.

“It doesn’t hurt when it’s you.” You suddenly said.

He looked over with a raised eyebrow.

“I mean… it still happens. I still see it. But it doesn’t hurt, it never really did.”

He reached out, very slowly, until his fingertips barely brushed your glove.

“What do you see?” he asked cautiously.

You slid the glove off and lay your palm in his.

The moment your skin touched his again, the vision flared.

You. Older. Stronger. Laughing at his side. Hands scarred. Eyes warm. A family. A future. And him, holding you close during a storm, whispering he’ll never let the world take you.

When you snapped back you blinked rapidly and Shanks just looked at you, he didn’t press you to tell him.

“I see you, me, us.” you whispered.

He smiled at you, that warm charming smile that could melt steel and yet he didn’t make another move despite how much he wanted to. You didn’t need a devil fruit to see how much he restrained himself not to lean in and kiss you, touch you, hold you.

And that was when you realized that Shanks wasn’t like the rest, he was special, he cherished you, not your powers or looks, he wanted to be with you, the real you and you had never felt so safe and desired without being used.

So you did the only thing that felt right in that moment. You placed your hand on his cheek and leaned closer.

“You sure” he asked carefully.

But you just smiled. “Yes I’m sure, you…..I saw us, I felt what it means to be yours, you are…..not like the others Shanks. I think I can finally see that and I want this vision, this desire I saw, to become true because truth is your desire had now become mine too.” You said softly.

That was all the permission Shanks needed to finally close the gap between you two. He kissed you like a man who found the One Piece. It was sweet, it was gentle and it was full of love.

And that night was the first time you fell asleep in the arms of someone else, letting someone hold you without fearing the touch, without fearing skin on skin because when you touched him there was no vision flaring up anymore because this, right here, was what he desired most.  

♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡

Marco

You didn’t ask to feel the way someone aches for you when their fingers brush yours. You didn’t ask to be the mirror that reflects desire, laid bare and raw, without their permission. Without yours.

The Yoku Yoku no Mi was a curse. A secret you’ve kept from nearly everyone, especially the men in this pirate alliance, most of whom wouldn't take kindly to knowing their most private thoughts are one brush away from discovery.

You didn’t want this power, never wanted to see others deepest desires.

But then came Marco.

The phoenix. The doctor. The man made of fire and light and the weight of centuries behind tired blue eyes.

You were even more careful around him. Always wearing gloves. Always choosing something with long sleeves. Always coming up with an excuse to stay out of arm’s reach.

Until today.

The meeting was chaos. As usual.

You had slipped out early, your skin crawling from the too-close proximity of people who wanted you too much. You headed for the far side of the deck, where night air kissed your face and silence didn’t try to touch you.

You didn’t hear him approach until he was close enough to make the hairs on your neck rise.

“You alright, yoi?”

His voice was low. Familiar. It always made you feel a little steadier.

You turned and then it happened.

You stumbled on a loose plank, not much, just a slight tilt but enough.

Marco’s hand shot out and caught your wrist right where your sleeve had ridden up and now there was what you dreaded the most skin on skin.

It hit you like a wave of flame.

His longing. A deep, aching, devastating desire to go back. To a quiet morning, with you curled beside him, sunlight painting your face. His hand in your hair. His fingers brushing your cheek like you were something precious. Untouchable. Sacred. Then another scene - a quiet beach, not far from a sleepy village. A house, washed in warm light. You were there, beside him. He had his arms around your waist, chin tucked on your shoulder, both of you watching a bonfire down below. Children were laughing. Villagers dancing. He was smiling. That soft, sad smile that meant he wasn’t hurting for once. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel whole again not after everything that had happened. Until you showed up,” he whispered in your ear like a confession, like a secret. You saw a life he never let himself want again.

The desire ran so deep it burnt. It was past logic, past time. It scorched your chest with the ghost of something he never said.

And never would because Marco never took what he wanted because he lost too much already, he was too scared to find love, hope, a family only to lose it again.

He let go the second he felt you stiffen and stepped back instantly.

Gentleman. Doctor. Saint.

“You alright?”

You nodded slowly, a lie of course and he noticed it.

“...What happened?”

You stared at him, at those kind eyes, that steady heart, that fire barely holding itself together.

You could tell him. You could say, “You want me. And not like the others do. You want peace. And a home. And me in it.”

But how did you say that to someone who’s spent his whole life burying what he wanted under ashes?

“Nothing, it’s…..let’s not talk about it” you said voice shaking before you gave him a forced smile and walked away.

It didn’t take long though till he found you again.

Back on the lower deck with the wind in your hair and your eyes on the sea.

“You’ve been avoiding me, yoi.”

You didn’t answer, you couldn’t.

He leaned beside you on the rail but didn’t touch you, didn’t pressure you.

The silence stretched long it was not uncomfortable but it was…..strange and a little awkward.

“You’re not scared of me.” He finally said and it wasn’t a question it was a statement.

“No.” Your voice was quiet. “But I’m scared of what I saw.”

“What you saw?” He asked turning slowly

You closed your eyes.

Dammit.

You didn’t mean to say that.

Because Marco was smart, infuriatingly smart, maybe even too smart for his own good, and of course he pieced it together faster than most would.

“That fruit you ate,” he murmured. “The one you didn’t want anyone to know about.”

You looked at him now, your heart was racing and your breathing increased. His face though was unreadable but you saw the firelight flicker in his eyes.

“You saw something when I touched you.”

You nodded slowly like a kid who got caught doing something wrong.

He didn’t ask what. Didn’t demand it.

But he said something worse.

“That’s not fair to you.”

You frowned totally surprised. “What?”

He pushed off the railing and ran a hand through his blond hair. He looked tired again, like the weight of his own restraint was killing him.

“You shouldn't have to carry someone else's buried feelings. Especially not mine. I can’t give you anything, yoi. You know what I’ve lost. I can’t risk losing more.”

You swallowed hard. “And what if I don’t care?”

He looked at you then with those annoyingly beautiful eyes and the mask dropped.

You saw it again but this time not through the fruit, but through him, right here, right in front of you. The want, the fear, the need.

“You should,” he whispered. “You should care. I’m not the man who gets to want things anymore.”

You stepped toward him. Slowly. Letting him pull away if he needed or wanted to but he didn’t and you stopped shortly before him.

“I’ve spent years watching everyone I love burn out,” he whispered. “Ace. Thatch. Pops. The crew scattered like ash in the wind. Every time I care, I lose. Every time I want, the world takes it,” he continued

“You do want me,” you say softly. “I saw it.”

His jaw tightened.

“I saw peace. Just… peace. You and me. It was so quiet it hurt.”

He looked like you stabbed him. Because you saw the one thing he tried hardest to bury.

“I’m not going to beg,” you said. “But I need you to know, I’m not scared of what you felt. I’m scared that you’ll keep pushing me away because you think you don’t deserve it. I know what you’ve lost, I know that you think you are not meant to be happy, that those you love and care about always end up lost but I still want this, I want to be the peace you so desperately want, need and deserve. I want to be the one to show you that you are allowed to love, to care and to be happy.”

The wind picked up leaving your words hang between you like embers waiting to land.

He didn’t say a word and just looked at you like you just shattered his whole world before he lifted a hand.

And this time, when he touched you, his warm and kind hand on your face, palm to cheek, calloused thumb brushing your skin you let him and leaned in slightly.

And there it was again.

That morning, that sunlight day, that warmth and that longing.

But this time, something changed.

Because he let it happen, he let you see, he wanted you to see.

He smiled at you, a warm genuine smile before he leaned in and let his forehead rest against yours. Voice like cracked stone.

“I don’t know how to hold this without burning it, yoi.”

You smiled, eyes stinging.

“Then burn me. If it’s you… I don’t mind the fire. Let it happen Marco, don’t be afraid, let me be yours,” you said softly and took a deep breath.

And before you knew it he kissed you like he meant it, like you were the only good thing that had happened to him since everything fell apart.

♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡

Rayleigh

The meeting was tense, but not chaotic. The old legends were always good at hiding sharp teeth behind pleasantries.

You weren’t meant to be here, not really. You were just a courier. A quiet neutral with information too valuable to trust to a den den mushi. A few letters passed between pirate alliances, a map folded in your inner coat, and a polite nod from Shakky was all it took for you to be sitting at the bar’s edge while some of the world’s most dangerous men talked strategy.

And then Rayleigh had touched you.

Just a casual thing. A greeting. A warm palm brushing your forearm as he passed you a drink.

It should’ve meant nothing.

But it shattered you.

The vision hit with no warning.

Not lust. Not command. Not violence.A quiet home. Sunlight. Laughter. The press of fingers tangled with yours in bed after the world had stopped spinning. You saw your reflection in his memory. Laughing. Older. Softer. Worn, but happy. You felt the weight of his hand resting on your lower back while you washed dishes. His nose in your hair. His thoughts whispered with such clarity you wanted to scream. “If I’d have met her when I was younger... maybe I would’ve stayed.”

And then the feeling disappeared, like the ocean after a wave.

He had already turned away, smiling lightly, unaware that he had just torn your chest open without ever drawing a blade.

You spent the rest of the night avoiding him but he noticed it, of course he did.

Rayleigh wasn’t like the others, didn’t leer, didn’t press. But he watched. That sharp glint in his eye missed nothing especially not someone who desperately tried to stay out of his way.

You pretended to drink. Pretended to laugh. Pretended you hadn’t felt the kind of love no one ever offered you, not even in your dreams.

But you could feel him getting closer. Quietly, slowly.

You fled outside when the pressure became too much.

The back of Shakky’s bar opened into a warm summer night. Moonlight spilled across the area like silver paint. You stood with your arms folded tight, sleeves down to your knuckles, as if you could protect your skin from accidents.

“Strange place to brood.”

You froze hearing his voice but you didn’t turn around.

“Didn’t realize I was being watched,” you said quietly.

Rayleigh stepped beside you, leaving a respectable distance, hands in his coat pockets.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” It wasn’t a question it was an observation.

“I’ve been avoiding everyone,” you replied, biting your tongue. “Too many wandering hands in there.”

A moment in silence passed.

“You’re not wearing gloves.”

“Maybe I should be.” You said looking from your bare hands up to him.

Another silence. And then, ever so softly he spoke again. “You saw something”

You swallowed hard fidgeting with your fingers as you felt your heart speed up.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you lied.

He huffed a breath through his nose. Not angry. More... resigned.

“I’m not a mind-reader,” he said, voice gentle. “But I’ve been alive long enough to know when someone looks at me like they're afraid of falling.”

Your breath caught for a moment. You hated that he could still make you feel seen, still speak with that calm that cut deeper than any demand or any shouting.

“I didn’t mean to see anything,” you whispered. “You touched me. That was all.”

“And now you’re afraid of me?”

“No,” you said too quickly. “Not afraid. Just...” you looked him in the eye before turning your face away from him leaving the sentence hanging.

You stared out into the open absentmindedly toying with your fingers. “I wasn’t ready for that kind of truth,” you finally continued.

Rayleigh didn’t move nor did he reach for you. Just let the sea lap gently beneath your feet as the silence wrapped around you like a tide.

“You weren’t supposed to be,” he muttered after some time.

You looked back, startled by his words.

“I’m not a saint,” he continued. “And I’ve done more wrong than I can name. But I’ve spent the last decade trying to live quietly. Peacefully. Maybe selfishly. Maybe cowardly.”

His gaze met yours and you were surprised because there was no fire in it, it looked more like some tired warmth.

“When I saw you, I thought... maybe I’d like to share that quiet with someone again. I didn’t think it would be returned. I wasn’t planning to do anything about it. I still won’t. Not unless you want me to.”

That undid you.

The others - the pirates, the warlords, the men drunk on power - when they touched you, their desire surged like a storm. Want. Take. Claim.

You had become a prize, a secret fantasy, a weapon, nothing more.

But Rayleigh? His desire asked nothing of you.

It just existed quietly and warmly. A space in his life where you fit, if you wanted to step inside.

“I didn’t know men like you existed,” you murmured.

“They don’t. I’m retired,” he replied smiling softly.

A laugh slipped from your lips, shaky and half-wet with tears. You brushed at your eyes with the back of your hand. “You know this makes everything more complicated.”

“It always is with power like yours.”

“I hate it.”

“I would too.”

Another pause while you wiped hastily at your eyes.

“Can I touch you again?” He suddenly asked his voice barely louder than the waves.

You swallowed, heart picking up again and you started to fidget with your fingers again. “If you do... I’ll see it again. I’ll feel everything, the desire you have buried deep inside you.”

“I know.” He stepped closer not forcing, just offering.

Your fingers twitched and your heart was now hammering against your ribs.

You took a deep breath and then slowly, ever so slowly, you reached out, letting your hand slide into his.

Not even a second later it hit you again.

The same sunlit life. The warm embrace. The way he looked at you like you were the only part of his world still worth protecting. The ache in his chest whenever you smiled. The slow-burning desire that wasn’t just lust, it was wanting. Wanting to be worthy. To be chosen.

Your breath shook and his fingers curled gently around yours.

When the vision faded, you stayed where you were anchored in the warmth of his palm. Soft eyes looking at you.

“I saw it,” you said. “Again.”

“I know.”

You looked up. “Do you really want that?”

“More than anything,” he said his deep voice barely above a whisper

Your heart ached hearing those words. “Then why haven’t you kissed me?”

He smiled, and this time, there was something rougher behind it. “Because I’m trying not to be the kind of man you have to run from.”

You didn’t hesitate. You leaned in, pressed your lips to his, softly, like a question, like an answer, like a promise.

When you pulled back, your heart was racing and your hands were shaking slightly.

“You’re the only one I don’t want to run from,” you said voice trembling.

He didn’t kiss you again. Not yet.

But he touched your face like you were something breakable and sacred, and when he pulled you into his chest, your powers didn’t show you anything.

There was nothing deeper to reveal. You already knew all of it.

And for the first time since you ate that cursed fruit, you felt safe and you didn’t hate that power because Rayleigh made you feel like you were worth more than a pretty face with a rare Devil Fruit, because he saw you for you and wanted you just the way you were.

♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡

Beckman

You had been maneuvering through the crowded meeting hall of one of the Grand Line’s more neutral territories, if neutrality could be bought with enough favors, blood, and rare alcohol. The alliance summit between rival powers had descended into low murmurs and whiskey-fueled tolerance, and the last thing you needed was to fall flat on your face.

But someone bumped your shoulder. A wine glass wobbled in your hand. And then you felt a hand at your waist right where your shirt had ridden up.

Beckman’s hand – steady, firm and warm.

It took exactly one second and the vision set in.

You saw yourself, bathed in golden afternoon light, seated between his knees on the deck of the Red Force. His hand lazily playing with your hair, your body pressed against his, legs folded together like you'd done it a thousand times. His mouth brushed the shell of your ear. Not in lust. In peace. In want. In comfort.

You snapped back to reality with a gasp.

Beckman’s hand was already gone, retracted like the brief touch had burned him too. His gaze was unreadable, all shadows and cigarette smoke. You knew better than to stare too long but you couldn’t stop your voice from catching as you straightened.

“Thanks.”

He gave a small nod. That was all. He didn’t say another word. Didn’t smile. Just turned and walked away.

Later that night you stood on the outer balcony alone. You needed the air. You needed the sea wind to clear your head.

Because what you had felt when Beckman touched you, that wasn't just attraction. It wasn’t a fleeting crush or a one-night fantasy. It was quiet. Heavy. Dangerous in its simplicity.

He wanted you and more importantly he wanted to keep you.

You gripped the edge of the railing too tightly when a voice startled you.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

You didn’t turn. “No, I haven’t.”

“Don’t lie. Not to me,” he scoffed softly. “I didn’t mean to touch you,” he said, tone unreadable. “But the way you reacted...”

You swallowed, heart racing.

“…You felt something,” he continued. “Didn’t you?”

You stayed quiet. Not because you didn’t have answers but because if you opened your mouth, you might say something you couldn’t take back.

Beckman moved to stand beside you, arms crossed. He didn’t look at you. Just gazed out over the ocean like it might offer clarity.

“You’re not normal,” he said at last and you flinched.

“I’ve seen a lot of Devil Fruit users. Most of them wear their power like a blade. Loud. Obvious. But you…” He glanced sideways at you now, eyes sharp as glass. “You’re hiding something.”

You turned finally, meeting his gaze. The wind caught your hair, whipping it around your shoulders. His eyes were a storm.

“What do you think I’m hiding?” you asked softly.

He took a drag from his cigarette, exhaled slowly, then stepped just a little closer.

“You looked at me like I had undressed you. Like I had taken something.” His voice dropped. “So tell me. What did I do?”

“I saw what you want”, you wanted to say. You saw him alone in his quarters, thinking of you. Not touching himself. Just… thinking. A man who could have anyone, imagining sitting beside you in silence. Smoking in bed while you read. His lips on your skin not in hunger, but reverence.

You weren’t sure if that made it worse. That he didn’t want you like the others did that he needed you.

“I can’t tell you,” you said instead.

“Why not?” he asked with a frown.

“Because if I do… everything changes.”

A beat passed then Beckman reached slowly out and held his hand palm-up between you, hovering inches from yours.

“If it’s already changed,” he said, “then let me see how far.”

Your throat dried. “Don’t,” you whispered.

“You’re scared of me?” he asked.

“No. I’m scared of what I want when I’m around you.”

That made him pause but he didn’t lower his hand.

“I won’t touch you again. Not unless you ask me to,” he finally said, stepping back and dropping his hand.

“Good night,” he murmured, and turned to leave.

You didn’t stop him though, you just stood there long after he was gone, heart hammering against your ribs.

The next day you had wandered just a few minutes on the docks to breathe, to feel air without tension. But then a pirate you didn’t recognize grabbed your bare arm and the vision was nasty, it was hurtful, nothing like what you saw when Beckman had touched you.

“You from that emperor crew?” he slurred, breath sour with cheap sake. “Pretty little thing… bet even Benn Beckman’d share ya for tha right—” a loud crack and the man dropped before the sentence was finished.

Your ears rang from the shot. A kneecap gone, shattered. Screams followed, echoing off the stone dock. Blood soaked the boards. The man writhed, crying out for mercy.

And then you felt it - a hand on your shoulder.

Not rough, not pulling, no it was steady and very familiar.

“You alright?” came Beckman’s voice behind you.

You turned to see that he still held the rifle one-handed, barrel faintly smoking, calm as ever. He looked past you at the man screaming on the ground like he wasn’t worth finishing off.

“I’m fine,” you managed, voice tight. “You didn’t have to—”

“I did.”

His jaw flexed.

“I saw the way he touched you,” Beckman muttered. “I saw your face.”

And you knew what he meant. He didn’t know what your power was at least not fully but he could tell by the way you reacted when the pirate touched you, how you flinched and paled, that it hurt and unsettled you.

“Come on,” he said. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m not—”

But he was already guiding you away and back to your room. His hand hovered just short over the small of your back but never touching.

Once you reached your room Beckman shut the door behind you with a soft click.

You stood there, heart still pounding not from the pirate, but from him. From the way he had pulled the trigger without blinking. From the look in his eyes as he checked you over for injuries in the dim light of your quarters.

“You didn’t hesitate,” you said quietly.

He leaned against the closed door, cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Didn’t need to.”

You looked away. “You shouldn’t have shot him.”

“He’s still breathing.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It is to me.”

That shut you up.

“You can’t just shoot everyone who touches me,” you whispered.

“Try me.”

You turned sharply.

“Don’t joke about that.”

“I’m not.” His eyes were unreadable. “I’m serious.”

And he was. That was the most terrifying part. Beckman didn’t say things he didn’t mean.

You tried to steady your breath, but your voice cracked anyway. “You don’t know what it feels like. When someone touches me and I feel everything they want. Everything they bury and that pirate…..he didn’t just simply want to hurt me.”

Beckman raised a brow.

“He wanted to… own me,” you muttered. “To show me off. To parade me like a trophy. Like I was a prize he won in a bet.”

“And me?” he asked after a long pause.

You froze, unable to look at him and Beckman pushed off the door and crossed the room only to stop inches from you.

“Tell me,” he said, voice low, “what you saw.”

You shook your head.

“I want to hear it,” he pressed. “I want to know what you felt when I touched you.”

You bit your lip. “You don’t want that.”

“I do.”

You met his eyes and gave in.

“You want me,” you said, quiet and raw. “But not like the others. You don’t want to use me. You want to hold me. To keep me safe. You want late mornings. You want to teach me how to play cards. You want me to wear your shirt and steal your bed and never leave. And that scares the hell out of me.”

Beckman didn’t move, his face was unreadable but something in his eyes shifted.

“Is that really so terrifying?” he asked, almost gently.

“Yes,” you whispered. “Because I could want that too.”

Could was an understatement though because you already did want it.

He stepped forward just slightly. Enough that your fingers brushed.

Just enough contact to flood you with that vision again but this time it felt even deeper.

You saw yourself curled under a blanket on the Red Force, rain pounding outside. Beckman beside you, reading. One arm draped across your shoulders. A quiet promise in every breath. And this time you felt that this wasn’t just a desire anymore it was something he believed could really be.

And when the image faded you realized you were crying.

Beckman looked stricken. “What—?”

“I can’t keep seeing this,” you breathed. “I can’t keep feeling things that aren’t mine.”

He reached for you but then stopped himself.

“I want them to be yours,” he said, raw. “All of them.”

You just stared at him.

He exhaled slowly. “Every thought I’ve had of you, every thing I’ve wanted it’s not just in passing. It’s not just in the dark. It’s there in the daylight. Every time you laugh. Every time you hold your damn cup with both hands like it’s sacred. Every time you walk into a room and pretend like nobody’s watching you. I am.”

Tears blurred your vision.

“I didn’t want to know,” you choked. “I didn’t want to know what you wanted because I knew the moment I did…..I’d want it too.”

“Then let yourself have it,” he said voice cracking slightly.

You stepped forward and rested your head against his chest. Letting him wrap his arms around you without shame. Letting yourself feel the weight of it, the warmth of someone who wanted not just your body, but your presence.

And he held you like he had waited years for it.

Like he wouldn’t dare let go unless you told him to.

Which obviously you didn’t.

[aoashinoducky]

Show Me Your Desire

A/N: so since I've been sick for almost two weeks now I didn't get a whole story done and only managed to scribble some short snippets down and this is the result of me experimenting. I have never done something like this before so here's to the first try. You can thank @hakiofdreams for the character selection and the idea. Its basically one scenario for 5 different characters. Oh and sorry if I messed Lucci, Mihawk and Zoro up I usually don't write for them (and please no more requests for Mihawk and Lucci)

Part 2 | Part 3

Plot: you ate the Yoku Yoku No Mi - the desire desire devil fruit - that shows you glimpses of someones deepest desires when you touch them. Therefore you made sure to avoid touches and insight into those personal moments. But during a conference things get out of hand.

Warnings: none really, sfw, maybe some slight tinie tiny bit of angst, not proofread and I'm really sorry if it sucks 🙈

Characters: Law; Zoro; Sir Crocodile; Lucci; Mihawk (all separately) x GnReader

Crocodile:

You hadn’t meant to touch him.

The conference room was full of killers, and you had stayed quiet, unreadable as you were told because that was your strength. You were a broker one of the youngest allowed in this blood-soaked circle, not because of strength, but because you knew when to keep your damn mouth shut.

Except for when your fingers grazed his.

It had been a fleeting moment someone bumped your chair, your balance faltered, and your hand caught the edge of the armrest next to you. Except it wasn’t empty. Crocodile was already seated there, cigar in hand, gold hook resting on the table.

You touched his skin.

And everything shifted.

The vision hit like a freight ship.

You stood on a sandstorm-swept cliff, wind howling like a banshee. Crocodile was in front of you, bleeding, furious but not at you. "Don’t you dare - don’t you fucking dare leave me," he growled. You took a staggering step toward him. He grabbed your hand pressed his forehead to yours. "You’re all I have left."

And then it was over.

Your fingers recoiled like you’d been burned. Crocodile glanced at you sharply. The eye contact was brief, but he noticed. Of course he noticed. His gaze sharpened, a predator smelling a shift in the wind.

You forced yourself to look away. Pretended to jot notes but your hand, it trembled.

Later that night you were alone on the balcony of the summit villa, nursing a glass of wine and a headache. The sea below was black and endless and you were too lost in thoughts to hear him approach.

"You touched me."

You didn’t look back. “I lost my balance.”

Crocodile exhaled smoke behind you. It curled over your shoulder like a living thing.

"You saw something."

Silence.

He stepped closer. Not enough to touch but enough that you felt it. His presence was heavy, charged.

"Your Devil Fruit," he said slowly. "The rumors are true."

You turned then, eyes meeting his. "You were warned not to touch me."

His lips curled into something like a smirk but there was no humor in it. "I don’t fear little parlor tricks, little flower."

"It’s not a trick. I saw your desire."

You watched his expression and saw a flicker of tension, his jaw tightening, but he said nothing.

You went on anyway. "You don’t want power. Or revenge. You want….someone."

He flicked ash over the railing. "Lust is human." he said calmly, unimpressed even.

"It wasn’t lust."

Now he looked at you fully. Dark eyes, smoldering with something far more dangerous than anger.

"Then you saw too much." Was all he said before he walked away again.

The days that followed were hell.

Crocodile made sure to stay out of "touching range", but he hovered, always in your periphery. Always watching.

You felt it in the way your skin prickled. The way he lingered too long in every meeting. The way he said your name, like it was a secret he refused to keep.

And worse, the way he looked at you now was not indifferent.

You saw it, a piece of him no one else did. Something he buried deep under years of blood and sand and arrogance.

That made you dangerous.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about that vision. Not just what he wanted, but how desperately he wanted it. How broken and raw his voice had been when he said it.

"You’re all I have left."

The breaking point came the next night in the garden.

It was late. You were alone again - or so you thought.

"You don’t sleep much."

You turned. "And you don’t leave me alone." You said glaninc briefly at him.

He looked tired. Less composed. Shirt open at the throat. Cigar forgotten.

"Why?" you asked. "Why do you keep circling me like a hawk?"

"Because you took something from me," he said vpice low as he stepped closer to you.

"What?" You asked blinking confused.

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he reached out and this time, he touched you on purpose. Bare fingers, sliding along yours.

Another vision hit:

You, standing in the rain, bloodied, but alive. Him, cupping your cheek with his flesh hand, thumb caressing your skin. His hook protectively at your back like an oath. "I’ll protect you. Even if it kills me."

You gasped as the vision ended.

He didn’t let go. "You saw what I didn’t want anyone to know," he murmured. "That I’m tired of pretending I feel nothing."

"Why me?" you asked voice trembling, body shaking.

A beat of silence.

"Because you didn’t flinch," he said. "Even now, you look at me like I’m still a man."

"Are you?" you asked voice cracking

His lips twitched. "Would it matter?"

You didn’t answer just looked at him and he leaned in. Foreheads so close, breaths warm and mingling.

"You scare the hell out of me," you whispered.

"Good," he said. "That makes us even."

And then he closed the gap between you two. The kiss was a mistake, it was desperate, messy. Like trying to drown a fire and you pushed him away the first time. He let you, smirking, but not too far.

The second kiss wasn’t a mistake as you pulled him back giving in to the temptation, the desire, the need.

They said you tamed a monster.

They were wrong.

He was still a monster.

But now, when he burned the world, he burned it for you.

And when his enemies came too close, they didn’t face a sandstorm.

They faced a man willing to destroy the world just to keep your hands from shaking.

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Mihawk:

You stood in a candle-lit hall surrounded by the most dangerous men on the Grand Line, playing the part of a neutral mediator.

You didn’t expect him to be there or well maybe you did but you had just hoped he wouldn’t.

Dracule Mihawk. The Greatest Swordsman. Dressed in black and crimson, leaning against the far wall like a painting come to life.

He radiated silence. Precision. Control.

You made a point to avoid him after your last encounters with him. But fate didn’t care about your plans.

The chaos began when someone bumped into you, a minor captain, flailing, spilling wine.

You stumbled back and straight into Mihawk.

A bare hand caught your wrist. Just for a second.

And that was all it took for the vision hit you like a blade.

You, barefoot in his castle. Dressed in silk. Standing in front of a fire, wrapped in his coat. Mihawk behind you, eyes unreadable, fingers brushing your jaw. "Stay," he murmured in the dream. It was the most intimate thing you had ever seen from anyone, especially him.

And when you jolted back to reality, his gaze locked on you like he knew.

You quickly pulled away. "I-I’m fine, I’m sorry," you muttered, voice brittle.

He said nothing. But his stare lingered too long.

Later that night, you found yourself alone in the garden beneath the moonlight, trying to slow your racing heart. He found you again, silent as shadow.

"You saw something," Mihawk said, voice low and cutting. Not a question. A fact.

Your mouth went dry.

"I didn’t mean to," you admitted. "It only happens with skin contact."

"Interesting," he replied, stepping closer. "And what did you see?"

You looked up at him. His expression was unreadable. Cold, calculating… but something flickered behind his eyes. Hope? Fear? Annoyance?

"You were… home," you said carefully. "At peace."

That was not entirely a lie. But it also wasn't the whole truth.

But he accepted it. Barely.

"Keep your distance from now on," he said. "I don’t need you reading my mind."

"You think I want to?" you snapped. "I see things I never asked for. Every handshake, every shove, every accidental brush…..it’s a flood of everyone’s secrets. Do you know what that feels like?"

Mihawk’s expression didn’t change.

But his voice softened just slightly. "No. But I understand the cost of power."

He left before you could answer.

Over the next days, he avoided you. And you avoided him.

Except when you didn’t.

He lingered longer during briefings. Sat closer at the table. Your eyes met too often to be coincidence.

And then, it happened again.

A thunderstorm cracked over the island. You slipped on the rain-slick stone and someone caught you…….him again.

The vision rushed in.

You, in his castle again, dinner together, candles lit, a glass of wine before you, untouched because you were busy……kissing him, like it was the end of the world.

You jerked back, breathless, trembling.

He didn’t let go.

"Tell me," he said.

Your voice shook. "You want something you think you’re not allowed to have."

"Because it’s dangerous," he whispered. "Because I always win. And I’m afraid I’d ruin you."

You looked up, and your heart cracked open like a wound.

"Then stop touching me," you said. "Or stop pretending you don’t care."

The summit ended with deals were made and for once no blood spilled. But he didn’t leave.

He found you at the edge of the cliffside the next night. Wind in your hair. Sand crunching beneath your boots.

"I don’t know how to love gently," he said.

You turned. "I don’t need gentle. I need real."

Mihawk reached for you, slowly this time, and you let him. His fingers brushed your cheek, and the vision didn’t hit you like a wave.

This time, it bloomed.

It showed a future. A choice he had made. Not a fantasy, not a secret longing, just him, choosing you.

And for once, you saw your own desire reflected back.

When the vision ended, he looked down at you and he kissed you, it wasn’t fire. It wasn’t war. It was something infinitely more dangerous.

Surrender – him giving in to his desire.

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Lucci:

Lucci sat across from you now at a round conference table. He was silent, unreadable, flanked by the pigeon that watched you just as closely as its master. You kept your gloves on. You’ve heard the stories about CP0’s attack dog. Stoic. Merciless. Efficient.

Everytime you crossed paths with him you were surprised all over with how beautiful he was.

Not soft, never that. But there was a deadly grace in his stillness, the way his eyes rested like the flat of a blade on your skin. It was a look that said he knew what you were. What you were hiding.

You were extra careful. Until the second day of negotiations.

It happened fast. A flash of chaos during the midday meeting, two idiots broke into an argument, and someone flipped the table. You were shoved sideways, stumbling, and reaching out blindly to steady yourself.

Your bare hand crashed into Lucci’s wrist.

Shit.

Your world snapped away and the vision flashed before your eyes, flooding your senses.

Red silk sheets and low candlelight. Lucci was leaning against the headboard, half undressed, but it was not the lust that stole your breath, it was the quiet. You were there, beside him. Sleeping against his chest like you belonged there, his arm around you, watching you, like he was afraid you’d vanish. A calloused hand brushed a strand of hair from your face with infinite care, and in that moment, Lucci, the monster, the cipher, the assassin, looked more vulnerable than anyone you’ve ever seen. He wanted peace. He wanted you. And he’d never allow himself either.

The vision collapsed.

You ripped your hand back like you’ve been burned. Lucci’s expression didn’t change. Not one fraction.

But he knew.

You saw it.

After that you avoided him for the rest of the day. You sat far away from him instead, engaging in dry trade debates you barely heared. But Lucci was never far. Every time you glanced up, he was there in the corner, always watching. Not speaking. Not moving.

You dreamt of the vision that night. Of his hand brushing your cheek. Of a silence that felt like safety only to wake up breathless.

The next morning, he cornered you.

Not roughly, he simply appeared in the hallway outside your suite, leaning against the wall like he belonged there. The hallway was empty and the air was sharp with frost.

"I won’t ask what you saw," he said, his voice low and even, making you tense.

"But I would like to know," he added, stepping forward, "why it disturbed you."

Your throat tightened. "You touched me," you said carefully. "I don’t like that."

"You touched me," he corrected. "The reaction wasn’t fear. It was pity."

That hit a nerve. "So now you read minds too?" You asked a little harshly.

"No," he said, "just yours."

You wanted to deny it. You wanted to insult him. But his tone wasn’t cruel it was…..curious. Cautious, even.

"It’s dangerous for people to know what others want," he grumbled tilting his head, making you clench your fists. "Especially when what they want is you."

The silence between you was suffocating. Your heart hammered behind your ribs like it was trying to escape. "It doesn’t matter," you whispered. "You’ll never act on it."

He took one slow step forward. "You’re right." He said bluntly.

His presence was overwhelming, an aura of silent dominance, raw and coiled. But there was a strange gentleness to it now. A restraint that rattled you more than any threat could.

"You didn’t see a fantasy," he murmured. "You saw a possibility. That’s what’s dangerous."

And with that, he left.

The summit ended with a treaty. You should have felt relieved but instead you felt hollow.

You caught Lucci watching you again as the final ships left the port. His face was unreadable, but his eyes, those dark, unblinking eyes, held something you now understood.

Need. Not obsession, not hunger. Just Need.

You found a note tucked into your room before you left.

"You saw me unarmed. No one else ever has. That should frighten you. But if it doesn’t, come find me. I’ll be waiting. —R.L."

You didn’t sleep that night, you just sat with the letter in your lap, fingers trembling above your gloves.

You’ve always feared touch. But now? You feared the idea of never being touched by him again and so you decided to go after him.

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Zoro:

The room reeked of tension, gunpowder, old grudges, and barely veiled threats. It was supposed to be neutral ground, a temporary truce between pirate factions to discuss territory lines, enjoy the rum and food and make trades and deals. You didn’t trust any of it or them. Especially not the Straw Hats swordsman leaning against the wall like he owned the air around him.

Roronoa Zoro.

You had heard the stories, demon of the East Blue, three swords, no tolerance for weakness. You even saw him once in action and after that had maybe 2 or 3 run ins with him but that was it.

You expected cold glares and muscle-bound not his eyes to linger on you.

So when you handed him some documents for his Captain, Zoro’s hand briefly met yours and you froze as the vision set in slamming into you like cannon fire making your knees buckle under the force of it:

You - bloody, breathing hard, standing between Zoro and a faceless enemy. Your back to him, a sword in your hand, and defiance in your voice. “You’ll go through me first.” His hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you away out of danger not because he didn’t trust you or because he thought you were weak but because he wanted to protect you to be your shield, to keep you from harm. And then it shifted…..you, in a quiet moment, tucked beside him. Sleeping. His hand buried in your hair, body curled protectively around you, eyes closed but still guarding. He didn’t just want your body. He wanted to protect you, he wanted your loyalty. Your fire. Your presence. He wanted you – all of you.

When you blinked, the vision snapped away. The noise around you from the other pirates was still there. No one noticed, no one paid attention. Except Zoro himself.

His gaze had sharpened and you pulled your hand back fast. Too fast, causing his brow to furrow.

That night you barely slept. The vision kept replaying in your head – how rare it had been. How genuine.

It made no sense. He barely knew you. Why would his desire involve you bleeding for him? Sleeping beside him? Protecting you like you were something sacred?

The next morning you kept catching him watching you after that. Silent. Focused. Not aggressive, but intense.

And you tried to avoid him…..but he didn’t let you.

"Why did you flinch?" he asked, his voice came out of the shadows while you were walking alone, heading back to the guest quarters. He stepped out from between two buildings like he’d been waiting.

"I didn’t," you lied.

He stared at you, then tilted his head. "You looked like you saw a ghost, when we touched."

"I don’t like being touched," you explained forcing a smile.

"Bullshit," he hissed.

"Why do you care?" you asked inhaling sharply.

Zoro’s mouth opened, but he paused because he didn’t have a snarky answer.

"I don’t know," he said, finally. "But I’ve been thinking about it too damn much."

You saw the storm in his eyes and you knew you shouldn’t but he was just as confused and torn as you were and so you told him your secret.

"The Devil Fruit I ate… shows me what people want. If they touch me." You curled your fingers into your gloves. "I don’t mean surface-level stuff. I mean their deepest desire."

"So… you saw mine?" he asked not blinking.

You nodded once.

He looked away. "What was it?"

"I’m not telling you."

"That bad?"

"No. That personal."

"Then I must’ve looked pathetic." He murmured jaw clenching.

You stepped forward, a little closer to him. "No. That’s the problem. You didn’t."

He looked at you then, really looked. "Then what’s the problem?"

You swallowed hard looking at him before answering. "It made me want it too."

Silence.

"What did you see?" he asked again now more persistent.

Your heart hammered. You reached up, tugged one glove off slowly, deliberately.

“Touch me again and find out.”

He stared but then stepped forward.

His hand lifted and for once, it wasn’t a brush, it was a grasp, fingers curling over yours like he needed to hold something steady. Maybe himself.

And you shared the vision with him:

You. His. In every way that mattered. Fighting back to back. Him protecting you. Sleeping side by side. Arguing and laughing and bleeding and living. The sword at your hip matched his. The way he held you wasn’t lust, it was fierce belonging. You weren’t his weakness. You were his anchor.

He dropped your hand like it burned him and backed away a step, breathing hard.

But this time it was you who took a step closer to him. "I saw you," you whispered. "And I didn’t want to run. I wanted to be in that vision."

He blinked once. Then twice.

And suddenly almost out of nowhere he kissed you.

It wasn’t elegant or practiced. It was the kind of kiss you gave when you didn’t have words, when you had seen something terrifying and beautiful and wanted to make it real.

After that you went with him, to stay close, to make the vision, the desire a reality. You never told the others what your fruit did though. You didn’t need to. Zoro never left your side. He didn’t say much but he didn’t need to.

And he always made sure to touch you, your bare skin because he wanted you to see it, see what he wanted, see what he desired, see how much he wanted you.

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Law

Why the hell were you in a room with infamous pirates, locked in a tense alliance negotiation, and thought it was a good idea to be bare-handed?

Your pulse thundered in your ears as you sat at the circular table. Law was directly across from you, arms folded, sharp eyes watching everything. You had met him once before during a cargo handoff and you were sure he didn't remember that. But you did.

Your fingers brushed a silver coin on the table.

"Keep your hands still," Law said without looking at you.

You froze, embarrassed. His voice was quiet but stern, laced with a kind of quiet authority that made the others look over.

You retracted your hand and folded it in your lap.

"Don’t be so harsh," one of the other pirates muttered at Law with a grin. "The little one flinched like you growled."

Law didn’t respond. But his gaze lingered on you a moment longer than necessary.

Hours passed. The summit devolved into shouting, threats, and chest-puffing. You remained silent, observing. Calm. Neutral.

Until someone, an impatient mercenary with more ego than brains, tripped behind your chair.

You reached to steady yourself. Your hand flew out and….Law grabbed your wrist.

The world split open and your vision blurred and suddenly you saw his desire.

A cold room. Snow against steel walls. You, panting, drenched, eyes furious. He reached for you, desperate. A plea in his voice. "Don’t walk away. Stay. Just stay this time." You stood your ground, shaking your head, tears in your eyes. "You don’t need me, Law." His hand cupped your jaw. Gentle. Trembling. "I do. I just don’t know how to say it without destroying you."

The vision snapped shut like a trapdoor and you gasped, ripping your arm away, your knees nearly giving out.

Law’s brows furrowed. "What did you see?" He urged to know.

Shit. He knew.

You didn’t say anything just got up and walked out of the room.

You found him later that night on the edge of the island cliff, the ocean churning below like a storm waiting for permission.

"You didn’t answer my question," he said without turning.

You stayed back. "I didn’t think you’d actually know what my power does."

"I make it a point to know what everyone in the room is capable of," he said. "But I didn’t think you’d use it. Thought you were smarter than that."

"I didn’t mean to."

His head tilted slightly, dark hair blowing in the wind. "Then tell me. What did you see?"

You hesitated for a moment eyes shifting towards the ground. "You… asking me to stay."

He went quiet. So did the wind. And the waves in the ocean beneath it seemed.

"And what did you say?" he asked softly.

"I said you didn’t need me."

His laugh was low, bitter. "Typical. Even in my dreams, I drive people away,"

"No," you said quickly. "That wasn’t….It wasn’t like that. You… You were scared of hurting me. That’s not selfish. That’s human."

Law turned towards you, and for the first time, he looked vulnerable.

"I didn’t want you to see that," he said.

"I didn’t want to see it either," you replied, truth cutting between you. "Because now I can’t stop thinking about it."

He began avoiding you after that, making sure to keep his distance. His eyes were colder, calculations behind every word. But it wasn’t hatred, it was fear. You knew too much now. You had seen a version of him he barely admitted to himself.

And you couldn’t forget it.

You saw it in the way he stared at your hands, never touching you again.

In the way he tensed every time you stood near. He hadn’t spoken of the vision since, but you felt it constantly, the weight of possibility, just out of reach.

Until you broke first.

You cornered him one evening, at the medical bay. Just the two of you, surrounded by clean linens and the quiet hum of solitude.

"I can’t keep pretending I didn’t see it," you said. "Didn’t see what you want."

Law leaned against the counter, silent.

"You want someone who stays," you continued, stepping closer. "You want to let someone in. But you don’t know how. And you’re terrified that if you try, you’ll break them. That I’ll break."

His jaw clenched but you kept going. "I’m not afraid of you, Law. I’m afraid of how much I want to reach for you."

His head lifted, eyes sharp. "Don’t," he said firmly.

"Why not?"

"Because I’m already thinking about what I’d do to keep you."

The confession cracked the silence like thunder. He stepped closer, finally, hand raised, not touching, just hovering near your face.

"I’ve spent years pushing people away because it was easier. Cleaner. You saw what I wanted… and now I can’t stop imagining it."

"Then take it," you whispered. "Just don’t lie to yourself anymore."

And for the first time, he touched you willingly.

No vision came.

Because you didn’t need to see his desire anymore.

You already felt it.

[aoashinoducky]

Hippy Birthday Cora-san!

I miss you...

[aoashinoducky]

Ace couldn’t help but ask the question.

He had to know what this guy thought of him. If his brothers are gonna be trusting this kid and guy, he had to test one of them, preferably the one most likely to tell. He’d rather be sold out now than be betrayed later, at least it would be in his hands.

[aoashinoducky]

Found family/ Cora lives AU for the Pigments of Imagination zine 💖

[aoashinoducky]

odyssey sanji.png

[aoashinoducky]

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[aoashinoducky]

Op boys reaction when their s/o admits that they are wrong, and they are right during an argument

Warning: Some words

Feat: Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Law, Kid, Killer

Luffy

— "When did I say I was wrong?" he said with a serious face on. It is hard for you to admit that you are wrong, yet this guy. You let out a sigh before approaching him. "Now I am thinking about how I fell in love with you", Luffy then smiled brightly, wrapping his arms around your waist.

Zoro

— "What?" Zoro will be looking at you with a surprise look. As if this was the first time you admitted that you were wrong (well it is). "Chopper! "I think y/n is sick!" he said with a worried face. You know he is messing with you, but still his face really looks worried.

Sanji

— This man was a gentle one. "No, it's OK, my love" he said, as he gently held your hand. He even tries to tell you that he is the one who's wrong. He'll be sad to see you getting annoyed by something, yet he'll be happy knowing that you can admit that you were wrong.

Law

— Will be looking at you dead in the eye. "yes you are wrong" he said with his arms crossed. You pout and look at him. "Do you want me to pinch your lips hard?" He said before pointing the door way.

Kid

— "Hell yeah you are!" He said with a huge smile on his face. Admitting your wrong is a big deal to him (because he never won any argument with you). You can see that he is like a child with a candy on his hand. He look that happy.

Killer

— Killer will gently hold your hand, and he will look at you in the eye. "Im glad you admitted it" He then gently pull you closer to him, hugging you tightly in his arms. "I love you y/n" He said while pressing a tender kiss in your forehead.