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stuckinmymind22 · 9 days ago

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Hello Please could you write a Shanks x you. They were apprentice lovers on the pirate king's ship. After the crew separated, y/n disappeared. When Shanks found out about her, she had become a marine and didn't remember it. Oh, at least she pretended not to be. But Shanks knew what to do. She wouldn't become a marine just like that. Something happened, and he would find out and get her out of that stupid organization. Please, your work is incredible. I'll send you a gift. Take care. I hope you can accept my request.

open book | shanks x gn! reader

hi anon! first of all sorry for the late reply i know it's been a while. also thank you so much!!! when i saw this in my inbox i had an idea right away, i've been chipping away at it this past month, it helps my brain to be able to hop between projects and i kept returning to this one it was very fun to write so thank you for the inspiration (and the gift, can't forget that) love you and thanks for reading the silly things i write 💕

tags: lowkey hurt/comfort, very bittersweet, first love reunited years later, canon typical violence, drinking, swearing, suggestive (it always is with this man let's be honest), ambiguous ending ig (in my head it all works out lol)

wc: 5.9 k

a/n: i told myself i cannot go to bed until i finally finished this so if we see any typos or mistakes no we didn't, just know i tried lol

Shanks heard your laugh before he saw you. That sound wasn't something that he'd easily forget. It had been years, nearing decades at this point, since he'd hast heard it, but it was unmistakable. Shanks had never forgotten about you. How could he? You were his one regret. An injury that never healed quite right.

He hadn't understood his feelings for you until it had been much too late — until you'd been too far out of his reach. By the time he had realized how he felt, you had become impossible to find. He had tried, over the years he'd made many attempts to track you down, but nothing ever came up. All traces of you were gone, it'd been like you never even existed.

After all of this time, finally getting confirmation that you were alive lifted a weight from his shoulders — one he hadn't known he'd been holding. He looked around the dingy bar to find you. The prospect of seeing you again made him feel giddy. The feeling brought him back to his youth, to the last time you'd seen each other. It was far too late to change anything — he knew that — but talking to you one more time might finally bring him the closure he was missing.

When he spotted you, his heart stopped, but not in a good way. HE could barely believe his eyes. Yes, you were there, but you were wearing the unmistakable uniform of a marine. A rear admiral. There was no fucking way. He knew it had been years and things had changed, but there was no way you had changed that much. Maybe he had simply drank too much and was seeing things wrong, hallucinating even. At least that would make sense.

Shanks squeezed his eyes shut (a good substitute for rubbing them, he'd found) and looked again. The same scar on your forehead, one he'd watched you receive. The smile was the same, everything lined up with his memory. There was no more denying it. It was you. And you were a goddamn marine — or at least in one of their uniforms... interacting with the unit like you knew them.

Something was off, it had to be.

You had fucking hated the marines, and the World Government as a whole. At least you had the last time he'd seen you. He remembered the drunken rants you would go on, airing out all your qualms with the government — those rants he had always enjoyed, your animated passion had made them quite entertaining. Everything about the picture in front of him went against the very core of what he knew about you.

Truthfully, he had long suspected that you'd disappeared into the Revolutionary Army and that was why you'd been impossible to find. That was a seed that Beckman had planted in his mind early on, but it made perfect sense. There was more to this than Shanks knew — he wouldn't believe anything else — and he would be damned if he didn't figure out what.

The rest of the night he kept his eyes on you, clinging to the shadows. He was grateful that he was alone, it had made it far easier to avoid detection. He knew he was a wanted man, being spotted would make more difficult to decipher whatever the hell was actually going on.

As he had suspected (and hoped), you barely drank. Even when your soldiers urged you on, you abstained. While those around you were having fun and lowering their guard, you stayed alert. At one point in the night, you caught his eyes. A look of recognition and shock passed by briefly before you turned away, pretending you hadn't seen him.

Throughout it all, his feelings started to become more complex as memories of your time together came flooding back to him. You had been so close. The two of you had gone from best friends to lovers to... nothing. That still stung. Teenage heartbreak had a funny way of sticking around. It was true what they say, how you never forget your first love.

You got more chummy with your fellow marines as the night wore on, and, for some reason, it became harder and harder for him to witness. When one of them slung his arm around you, pulling you close, Shanks felt his temper flare. You were no longer teenagers and you were no longer together, he reminded himself. He had no claim to you and you had no obligation to him, but he couldn't keep watching it.

Shanks left the bar, but he hadn't given up yet. He wasn't going to let you go a second time, at least not until he got some answers.

~~~~~~~

It was all starting to get too much for you; your rowdy comrades were enough on their own, but seeing him again had been the real nail in the coffin. You needed a break from it all and you needed a damn cigarette. You excused yourself and stepped out into the cold night air, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Seeing Shanks on posters and hearing about him all the time at "work" tugged on your heartstrings enough, reigniting a sense of longing. But being in his presence? That was a whole different beast. You still missed him, there was no denying it. A part of your heart never stopped longing for him, even after all this time. He'd been your first...everything. Your naive, idealistic younger self had once thought he'd be your last too. Unfortunately, life had gotten in the way.

The disbandment of the Roger Pirates and your captain’s execution had spelt the end for you two. He’d set out to sea, as you’d always known he would. He had invited you to come with him and you told him you would think about it, but that was the last time you saw him. You ended up wandering for a while before you found yourself in the arms of the Revolutionary Army at its infancy. With your strong ideology it had been a natural progression for you. Plus, you got seasick way too much to be a pirate — ironic now that you were playing the part of a marine.

Lighter in hand and cigarette in mouth, you walked further from the bar and way from the noise. Suddenly, you were yanked into an alleyway as you passed by, met with a question and a pair of familiar eyes. “Since when do you smoke?” Your mouth fell open, cigarette falling to the ground. Shanks. It took everything in you to not reach out an touch him, to confirm that you weren’t dreaming, but the point of contact on your arm had already proven that he was in front of you.

A soft whisper of his name slipped from your lips, and he smiled at you. Shanks had always liked his name in your voice — it had matured with time, but it was still uniquely yours. “Hey, Doll.” Your eyes widened in surprise as you took in the situation. Simply saying his name wouldn’t blow your cover — you were a marine in the New World, of course you would recognize him — but the way your heart was racing might. At least nobody was around to witness it.

God, you hadn’t been this close to him in years; breath intermingling, standing practically chest to chest. It felt almost ridiculous to still be this impacted by him, but you couldn’t help it. How long had these emotions lied dormant? A highlight reel of all your memories with him started playing. You were snapped out of it when he placed his hand on your shoulder and gently called your name — your real one, not the one you had been using.

You needed to pull it together, you couldn’t afford to slip an inch when you had come this far. But, damnit, it was hard. If you were better at this, you probably would’ve raised attention to his presence, like you should have done before. You had to fulfill your role as a good little marine, and a good marine would alert to his presence. But the limit of what you were willing to do only went so far, and you could never bring yourself to hurt him. Any potential consequence to your silence didn’t matter in the moment.

“What the hell happened to you?” Shanks asked, maneuvering his body in a way that would shield you from being visible to people on the street. “Why are you a marine?” His usual easy going voice had been laced with concern and confusion. You wanted to tell him the truth, you wanted to tell him so bad. He had always been your weakness, but you had a job to do.

“Are you okay? Did something happen? Do you need help? Is someone forcing you to do this? Do they have something on you?” His continued on, uncharacteristically worried. As far as Shanks was concerned becoming a marine (especially one that had risen through the ranks) was antithetical to everything you stood for — against your very nature.

He saw the pang of remorse in your expression and realized you wanted to tell him. You weren’t keeping quiet out of fear either, that eased his anxieties. Thinking about it, you had seen him much earlier but you hadn’t done anything about it, and you weren’t now either. It confirmed that you weren’t in this position due a newfound love of the government or a sense of heavy handed justice — you had a motive. It was written all over your face, confirming that you were still you.

For some reason, the reassurance wasn’t enough, he desperately needed to know what the motive was. Shanks knew he shouldn’t push and that it should be enough to know that you were up to something, but that wasn’t stopping him. Shanks tried listing off possible reasons and gauging your reaction, but he was getting nowhere. Either you had become much better at keeping a poker face and hiding your tells or he was severely out of practice when it came to you.

You couldn’t respond or even open your mouth, you knew you could never keep things from him. Shanks had an uncanny ability to read you and figure out what you were hiding — it had annoyed the hell out of you and Buggy growing up, but here it could be harmful. Not that you didn’t trust him, but there were so many unknown variables in the area, you couldn’t trust your surroundings. There was no guarantee that you wouldn’t be overheard or seen. Letting him touch you was dangerous enough, but you were about to do something more risky.

Reaching up, you touched his face, cupping his cheek. Shanks went quiet right away, his breath hitching. It was fascinating to see that you still had that effect on him. Perhaps you weren’t the only one who had spent years being plagued by unresolved feelings, occasionally lying awake thinking of all the “what ifs”.

But this would be your last time seeing him. It had to be. You wanted to soak it all in, remembering everything about him. The universe, however, seemed to hate that idea, calls for you rang out on the street in a drunken chorus. Your unit was looking for you. It was time to go.

~~~~~~~

The next day one of your subordinates had seen members of the Red Hair pirates and had decided to be a big shot about it, picking a fight. It had been really fucking stupid of him to go after members of a Yonko’s personal crew, but he had. And now everyone had to bear the brunt of the consequences. Being dragged into an altercation, especially one involving Shanks and his crew, was something you wanted no part in. Honestly, you wanted to strangle the man for causing such a mess, but you had to act your part.

As the highest ranking official on the island and his superior, you were forced to step in and clean the mess up. The fight had already drawn blood by the time you had been alerted about it, which limited options in how to stop it without losing face. You came to the conclusion that the only way out was through, you just hoped casualties would be limited on either side.

Naturally, and unfortunately, you ended up facing the captain of the crew — a man you knew very well and someone you couldn’t bring yourself to injure. It appeared that Shanks felt the same way. Neither of you were willing to put forth any effort in this fight. It was a dance for than anything. A forced performance.

You were backed into a corner, so close to your objective, but you needed to play it carefully. You knew that you were next in line for a promotion, one that you did not want or need yet. Saying no to the offer would raise eyebrows, so you had been trying to find a way to push back your consideration. It had to be done in a way where you didn’t lose too much prestige either, you were walking a fine line. While you were going through the motions of a fight with Shanks, you were considering your exit strategies. Backing down and withdrawing, while reasonable, would decrease your standing too much. Being defeated however…

Shanks was not worried about his crew at all, he trusted they could handle it, especially considering the state of the marines. What he did know was that you would not be engaging in this if you hadn’t deemed it as necessary, and if that was the case he didn’t mind putting on a show. You were scowling but underneath that was an expression of concentration, you were plotting and scheming. He would’ve smiled at it if it weren’t for the current situation. Watching you come do a decision was something he had always found cute, and that still held true.

With your mind made up and your swords interlocked, you inched closer to the yonko still wearing a forced snarl. “Shanks,” you gritted out with no malice. Calling out his name had him soften ever so slightly, which you used to your advantage. “You need to incapacitate me. I’ll give you an opening and you cut me, okay?”

The man looked at you like you had lost your damned mind, taking a step back but you chased after him. “You need to take me down,” you reiterated, trying to convey your sense of urgency. “What the hell are you on about?” That was your idea? He couldn’t believe that you were asking that of him. “I need you to trust me,” the angry expression on your face was undermined by the plea in your eyes. You glanced around to remind him of the situation, slowly, you watched him understand your reasoning.

The last thing Shanks wanted to do was hurt you, but you had determined that would be the best outcome. He didn’t fully understand why or what you would accomplish by it, but he trusted you. A barely perceivable nod told you that he agreed. You released a sigh of relief and braced yourself for what was to come. With gritted teeth, Shanks raised his sword and brought it down; you allowed the blade to slash you. Your blood splattered onto him and he felt like he was going to be sick. Right away you collapsed to the ground; it was hard for Shanks to know how much of that was acting and how much was his doing.

“I’m sorry,” he told you as he sheathed his sword, not willing to look at you. You thanked him in a strained voice, and weakly rose to your feet. The skirmish was over. He played his part, now you had to play yours.

You ordered a full retreat and to treat the wounded right way -- there was about as many as you had expected, and to your sick sense of satisfaction, the man who started the mess was on the ground. The pirates got away with minor scrapes, but the same could not be said for your side. You could not believe the ego on some of these men for thinking they could go against them

Instead of going to receive treatment for the large gash that was dying your clothes red, you stayed put. Watching Shanks disappear again, reopening the scarred over hole in your heart.

~~~~~~~

Following the shit show of a fight, you had been brought to a marine hospital, where you were currently stuck. The doctors fussed over you almost to the point you wished you'd just died (not really, but wow was it a lot). You had finally been granted some peace and quiet when your transponder snail rang, and not the marine issued one.

"He's asking too many questions." The voice of the Revolutionary Army's chief of staff, Sabo, rang out the moment you picked up. The kid was nothing if not direct. "Get him to stop."

"Not even gonna see if I'm alright," you teased him before he could hang up. "You sound alive to me." The smile in his voice was audible. "Go fix it." With that Sabo cut the call. Without waiting for a response or providing any further information. That damn kid. He had pretty much always been like that, ever since you met him as a child.

It had been risky for him to call you while you were practically in a lion's den, Sabo might be bad at communicating but he wasn't dumb. The fact that he had called you here and now meant that it was a priority — whatever it was that you had to do. You had a pretty good guess as to what that had been about (Shanks), but you wouldn’t draw conclusions with no further details. Either way, you had to make the preparations to set out.

Your doctors had been reluctant to discharge you, but you had managed to convince them with a made up story about your hometown and the threat of pulling rank. You were grateful for your status as a rear admiral, it had made it much easier for you to acquire the supplies you needed for a journey without anyone asking questions. The only thing that raised an eyebrow was asking about an unmarked ship, but you dropped it and chose to rent a civilian one instead.

Once you left the range of the marine’s surveillance capabilities, after completing preparations and setting off, you called headquarters for more information. To your surprise (and relief) you were transferred to Dragon himself, at least he would give you complete answers.

“I heard you got hurt, how badly injured are you?” He asked in place of a greeting. “Not enough to be worried about,” you responded. It was the truth, but you left out the part about how, depending on where you were going and what you were doing, you might have to push yourself. You informed him that you had a couple of weeks of explained and excused absence. You could practically hear the man nod. Before you could ask any clarifying questions about the mission, Dragon spoke.

“He didn’t tell you anything did he?” He sounded tired. Sabo was known for doing that sort of thing. While frustrating at times, you all loved him deeply. Sabo was really smart and dedicated to the cause, which was how he managed to become second in command as a teenager. “No. He just told me to go fix it.” Dragon sighed, muttering something about “that kid,” making you smile.

“Red Hair Shanks is asking around about you, using both names too.” You had figured that was the case, but you were a bit surprised, connecting your name and your alias like that was dangerous. Dragon had a vague knowledge of your history with the man, so he didn’t bother questioning why the pirate would do that.

“You know we can’t have him sniffing around like that. What happens when a yonko asks questions? People find the answer. I don’t need to tell you the consequences, but if we found out he’s doing it, the marines won’t be too far behind, which is why we gotta nip it in the bud. We can’t afford to lose this operation. I don’t know or care why he’s doing it, just get him to stop.”

~~~~~~~

After he’d left, Shanks had been in a mood. One that the majority of the crew had never seen before. He was quieter than usual, drinking more (an accomplishment tbh), and laughing less — it wasn’t that noticeable unless you looked for it, or you were with him 24/7. he wasn't the best at playing it off tbfh. He could manage most of the time, it wasn't too hard, but when he got alone it was worse.

He felt stupid for being this affected by it all. Some of it made sense, like worrying about your well being, but drowning in emotions from over a decade ago? That felt rather pathetic. He supposed that was just what he got for bottling it all up. He had gone as far as stopping talking about you, at one point you were one of his favorite people. Not many people knew what you had meant to him at one point and even less had been around to witness it. It felt wrong to confide in others about the grave he’d dug, so he kept it to himself.

He was in his thirties for fucks sake, he couldn’t be wallowing like a teenager experiencing heartbreak for the first time — he had important things to do — but that’s what it was.

. You had been separated far longer than you had even known each other, he should be alright. But he wasn’t. Everything was so confusing and Shanks had no clue how to sort through it all.

Not only was he stuck dwelling in the unprocessed pain from his youth, which wasn’t fun by itself, but what was worse was the sinking feeling in his stomach that he’d killed you. In his mind he knew that it wasn’t a fatal blow, but he wasn’t entirely sure how he would live with himself if it was. The longer he went without any news on your condition the worse that feeling got.

When he was alerted of a sole, unmarked ship approaching them on the horizon a few days later, he actually thought about if it was worth checking — it was that bad. But he was glad that he did.

He borrowed someone's telescope already set at the right focus (there really was no good way to do that himself anymore) and looked. He thought that he saw you messing with the sail, but that couldn't be right. He passed the telescope to Beckman, who had (annoyingly) been keeping a close eye on him{ the past few days}, and asked the man to describe what he saw. It matched. What the fuck?

A series of emotions washed over Shanks, the man one being relief. He now knew that you were alive, and you were well enough to man a ship solo. The captain kept checking on the ship periodically, just to make sure he was right with what he saw. The closer the vessel came, the more certain he was, and the better he felt. Shanks damn near did a 180, falling back into himself.

~~~~~~~

The first thing Shanks noticed when you were climbing aboard was how you looked damn near green. The sight made him crack a smile. “Still don’t got your sea legs, do ya?” The emperor teased as he helped you over the railing. You let out a short laugh, trying to control the nausea. Hopefully a larger and sturdier ship would make it better. “Is it that obvious?”

You stood on your own two feet, holding strong while you put on a brave face. But he could tell. He always could. Shanks got a better look at you and realized that there was freshly dried blood on your clothes, directly over where he had cut you. Seeing the consequences of his actions like that made him feel uneasy, but it was just like you to open up a wound like that. He sighed and looked you in the eyes. To be honest, you had forgotten about that entirely. You smiled at him sheepishly.

“Glad to see you haven’t changed a bit,” he said before calling out for who you assumed was the ship’s doctor and leading you to a more isolated part of the deck. “It seems you changed a little,” Your eyes flickered from the scars on his eye to where his dominant arm used to be, neither of which had been like that the last you spoke. “S’pose I have,” he said with a smile. He sat you down with your back to the ship before leaning against the railing in front of you.

Without your permission, your eyes scanned the rest of his body, very blatantly checking him out. Shanks raised an eyebrow at the action and you decided to just commit. “I like it. You look good. Like really good.” He laughed at the very conspicuous flirtation. He supposed one thing had changed, you had gotten more bold. “I can say the same to you, Doll. Time’s done you well. ‘M almost jealous.” Shanks said, his smirk widening when you grew flustered by his words. Whatever you were going to say died in your mouth at the arrival of the doctor.

The man hoveredyou over briefly, zoning in on the bloody fabric of your clothes. “What happened?” The doctor asked. “I was bleeding,” you said cheekily. While the man stayed stone faced, Shanks let out a laugh, and you grinned over at him. “I can see that,” the poor doctor sounded tired, like he had to deal with this behavior all the time. “How’d it reopen?”

“The doctors told me to take it “easy” but I guess weathering a storm solo isn’t easy,” you answered, removing bloody shirt. What lied below was your crude attempt at patching yourself back up.

“Darlin’ I could’ve told you that,” Shanks teased. You scrunched your nose back at him, a former habit of yours, causing him to laugh.

Shanks made the mistake of looking directly at the freshly unwrapped injury. He felt sick — knowing he was the one who put you in that state nearly made him ill. He had been feeling guilty for days, even if it wasn’t fatal he still hurt you significantly. Sure, it was far from the worst injury he’d seen (especially with his lifestyle), but it was different this time, because this time it was you. And he did that.

You saw his reaction. This was what you’d been worried about. “Shanks,” you called for his attention. “I’m okay.” The attempt at being reassuring was undercut by the wince from the antiseptic you couldn’t hide. “Seriously,” you said looking him in the eyes, “you helped me out. Thank you”

He didn’t know how you could be thanking him for that, but at your insistence he let it go. With one last look, Shanks swallowed the lump in his throat. “What brings you all the way out here?” He asked.

He wasn’t about to complain at getting the chance to see you again, under better circumstances too, but he also was completely confused on why. It hadn’t escaped him that you were there all by yourself, without your uniform, and how the little ship you had come in on had no trace of government insignia.

Instead of any verbal response, you used your eyes to point to the doctor, who was busy fixing the stitches you’d torn. Shanks nodded, understanding that it was a topic for a more private setting, so he shifted gears. “Tell, what’s new with you?” Also something you couldn’t answered, for the same reasons. You had to refrain from rolling your eyes, opting to shake your head with a smile. You directed the question back onto him. Listening to him tell his stories with a big grin. This. This felt familiar.

When your wound had been cleaned, treated, and redressed, Shanks sent the doctor away with a thanks. He stood up straight and offered you a hand. “Come on, let’s go talk,” he said, pointing to the cabin with his head. You let him help you up and followed behind him, laughing when he snagged a freshly opened bottle out from under someone and continued to walk. “For real?” The man with dreads and a bandana complained as if it was a common occurrence, which would not surprise you. “Sorry, Yasopp, I’ll give it back to you later.” Shanks responded, raising the bottle above his head. “Yeah, empty,” the man grumbled to himself. A loud laugh from the captain confirmed that that would indeed be the case.

Shanks led you through the ship, opening the door to his office while still holding the bottle with ease. Clearly it was a skill he had a lot of practice in lol. He held the door for you, shutting it behind him.

“You still on duty, Rear Admiral?” He asked. You made a gagging noise at the title, “Don’t remind me.” His grin grew at your reply, he had known that was out of character for you. Typically, you would never dream of displaying this kind of contempt for your position outside of the Army’s headquarters, but you trusted this man with your life so your usual regulations were loosened. “—Or can I offer you a drink?” He continued, shanking the open bottle in his hand, spilling some in the process. “Shit,” he said automatically, pouting at the loss [it’d be funny if he licked his hand bc so real bro]. “Yeah, sure,” you laughed.

You sat down at the desk and watched Shanks. The posters hadn’t done him justice. He was rummaging around in cabinets, looking for some glasses (because this man cared about portion sizes lol). It was almost surreal to see him again. To be able to hear his voice, his laugh, his breathing, to see his smile and the way his eyes sparkled, to be able to smell him — all things you had thought had been long lost to your memory. You pinched yourself to double check that this was really happening. The reset, while confirming you were not dreaming, set you back on track. This was not a personal visit, no matter how much you wanted it to be. You had a set of obligations to fulfill and responsibilities to uphold.

“Look… Shanks…” You started, capturing his attention and interrupting his pouring into the glasses he had just found. “You have to stop asking around about me.” You couldn’t bring yourself to include how you should never try to contact each other either — at least while you remained undercover and the time table for that was unclear.

Shanks pursed his lips and nodded. A moment of silence passed and he poured out the next glass. “I figured that’s why you came,” he admitted, sounding defeated as he slid a full glass of whatever he’d just poured across the desk to you. “What are you even doing there?” He asked, falling into his chair.

This time, the silence was your fault. You were trying to determine how much you could let him know. Shanks sighed and set his already emptied cup down. “The Revolutionary Army or pirates?” “W-what are you talking about?” Calmly, he refiled his glass, focused on how the liquid fell. “Who are you working for? No way in hell your loyalty lies with the World Government.” He said looking you in the eyes and downing his drink.

He knew? Of course he knew. You should have known. You were practically an open book to him.

“Army.”

“I figured,” he smiled, refilling both your glasses.

~~~~~~~

Over halfway through the bottle the conversation had gotten more relaxed. Over time, you had naturally moved closer together, now, you were barely a foot apart. Shanks sat on top of the desk, his foot mindlessly toying with your shin. His eyes shinned as you recounted some of the countless tales you had acquired since you last spoke. You hadn’t realized how the man hung onto your every word.

When it was his turn to play storyteller, you were just as attentive. You took in his words eagerly, occasionally offering some of your own. It just felt right — so much had changed, but yet so little.

The kids you had known each other as no longer existed, you had both seen some shit and gotten rougher around the edges, but traces of them lingered. Shanks still had the same magnetic personality you’d always known, and the smile that you used to dream about, the one that had a history of making your knees weak. The damned heart of yours had been skipping beats like a child on the playground. It was all very strange. You had never thought you’d feel that way again, but that was something for you to deal with another day. Now, now, you wanted to stay in the moment before it faded away.

Shanks was deep into recounting how he met people on his crew and how long it had taken to convince one of them to join [yasopp waited like 10 years or something lol] You leaned in, looking up at him, wide eyes bright — it was a sight that shouldn’t be as breathtaking as it was. He nearly faltered, but managed to power through. You had always had that effect on him and he doubted you even knew.

A first relationship, like yours, was bound to be rocky with ineffective communication and struggling to understand feelings. When you had unofficially departed there had been many things left unsaid. At the time, he hadn’t known he wouldn’t see you again, maybe if he had he would have said something different, but at the same time he’d just been a stupid kid. It had taken time to understand what you had and what he’d lost. Truthfully, he had never let himself realize the full extent of how much he had missed you.

The worst part of it all was knowing that it couldn’t last. He understood that you had a life of your own and duties to fulfill, just like he did. Shanks knew full well that he wouldn’t fit in the picture, and he told himself that he was fine with that, but why did it hurt?

Your words trailed off in the middle of sharing a story about the formation of the Revolutionary Army with Shanks. “You can’t look at me like that,” you told him, your voice low and guarded. “Like what?” He had no idea how he had been looking at you. “Like you still want me,” your voice had weakened, a vulnerability had crept in. The response took him by surprise but he recovered quickly.

“Would that really be so bad?”

He was right… would it really be so bad?

few quick things: i love sillies who don't know how to deal with emotions in a healthy productive way, i have made the executive decision that their love is like riding a bike, you never forget it, also i totally cried writing this lmao, my bad

i love you all and thank you for reading, don't forget to drink water and have a good day (or go to sleep idk)

masterlist | silly things | directory

#i just remembered this is existed and omg!!!! i wrote that #i also totally forgot to edit it at all and just caught a lot of them re reading it but i’m not at my computer so it’s not being fixed now #lol #self reblogs are important

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