#Featuring Benn

[bookaddict24-7]

AUTHOR FEATURE:

﹒Nicole Y. Dennis-Benn﹒

Two Books Written By this Author:

Here Comes the Sun

Patsy

___

Happy reading!

[redjacketficrecs]

Once More With Feeling

SpiritsFlame

Summary: Tyler is a romantic. He thinks that anyone who gets to the NHL has to be, to pin everything on an almost impossible dream. He won't admit it, but he'd been looking forward to his Loop, to meeting the person he's going to spend his life with, over and over. Looking forward to the endless days of getting to know them, the two of them trapped in a moment together.

He didn't think he was going to be in it alone, on the tail end of a bad trade, with no soulmate in sight.

He didn't think it would be like this.

Recommendation: Oh dear another time loop fic. Love the world building in this one where it’s a known phenomenon that helps you basically find your soulmate and forge a relationship with them. Ugh, I just love it. Tyler starts his Loop when he lands in Dallas after he’s been traded from Boston so he’s already got some feelings of inadequacies and being unwanted he’s dealing with an then his loop does not go as planned because he can’t figure out who he’s in the loop with. Tyler gets more and more reckless as the loops go on because his soul mate doesn’t tell him until the loop has repeated a bunch of time and well after his soul mate has figured it out. Then they have to find a way to go forward. Happy ending. Includes an assist from Sidney Crosby.

[larissa-the-scribe]

Messy comic of Benn and Kathryn's first meeting. Y'know. After she crashed through his front door and broke it down.

Eabennor has known this new gal for like a whole minute and he is already very done.

[intellectures]

Der Sound eines Jahrhunderts

Die Edition »Jahrhundertstimmen« des Hörverlags versammelt nicht nur bekannte und unbekannte Perlen aus den Originalton-Archiven, sondern versteht es, durch die Einordnung der kundigen Herausgeber:innen, ihre Bedeutung im Kontext der Zeit aufzuzeigen. Continue reading Der Sound eines Jahrhunderts

[cinnbar-bun]

Smooth Operator- (One Piece Men X Reader)

Scenario: “His eyes are like angels but his heart is cold.”

Featuring: Benn Beckman, Crocodile, Rob Lucci, Shanks, and Smoker (separate)

Rating: NSFW

Notes: Rough sex, GN reader (no specific genitalia described), slight angst but oh well haha, possessive Lucci, reader is a pirate in Smoker’s section.

Word Count: ~1.1k

You can read on my AO3 here!

Work is under the cut!!

Benn Beckman

“Fuck… sweetheart…” he whispers into your ear as he lifts your leg higher up. “Tightenin’ around me so well.”

His hand that is gripping your waist rubs gentle circles with his thumb. He can’t stop how addicted he feels pressing into you, having you clench around him so deliciously, and your lovely, sweet voice crying out his name. It’s a beautiful sight to see whenever he drops by. But you both know he won’t stay long, so you try to savor as much as you can. You, the gentle touches and looks in his eyes that make you believe that this time, maybe, just maybe, he’ll take you with him. Him, the way your body feels around his and the way your face contorts with pleasure at every thrust. He has half a mind to run off and leave everything behind for you. To say screw it and keep himself beside you.

“Beck-! Beck!” You choke out his name, pulling him in closer, and lord, it takes everything in him not to collapse onto you and confess how much he fucking adores you.

“Easy there, darling. I’m right here,” he smoothly replies, for both of your sakes. He feels how close you are and works himself faster. “Just relax and enjoy yourself.”

Crocodile

The smell of alcohol and cigar smoke is heavy in his private room. You always say it won’t happen again, but then those dark eyes of his lock onto yours, and now you’re back at it. In his office, a disheveled mess, bouncing on his thick cock while he grips your waist tightly.

“S-Sir!” You whine, as he taps his cigar on his ashtray and takes another puff. You feel the cold metal of his hook around your back. Despite his attitude, he’s made it a point to never let that golden hook cut you or slice your delicate skin. He just prefers the hook tearing the fabric of your clothes apart.

“Good little thing,” he states, a chuckle rumbling from deep in his chest as he tilts your chin up to him and kisses you roughly. The rings on his hand press into your skin coldly. As he does so, his hook tugs at the remaining bits of fabric and lets the shreds fall to the ground.

“You don’t need them when you’re with me,” he says. A partial lie, to obscure the truth that he wants you to stay longer and desire his help. You moan quietly before he silences you with his lips once more.

Lucci

“I thought I told you to avoid him,” he states, unimpressed with the man who has been getting too comfortable with you. Lucci’s possessiveness towards you has increased for some reason, despite him insisting it was just casual- that he can never love and will never love you. You somehow agreed, and now here he was, covering your mouth with his hand while he fucked you from behind in an attempt to remind you of his prowess. He shoves two fingers inside your mouth, and without any hesitation or instruction, you begin to suck on them.

“Do you need me to punish you for your foolishness? Or did you think I was stupid enough to not find out?” Lucci hisses. You haven’t done anything wrong, he knows this deep down, but god, seeing that man think of trying to be around you sends Lucci’s blood boiling.

He doesn’t love you. He can’t love you. He never will love you. This is just for pleasure, and you’re just his stress relief, a toy he uses for his own sake.

He grips you tighter and tugs at your earlobe with his teeth. “You belong to me. Not him. Not anyone else.”

Shanks

He's never serious. He’s always arriving at your house with that damned smile of his, always easing you up and promising “it’s just a reunion between old friends!” Then he always manages to fold you over any piece of furniture within your house. You wouldn’t be shocked if he had managed to fuck you in every part of your house.

“You’re so….!” You struggle, all while Shanks chuckles and continues to thrust into you. Despite being a bit tipsy and only having one arm, Shanks manages to hit all your sensitive spots- spots he’s become very acquainted with after all these sessions with you.

“Dashing? Handsome?” He begins. You let out a loud moan at particularly rough thrust, which makes him laugh boisterously. “Ah, am I too good for you? No words to describe how amazing I am?”

You want to say he’s awful, that he’s ruining your life with how crazy he makes you, but then he hits that spot again and you crumble.

“Shanks… please…” you beg pathetically, and Shanks nods.

“Anything for my darling~,” the redhead smiles as he leans down to kiss your neck. “Gods, I love you.”

He states it so casually, that you can never tell if he’s being genuine or just messing with you. You don’t know if you can even handle the truth from him anymore.

Smoker

“Think I wouldn’t have noticed, huh?” He growls in your ear. You throw your head back, resting it on his shoulder as he bullies his thick cock into you. You don’t even know what he’s noticed this time, as it’s probably another one of his lame excuses to get you close. Not that you care, as you enjoy this game of cat and mouse with him.

“Wearing all that… sitting in that bar and acting all innocent,” he answers for you. “Think I’m stupid? That I wouldn’t catch you there? You’ve gotten too brazen, pirate.”

“Captain,” you begin, and you feel how he twitches inside you. “You’ve gotten too brazen yourself. How many times has it been now?”

“Don’t ask a question to mine. I’m the one who is asking the questions here,” he cuts you off, continuing to bury himself within you. “I don’t wanna hear shit from that mouth of yours except what I want.”

You smirk at how he’s doing his best to retain his hardass personality, but it’s clear he’s faltering. You taunt him further.

“Yes, sir~.”

At that, Smoker groans and fucks you at an even rougher pace.

“Say that shit again and I’ll turn you in!” He yells, as if he even had the heart to do such a thing to you. For some reason, you were someone he never could capture.

[imasimpforshanks]

the moment they knew you were the one

ft. luffy, zoro, ace, sanji, shanks, law, sabo

a/n: Some more fluff n love because I’m a hopeless romantic

luffy realizes you’re the one for him when he finds himself saving some of his food just to share with you. sure he may be pouting at the fact that less food will be filling his stomach, but, the second your eyes sparkle and your body does that little happy dance as you take a bite of his food, luffy decides that he’d share anything with you if it meant you’d be that happy.

zoro knew you were the one when he would look for you even when you weren’t around. even if he knew you were away, zoro would always turn to the side expecting you to be there. it felt weird, unnatural - wrong, even - for you to not be by his side. it was then that he realized he couldn’t imagine his life without you.

ace realized you were the one for him during your first fight. he looked like an absolute madman smiling while you were yelling at him about god knows what. “why the hell are you smiling now, of all times, you ass!?” you remarked. ace could only stare at you fondly, smile widening as he responded “because i’d rather argue with you than laugh with anyone else.” and it was true. ace wanted to experience everything with you; the good and the bad.

sanji had always heard people say “when you know, you know.” and god, they were right. because the second sanji laid eyes on you, he knew. he knew with his entire heart and soul that you were the one for him.

shanks knew you were the one when he was caught humming love songs randomly throughout the day. he didn’t even notice he was doing it until benn pointed it out, “boss, you’re doing it again.” shanks would look at him confused, “doing what?” he’d grin from ear-to-ear at the new revelation, deciding to sing the next love song at the top of his lungs. you were the one for him and he wanted everyone to know.

for law it wasn’t any one moment. there were many little moments along the way which culminated in his realization. the cup of hot coffee you left on his desk before you went to bed because you knew he’d be up late, the pout on your lips when he would say “no, we can’t take home another stray cat”, the way you would stick your tongue out when concentrating. everyday with you only made law more certain that you were the one.

sabo knew you were the one the second he opened your gift. it was something he only mentioned to you briefly once as the both of you passed by a store months ago. he looked at you, smiling at the way you bit your lip - a nervous tic of yours. his features softened as he realized ‘no one has ever paid attention to me like this.’ his attention was brought back by his name falling from your lips, “sabo? do you like it?”, scooping you up in his arms and spinning you around, he replied “like it? i love it!”

[fanaticsnail]

Remember Me

This was requested by @aishabbbb, which I linked back to here for the full description of the prompt.

Word Count: 6,600+

Masterlist Here

Echoes of gruff laughter lingered in the air as tankards of ale clanged against one another. It had been a while since the Red-Hair Pirates had made port and as they viewed a rowdy port full of lively music, contagious laughter and bursting at the seams with a variety of pleasurable company; they could not resist.

This port had been known for some time to be a lawless town, accepting of any journeymen as they resupplied their vessels, sailors selling their wares and even the odd Marine here or there had graced the town with their presence. The World Government paid no mind to the comings or goings, knowing should the port be shut down; their supply of rum would slowly dwindle away.

The Captain of the Red-Hair Pirates sat upon a stool at the rear of the room as he stared into the bottom of his tankard, watching the amber liquid slosh from side to side. He withdrew into himself; his former joy and carefree attitude no longer present on his features this night.

A woman with a painted face sauntered over towards the captain, swaying her hips as she overemphasized her intentions.

“Care for some company, sweetheart?” she asked him in a sultry tone as she took his hand in hers that still clasped the tankard. He made eye contact and smiled from the corner of his mouth before withdrawing the hand from her grip and drew his drinking vessel to his mouth.

“Not today, love,” he said, taking a drink from his tankard, “but I can point you in the direction of someone who would be more than happy to share your time.”

She smiled as Shanks gestured to his senior officer, who had a black bandana featuring a white jolly roger insignia atop his lengthy blonde hair. His expression was one of a displeasing grimace, black glasses concealing more of his irritation behind them.

“See if you can bring a smile to his face, would you?” he laughed slightly as she nodded as she made her way to her next target.

Plonking two fresh pints down on the table before him, Benn Beckman sighed as he sat on a stool facing his Captain; taking one of the pints and gesturing for Shanks to do the same.

“You turned her away?” Beckman questioned his Captain, “I thought you’d enjoy a pretty blonde giving you attention this time.”

“I’m not as open today as I have been any other day to the company of a painted lady,” Shanks laughed in response raising his pint and clanging it against his First-Mate’s, “or any other man or woman you’ve since such sent my way. You know this.”

“Oh,” Beckman uttered, eyes widening before looking down at the table, “I didn’t realise it was today. Sorry Cap’n.”

“Don’t apologise, Beckman,” he smiled at him before drinking from the tankard. He moaned slightly as the cool, bubbling liquid hit his lips and he tasted the bitter flavour of the hoppy amber ale.

“How long has it been since-?” Beckman began, halting his words in search for the more appropriate way of phrasing it.

“How long has it been since my bride was claimed at sea?” Shanks offered to complete his First-Mate’s sentence. Beckman nodded in response, gesturing with his pint for Shanks to offer his answer.

Shanks sighed and leant back in his stool, his back thumping against the small railing at the back.

“This day marks ten years,” he added with a sad smile. A silence fell between them as they reminisced the day the Captain of the Red-Hair Pirate’s wife was lost to him.

After a brief pause, they commenced their drinking as they surveyed the movements of the patrons and crew interacting with one another.

Beckman raised his tankard to his lips and begin to gulp with gusto at the frothing liquid. He trailed his eyes throughout the bar as he did so; looking to Limejuice as he grit his teeth tightly at the blonde woman’s incessant and unrelenting flirtation was thrust upon him.

He continued his assessment of the room before his attention was caught by a group of sailors laughing amongst each other, a woman throwing her had back at the joke uttered by one among them. Benn Beckman spluttered into his tankard, coughing as the amber ale entered into his wind pipe and corrupted his lungs with it. He continued to draw in his breaths while maintaining visual contact on the situation unfolding before him.

“Benn,” Shanks addressed his choking crewman, “you alright?”

The First-Mate continued coughing and spluttering, managing to relieve his lungs of the bitter substance and gasping in a long breath. His pigment all but fled from his face as he continued staring blankly at the bar in horror.

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” Shanks laughed, placing his tankard down on the table before clapping a hand against the upper arm of Beckman’s shoulder.

“I-I think I have,” Beckman stuttered slightly before bringing his attention to his captain, “look to the bar and tell me if you can see her too, Captain.”

Shanks furrowed his brows in confusion, laughing lightly at the confession of his crewman before turning and immediately having the playful expression pulled from his lips.

“You see her?” Beckman asked him in a voice just above a whisper.

The Captain wordlessly rose to his feet, almost toppling the stool over in the process as he made his way to approach the woman. His bride, his queen. His whole world was carelessly and unaware of his presence as the melodical laugh fell from her lips; a sound Shanks never thought he would once again experience.

------------------

You tapped the chest of the older sailor in front of you as you continued to laugh at his joke.

“Harold,” you gasped, wiping a tear from your eye, “and that’s the reason you only have three toes on your left foot?”

“Honest to goodness, lass,” he continued to rumble laughter, his eyes twinkling with utter mischievousness, “the bloody crab nearly carved the whole lot off, if not for my quick thinking!”

He imitated the pinching movements of a crab’s claw and crooked his head to make himself look as crab-like as he could, prompting another roar of laughter to erupt between the sailors and yourself.

“Alright, I’ll get you that drink then,” you teetered your laughter and turned to address the bartender you had come to know, “Mary, give us a couple schooners of ale- the pale stuff if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Right you are, my love,” she acknowledged your order and began pouring the foamed liquid into two smaller cups.

It had been ten years since you found yourself lying upon the shore with no recollection of who or what you were before your arrival. Thankfully enough, your body was strong. You knew how to hold your own when it came to unwarranted and unreciprocated attention, often brawling with men to assert yourself among them.

As you needed a job to afford food, you managed to bully Captain Harold of the Angelfish Shepherds Fishing Crew and would accompany them out to sea, bringing in several catches a day and selling their many items throughout town. It was only when the sun would disappear behind the horizon, you would come home to the tavern: "Mary’s Resting Track" and make yourself comfortable with your crew at the bar; drinking well into the night.

Just as Mary had finished pouring from the keg, you felt an arm placed upon your left shoulder, prompting you to turn to face it's source.

“My bride,” a tall, red-headed man gasped in a voice above a whisper as he drew you in to place his lips against yours. You squealed at the tender impact, a smile pulling at the corner of your mouth at the sudden softness and passion you felt from the unknown man. You pushed on his chest slightly before creasing your brows in confusion.

“Steady on, Sailor. Save it for your wife,” you laughed at him, collecting the two schooners from the bar and placing one into the hands of Captain Harold, “or at least buy me a drink first!”

You laughed, prompting your crew to do the same as they raised their glasses and took a drink. You rose yours to your lips and drank from it, keeping playful eye contact with the sailor before you.

He was handsome, his red hair immediately drawing you in. He had a black cloak shrouding his left arm from view and a three-point claw mark over his left eye. His face held a shocked, sobering expression on it as if he was staring at something extra-terrestrial in make.

“Y-You,” he stuttered out, “Y-You’re.”

The words caught in his throat as he again reached his right hand up to attempt to secure a fallen strand of your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. You swatted his hand away from completing the action.

“No,” you said firmly, playfulness leaving your face as your eyebrows collected themselves with a frown, “no one touches my hair. It’s out of bounds to even those who know me, and know me; you do not.”

You swiped his arm away fully away from your face while keeping a warning, reprimanding look on your features. He continued to stare at you, his eyes swelling slightly as they fluttered between your own; pleading with you and searching within them for a small shroud of recognition.

“She’s saving it for her beloved,” your crewman mocked you in a high-pitched tone, bringing humour once again to the room. You laughed at his jest, prompting you to turn away from the red head to scold his imitation.

“I don’t sound like that,” you laughed at him, prompting your crewman to again mock you by wobbling his head from side to side and scrunching up his face.

You turned back around to see the man again gazing with a fierce intensity born deeply into your eyes and managed this time to tuck a strand of your hair behind your left ear with his right hand. At this, you brought your own hand firmly up and struck the side of his face, all humour once again leaving you.

At the crisp strike, chaos erupted at the bar. A crew of pirates drew their pistols, pointing it towards you; while your crew of sailors pulled their own from their belt and aimed it at them in response. You kept your eyes completely fixed on the red-haired pirate as his face continued to hold a yearning expression.

“She gave you a warning, Sailor,” your Captain spat at him, “I don’t care how much ale you consumed, you respect the wishes of a lady.”

This seemed to shatter whatever illusion was held on the redhead in front of you as he looked to the assortment of pirates behind him. He held up his hands in defence of himself, taking a step back from his proximity near you and nodding his head in a deep bow.

“Easy, lads,” he smiled, “put them away. We don’t bring out our guns at one little slap.”

The crew focussed their attention on you as you shook your head and creased your brows at his address. He again turned to you, and bowed his head slightly deeper as an apology.

“You’ll have to excuse me, miss,” he uttered, “I didn’t mean to cross your boundary. It was reactionary, and for that I offer my most sincere apologies.”

Your gaze softened at his words as you gently used your pointer finger to raise his chin to look at you once more.

“Apology accepted on the condition of buying me and my friends a round of drinks,” you scrunched your nose with a small wink. He laughed at your remark, shaking his head and smiling once more.

“I would have to agree, miss. Definitely the next one on me,” he continued to gaze into your eyes as you withdrew your finger from his chin and tapped his nose with it playfully.

-----------------

You didn’t remember him. That must be the only reason you didn’t hoist yourself into his single arm and cling yourself against him. Why you didn’t lean into the kiss and allow him to lace his hand into your hair and relieve your face from it shrouding your vision. The act so intimately solidifying your relationship in the early days, holding onto it as you spoke your wedding vows.

No-one was to ever touch your hair apart from yourself and your beloved were the words you spoke while dressed in your white, lace dress aboard the Red Force; Beckman performing the ceremony all those years ago.

You were married in your youth, relationship blossoming from friendship to something more on the Oro Jackson under the watchful gaze of Gol D. Roger. The subtle glances turned into subtle touches, turning into kisses stolen from within the hidden halls of the Oro Jackson as you would press each other against the walls and roam your hands along your bodies.

He was obsessed with your hair, and with each caress, each embrace, he would find himself absent-mindedly playing with it. You vowed alongside your commitment in matrimony that only he and he alone would be allowed to tuck your hair behind your ear in adoration; and you be the only one permitted to place a kiss atop the crown of his head.

Shanks had to contain himself as his soul screamed within the chasms of his chest to embrace you, to hold you against him and cry out in joy at your return. He didn’t touch another woman in the ten long years it had been since your last departure; the notion turning to ash in his mouth at the mere suggestion. It had only been until recently that Beckman prompted him to seek out someone to relieve his tension, but he felt it would’ve been an insult to the beautiful memories you shared with one another.

You were even in the process of early conversations on what starting a family would look like aboard the Red Force with his assortment of rowdy crew.

You would bicker at having the ship make birth permanently at a port, returning every two weeks to the solid shore as Shanks refused to halt his travels. He wanted you and the children aboard, rearing them alongside his crew; an idea you immediately shot down as you understood infants waking and crying at every interval and the disruption would not be fair to bring to the crew.

Shanks remembered Beckman adding to that conversation with: “We’re already getting sleepless nights from the sounds echoing the halls originating at your quarters!”

He chuckled at the memory before he remembered the fear on your face as the storm threw you overboard in your attempt to raise the sheet from the topmast and secure it in place. The black sky and torrential winds making it impossible to see your form as you struggled against the waves. He didn’t see what happened, only noticing your departure once they successfully made it through the storm and into the central eye of it.

The roar-like scream rumbling throughout the chest of the Red-Haired Captain still reverberating within the ears and memories of the entire crew as they recollect it every year. The pain shared amongst them as their captain bore his grief openly; drowning in rum every night before Beckman pulled him out of his rut with the reprimand: “this is not what she would have wanted.”

It mattered not what happened to him from that point. The pain of loosing you was far greater than any earthly injury could bring forth. He didn’t even bat an eye as his arm was claimed by a great Sea-Beast; consuming his flesh within it’s belly. He was more upset by the fact his golden wedding band perished at its disappearance.

And here you were, not a scratch upon you; laughing as if you had not a care in the world.

You had no memory. That was the only explanation Shanks had as he gazed lovingly at you, drinking your free ale at his expense.

----------------

You shook your head at a comment made by one of your crewmen as they suggested to hold a drinking competition between the red-haired pirate’s crew and your own.

“I don’t think I have enough booze in the house for that,” Mary laughed from behind the bar.

You smiled at her comment, turning back around to see the far off look in the red-head’s eyes.

“You know,” you nudged him with your shoulder, bringing his attention back towards you, “for someone that leads in lips first, you’re awfully quiet.”

He chuckled at your comment, expression softening but with a hidden depth you couldn’t quite understand.

“I’m not usually like this,” he scrunched his nose up with a smile.

“Rough time at sea, then?” you asked him, gesturing to Mary with two fingers to indicate your intentions of purchasing the next round for you and the red-head.

“Not particularly, its just-,” his words trailed off, prompting you to gaze your eyes; flittering them between his own two deep brown orbs before he took a deep breath and looked forward at his crew interacting with your own.

“You gestured for the good stuff, right?” she asked, placing two short, round glasses down on the counter; spiced rum swishing in the base as she did so.

“That I did, love,” you replied, placing down your berry on the counter and taking the glasses from it. You went to place the glass into the red-head Captain’s hands, noticing it was already occupied with a half-drunk tankard of ale.

“You keen on a rum?” you asked him, bringing his gaze up. He gasped out a quick hum, raising the tankard and downing the remainder of his ale with haste and placing the empty vessel atop the bar. He rose his hand to accept your offer and his fingers brushed against your own as he claimed the drink from your hand.

He looked down to your collar bone and noticed a single gold ring hung from a piece of fine leather around it. He furrowed his brows at it as to inspect it from his great distance.

“The gold band around your neck,” he gestured down to your left hand, “are you married?”

“Not to my knowledge, Sailor,” you laughed at him, “I was found with it.”

You sipped at the rum and creased your brows as the heavy alcohol entered your system.

“I apologise for slapping you,” you uttered, “I, uh. I made a promise, you see. I don’t really know what about or to whom, truthfully.”

He hummed at your comment, fixing his eyes on your face as you spoke. He trailed his eyes over your body, looking at you with an expression completely unreadable. Somewhere between: bewildered, surprised, great sorrow, relief, curiosity and apprehension.

“I don’t actually have a lot of that – knowledge, I mean,” you reiterated with a smile, “For the better part of ten years, I’ve been building back what I think I used to be like. I have no idea, though. I could’ve been some prissy young lass with a string of twelve children; or some standoffish, uptight cow-.”

“-You were never like that,” the red-head interrupted you, prompting you to snap your gaze up to meet with his.

“Do you know me, Sailor?” you asked him, your brows creasing together.

“Shanks,” he corrected you, “my name is Shanks.”

“Alright, Shanks,” you corrected yourself, “Do you know me?”

He sighed, drinking a small amount of liquid from his glass and looking to the rowdy crowd as their boisterous laughter echoed throughout the walls.

“If you want to talk about it, I’m going to need two things,” he said, downing the remainder of alcohol from his glass in one quick swell, “another drink, preferably a bottle this time.”

You laughed at him, before asking; “and the other thing?”

“Privacy,” he uttered with a small hint of sadness. You expressed concern within your eyes before patting him on the back and rubbing small circles in comfort to him.

You weren’t sure why you brought your hand up to comfort him, it seemed almost reactionary. A natural instinct of familiarity; organic.

“Alright, Shanks,” you began, making eye contact with Mary once more, “I’ll buy you a bottle under one condition.”

“And what might that be?” he chuckled warmly.

“That you give me a small glint of information before we proceed to the beach,” Mary placed the bottle on the counter and you placed down more berry in response, “I need to know if you are threatening me with a good time, or if you plan on executing me to reclaim some debt.”

“Were we enemies?” you asked him, bearing your gaze at the wall behind the bar.

“Sometimes,” Shanks shrugged his shoulders, prompting you to snap your gaze back to his. He erupted a full belly laugh from his diaphragm at your reaction. He let out a deep sigh before he suggested; “let’s make to the beach and I’ll fill you in.”

Mary smiled, looking between the two of you before the beckoning of Captain Harold and several bottles of the cheapest rum called her from her place before you.

You nodded, neglecting to collect glassware while you grasped the neck of the bottle; not once removing your eyes from the red-head next to you.

You made your way down towards the beach, walking in step with Captain Shanks, as the crew bid him goodnight. You noticed several members of his crew gawked at you as if they had seen a phantom or something of the make.

Once gazing into the open sea, the Captain plonked himself unceremoniously on the sand, legs spread wide as he sat with his knees bent upwards. You smiled at him before crouching down to sit beside him, uncorking the fresh rum bottle in your hands and offering it to him. He smiled as he took it from your grasp and brought it to his lips.

You trailed your eyes over his form, trying to conjure a whisp of memory from the recesses of your mind. After having no image return to you, you rose up your voice.

“So-,” you began, only to be cut off my Shanks.

“You were – are,” he started to relay, laughing at the fact he spoke over you. You nodded to him to continue.

He paused, sighing before again voicing what he was attempting to confess to you.

“It’s been ten years to the day since I lost you,” he sighed, looking down to the sand near his knees, “and not a day went by that my thoughts were not drawn to you.”

You looked at him, puzzled at what he was telling you.

“Your gold band,” he gestured with his hand towards your neck grasping the bottle, keeping his eyes fixed on the sand below him, “was gifted to us by our former Captain we served under: Gol D. Roger. He had a lot of love for you and I.”

“The King of the Pirates?” you asked him, eyes wide before adding, “and us. What do you mean, us?”

He sighed again, this time bringing his head to slouch back as he gazed at the dark and cloudless sky above you.

“I can’t tell you what happened right now. It’s-,” he paused between the words, prompting you to inch forward and look at his face. He turned his face away from you as you attempted to gaze into his eyes; “-it’s too painful today.”

You frowned and instead reached down to the hand placed upon his hand, and swiftly reclaimed the rum bottle from within his grip. He turned his head towards you at this and trailed his eyes up to yours as you placed the lip of the bottle and downed two large gulps of the liquid. You squeezed your eyes as the strong alcohol burned its way down your throat and into the pit of your belly.

He laughed at your actions, finally the forlorn expression eclipsed by glee.

“You haven’t changed,” he uttered, reaching his hand up to your hair before recoiling it back again. You watched him do this, as processing the boundary you expressed earlier still lingered within his thoughts. Instead of reaching your hair with his hand, he fell his grasp to your hands as they held the rum bottle.

“Is there truly nothing you remember of me?” He asked you, looking down to where his single hand rested upon your own. You furrow your brows and search your mind through closed eyes, willing yourself to remember any aspect about him. You hissed out a growl in frustration as you found no recollection.

“I want to,” you whispered to him, “you seem a decent kind of man, if not a little forward with the kiss and all.”

He chuckled at your comment, his laughter building to a rumble. His shoulders began to quake lightly as his laughter died and morphed into soft sobs. He attempted to conceal them from you by raising his hand up from where it rested atop his knee and turned to face away from you. You were overwhelmed slightly by this man becoming wrecked with emotion.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to him, bringing yourself to rest on your knees as you pulled yourself closer to him.

You opened your arms and shimmied your legs forward, hoisting them over his bent knees and found a comfortable spot on the sand to rest between them. Your arms circled his shoulders as you felt his right arm wrap beneath your waist and hook up your spine. He held his face flush with your stomach and squeezed his hand to grasp at your body as if you were to slip away at any moment. You felt his shoulders begin to relax into your embrace while inhaling your scent. You looked down the top of his head before absentmindedly bringing your lips down to place a chaste kiss against his hair. He flinched slightly at this impact, tension building in his shoulders before he slumped them forward.

You heard him sigh into your diaphragm as you did so, bringing his face away from its hidden position against you and resting his chin atop your chest to bring his sights to look up at you. For some reason, this man as he held you in an intimate proximity did not have you thrusting him away from your with excessive force as you did with so many others.

You unwrapped your left hand from around his shoulders and set it against his cheek. His youthful smile returning as you caressed him. You warmly smiled in response, feeling the gruff of his stubble against the palm of your hand before he turned his head and placed a brief kiss atop your inner hand.

“I am willing to dedicate the rest of my life to getting you to fall in love with me once again,” he whispered against your hand before turning his head to meet your gaze, “this I swear.”

Your eyes widened at the comment with a small smile toying at your mouth.

“I gather my undying devotion is overwhelming for you,” he chuckled, prompting you to move your hand away from his face and place both hands atop his shoulders.

“It is, to be perfectly candid with you,” you giggled at him, smoothing your arms over his shoulders and tracing circles against them with your thumbs, “I have tried everything to bring a small fragment of the person I once was to the forefront of my being.”

He trailed his hand from its place at the small of your back and rested it atop your left hip, grasping it firmly within his palm and kneading the flesh beneath it.

You brought your attention to the gold ring on your leather necklace as you held onto his shoulder, narrowing your eyes at the metal slightly; pleading within your own mind to bring forth any memory of the man cradling himself against you.

“To put myself in your hideous sandals,” you uttered, prompting him to quirk his head slightly to the side, “you found me, and it’s almost as if you did so only to lose me again.”

“Aye, it is,” he nodded, looking down again and meeting his eyes with the flesh of your forearm. He ghosted his lips over your left arm, dragging it higher within the crook of your elbow. Your hair follicles stood on edge under his ministrations, as he continued to not kiss your skin; but rather feel the way your body tasted below his lips.

“And you looked lovely in my highly practical sandals, last time you wore them,” he smirked his lips against your flesh before placing a kiss against it. He trailed kisses varying in intensity back down your forearm and against your wrist, prompting your breath to hitch in your throat.

That comment was it. After a variety of interpersonal and intimate words shared regarding your prior relationship with the man beneath you; it was the ugly sandals that brought a flitter of memory to grace behind your eyes. Any other comment; the hand in your hair from earlier, the wedding ring gifted by Gol D. Roger before he was executed, anything else; it was the ugly sandals he found in the run of the mill town that he purchased and, much to your horror, wore in public.

You remember taking them from his room and fleeing above deck with them in an attempt to throw them overboard to rid yourself of their ugliness forever, only to have your waist caught by your husband as he twirled you around to face the deck again with playful reprimand in the process of doing so.

At the request of your husband, you placed them on your feet and experienced the absolute comfort they bore you; almost shrieking in disgust at yourself for relishing in the feeling; as he belly-laughed at you.

“We’ll get you some at the next port” you heard his voice within your mind, “then we can be matching.”

You remembered him wiggling his eyebrows, prompting you to place your closed fist against his chest and tap him slightly.

“We can even get tiny little ones for when you relent and let me put a child in you,” you remembered his tone, causing a blush to rise presently to your cheeks.

“Something the matter, love?” Shanks' voice brought you from your singular memory and back into the present moment you were sharing so intimately with your husband.

No other memory sprang forward, only a few whispers of certain smells: sea water, spiced rum and stagnant drinking water with the natural smell men aboard a boat. You circled your arms around his shoulders and again pressed him against yourself, smothering his face against your sternum between your breasts. Your mouth fell slack as you pressed your face into his hair and inhaled the aroma of the fragrance he favoured to utilise in his red locks: sandalwood and ginger prominent with his natural scent lingering beneath it.

You began to feel a rough flurry of taps from the man beneath you as he indicated for you to release him. His laughter was unrestrained as his eyes twinkled with mischievousness.

“As happy as I am to once again have my face pressed between your breasts,” he heaved his laughter, “I do require air to sustain me.”

He brought his eyes to meet yours as you stared your eyes on the crashing waves of the beach as the tide began to come in further. Your eyes remained wide as you continued to will a semblance of recollection to come to you.

Once you offered no rebuttal at his comment, he again reached his hand up towards your hair only to halt it once more.

“What is it?” he asked you, now placing his right hand atop your left arm, holding it lovingly.

“I-,” you began, the words now halting between your lips. You brought your eyes down to look down and you continued to flitter them between each of his own.

“I-,” you again said, leaning in closer to him; prompting him to have a sense of seriousness overcome his features, “-will never own a pair of those ugly sandals.”

Immediately his seriousness fell away and his face split into a wide grin as his laughter rumbled within his chest one more.

“Yes, you always hated them. I think they’re wonderful,” he gasped while stifling his laughter. You continued to hold his shoulders as his laughter teetered off into a dull rumble.

“I tried to throw them overboard,” you uttered almost inaudibly, “and you threatened me with buying more of them.”

“You remember,” he gasped out a breathy sigh, “you remember me.”

He brought his torso up further to bring your foreheads to rest against each other. He nuzzled your nose slightly at the impact and squeezed his eyes shut with delight. He began to lean in to graze your lips with his, only to be halted by your gentle touch to bring him back.

“I don’t remember anything else aside from your disgusting sandals,” you whispered, closing your eyes before reopening them again and looking at him half-lidded, “and the way you looked at me when you suggested we begin trying for a child.”

A small gasp left his lips as a single tear fell from his right eye. Immediately he pulled your head against his further, seeking out your lips with his own. He moved his hand from its place at your hip to snake around your waist and hold you firmly against his lap. You felt him moan against your lips as you reciprocated his enthusiasm by lacing your fingers into his hair and tugging lightly at the new growth at the back of his neck.

As your proximity was so flush against one another, you had no choice but to press your full weight against him as he laid with his back against the sand; his hair sprawling out atop the course surface. He expertly maneuvered his right leg beneath yours without breaking the kiss, gasping into it as he darted his tongue out to meet with your own.

A soft whimper flung itself from your lips as he relentlessly attacked your mouth with his own; flittering deep and hungry kisses while trying to taste as much of you as he could with his tongue. You unlaced your fingers from his hair and raked them down his shoulders to his chest, massaging the hard muscle beneath them as you continued in your exploration. He gently rose his hand from its place around your waist and drew itself beneath your shirt and groaned when he felt your tender flesh beneath the material.

Placing your right hand below his cloak, you raked your fingers further along his ribcage and drew them up towards his left arm – halting your movement as you found none residing there.

You squealed into his mouth, feeling him smirk against your lips. You attempted to break from the kiss, only to feel his hand climb higher beneath your blouse and lie flat against your spine between your shoulder blades and continue passionately exploring your lips.

“Shanks,” you murmured a warning reprimand against his lips. He smiled while maintaining his lips against your own, feeling the soft pearls of his teeth as they made contact with your mouth. He continued to chase your lips each time you attempted to flee from his embrace.

You brought your hands up to ball the material of his white shirt within your fists and held him further against yourself, prompting him to let down his guard as he whimpered into your lips at your sudden domination. As soon as you felt him relinquish a small spectrum of control, you pushed hard on his collar bones and pried him from your lips. He first groaned in frustration before his body was wracked with uncontrollable laughter. He collapsed against the ground, prompting you to roll your body from above him to onto your own back in the sand as his laughter became contagious.

And as earlier, the heaving of your shoulders in fits of laughter evolved into heavy sobs from the both of you as you mourned the time lost between you.

“My bride,” Shanks called from beside you as he placed his right hand upon his eyes in an attempt to control his emotions.

“Yes, my groom,” you said as more of a whimper than an address.

He rolled over onto his side and hovered his face above yours, as the tears freely fell down the faces of the two of you; the moonlight cascading over your lover’s hair. Hesitantly, he reached his right hand up to your hair and slowly brought some loose strands from your face and wove it behind your ear. He sighed in relief as he watched you close your eyes and lean into his touch, taking your quivering lip between your teeth as you did so.

“You are as beautiful as the day I lost you,” he whispered with a slight hitch of his voice. You reopened your eyes to watch him smiling through his sorrow. You returned his expression and caressed his chest and ghosting your fingertips over his left shoulder.

“And you are one arm less than I remember,” you beamed a wide smile and giggled a little at your prod. He joined you in your laughter and pressed a chaste kiss against your hair before rising to his feet and offering you his right hand to hoist you up to meet him. You took his hand and allowed him to hoist you to your feet, before he dipped his shoulder down to make contact with your waist and lifted you over his right shoulder. He secured you in place with a crisp slap upon your left ass-cheek as he effortlessly crouched down to retrieve the forgotten, half-drunk rum bottle. He rose again to his feet and began to walk with you over his shoulder, using his teeth to uncork the rum bottle and spitting it against the sand.

“Is this quite necessary?” you asked him, mock annoyance in your tone.

He laughed and took a long swig from the rum bottle and gasped in joy as the liquid burnt its way down his throat.

“Not only is it necessary,” he called to you over his left shoulder, “it is also compulsory.” You laughed at him as he almost jigged back towards the tavern, him joining you in your laughter upon arriving at its steps and flinging open the door with his feet.

The arrival of the two of you had cheers erupting and reverberating from every corner and crevasse of the wooden building. Tankards were thrust into the air, foam sloshing carelessly from the top and onto the floor; much to the many protestations of Mary.

Shanks placed you on the floor after setting aside the bottle of rum atop a cylindrical raised bar table.

“Alright lads,” he addressed the room, “let me reintroduce you to my wife!”

He extended his right hand out for you to place your left hand within. As soon as you did so, he effortlessly spun you into him, your left arm laced over your front as he cradled you against himself.

You looked up to his face, your neck laying against his shoulder as he brought his lips down to meet your own for the first time publicly in a decade. Applause, shouts of glee and delight, more sloshing of ale and verbal reprimands from the tavern keeper echoed the hall as you smiled against the lips of your beloved. Your husband, and his bride.

[thebunnednun]

If you really love me, let me go PI

Parings: Red Haired Shanks x Vice Admiral! Reader

Prompt:

Hey Mami! Soo I've been thinking about our beloved Shanks x Vice admiral!Reader. Cuz why not? He's so carefree, so it would be nice to see him with someone who is the opposite of him.

Warning: Angst.

For, @orange-milky who gave me the prompt for this story. Always making me flustered with their nicknames for me.

ON WITH THE SHOW!!~~

You were peacefully sleeping, the kind of deep, dreamless sleep that came after an exhausting day of paperwork and drills. The cool breeze from the open window gently rustled the curtains, and all was silent in your little abode atop the plateau that overlooked the town.

Everything was still, quiet—until a sudden, sharp crash from downstairs jolted you awake.

Your eyes snapped open, heart still calm and steady despite the noise. You groaned softly, already reaching for the duel pistols you kept under your pillow, a natural reaction born from years of training as a Vice Admiral in the Navy. The best-case scenario flashed in your mind: Luffy and his friends, showing up unannounced again for some reckless, impromptu visit.

You wouldn’t put it past the kid, not after the last time they used your backyard as a training ground for their latest techniques.

But you weren’t one to take chances. Slipping out of bed as quietly as possible, you padded across the room in your fuzzy bunny slippers, your anchor-shaped earrings gleaming faintly in the moonlight.

A quick glance in the mirror showed your reflection: hair in rollers, a green mud mask you’d forgotten to wash off, and your pajamas—a set featuring Uta's face plastered all over, a playful gift from her before she went to sail with Luffy.

The robe you wrapped around yourself was adorned with Luffy’s jolly roger, a ridiculous but endearing gift from the cutie  himself. You sighed, raising your dual pistols to your side, wondering what kind of chaos you’d be walking into this time.

The hall was silent as you made your way down the stairs, moving like a shadow, every step measured, controlled. You clutched the pistols tightly, ready for anything. As you neared the kitchen, the faint sound of muffled whispers reached your ears—low voices, trying (and failing) to be quiet. You rolled your eyes, already guessing the culprits.

There were too many deep voices to be Luffy’s crew.

When you flicked on the light, the kitchen was suddenly bathed in a warm glow, and the scene before you could only be described as utter madness. Every available surface was covered in food, bottles of rum, and—most tellingly—members of the Red Hair Pirates. The twelve of them were scattered across your kitchen as if they owned the place.

Shanks’ crew, all of them: Benn Beckman, Lucky Roux, Yasopp, Hongo, Limejuice, Bonk Punch, Monster, Building Snake, Gab, Rockstar, and—by some cruel twist of fate—Uta wasn’t there this time. She was still off with her brother.

Yasopp was the first to notice you, though his reaction wasn’t what you expected. The second his gaze fell on you, still standing in the doorway with your pistols in hand and a full-on “I-will-kill-you” expression on your face, he burst into laughter. 

It started as a quiet chuckle but quickly grew louder, causing a ripple effect across the room. One by one, the rest of the crew joined in, their laughter filling the space until it felt like the walls themselves were vibrating with the sound.

Your eye twitched in annoyance. Standing there in your bunny slippers, hair in rollers, Uta PJ’s, green mud mask still smeared across your face, you probably looked more ridiculous than intimidating.

Like a pop princess wicked witch of the west. But you were still a Vice Admiral, and your patience had limits.

“Oh, this is rich,” Yasopp wheezed, doubling over as tears streamed from his eyes. “We’re gonna die—” He cut off with another fit of laughter, but before you could decide whether to shoot him or not, the back door swung open, revealing a familiar mop of red hair.

Shanks strode in, his entrance casual as ever. His trademark grin stretched across his face, a bottle of rum in one hand and a bouquet of wildflowers in the other. His eyes lit up when he saw you, seemingly oblivious to the chaos he had caused.

“Hello my love!” he said brightly, as though this were a perfectly normal scene to walk into at what had to be three in the morning.

Your response was instinctive. You raised both pistols and fired—ten rapid shots that would’ve made any rookie in the Navy tremble. Shanks, to his credit, dodged every single one of them with that infuriating grace he always seemed to have, weaving between the bullets like it was all just a game.

“Now, now, let’s not start with violence!” Shanks laughed, clearly unfazed by the near-death experience. He took a step forward and offered the flowers toward you. “For you, my little sea monster.”

You huffed, your glare softening just a fraction as you lowered your pistols. Behind him, Benn Beckman gave you an apologetic smile, his hand already reaching into his coat. “We didn’t mean to disturb you. I wrote you a letter ahead of time,” he explained, holding out the envelope, 

“and we tried to be quiet…”

You sighed, arms crossing as you stared at the lot of them, still lounging around your kitchen as though they lived here. “Clearly, you failed.”

They all muttered their apologies, though none of them seemed particularly guilty. Lucky Roux stuffed his mouth with another pastry, while Bonk Punch and Monster shared a conspiratorial glance. Yasopp was still grinning like a fool, clearly amused by your appearance, though he was at least trying to stifle his laughter now.

Benn stepped forward with a steaming cup of tea, which he handed to you with a practiced air of calm. “In case you woke up,” he said gently, and before you could take a sip, Shanks handed you the bottle of rum with a wink.

“Don’t forget the important part.”

You rolled your eyes but accepted both. “You’re all lucky I like you,” you muttered before taking a seat in the barely-used dining room. Pistols stashed into your pockets, the crew, now more relaxed, went back to their conversations, though they kept their volume lower, out of some remaining respect for your sleep.

Shanks slid into the chair beside you, his arm resting lazily on the back of your seat. He didn’t say anything for a while, content to watch you as you stirred a bit of rum into your tea, the warmth from the cup seeping into your hands.

After a few quiet moments, he leaned in, his voice dropping into that soft, almost tender tone he used only with you. 

“Come with me for a second?”

You arched a brow but didn’t protest. Shanks stood, grabbing the rum bottle as you followed him out of the room. He led you outside, through the back door and up a hidden staircase to the roof. The air was cool, the stars glittering above you like a sea of diamonds, and from this height, you could see the town below, quiet and peaceful in the night.

Shanks leaned against the railing, his gaze wandering across the horizon. You joined him, your eyes following the lines of the ships docked in the harbor and the soft glow of lanterns lining the streets.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the sound of distant waves crashing against the shore filling the silence. Then, Shanks let out a low chuckle.

“You’re still mad, huh?”

You snorted softly, taking a sip of your rum-laced tea. “You and your crew have a terrible sense of timing.”

His grin was mischievous, but there was something softer behind his eyes as he looked at you. “Well, I’ve always had a bad habit of showing up unannounced.” He reached over, brushing a thumb against your cheek, his touch light but affectionate. “But you’ve always taken care of us anyway.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at your lips.

“Someone has to.”

The stars above stretched endlessly across the night sky, their brightness cutting through the dark canopy like diamonds spilled across velvet. It was your favorite part of living here—how open and vast the heavens always seemed. You found comfort in how steady they remained, unmoved by the chaos of life below. 

Sometimes, as you looked up at the twinkling lights, you wondered what it would be like to sail in the sky itself, drifting from planet to planet like the sea of stars was just another ocean. Luffy, ever the dreamer, always promised to make your wildest fantasies come true, and knowing him, it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. 

But what about you? What about your responsibilities?

Shanks' voice pulled you from your thoughts, though you hadn’t caught his words.

"Hey, are you alright lass?" he asked softly, his tone laced with a gentle concern.

You blinked, turning your attention back to him, meeting those familiar, warm eyes that seemed to hold a world of their own. 

"Sorry, no. What did you say?"

He smiled, that easy, carefree grin that never quite matched the weight of his words. "I was asking if you’d join me at sea again."

The idea hung between you like the scent of saltwater that always seemed to cling to him. You opened your mouth, glancing toward the town below, gesturing to the village that stretched out in the distance, its peaceful quietness versus the unpredictability of a pirate’s life. The flicker of lanterns from the homes and streets was like the heartbeat of the place you’d sworn to protect.

But Shanks shook his head, his expression unbothered by your hesitation. "Not for long," he clarified. "Just two weeks. I know you couldn’t stay forever."

His words were calm, non-pressuring, but the temptation lingered like a beckoning wave. You mulled it over, your mind swimming with the responsibilities that weighed you down. You weren’t young anymore, at least not in the way that counted. The youthful impulsiveness of picking up and leaving whenever you felt like it had long passed. 

Now, you had cadets who looked up to you, a village that relied on your protection, and a life you couldn’t simply walk away from. The thought of leaving—even just for a few weeks—and returning to disaster haunted you.

Yet, here stood Shanks, the man who could never be caught, the one who had always captured your heart. He wasn’t crowding you, wasn’t demanding an answer. He was just… there, waiting, like always. He reached into his pocket and passed you a handkerchief. You hadn’t realized you still had remnants of your green face mask smeared across your cheek.

You took the handkerchief with a small, grateful nod, wiping away the last smudge of your mask. Shanks’ grin widened as he watched you, a mischievous glint lighting up his features.

"Lovely as ever," he said with that familiar charm.

You raised an eyebrow, disbelief clear on your face. "Really now?"

"Yes," he said, his tone softening into something more genuine. "Like the first day I saw you. You just keep getting better and better."

His words, while honest and genuine, cut deep. They were too real, too heartfelt for the situation you were both in. It hurt—knowing he meant every word. You let out a heavy sigh, your chest tightening as you voiced what was already understood. 

"That’s what makes this so painful, Shanks. We’ve been dancing around each other for years. How long can we keep playing this game?"

You both fell silent, a weight settling between you like the fog rolling off the sea. The unspoken truth was something everyone knew—from the Celestial Dragons to the mermaids deep in the ocean. Even the sea beasts you used to ride in your younger days knew: You and Shanks were in love. But there were laws to nature that even love couldn’t break. 

A bird and a fish could admire each other, even come to each other’s aid when needed, but they could never be together. One couldn’t fly, and the other couldn’t swim—not where it mattered.

"What a cruel twist of fate this is," you whispered, your voice barely carried by the wind.

Shanks nodded solemnly, his gaze never leaving yours. "Indeed."

The night carried on in its quiet way, the hum of distant waves filling the silence between you. You both sat there, not speaking, just watching each other, as if memorizing the lines of each other’s face.

His presence was like the sea—calm, vast, and eternal. You felt it deep in your bones, the pull toward him that was as strong as the tide, and yet you remained anchored here, to this place, this life.

Eventually, your eyes drifted back up to the sky, the stars glittering down on you like an endless sea of possibilities. The two of you were suspended between worlds, the stars and the ocean, the past and the future, and all you had was this fragile, fleeting moment.

Shanks followed your gaze, his hand brushing against yours in a light, almost accidental touch, as if he too was trying to capture something too precious to hold onto.

For now, that was enough.

There was no real use crying over it. You had both spent countless nights easing the sorrow of your situation in your own ways—Shanks drowning his thoughts at the bottom of another bottle, while you buried yourself in the work that defined you. The understanding he’d given you when you first saw this village in ruins so many years ago, when you decided to stay and rebuild it, still lingered between you. 

It had been a quiet acknowledgment, a silent support. He didn’t fight your decision, didn’t call it betrayal. Instead, he—and the rest of his crew—had simply accepted it, open arms waiting if you ever wanted to come back.

The night you became Vice Admiral was one you still laughed about, remembering their terrible disguises as they snuck into your ceremony. There was Benn Beckman in a comically oversized face mask, (you were all thankful that he wasn’t immediately recognized) Lucky Roux sporting a pair of ridiculous sunglasses, and Yasopp trying to hide his distinct dreads under a crooked wig. 

You’d all spent the evening in a local pub, singing sea shanties and dancing like no one was watching. The memories were a balm to the ache of what you couldn't have—the laughter, the carefree joy.

You smiled faintly now, the sea breeze playing with your hair as the memories came flooding back. Shanks had always been at the heart of it. You teased him mercilessly when you heard he’d taken in a daughter.

"Shanks, raising a kid? Who’s the poor soul responsible for keeping the both of you in line?" you had joked.

It was Benn, obviously. His face had lit up with pride as he spoke of Uta, and before, when he told you about a scrappy young boy named Luffy—the boy he believed would change the world.

And Luffy had. 

You’d come to know him well, hiding him and his crew whenever they came to pass. They always treated you like family, laughing and eating meals around your dining table, as if this was their home away from the seas. You adored Luffy’s brothers too—Ace, with his fiery spirit, and Sabo, with his quiet determination.

They’d both been reckless and had nearly gotten themselves killed more than once, leading to your stern lectures. But they always grinned sheepishly, knowing your scolding came from a place of deep affection.

Even Buggy—oh, Buggy. You picked fights with him like it was second nature, always at each other’s throats with bickering and insults. But despite the chaos, you were one of his oldest friends. The bond between you two ran deeper than either of you cared to admit.

When you’d heard about what he’d done to other villages, you punched him square in the nose. "Get it together, you ass hat," you growled, and he’d just sulked before eventually grumbling an apology.

And then there was Shanks' trust. His absolute faith in you, especially when it came to Uta. Whenever he had dangerous missions, he left her in your care, knowing no harm would come to her under your watch. The girl had become like a daughter to you, and even now, she sailed alongside Luffy, her spirit as free as the wind.

You entertained Mihawk whenever he happened to sail by, sharing quiet conversations and sparring matches under the moonlight. Perona would pop in with her gloomy charm, and you welcomed her with the same warmth you gave all of Luffy’s friends.

You had become a mother of sorts—a matriarch to all these misfit pirates who called the sea home. You were the unofficial wife of the Sea King, Shanks himself. Everyone saw it. The way he looked at you, the way you moved through his world without ever truly leaving yours.

And yet, despite it all, you didn’t rule by each other’s side.

The wind shifted, carrying the scent of salt and seaweed, and Shanks exhaled slowly beside you. His eyes were distant now, focused on the horizon, but there was a heaviness in his posture that wasn’t there moments ago. The weight of your shared history pressed down on him as much as it did on you. His hand rested loosely on his bottle of rum, fingers tracing the glass absentmindedly. He’d had countless battles, faced impossible odds, but nothing stung quite like this—the unspoken truth that neither of you could deny.

His voice was quieter when he spoke again, almost as if the words were too much to bear. "It does kill me, you know," he said, still staring out at the sea. "Not being able to hold you, not waking up with you by my side."

The confession hung between you, thick and painful. Your heart twisted, but you kept your eyes trained on the stars, refusing to let the emotion slip into your voice. "We have our duties," you replied softly. 

"Responsibilities of the same weight, just in different forms."

Your words were practical, almost cold in their truth. But beneath them lay the same yearning, the same ache that Shanks felt. He was right—it killed him. And it killed you too. But you both knew the rules of the game.

A fish couldn’t live in the sky, and a bird couldn’t swim in the depths.

You had your village, your cadets, your rank as Vice Admiral. He had the seas, his crew, the freedom to roam wherever the wind took him.

Your lives ran parallel but never quite intersected.

He shifted beside you, finally looking your way. There was a sadness in his eyes, one he never let anyone else see. "I never wanted to cage you," he murmured.

"But I never wanted to let you go either."

You turned to him then, meeting his gaze head-on. The raw vulnerability in his expression was too much. You reached out, your fingers brushing lightly against his cheek, a small gesture of comfort in the midst of all this uncertainty.

"I know," you whispered, your voice gentle but firm.

"I know."

For a long moment, you simply held his gaze, letting the sea breeze carry away the tension between you. There was no easy answer, no solution to the impossible situation you found yourselves in. 

The stars twinkled overhead, casting their gentle light over the quiet village. The night was cool, and the sea breeze carried the scent of salt, mingling with the earthy fragrance of the nearby forest. You sat beside Shanks on a grassy knoll, the two of you a striking contrast to the stillness around you. The village, your home, rested in peaceful slumber behind you, its rooftops barely visible in the low light. 

You could hear the distant crash of waves against the shore, and for a brief moment, it was as though the world belonged to just the two of you.

There was a time where you both had talked about marriage. Shanks had brought it up many times over the years, his playful grin turning serious when the conversation lingered too long. You could still feel the warmth of his words, the weight of his unspoken promises, and the quiet desperation behind his eyes each time he spoke about wanting to make you his.

And yet, here you were. Still not married. Still bound by the same chains that had kept you apart for so long. You glanced over at him now, taking in the sight of the man who held your heart so tightly. His red hair, wild as ever, blew in the breeze, and the familiar scar over his eye seemed to catch the light just so.

His eyes, those deep, piercing eyes, held a softness reserved only for you, but there was something darker there too—an unspoken sorrow.

“We could’ve been married by now,” Shanks said, his voice low, cutting through the stillness. His gaze was fixed on the stars, but you knew his thoughts were off somewhere far deeper. “But I couldn’t do that to you. Not when it would ruin your life, your career.”

The words stung, but they were true. Marriage to a pirate, especially one like Shanks, would be a death sentence for your career. You’d lose everything—your rank as Vice Admiral, your home, your people.

You’d be hunted down, imprisoned, forced to leave the people you loved, the people you swore to protect. Your entire life would be torn apart.

Worst of all, they’d use you to lure out Shanks and have him killed.  

And Shanks knew it. He always did.

“I love you too much to put you through that kind of pain,” he continued, his voice soft but resolute. His fingers fidgeted with the bottle of rum beside him, but there was a tension in his posture, a heaviness in his shoulders. He hated this as much as you did—this cruel twist of fate that kept you apart.

You sighed, turning your gaze back to the stars. They twinkled innocently above, indifferent to the turmoil below. “I know,” you said quietly. “But I hate the thought of us being this… couple that can never truly be together. Not for more than a night.”

The thought weighed on you constantly—the idea that you could never have a life together. That you would always be bound by your respective worlds, able to steal moments but never truly share them. You had responsibilities. You had a village to protect, cadets who relied on you, a duty that couldn’t be abandoned. And Shanks had his crew, his mission, his endless journey across the seas.

But there was more to it. You knew Shanks. He was a man of action, a man who followed his heart. And in his heart, he refused to leave this world without being joined with you before God, as he had said countless times. The idea of dying without you as his wife was a torment he didn’t express often, but you knew it haunted him.

“What if something happened to me?” he asked suddenly, his voice thick with the weight of unspoken fears. He looked at you now, his eyes full of emotion.

“What if I died? You wouldn’t have any legal right to me. You’d be left with nothing. Unless…” His voice trailed off, and a bitter smile crossed his lips. “Unless the crew managed to pull off some ‘common law marriage’ scheme."

"But we’re more than that.”

You bit your lip, feeling the tightness in your chest. The thought of losing him, of having no claim to him, no right to mourn him as his wife, was unbearable. You were worth more than that. Your love was worth more than that. You weren’t some fleeting romance or a temporary connection.

You were each other’s heart and soul, two people who had shared years of laughter, hardship, and devotion.

And Shanks wanted to make it official. He wanted to make you his woman, his wife, and let the world know that you were his in every sense of the word.

He reached out then, his hand resting gently on yours. His touch was warm, familiar, and it steadied the storm brewing inside you. “I want to make you an honest woman,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “I want to stand before God and make you mine, for real. No more games, no more pretending we’re something we’re not.”

You looked down at your hands, his fingers intertwining with yours, and the warmth of his palm grounded you. He had always been your anchor, the one person who could make everything feel right, even when the world seemed against you. But this—this was bigger than anything you could’ve imagined.

“Shanks,” you began, your voice wavering.

His grip tightened ever so slightly, his gaze intense as he leaned in closer. “I know. And that’s why I’ve never pushed it. But if there’s a way—if we could find a way—"

"I’d give up anything to have you by my side.”

The raw emotion in his voice, the sheer vulnerability, tore at your heart. This man, this legendary pirate who commanded the seas, who had fought wars and won impossible battles, was here, willing to risk it all for you. And you… you were stuck between two worlds, two impossible choices.

The stars seemed to dim in that moment, as if even they felt the weight of your decision. The village behind you, quiet and peaceful, stood as a reminder of all that you had built, all that you would lose. But beside you sat the man who had claimed your heart long ago, the man who wanted nothing more than to make you his forever.

“What do we do?” you whispered, your voice barely audible against the sound of the waves.

Shanks smiled faintly, the kind of smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and shook his head. “We figure it out, like we always do.”

And with that, he pulled you close, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You leaned into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, the strength in his embrace. You could lose yourself in the warmth of his presence, in the silent promise of the future you both wanted but could never fully grasp.

You pull away from Shanks' embrace slowly, feeling the warmth of his arm linger on your skin as you give him a small squeeze of reassurance. His presence, solid and comforting, is something you’ve known for so long, yet each time you step out of his hold, it feels like a tug on your heart.

With a soft sigh, you turn to face the open sky again, the stars above you glittering like a sea of diamonds.

“I could never ask you to abandon the sea,” you say quietly, breaking the stillness between you, “the same way you never asked me to abandon these people.”

The weight of those words sinks in as you reach up to take the curlers out of your hair. It’s a familiar routine, one you’ve done countless times. Yet tonight, with Shanks by your side, it feels different. There’s a certain tenderness in the air, a shared silence that speaks louder than any words ever could.

His rough, calloused fingers soon join yours, gently separating the pins and pulling each curler free. You let him help, allowing yourself to relish in the intimacy of this quiet moment.

One by one, the curlers come out, leaving your hair feeling lighter, bouncier, freer. Shanks hums softly, an old sea shanty you both know, as he carefully runs his fingers through your strands, styling it the way you like. The way he likes. His touch is surprisingly gentle for someone who’s lived such a rugged life, and you close your eyes for a moment, savoring the warmth of his hands in your hair.

There’s a stillness between you, but the energy that passes through his fingertips speaks volumes. You feel it in the way his fingers brush lightly against your scalp, in the unspoken affection he shows through every careful motion. 

And all the while, there’s that look in his eyes again—the one you hate. That mix of longing and resignation, as if he’s silently saying goodbye to something he knows he can never truly keep.

Finally, when he’s satisfied with your hair, he drops his hand, letting it fall to his side, but he doesn’t look away. His gaze locks with yours, and for a moment, it feels like the world has stopped.

The stars, the village, the sea—all of it fades into the background, leaving just the two of you suspended in this fragile, bittersweet moment.

You can see the question in his eyes, the same one that’s been lingering between you for years: How much time do we have left? How many more moments like this can we steal before the world inevitably pulls us apart again? 

It’s a question neither of you can answer, but it’s always there, lurking beneath every shared glance, every touch, every word left unsaid.

Below, you can hear the sounds of the crew bustling in your kitchen. Their laughter and chatter filter through the open window, grounding you in the present. Plates clink together as they wash the dishes, their voices teasing and jovial as they talk about what they’ll bring you from the market tomorrow. 

You can almost picture them in your mind—scrubbing your pans with exaggerated care, making a mess of your kitchen, and scribbling down a list of things to restock your pantry. It brings a small smile to your lips, knowing they’re looking out for you in their own way.

The crew’s presence is a comfort, a reminder that you had a family on the seas. A family you’ve built with Shanks and his men. They’d never judged you for staying behind, for choosing a life of responsibility and duty over adventure. They understood you, accepted you, celebrated you, and always welcomed you back with open arms whenever you needed them.

They were your family too, in a way that was different from the villagers you protected.

Shanks, watching your expression soften, finally breaks the silence. “You know they’ll be back tomorrow, right?” he says, his voice low and teasing. “Probably with more supplies than you’ll know what to do with.”

You chuckle softly, breaking the tension as you shake your head. “I can already see it—half the market will be in my kitchen by morning.”

He laughs, a rich sound that rumbles deep in his chest, and it eases some of the ache in your heart.

Shanks’ laughter fades into a quiet hum, the sound trailing off as the two of you sit in the comforting stillness. Together, you glance over your garden, your gaze sweeping over the large pumpkins resting snugly in their beds of soil, their vibrant orange hue a testament to the months of careful tending. 

The last of your harvest is waiting to be gathered—a few stubborn tomatoes clinging to their vines, and some squash ready to be plucked before the first frost. Despite the season's end, your wildflowers still bloom with surprising vitality, their colorful petals swaying gently in the cool evening breeze, defying the inevitable chill creeping in.

Shanks shifts beside you, looking down at your small patch of land as though he’s taking mental notes. He’s never been much of a gardener, but he appreciates the life you've built here. He tilts his head thoughtfully before turning to you with a familiar grin.

“I’ll clean your gutters tomorrow,” he offers with a hint of amusement in his voice, knowing full well you’d never ask him outright.

You smile softly in return, murmuring a quiet, "Thank you," that lingers between you like a secret. But then, silence falls again. The two of you begin to search for excuses to prolong the moment, your eyes wandering over the garden and the stars, avoiding the looming reality of parting.

You pull your knees up to your chest, resting your chin atop them, making yourself smaller as the cool night air gently settles around your shoulders.

Shanks moves beside you, his hand lifting slightly as though to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, but he hesitates. Instead, his fingers shift course, and he cups your cheek with the softest touch. His thumb moves in slow circles over the apple of your cheek, the roughness of his skin a contrast to the tender way he holds you.

It’s such a simple gesture, yet it carries with it a thousand unspoken words, memories, and years of shared longing.

His touch lingers, pulling your gaze upward, and you meet his eyes. For a moment, the world seems to fade away. The years flash before you like a slideshow—quick scenes of laughter, of whispered promises, of stolen moments that felt too fleeting.

You can see it in his eyes too, the weight of time, the shared joy and heartache, all caught in that brief exchange. It overwhelms you, the thought of how much time has passed, how much you’ve both given and lost to the lives you’ve chosen.

Before you can stop yourself, you crawl into his arms, your body moving on instinct as you bury your face against his chest. His arms immediately wrap around you, pulling you close, holding you as though you might disappear at any moment. Shanks doesn’t say a word, and for that, you’re grateful. He understands. 

He always does.

You feel the tightness in your throat, and as your tears begin to gather, you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping to keep them at bay. But it’s no use. The warmth of Shanks’ embrace, the quiet hum of the night, the distant sounds of the crew still lingering in the kitchen—it all presses down on you, and a tear slips free, soaking into the fabric of his shirt. You know he feels it, but he doesn’t comment. He just holds you tighter.

Shanks rests his chin atop your head, his breath slow and steady, but you can feel the slight tremble in his arms. He’s fighting his own tears, just like you. The weight of all the years, all the distance, all the longing—it’s too much for either of you to bear alone, but together, in this small stolen moment, it’s almost manageable.

A breeze rustles through the trees, sending a few stray leaves fluttering down into the garden below. The wildflowers sway again, their petals catching the moonlight in a delicate dance. Above, the stars continue to shine, as if oblivious to the heavy silence that hangs between you.

The world continues on, indifferent to your pain, but in Shanks’ arms, it feels like, just for a moment, the two of you are the only ones in it.

Neither of you speaks. You don’t need to. The tears you shed, the way you cling to him, the way he holds you close—all of it says more than words ever could. Neither of you wants to break the fragile moment, both knowing that the weight of your responsibilities keeps you from being together in the way your hearts long for.

Suddenly, with a shift of movement, Shanks stands, taking you with him in a single fluid motion. His arm slides under your bottom, steadying you as he bounces you up to secure your position.

You yelp in surprise, wrapping your arms around his neck and instinctively hooking your legs around his waist. A laugh bubbles from your lips, despite the lingering sadness, as he effortlessly carries you down from the roof.

The soft crunch of grass beneath his boots fills the quiet air, mingling with the distant sound of waves crashing against the rocky shore.

Shanks walks for what feels like forever, carrying you down the steep path toward the beach. You keep your eyes closed, resting your head against his shoulder, listening to the rhythm of his steps and the gentle lull of the ocean.

When you finally open your eyes, you see Shanks has a small dinghy set up near the water, a modest lantern flickering at its side. He sets you down gently, taking a step back before bowing dramatically, a roguish smile playing at his lips. 

“My lady, would you do me the honor,” he says in mock formality, “of joining me on the water tonight?”

Your heart flutters, a mix of excitement and hesitation swelling in your chest. The responsible part of you screams that you have work tomorrow, that you could be seen. But your heart—oh, your heart aches to say yes. After all, so little happens here, and no one’s likely keeping watch. You gaze at the man you’ve loved for more than half your life, his eyes shimmering with the moonlight and something deeper.

“How could I refuse such a gracious offer from a fine gentleman like yourself?” you respond playfully, your lips curving into a smile.

Shanks grins and takes your hand, helping you step into the small boat before he pushes off from the shore. The dinghy rocks gently as the ocean cradles it, the sound of water lapping against the hull blending with the night’s peaceful rhythm. Soon, the lantern’s glow is the only thing illuminating the quiet waters as the two of you drift farther from the beach.

The moonlight glistens on the surface of the ocean, catching the peaks of the waves like scattered diamonds. The soft, silvery light bathes the world around you in a dreamlike glow, and for a moment, it feels as though time has slowed, leaving just you, Shanks, and the sea. 

You dip your fingers into the cool water, feeling its gentle caress against your skin. Shanks chuckles softly beside you, warning, “Mind your hands.”

You splash him lightly in response, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. The two of you share a quiet laugh, the tension easing as you lose yourselves in the serenity of the ocean.

'This,' you think, is what you’ve always loved most about sailing—the way the world transforms under the night sky, how the ocean becomes a tranquil mirror reflecting the stars above. It’s a reminder of how vast and beautiful the world is, even in its quiet moments.

Leaning over the side of the boat, you gaze down into the water, marveling at the world below. The fish and sea creatures seem to be sleeping, floating peacefully just beneath the surface. Everything feels so calm, so different from the chaos of the day. The ocean’s gentle lull, the stars twinkling above—it’s all mesmerizing.

But for Shanks, the real beauty isn’t the ocean or the stars—it’s you. He watches as you lose yourself in the wonder of the world around you, your eyes alight with curiosity and joy, your smile so radiant it could rival the sun. 

You don’t even realize it, but to him, you’ve always been the most ethereal sight, the one thing that makes this vast, untamable world feel like home.

The boat drifts gently on the quiet waters, the two of you nestled against each other as the lantern’s soft glow casts a warm circle of light. The ocean hums in the background, the sound of the waves gently slapping against the sides of the dinghy, while overhead, the stars twinkle like tiny beacons of light in the vast night sky.

It feels as though the world beyond the sea doesn’t exist, and for a while, you both simply enjoy the tranquility.

But soon, conversation naturally flows between you and Shanks, the easy back-and-forth of two souls who have shared a lifetime of stories and adventures. Luffy comes up first, his boundless energy and unshakable optimism always making you smile. Then there’s Ace, Uta, Sabo—each memory shared with fondness and a tinge of sadness as you recall the times spent with them, wondering where life will lead them next.

Shanks talks about Buggy, and you can’t help but chuckle at his long-time friend’s antics. “Buggy’s going to find the One Piece before any of us,” you tease, leaning back into Shanks' warmth. “Can’t wait to see the look on your face when he does.”

Shanks grins, shaking his head. “If that clown gets there first, I might just retire early,” he jokes, the humor in his voice laced with the familiarity of an old friendship.

Then, as conversations between you often do, the topic shifts to the grand mystery that’s captivated the world—the One Piece. You tilt your head, watching the moonlight dance over the water, your thoughts racing with ridiculous theories. 

“You know,” you begin, your tone half-serious, “I think the real reason Benn’s wanted dead is because of his past in the Marines.”

Shanks raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Go on…”

You lean in, voice dropping conspiratorially. “I think Benn knows what the One Piece really is.”

Shanks smirks, amused by your sudden shift into wild theorizing. “Oh? And what’s that?”

You can’t help but grin, the ridiculousness of your idea bubbling up. “It’s a wax strip.”

He blinks, staring at you like you’ve lost your mind. “A… wax strip?”

“Yep,” you say, trying to keep a straight face. “You see, back in the day, there was this legendary sleepover with Monkey D. Dragon, Gold Roger, and Whitebeard. They tried this beauty regiment, you know, to keep their rugged looks under control. But something went horribly wrong, and now Dragon’s been walking around without eyebrows ever since.”

Shanks stares at you, and you can see the moment the absurdity of your theory sinks in. His eyes widen in disbelief before a bark of laughter escapes him. “Wait— so Dragon lost his eyebrows during a sleepover with Roger?!”

You nod solemnly. “Exactly. And the One Piece is the last remaining proof of that night—a wax strip containing Dragon’s eyebrows. That’s why they had to execute Roger, to keep the secret from getting out!”

Shanks doubles over, his laughter coming in great, booming waves. His whole body shakes with it, and he grips the edge of the boat, trying to steady himself.

“I— I can’t—” he chokes out between gasps for breath. His face is flushed, tears of laughter threatening to spill from his eyes.

You can’t help but join him, your own giggles bubbling up as you watch him lose it completely. You let go of the oars to clutch your stomach, trying not to tip the boat over as the two of you howl with laughter.

“I’m serious!” you manage to get out, though the ridiculousness of your own theory makes it hard to keep your voice steady.

Shanks wheezes, wiping a hand across his face. “Eyebrows… eyebrows… with a wax strip!”

He shakes his head, barely able to breathe as he leans back against the side of the boat, still snickering.

“I swear, only you could come up with something like that.”

The boat sways gently beneath you as you both try to regain control, and you grab the oars, taking over steering the dinghy while Shanks continues to laugh. You glance back at him, shaking your head in mock frustration.

“Well, someone’s gotta steer while you recover from my genius theory.”

Shanks sits up, trying to catch his breath. His eyes are still sparkling with mirth, the solemnity that had clouded them earlier completely wiped away by your absurdity. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and looks at you with a grin that’s both affectionate and teasing. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

You shrug, still chuckling. “Maybe. But I’ve kept you entertained all these years, haven’t I?”

He nods, his laughter finally dying down, but his smile remains. “That you have.” His voice softens, and the mood between you shifts slightly, the laughter giving way to something quieter, more intimate.

Moonlight reflects off the water, the gentle rocking of the boat creating a sense of calm that wraps around you both. As you dip your fingers into the cool water again, feeling the sea’s steady pulse, you can’t help but smile to yourself.

The beauty of the night, the ridiculousness of your conversation, and the way Shanks looks at you—everything feels perfect, like the ocean has swallowed up all the heaviness of the world and left you with just this moment.

And though Shanks has stopped laughing, he’s still watching you, his gaze filled with that familiar warmth. The sight of you leaning over the boat, eyes full of wonder as you take in the night sky and the calm waters, never fails to amaze him.

To him, you’re the real treasure in this world, your joy and curiosity shining brighter than any moon or stars.

Soon, it becomes even later, and you both return to your house. The house is still as you and Shanks quietly slip through the front door, the faint scent of saltwater and sea clinging to your clothes.

The soft sound of your slippers barely echoes as you both tiptoe through the rooms, careful not to wake the sleeping crew scattered across your kitchen and dining room. 

Blankets and pillows have been pulled from the guest closet, and you can make out the tangled mess of limbs, chests rising and falling in peaceful slumber. Someone’s snoring lightly, and the soft murmur of sleep-talking drifts through the air as you navigate past them.

You exchange a glance with Shanks, and a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. It feels like sneaking in after a long adventure, the comforting sense of home mingling with the reminder of the fleeting time you have together. His hand brushes yours, a fleeting touch that anchors you in the moment as you both climb the stairs with careful steps, finally making your way to your bedroom.

Once inside, you close the door gently behind you. The familiar scent of your sheets, the worn, cozy blankets, and the soft light filtering through the curtains create an intimate cocoon. Shanks shrugs off his coat, hanging it on the bedpost, and you can’t help but grin at the casual ease of it all.

For a moment, it feels like he’s never left.

“Have you taken any lovers since I last saw you?” you tease, your voice low and playful as you sit on the edge of the bed, pulling off his boots.

“I keep telling you that it wasn’t like that with Mihawk!” Shanks replied, his voice hushed but carrying a laugh.

“So you say,” you quip, eyes twinkling with mischief. But there’s no jealousy in your words, only the shared understanding that the bond between you both could never be betrayed.

You both giggle, the sound soft and intimate, knowing full well that neither of you would ever stray. Shanks stands, stepping over to your dresser where your anchor earrings sit. He plucks them up and then reaches into his pocket, retrieving a new set of earrings shaped like a ship's helm. Without a word, he places them next to your old ones, the subtle gesture saying more than words ever could. 

A piece of him, left with you.

You crawl back under the covers, the weight of the day catches up with you, the sea breeze still lingering on your skin. Shanks settles beside you, watching you with that ever-present glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

You watch him, a warm feeling blooming in your chest. He turns back to you, and before he can slip under the covers, you reach out, cupping his face with your hands. Your fingers poke and prod at him, squishing his cheeks in playful teasing.

His skin is warm under your touch, rough from years at sea, but familiar. You even pick at his scruff a bit. He squints at you in mock offense, his lips curling into a smirk.

“Go ahead, bite me,” you challenge with a grin, your voice barely above a whisper but playful nonetheless.

Shanks chuckles through his nose, his teeth flashing in the low light as he leans in and gently snaps his jaws at you, catching your finger between his teeth in the softest, most careful bite. He holds it there for a second before kissing it gently, the warmth of his lips sending a shiver down your spine.

You pull your hand back and snuggle down into the mattress, pulling the blankets up to your chin. Shanks joins you, his strong arms slipping around you as the two of you settle into the comfort of each other’s presence. His body is warm and familiar, his scent a mix of the ocean and the faint hint of rum.

The silence stretches out, peaceful but heavy with unspoken words. Shanks’ voice breaks it first, quiet and reflective.

“I’ll be gone in the morning.”

You swallow, your throat tightening at the inevitable. “I know,” you whisper, staring at the dark ceiling.

He shifts beside you, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm. “I’m going to miss you,” he says, his voice barely above a murmur, filled with a tenderness that makes your chest ache.

“As will I,” you manage to say, though the words feel too small for the weight of what you feel.

A beat of silence passes before Shanks speaks again, this time his voice softer, more serious. “Can I tell you something?”

You turn your head to look at him, your eyes searching his face in the dim light. “Yes?”

He hesitates for just a moment, and when he speaks, his words are laced with raw emotion.

“I love you.”

The confession makes your heart clench, the quiet sincerity of it hitting you like a wave. You’ve known it, felt it in the way he’s always treated you, but hearing it spoken aloud—especially now, on the edge of another departure—makes part of you want to cry.

“I… I love you too,” you whisper, your voice trembling despite yourself.

Shanks’ hand moves to your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that escapes before you even realize it’s there. “In case I die tomorrow,” he says softly, his voice barely a breath, “I want you to hear it one more time.”

“I love you.”

The words hang in the air between you, and you can’t help but bury your face against his chest, trying to hold back the sob that threatens to escape. His arms tighten around you, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, grounding you in the present.

You close your eyes, willing the moment to last, even as the heaviness of his impending departure settles over both of you like a storm cloud waiting to burst.

The morning light pours through your window, casting long shadows on the wooden floor. You stir, reaching out to the empty space beside you, and, as expected, find it cold.

Shanks is gone, true to his word. You sigh softly, sitting up in bed, pulling the covers around you for just a moment longer. But then the smell of freshly baked bread wafts through the house, and your curiosity draws you downstairs.

In the kitchen, everything is pristine. The countertops gleam, your pantry is fully restocked, and a neat stack of notes sits on the stove. You pick one up, recognizing Benn’s precise, no-nonsense handwriting.

A brief note, polite as ever, informing you that everything was taken care of: your gutters cleaned, garden weeded, and the trash dutifully taken out. 

You smile at the thoroughness of it all, imagining Shanks probably supervising the entire crew to ensure everything was done right. Your eyes drift to the corner of the room where your favorite scarf used to hang, only to notice it’s missing.

In its place, a vibrant red sash and a neatly wrapped box for your pistols now rest, a clear sign that Shanks had left a part of himself behind once more.

You pick up the red sash and hold it for a moment, feeling the soft fabric between your fingers. Then, with a sigh, you begin to get dressed, opting for something simple at first—a starch white blouse that feels cool against your skin, paired with a navy blue pencil skirt.

But as time ticks away, the pressure of duty calls, and you finally surrender to the full uniform. You button up the military jacket with its crisp white fabric, pull on your cap, and lace up your combat boots.

The final touch is the red sash, which you tie snugly around your waist for comfort, a small piece of Shanks’ world blending with your own.

Stepping outside, the morning air feels crisp, the breeze carrying the faint scent of the sea. You make the familiar walk down the hill, your boots crunching over the dirt path, your thoughts scattered between Shanks’ departure and the day ahead. As you near the village, however, you’re met with an unusual commotion. There’s a buzz of excitement in the marketplace, people whispering and pointing toward the docks.

You pick up your pace, weaving through the crowded market, dodging vendors and children playing in the streets. The sound of hurried feet matches the beat of your heart as you make your way to the docks. And then you see it: the unmistakable sight of Admiral Garp’s great ship, its massive sails billowing as it rolls into the harbor.

The towering figure of Garp stands at the helm, his broad shoulders and unmistakable grin visible even from this distance.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, relief washing over you. With a quick salute to the other marines at the docks, you leap onto the ship, barely giving the cadets time to register your presence. They jump aside as you dart past them, your eyes fixed on the familiar figure ahead.

Before you can even greet him properly, Garp’s arms are around you, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. His laugh is loud and booming, the kind that shakes your entire frame. His massive hand slaps your back with affection, the force almost sending you stumbling. 

“There you are!” Garp beams, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I was starting to think I’d have to drag you down from that hill of yours.”

You chuckle breathlessly, your ribs aching wonderfully from the sheer force of his hug. 

“You know I wouldn’t miss you coming into town, old man.”

Before you can say more, you feel a small weight cling to your hip. Looking down, you see a pair of tiny arms wrapped around your waist. A bright pair of curious eyes look up at you, and a grin splits your face as you recognize the small boy holding onto you.

Your heart swells as you see the familiar bright eyes of your seven-year-old son, his small arms wrapping tightly around your waist. His fiery red hair, unmistakably like his father’s, catches the sunlight, creating a soft halo around his cherubic face. His smile mirrors yours, full of joy and innocence. 

Not far behind him is your oldest daughter, walking with that confident stride you’ve seen in yourself for years. She’s fifteen now, her auburn hair rich and vibrant, carefully styled the half braided way you taught her, cascading down her shoulders in waves.

Her face is your mirror image, except for her eyes—either wide, deep pools like the night sky reflected in the ocean or sharp and cunning, with a twinkle of mischievous intent that’s all her own.

Or maybe a repressed part of you. 

“Mom!” your son exclaims, his small hand reaching for yours. You scoop him up in one swift motion, hugging him close to your heart. Your daughter sidles up next to you, her arms crossing playfully as she surveys the scene with that knowing smirk.

“Miss me?” you ask, ruffling your son’s hair and pressing a quick kiss to his temple. He giggles, nodding vigorously before trying to wriggle free.

“Of course, they missed you,” Garp chimes in, a grin on his face as he watches the reunion. “Though I think they enjoy ‘grandpa’ time more than they let on.”

You give Garp a grateful nod. “Thanks again for keeping them busy. I know how much they love running around with you.”

Your daughter laughs, her voice ringing with a mix of sarcasm and sincerity. “Oh yeah, grandpa has the best stories, especially the ones about how he used to throw cannonballs at people.”

You shoot her a look that says behave, but she just winks at you, flipping her auburn hair over her shoulder. Her brother, ever eager to help, adjusts the strap of her large bag that he’s somehow decided to carry for her. She, in turn, holds his much smaller backpack, their roles hilariously reversed as they shuffle beside you.

You three start the walk back home, their small hands in yours, swinging gently as they chatter about their adventures with "grandpa."

Your son’s voice is filled with awe as he recounts how Garp taught him to dodge imaginary cannonballs, while your daughter’s tone is more measured, full of wit as she talks about navigating the ship’s rigging like a pro.

“I could totally be a pirate, you know,” your daughter muses, casting a sidelong glance at you, her auburn hair gleaming in the sun.

“Not like a bad one, just… you know, one of those good ones, like Uncle Luffy.”

You smile knowingly, squeezing her hand. “A pirate, huh? You know your dad wouldn’t be too happy to hear that.”

She shrugs, a mischievous glint in her eye. “He’s not here to say no, is he?”

Your son giggles at that, tugging on your arm as he jumps over a small rock.

"But I’m gonna be a marine! Just like you, Mama. And fight bad guys!"

His enthusiasm is contagious, and you can't help but laugh, thinking how they’ve inherited the best and most chaotic traits from both you and Shanks.

As you reach the house, the familiar creak of the door welcomes you home. Your son immediately kicks off his shoes, darting into the living room while your daughter takes a more measured approach, carefully setting down her bag and tidying up the space as if it’s her own personal domain.

“I’ll get changed,” your daughter calls out, already halfway up the stairs with your son at her heels.

“Don’t take too long,” you respond, your voice trailing after them. You take a moment to breathe, the house suddenly quiet save for the faint sounds of your children settling into their routine.

Your gaze falls on the kitchen counter, where the notes from Shanks' crew are stacked neatly. You pick them up, glancing at the distinct handwriting. These notes are a secret you’ve kept close to your heart, carefully hidden from prying eyes.

Not even Shanks knows about the of half of life you’ve built here. The villagers think you’re married to a man who works overseas. Only a few, like Mihawk and Luffy’s crew, have come close to uncovering the truth.

With the notes safely tucked into your purse, you can’t help but glance around the house—a place where every corner holds a memory of you and the kids. It’s a life filled with quiet joys, secrets woven into the fabric of your everyday life, a delicate balance between worlds.

The thought of Shanks lingers in the back of your mind, but for now, it's pushed aside as you focus on your children. They’re your best-kept secret, a legacy of love and strength that connects you to both the sea and the land, as you’ve always been torn between the two.

You watch as your daughter, Mariana, comes bounding down the stairs, her curly auburn hair bouncing with every step. She looks like a flash of sunlight, her bright eyes scanning the room as she carries her silver sandals in hand. You can’t help but smile—she’s always been so full of life, a perfect mix of your stubbornness and her father’s boundless energy. Her bare feet pad softly against the wooden floor, and she glances at you with a mischievous grin.

“Mom, are there any snacks?” she asks, already half-knowing the answer.

You tilt your head toward the back door, giving her a playful look.

"There’s still fruit from the yard."

“Score!” she exclaims, her excitement bubbling over as she practically skips toward the back door, already dreaming of the sweet taste of ripe peaches.

You watch as she swings the screen door open with a flick of her wrist, the sunlight filtering through and casting a golden glow over her figure. Her silhouette looks so much like you at that age, yet there’s something else—something wild and untamed about her that reminds you of the sea. 

It reminds you of him.

You sigh, feeling that familiar weight pressing on your chest. Shanks doesn’t know. He’s never known. And every day, as Mariana grows more curious and your son becomes more aware, the burden of that secret becomes heavier. You’ve managed to avoid the question time and time again, especially with Mariana. 

She’s smart—too smart for her own good—and every so often, her sharp, inquisitive nature leads her to ask about her father. You’ve always found a way to deflect, to change the subject, but with each passing year, it feels like you’re running out of excuses.

Your son, on the other hand, barely asks. He’s content in his little world, more attached to you and the village than Mariana ever has been. But that doesn’t lessen the guilt you feel. The worst part of it all? 

You’ve never told Shanks. Not one word.

He doesn’t know that he has a daughter who shares his vibrant spirit, or a son with his piercing red hair. 

He doesn’t know that the two children running through your home, laughing, playing, and growing up in the safety of this small village, are his.

And how could he?

How could you shatter his world with the truth? He’s worked his whole life to protect the seas, to maintain the balance of power, to keep the chaos at bay. You know what kind of man Shanks is—if he knew, he’d give it all up in a heartbeat to be here. To be with you. To raise them.

And who would be there to keep peace in the seas then?

You loved the village, the safety it provided. It was your sanctuary, a place where you didn’t have to worry about your children being held for ransom or hunted like some sick prize because of who their father is.

But every time you think of that last visit with Shanks, when he stood in your kitchen, laughing with you and stealing glances like he always had, it took everything in you not to crumble. To not bow and confess everything—the sins, the secrets, the life you’ve hidden from him for so long.

A part of you wanted to. You wanted to fall at his feet and tell him the truth, to take his hand and show him the family he didn’t know he had. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

"Mom, I'm staying outside!" Mariana’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You look up, seeing her standing by the back door, already slipping her sandals on.

"Don’t go too far!" you call after her, though you know she’s probably already halfway back to the peach  tree, her favorite spot in the yard. You smile despite the ache in your heart.

Mariana, so full of life, is your pride and joy. She’s quick-witted and cunning, always one step ahead of everyone, including you. It’s the same kind of cleverness you’ve seen in Shanks a thousand times, the way he always seemed to anticipate what was coming before anyone else did.

You wonder how long it’ll be before she pieces it all together—the resemblance, the stories, the red hair her brother shares with the infamous pirate.

As she disappears into the garden, you run a hand over the kitchen counter, absently picking at the sash left by Shanks. Your eyes scan the outside, but your mind is elsewhere. Shanks is out there, somewhere, unaware of the legacy he’s left behind.

The truth lingers in the air, unspoken, but ever-present. And one day, you know, you won’t be able to keep it hidden any longer.

Mariana, your star of the sea, was already off in the yard, likely sitting high in the branches of the peach tree with her sandals discarded in the grass. Her laughter echoed faintly through the open window, blending with the soft rustle of the breeze. 

Inside, Luca, your moon, was making his usual descent—sliding down the banister of the stairs, too lazy to take them step by step. His red hair caught the light from the window as he landed with a thud, standing proudly before you with a mischievous grin plastered across his face.

“Oh, Luca,” you murmur, shaking your head with affection as he strides over to you, his chest puffed out. “What am I going to do with you?”

Luca, your greatest helper when it came to finding the “best” rocks on the beach. Who was very bit as in awe of the world around you. Who was skittish of thunder but always ready and willing to fight for his sister. His little arms always holding some wild creature that he’s found while exploring. Picking twigs out of his sister's hair while he himself was covered in sand.

The little one who had once dyed his hair blue using paint because he was curious about how it would look. 

If you had to pick him from a line up of other children with a resemblance to Shanks you’d choose this cool little dude that has a heart as big as his father. 

Luca doesn’t answer, only beams up at you with those bright eyes—your eyes—and you scoop him up into your arms despite his whines.

His legs kick in mock protest, but you kiss his round cheeks anyway, peppering his face with affection. His giggles fill the room, that sweet, innocent laughter that tugs at your heart.

“Stop! I’m a man!” he squeals between fits of laughter, trying to wriggle out of your embrace.

“Oh, a man, are you?” you tease, holding him tighter and pressing another kiss to his forehead. “Well, this man is still my baby boy.”

You hold him close, feeling the warmth of his small body against yours, and for a moment, everything feels perfect.

Just you and your children in the safety of your home, far away from the dangers of the sea. You smooth a hand over Luca’s red hair, wondering—if Shanks could see this, if he could see how much Luca looks like him—would he even need you to say the words?

Raising them without him had been the hardest thing you’d ever done. It felt wrong, every lie, every evasion of the truth, every time you had to cover up why you couldn’t tell him.

You’d sent aid when you couldn’t be there for a fight, feigned illness or some convenient excuse when he’d visited on nights the children were staying in your room.

On those nights, you’d stayed downstairs, telling Shanks it was for old times’ sake, a ‘slumber party’ for the two of you, when in reality, you were protecting the secret that grew harder to contain with each passing day.

You’d felt Benn’s eyes on you, too. How many times had he nearly stumbled upon the bottles, pacifiers, and toys you’d hastily hidden? Maybe he already knew and was keeping your secret, but you’d never asked. The fewer people who knew, the safer your children would be.

Luca’s laughter dies down, and he nuzzles into you, resting his head on your shoulder. The weight of his small form in your arms feels like the weight of the world at times, the burden of secrets and lies pressing down on you. But here, now, in this moment, it’s just you and your son.

You don’t hear the footsteps outside. You don’t hear the soft creak of your front door opening or the steady sound of boots on the wooden floor. You're too wrapped up in Luca, kissing his cheeks again, earning another round of giggles. It’s only when you hear your name being called—familiar, yet unexpected—that your heart skips a beat.

“My love?”

The voice is unmistakable, and your breath catches in your throat as you turn, still holding Luca in your arms. There, standing in the entryway, is Shanks.

The room seems to shrink, and time feels like it slows to a crawl. Shanks stands in the doorway, sunlight framing his figure, his usual carefree smile faltering slightly as his eyes land on you and Luca.

There’s a moment of silence, thick with unspoken words and heavy with the weight of what you’ve hidden for so long. Luca, oblivious to the tension, wriggles in your arms, his small voice breaking through the quiet. 

“Mama, who’s that?”

Your heart pounds in your chest as Shanks’ gaze shifts to Luca, his eyes widening slightly. For a moment, he looks at Luca—really looks at him—and you can see the realization starting to dawn on his face. The same red hair, your sweet grin, the spark of life in his eyes.

“y/n…”

End of part 1, second half to be posted 09/09/24

Pppppssssssssssttttttt,

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Edit: Part 2 is up now!!!

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[loganwritesprobably]

First 'I Love You'

The first time you say I love you, and the first time they say it, featuring Crocodile, Benn and Ichiji

Notes/Warnings: GN!Reader, Alabasta era Crocodile, angst (Crocodile), fluff (Benn & Ichiji), character death, canon-typical violence, minor injury mentioned, Robin and Law as background characters

You say I love you first

It was a fairly normal evening, you and Crocodile were cleaning up and getting ready for bed, tired from a long day of work. You'd been dating for months now, with you having moved into his quarters above the casino a couple of weeks ago. Things weren't moving too fast, or too slow - just right. At least for you. You knew what sort of man Crocodile was, and you were just fine with that. You were less fine with knowing he was keeping secrets from you, but he'd tell you when he was ready.

You pulled your shirt over your head, turning to see Crocodile leaving the ensuite bathroom, ready to get into bed. You approached and wrapped your arms around him, pushing up onto your toes to press a kiss to his jaw. "I'll just brush my teeth." You told him, and he hummed with a smile. "Alright sweetheart." And with that you released him to head for the bathroom yourself. You paused in the doorway, which Crocodile took note of, and stopped before climbing into the bed to look at you expectantly.

"I love you, you know." You said. It clearly look your lover off guard, as he just stared at you, unsure how to proceed. "You don't have to say it back. I just.. wanted you to know." Then you slipped into the bathroom and left Crocodile to process your words.

It took Crocodile quite a while to finally say it back

With Luffy close to ruining all his plans

You still hadn't uncovered all of his secrets, and you didn't think you ever would

Luffy was closing in, you all knew it. For a rookie, the kid was crazy, and honestly kind of scary. You, Crocodile and Robin stood in the grand room beneath the palace, Cobra tied up in a corner and bleeding. You looked at Robin expectantly, waiting for the knowledge from the poneglyph.

"It isn't here." She told you both, turning to you first with a silent apology in her eyes, then to Crocodile with a more cold expression. "Do not lie to me, Miss All Sunday." Crocodile accused, and you reached to take his arm in your hand. "I believe her. It isn't here. But we can keep moving with the plan, with the power of a country we can look els-" You didn't get a chance to finish your sentence.

You looked down and found a knife in your abdomen, and Crocodie's large fingers wrapped around the handle. You slowly traced your eyes up his body until they met his, and he didn't even look remorseful. He let go of you, and you fell to the ground, bleeding. He approached Robin slowly, who was clearly wary and worried for you simultaneously. Two arms sprouted from the ground to press against your wound, all the while she was slowly inching away from Crocodile. Sadly, with her attention split between the two of you, he managed to get her next.

He left Robin on the ground, her extra limbs disappearing from around you so she could focus her energy on herself, and you didn't blame her.

Crocodile approached you again, looming over you with a smirk on his face. "You know, for a moment there, I almost loved you too." He said mockingly. Crocodile crouched slowly downward, and with one of his large hands he scooped your head up until you were close enough for him to press a filthy kiss against your lips.

You hoped Luffy kicked his ass. That was your final thought before your eyes slid closed for a final time.

Benn said I love you first, a surprise to you both

The Red Force had docked at an island to restock once again, having run out of booze a couple of days ago, and you were beginning to run out of food too. Everyone was disembarking to gather supplies and spend some time on land, but you'd managed to injure yourself while sparring with Shanks a few days ago, and you and your sprained ankle were to stay on the ship. It was a bit of a bummer, but at least it meant you didn't have to do heavy lifting. And you got to watch Benn do heavy lifting, which you'd never complain about.

"We won't be long darlin'." Benn called out as he headed for the gangplank. "I'll be here." You replied, lifting the drink in your hand with a grin. "Alright, see you later. Love ya!" He called out and walked away.

You remained there frozen, clearly Benn hadn't quite realised what he'd done, but you had.

But you weren't far behind.

Despite your injury, you put down your drink and rushed to the side of the ship, adrenaline helping you ignore the pain. "Benn!" You called out, leaning over the railing, grinning like a madman. Benn looked back at you, confused and a little concerned. "I love you too!" You said, laughing all the while. Only in that moment did Benn seem to realise what he'd done, and then he was rushing back up onto the ship to scoop you up into his arms and smother you with kisses.

You said I love you first, many times

Despite the way he acted, and the way he'd been raised and created, you knew that Ichiji had the ability to love, somewhere inside of him. You'd seen it in the way he'd hesitate just momentarily if he thought one of his brothers was struggling in a fight, or how he'd choose to take harder battles for himself to keep them safer. The signs were small, but they were there.

He was never outright cruel to you, and that was part of why you stuck by him. He didn't want to be cruel, even though it was what he was trained to do, because a part of him cared for you as much as you did for him. "Have a good day, I love you." You said, waving Ichiji goodbye as he left your shared room for a day of work, grinning all the while.

You didn't care how many times you said it before he said it back, you didn't care if you never said it at all. Being here and happy was enough for you.

And one day, he surprised you

Judge was dead. He had been for a long while. Once he was dead, you and Reiju had been able to begin helping the Vinsmoke brothers heal. You had been the only one to stay in contact with Sanji after he left, the least painful person to talk to since you hadn't been there in his childhood - a safe way to keep an eye on his family. He'd referred you to a 'friend' of his - Trafalgar Law, who apparently was a big fan of Germa, and he was happy to help.

His devil fruit was amazing, and you happily sat back and watched as he ran diagnostic tests, and learned how the Vinsmoke brothers ticked.

"Good news," Law said, "is that you can de-program them, you were right. Bad news though, is that it's gonna take a long time. There's some sort of switch I can turn in their brains, bring back their emotions, but you'll have to teach them to be better, I'd guess. Sorry Reiju-ya, it'll be a while before your brothers are whole." He explained, but that was enough for both of you. It was possible. But then, Law followed with, "It might be easier with Ichiji-ya, since he has you." he directed at you, and that filled you with even more excitement.

You agreed for Law to do what he needed to, and after the procedure the boys slept for almost a full forty eight hours. Law wasn't surprised, or concerned, so you tried to follow his example. He checked them over when they woke, and when he confirmed that physically they were well, he bid you goodbye. This next bit was on you.

"Ichiji." You said softly, sitting beside your lover's bed, reaching out to gently take his hand. "I- I.." He trailed off, looking at you with desperation. You reached up to brush some hair from his face with a smile. "It's okay." You soothed, kissing his forehead. He had nothing to worry about with you. "No- it's not." He growled, and you took his face in both your hands. "I'll wait forever for you, love. It's okay." You soothed again. Ichiji lunged forward to passionately connect your lips, reaching out to pull you onto the bed on top of him, your knees either side of his hips. "I love you." He whispered against your lips, eyes closed against the surge of emotions. "I love you too." You whispered back, eyes brimming with the happiest kind of tears.

Requests are open! See below links for my other works, and how to leave requests. I write both canon/canon and canon/reader requests for your enjoyment

AO3 | Fanfic Masterlist | Request Rules | Fic Trades Guide | WIPs

Tags: @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots

[alexa-fika]

Hello! I am the anon who requested the winged!child! Dracule reader, I got so giddy when I saw your reply. And yes the red haired is fine.

Seriously your work is awesome ♡♡

Lost Birds ( Red Haired Pirates x gn!child!Dracule!Reader)

A/N: Guys Finally! After watching the screen for hours it finally hit me and I think I COOKED, also thank you anon l, you’re gonna make me blush. -Yall I fell asleep while writing that this was meant to be posted yesterday 💀

Dividers by @saradika

Yassop sat at the crow’s nest, watching over the ship as usual and looking for any danger to the Red Force; his attention diverted to bustle below him, his crew involved in their usual antics despite the dangers awaiting them upon their arrival.

He glanced at his Captain talking to his first mate; when he first announced they were to head to Marineford, he was surprised, but he never hesitated; he knew what was at stake, how much lives could be lost if this was left alone

His thoughts were quickly interrupted as a sound came from above him; his head shooting up, he promptly took out his weapon and aimed it at an approaching figure, alerting the crew below him

His eyes narrowed as a sound started being heard the closer the figure got

“What is it, Yassop?” Beckman questions from the deck

Yassop stayed silent with his weapons still drawn, his eyes carefully analysing the figure in approaching them,

“We have company,” Yassop finally responded in a calm voice.

“There!” He said shooting towards the figure

“Ah!” Dokucha exclaims quickly, diving down to avoid the shot

“Hey! Mister, that’s rude!” they exclaim, landing on the deck of the ship only to shriek at the sound of a gun being cocked right behind them

Behind them stood Benn Beckman, pointing his weapon at them the rest of the officers not far behind

“Who are you?” He inquired, the usual cigarette resting on his lips, his eyebrows raising as Dokucha turned around, his weapon lowering slightly

“You’re just a kid…wait, you’re…”

“Dokucha?” Asks Shanks, walking closer to the small child kneeling down next to them

“Uncle Shanks? Uncle Shanks!” They laugh, throwing themselves at the man

Shanks laughed, wrapping his arms around the child, who was visibly smaller than him

"It's been a while since I've seen you" he smiled, brushing their hair

“You know them, Cap?” Question Yassop climbing down from his previous spot

“Did you drink too much yassop, or did you forget their face?” Pipes Beckman

Yassop Glances at the kid for a few seconds, taking notice of the wings, quickly realizing that not only were those the source of the noise that had alerted him before but that they were too familiar to him

He turns his head around in a flash as recognition washes in his features

“This is Hawkeyes kid?!”

“Papa?” The kid questions happily hearing their father's nickname

Beckmann sighs at this

“What are you doing here?”

“Umm, Papa went somewhere, and I wanted to fly for a bit; I flew too far and got lost.”

Shanks snickers at their words, standing up and ruffling their hair

“I think your father is heading to the same place we are headed, so you are in luck.”

“You’ll take me to Papa Uncle Shanks?”

“I’ll take you to him, but be warned,” he says to the child, smiling,” It’ll probably be a bit chaotic when we get there.”

“Okay!” they exclaim, their eyes glancing at the man behind him

“Hey! You were the one shooting me!” they accused, flying towards the sniper

Yasopp laughs, watching the child make a dash at them

“I wasn’t aiming at you, it was a warning shot,” the man replies nervously

“I ‘m sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

“Don’t be hard on the poor man, Dokucha; you did take all of us off guard,” laughed Shanks

“Hmph”

“Just don’t fly too far from our ship,” he says, still ruffling their hair

“I don’t want you getting lost again.”

“Okayyy, Uncle Shanks,”

“Is this really Hawkeye’s kid?” Mutters Hongo, looking at the child

“Im Papa’s kid!” The child cheers

Hongo smiles a bit, shaking his head at the sight

“I like your wings,” he tells the child

“Thank you!” They said, spinning around and flapping their wings

“Mmhm!”

“How do you sleep without smacking your wings everywhere?”

Hongo asks with an amused smile

They gasp offended

“I know how to use them! Let me smack you with them!” They said, shooting toward the doctor

“Still as lively as ever,” Shanks laughs, taking hold of them

“Let me at them, Uncle Shanks!”

“No need for that; Hongo’s one of us,” Shanks responds, putting the child down

“Hongo is our doctor, after all.”

They pout at him

Beckmann raises an eyebrow at the child

“Do you wanna cause a fight, little one?”

“They were insulting my flying!”

Beckmann sighs in amusement at the child

“He was just asking you about your wings.”

“Oh”

He smiles and ruffles the kid's hair,

“Just don’t smack the doctor.”

Okay I admit that ending could use some work but.. yeah thats it it needs more work 😂

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

[honeyshiddendesire]

Pet Name Headcanon List

Benn Beckman x female reader - doll

@zorolux hope you like it

Warnings: daddy kink, blow job, deep throating/gagging/choking, hair pulling,face sitting, sloppy pussy eating, Benn’s smokin his cig as you suck his dick 

*banner*

“That’s it doll all the way down.” Benn grunts as his hand is tightly wound around your hair in a makeshift ponytail, his hips meeting your face halfway forcing his girth down your warm throat. Hearing your gag made him hiss and seeing your tears at your lash line only made him bully more of his cock in your mouth till the tip poked the back. “Fuck that’s it doll, love hearing you get all sloppy for daddy. A beautiful thing like you deserves a reward after this so don’t worry daddy’s gonna take care of you.”  

Benn’s head tipped back and free hand removed his cigarette to ash it before it dropped on your pretty head, a moan leaving you as you stared up at the handsome man that fucked into your wet throat. “Mmm~” You moan, making him hiss again before putting his cigarette back in his mouth using both hands to rapidly thrust into your mouth, gagging you even more. “Daddy’s good doll. Fuck atta girl, swallow every last bit. Nnngh~” Benn’s moans are deep as he shoots his thick load down your throat, holding you still till you’re gagging and forced to take every drop. 

Pulling you off his cock with a loud ‘pop’ you stick your tongue out for the man to examine before a proud smirk crosses over his handsome features that you loved so much. “D-did I do a good job daddy?” You breath out heavily and he only winks at you caressing your drool stained cheek. “Oh baby doll, you did better than good and I think you deserve a reward because of it.” His words make you nod as you stand up quickly making the older man laugh a bit. “Eager ain’t you doll.”

“Mmhmm~ c-can you eat me out…please?” You question with a small smile that has him grinning before putting his cigarette in the ashtray. “Oh absolutely doll, come ride my face as long as you want.” Laying down against the bed you smile happily as you rid yourself of the rest of your clothes, his strong arms yanking you towards him impatiently. “Come here and let daddy have a taste of you doll. Got me all excited now.”

His words made you giddy as you crawled up his body, his hand swatting your ass when you decided to hover even for a second longer than he wanted you to. “Sit down, doll you know I can handle you.” You let out a satisfied moan as his strong hands pulled you down by your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh making you whine. “Ugh yes daddy-fuck~” Your head tipping back as you ran your fingers in his soft hair making him groan into your cunt that he wasted no time in devouring. 

Skilled tongue diving between your folds to plunge into your slippery hole, swirling around as his nose nudged at your aching clit making you whine louder for him, his hands going to grip at your ass making you grind on his face. Despite you being above him, Benn always controlled the pace, it’s just who he was and you weren’t complaining. “F-fuck daddy feels so good when you do that!” You moan as you grind down harder making him groan into your juicy caverns. Pulling back just the slightest bit and messily kiss at your thighs before sucking your clit into his mouth, intense gaze finding yours in a second. You felt your legs shake as the coil in your tummy only wound up tighter making him wink up at you, his hands supporting your lower back when you started to arch. 

“Come on doll. Give it to me.” Benn mumbles into your cunt making you gasp not expecting him to speak the words into your sensitive pussy. He spit, sucked and lapped at your wetness as messily as possible until you were trembling above him just how he liked to see you. Tongue circling your clit before sucking on it again, moans slipping from your parted lips had him squeezing at your flesh harder, hands moving up to your neglected breast that bounced. He spelled his name on your cunt because he owned it and you couldn’t help but grind down on him further because of it. His tongue lapping up everything you gave to him with a deep and satisfied moan.  “Shi~ d-daddy fuckfuckfuck I’m gonna cum! That feels too good.” 

Slapping your ass a bit in his response as he only ate you out more like a starving man you couldn’t help but grip his hair tighter keeping him in place as you gushed down on the handsome man. “Yes~!” Your cry bounced off the wall making his eyes roll back, he just loved eating his one and only baby doll out, especially when she looked so pretty cumming the way she did for him. Sucking on your clit till you were pulling his hair to remove yourself you were met with his mischievous smirk. “Awe come on doll don’t tell me daddy wore you out already. Cause I think you’re just being greedy, let me see if you got another one in there.” 

And another orgasm turned to two, then three, then you don’t even know how many before he was fucking your brains out into the mattress, “See I knew you were holding out on me doll.” Benn finally breathes out as you both laid in bed sweaty and most definitely satisfied, a cloud of smoke leaving his mouth like a sexy dragon. Benn was a quiet man but he certainly knew his way around a lady, luckily that lady was you.

[mera-mera-simp]

Op Characters Love Languages Pt.2 <3

Featuring: Mihawk, Iceburg, Marco, Shanks

Content: headcanons, fluff, GN! Reader

Pt. 1

Mihawk:

Acts of service, words of affirmation and slight physical touch

This man goes over the moon for you

He loves you with his whole heart so of course he will

He'll cook for the most part (malewife fr) or help you if you've already started

He likes to whisper sweet nothings to you when you guys are just enjoying each other's company. Or he'll just tell you romantic things out of left field. You never see it coming.

He likes holding you honestly. It's never over the top with his physical touch though, in public at least. The most PDA he gives in public is holding your hand or having an arm wrapped around your waist.

But when you guys are away from prying eyes, he actively holds you in his arms and presses small kisses to your neck.

His love languages go both ways with giving and receiving honestly.

Wrap your arms around him and kiss him softly, and congratulations. You've made the world's greatest swordsman melt into your arms.

For the most part, he's a pretty stoic man, but you get him so smile every time you tell or show him that you love him.

Deep down, he's honestly a big softie <3 (I'm so down bad for this goth man, Dracule Mihawk my beloved)

Iceburg:

Quality time and physical touch

This man is honestly the biggest lovebug there is in Water7 tbh

He gets so happy anytime he sees you (and you know for a fact he's brushing his responsibilities as mayor to the side to spend time with you)

He loves having an arm wrapped around your waist when you two stroll through the city

He'll make sure that you're safe whenever you guys visit the shipyard

And while he would absolutely adore to constantly brush off his work so he could spend time with you, he is the mayor. He'll just want you to hang out with him while he does some paperwork.

If it's late at night and he's still lost in his work, simply just come up behind him and drap your arms over his shoulders, he will instantly fall into your touch.

He gets so stressed and tense sometimes. Please remind him to take a break</3

Pepper his head and face with kisses.

Please just give him endless affection. He'll grumble about you trying to distract him, but there's no bite to it.

Remind him that you love him every once in a while. It's not that he forgets. He just likes to hear it sometimes.

Marco:

Another physical touch and quality time guy

Bro is quite literally always by your side, he loves you so much

He always has his hands on you, too. Look away for one second, and there is the bird man with an arm around your waist

Clingy mf <3

You're constantly getting head kisses from his man

Honestly, he just likes kissing you. He doesn't even care if the crew is around

Spend time with him. He doesn't really care what he's doing. He likes having you by his side

He'll most definitely ask you to chill with him while he's patching Ace up from one of his ADHD ideas.

Or just take a nap with our beloved pineapple head <3

Either way, Marco is very obvious with his love languages

Please hold the bird man in your arms while he sleeps. He will he extremely happy

You'll get a sweet kiss when he wakes up

Shanks:

Okay say it with me; physical touch

This mf seriously can't keep his hands to himself

And he has absolutely no shame about it either

You can casually be chatting with some of the crew, and he will come up out of nowhere and pull you against him

He does not care that you were mid conversation with Benn. He wanted attention then and there.

Good luck trying to pull away from him. Man may only have one arm, but that grip is like steel

You're stuck <3

He'll see the pout on your face and immediately kiss and tease you

"Awe babe come on, I'm not doing anything!"

Cheeky motherfucker

He'll be ecstatic if you return the same energy

Run up and give him a big hug. He'll instantly return it

He will kiss your face all over and hold you tightly in his arm

He is another lovebug who isn't afraid to show it

He loves you so much and he is dramatic af about it

But that's why we love him<3

[short-honey-badger]

Phantom Pain Part 6

Dine and Dash

Back in the groove baby! Little longer than usual so I hope you guys enjoy it!

Masterlist

@writingmysanity @kenkenmaaa @foggyturtleknightangel

Shanks is panicking and for a good reason. He wanted to do something nice for you, and show you a good time while still on the island. You deserved nice things and after the day at the beach, Shanks felt even closer to you, and the connection between the two of you showed. The bond glowed like a beacon in the night. Where you went, Shanks was not far behind. 

"Stop pacing. You're making me dizzy," Benn groused from where he sat with his feet propped up on an upturned barrel. He and Yasopp have been watching their Captain walk a hole into the floor for longer than anyone would care to admit. 

The redhead huffs and plops into his usual seat, frown twisting his handsome features as he sneers at his so-called friends, "If neither of you have any good ideas, then the door is there," he gestures vaguely in the direction of his door. Benn and Yasopp snicker at him instead, and Shanks rolls his eyes at them. 

"Take _ out on a date. Somewhere nice and private. That's what worked for me with Bachina," The sniper supplies after he finally finishes laughing at his dramatic Captain. He almost feels sorry for you. 

Shanks considers the idea. He could wine and dine you, take you wherever you wanted to go, and then sweep you off your feet and maybe finally get to touch you beyond a teasing squeeze every once in a while. Shanks aches for you, and he tries to hide the worst of it from you. The Yonko would never want to make you feel rushed. 

He imagined the two of you back at that spot on the beach, sand stuck on your face as you grinned up at him. They were still on this island for a couple of more days before they had to move on again. Shanks had time to do this. 

He grins at his friends, "Thanks guys, what would I do without you?" he quips and stands. The pirate needed to find something a little nicer than his loose pants and open shirt if he wanted to impress you. 

Benn snorts at his Captain's retreating back and then knocks back his bottle of rum. Yassop agrees with a look. The redhead would be lost without them. 

~~~~~

You could tell that your soulmate was up to something. Shanks was shit at hiding when he was trying to keep a secret from you, or try and be a mischievous little ass. Earlier, you had heard him stalk past your room, sounding like a man on a mission. Now you could hear his familiar footsteps again, his usual joy mixed with an unusual nervousness that had you curious.

There is a knock on your door and then Shanks' voice, "Hey, Baby. Can I come in?"

"It's open, Shanks," you assure him and the redhead steps inside and closes the door behind him. You feel your face light up at the sight of the usual scruffy pirate, "Wh-What are you wearing?" You ask and curse silently when your voice cracks. 

Shanks grins at you, all smug and you roll your eyes at him, "Do you like it? Benn helped me pick it out," he does a turn for you and latches on to the admiration he can feel coming from you. 

The Yonko is dressed in a pair of dark slacks that accent his long, muscular legs. His shirt is a dark emerald green in his usual style, though Shanks has tucked it inside his pants and strapped a belt on as well. His usual cloak and a dark pair of dress shoes complete the outfit, and you feel a curl of heat bloom in your lower stomach. The feeling is foreign and causes you to shift from where you sit crisscross apple sauce on your bed. 

You swallow thickly and nod slowly, "I do. Why the change?" You ask him and shift to the side when Shanks plops down beside you. He leans in for a kiss and you indulge the pirate with a quick one, but Shanks has your jaw cradled in his left hand and the kiss easily turns into more than one. That heat builds and you are left a blushing mess when your soul mate finally decides that you've had enough. 

"Let me take you out. We've only got a few days left on the island before we need to leave," he begins and tucks a wayward strand of hair away from your face. Shanks watches you and examines the connection you share with him and feels nothing but anticipation, "We'll go wherever you want to eat, but then I've got a surprise for you." 

You find yourself laughing, "Well, I can't really say no when you've already set everything up, huh?" You tease him and are rewarded with the sight of Shanks blushing. It's an endearing sight, one that you would definitely like to see more often. 

You shift off the bed and begin to sort through your clothes. Shanks had changed for you, so you needed to find something to match the aesthetic of his outfit. With clothes in hand, you step behind your changing screen and begin to strip off the loose-fitting clothes you usually wear. You can feel Shanks watching you, eyes following your every move through the thin fabric of the screen. 

The pirate can just barely see the way your body curves gracefully behind the screen and he discreetly shifts to the side to try and get a better peek at his beautiful soul mate. He can see your bare legs now and his arousal pools hot when he catches a glimpse of the curve of your ass. Shanks won't lie and say that he didn't want more, but he didn't know how far you would be willing to go. 

He wants to be able to touch you when he wants, to hold you close in his lap and worship every nook and cranny your body has to offer. Shanks wants to taste you and devour you until the only thing you can comprehend is him. He wanted to be your everything. 

Behind the screen, you slow to a stop. You can feel his desire through the connection and the intense feelings have you flushing to the tips of your toes. It still confounds you whenever you feel him, and you wonder what the Yonko sees in such a plain soul mate. You weren't anything special, and it made you feel a little guilty when you felt his want for you. Shanks was so patient with you, and you gave him so little in return. 

"Sweetheart? You okay back there?" Shanks asks and you hear him get up from the bed. He stands on the other side of the changing screen and you feel concerned replacing any kind of desire that Shanks had let slip. 

You clear your throat, "I'm fine, I'll be done in just a second," you assure him and quickly begin to dress again and then step out with a shy smile once you've finished. You stuff down your guilt and reach out to take his hand, bringing it up to press your lips to his scared knuckles, "I'm ready." 

Shanks shivers at the delicate touch and flips his hand so that he can repeat the action himself. However, he lingers there and proceeds to kiss the tip of each finger, eyes half-lidded as he stares down at you. You pull away carefully, and reluctantly, but Shanks has planned a whole evening for the two of you, and it is time to go.

~~~~

Shanks lets you choose where to eat, so the two of you end up at a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant that has a nice selection of sushi and saki. The two of you eat to your heart's content until both of you are nearly bursting at the seams. However, when it comes time to pay, Shanks is giving you a look. A look that you have learned that meant trouble. 

"Come on, let's go," He urges and You look at him with wide eyes that make Shanks start to snicker, "Come on, love. Live a little," the redhead is already standing and taking you with him since he has yet to let go of your hand. He begins to walk out of the building, keeping his steps steady and casual as he leads you to the exit. You nervously look behind you, not believing that no one has noticed that you and Shanks did not pay.

And it is at that moment that your waiter decides to return. You squeeze Shanks' hand, "Shanks, I think they know," You hiss at him, but the sudden shouting from the angry waiter only has the redhead grinning and tugging you out of the restaurant faster. 

"Who cares, We'll never see them again," Shanks tells you and his answer has you blinking. Shit. Your soul mate was right, who cares if Shanks hadn't paid? He was a Yonko, who was going to boss him around? 

A grin splits your face and you pick up the pace to the point that you and Shanks are defiantly making a scene trying to escape the furious staff member. The two of you run through the building, dodging other patrons and staff as they try to give chase. Shanks suddenly sweeps you off your feet, stopping for only half a second to scoop you up in his arm and dart through the busy restaurant. 

The two of you end up in an alleyway a fairway down the busy streets of the high-born town that resides further inland on the island. While smaller than most cities or countries inside the Grande Line, it was no less pompous and greedy. It felt riveting to laugh as Shanks ran through the streets until he stopped. He didn't set you down, instead pressing you up against the wall and sealing his mouth over yours with a groan. 

You kiss him back, lips moving against his and face scratching against his facial hair. His hand tightens on your thigh and he presses into you, grunting when he feels that wonderful heat between your legs. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling his face down as you open your mouth for him, and Shanks eagerly slides his tongue in. He can still taste the warm saki from earlier, and your nails feel amazing as they scrape across his scalp. 

It isn't long before the redhead grows hard, and Shanks isn't thinking when he ruts up into your heat, seeing that pleasurable friction. You whine into his mouth, eyes shooting open as you look at the man in front of you. You can't help the pulse of anxiety that tears through your chest when your soulmate grinds up again. You try to shove it down, focusing instead on the way he kisses you. You like it when he kisses you, and you suddenly want to know how it would feel to have him, the one made for you, touching the most intimate parts of your body.

But as hard as you try, that anxious feeling doesn't fucking go away. It pulses like a ticking time bomb in the back of your mind, and you can feel the moment that Shanks feels it. He stops on a dime, grip turning gentle and then he pulls away from you, looking down at you with kind understanding eyes that make you feel terrible for feeling this way. 

"Seastar," Shanks murmurs quietly and the way his voice feels like the comfiest blanket in the world has you bursting into tears. The mix of saki and mix of emotions has you pressing your face into his shoulder and crying like a baby, "Hey, no. You gotta look at me, Baby. You've got to tell me what's going on in that head of yours." 

As Shanks listens to you cry, he curses the fact that he lost his arm for the first time. He'll never regret saving Luffy, but he would give anything to be able to hold you with two hands. Instead, he improvises like he always does and tucks his face as close to yours as he can and nudges you up until you scoff at him and rise. He grins at the teary, frustrated look you give him.

You sniff harshly and wipe your face as you gather your thoughts on how to tell Shanks. You can hardly explain the mess yourself, but you would try, "I guess," You swallow and start over, looking him in the eyes despite your discomfort, "I've never done anything like this. I know it sounds dumb, and cliche, but I just. I wanted to wait for my soul mate. For you to be the one I experience everything with," Your cheeks flush in embarrassment now that you've admitted to your soul mate just how inexperienced and boring you are. 

For years you watched as the people around you found their soulmates, be it in your hometown or in a bar on another random island your log pose led you to. The longer you waited, the more you came to resent the idea of it. But even then, you couldn't bring yourself to break and give yourself to someone else. Now, you tried to not think about that, and how long you waited for Shanks to find you. 

Shanks breaks through those dark thoughts when he dips in to press his lips against yours. He takes his time, stealing your breath away with ease and leaving you grasping for air, "How about this," Shanks tells you and knocks his nose against yours as he stares. Shanks needs you to know that he is taking everything you say seriously, "Let's get back to the ship, and we can talk more about this with some privacy?"

You don't have to consider it long. You were definitely ready to get back to the Red Force and into your comfy clothes. You feel tired suddenly, drained from the excitement earlier, and then crying, "Yeah, okay," You agree and then gently pat his shoulders, "But I want to walk back." 

Shanks simply nods and sets you down, holding you steady just in case your legs have fallen asleep. You wipe your face one last time and then give Shanks a wobbly smile. You felt much better now as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You still feel a little apprehensive about whatever happens next, but you reassure yourself that Shanks has never once pushed you for more. Your soulmate is kind, and you grin to yourself because you are damn lucky to have him. 

[jintaka-hane]

List of WIIIIIPs 📜

Helloooo!

Summer and the holidays have been a whirlwind of ideas and creativity for me. I had three weeks off where I finally managed to bring to life several fics that had been floating around in my head, featuring characters completely new to me. That was SO MUCH FUN! 😂 But now that my vacation is coming to an end and I’m getting back to the daily grind 😮‍💨, I’ve still got some WIPs I’d really love to finish. So, to motivate myself to actually get them done, I’m dropping my list here as a little self-pressure. 💪🏻

Without further ado… here are the silly ideas I’m working on that I’d like to upload here over the next few months!

Benn Beckman x shy f!reader

My first request! shy f!reader; forced proximity; awkwardness; humor; nudity but not explicit. Coming out very soon (I'm editing it ✍🏻).

Benn Beckman x friend f!reader

Self indulgent fic! VERY MUCH NSFW 🔞; friendship; needy Beck; helping relax each other.

Eustass Kid x f!reader

NSFW 🔞; omegaverse; alpha!kid x omega f!reader; rivals to lovers; marking; knotting; heat; rut; humor; Kid is inexperienced and stubborn; clumsiness; brutality and cuteness at the same time.

Kid Pirates

Protecting each other, friendship, don't insult my friend thing, very short tempered captain.

Heat x Tobiuo (@fanaticsnail OC)

Friends to lovers, a bit of angst, pinning, confessions of love and kissing. Cute. Intended for the 1st NOV!

Let's get to work! ✍🏻🫡

[kacievvbbbb]

Okay so I’ve spent the last couple days on Twitter (@kacievvbbbb if you wanna join me 👀) just fucking yapping about my new found obsession with the idea that Mihawk not only reads but is an active and well loved contributor to the pirate smut genre all across the blues. And I just needed to bring this to tumble to get more thoughts on it.

Here are mine;

- he obviously writes under a pseudonym would be funny if it was an anagram of like Worlds Strongest Swordsman or something.

- he writes essentially y/n fanfiction but he is always the reader.

- he is heavily perfectionist about his detailing of things like bodice ripping and that has lead to many a fun night for Shanks as he discreetly tries to rest just how exactly a bodice ripping would look and feel. Or if this sex position is even plausible.

-this one was a combined effort between @Dior and myself but he writes all the lovers as much more of an active participant in sex than the pillow princess himself actually is and this is because he thinks he is putting in exactly the same amount of work into sex as Shanks is which is laughable.

-Benn features heavily in alot of these RHP smut books. Benn

-He mostly writes RHP smut but he will branch out to other pirates like Crocodile maybe Doffy 👀. This gives Shanks heart palpitations when he finds out all this smut has been written by Mihawk.

- Mihawk almost kills both himself and Shanks by drowning the first time he finds out that Shanks knows about his little hobby.

- Shanks regularly requests they try something from the book and Mihawk has to stomp down the urge to throttle him. But again Mihawk’s reader is a much active participant in sex than he is and he is not a fan of all this work he has to put in even though he enjoys the results. Shanks is highly amused.

- Shanks for the first time in his life becaomes an avid reader with a habit and this confuses everyone that doesn’t know what he is reading and suffers Benn greatly who does.

- Shanks is lowkey very into the stories where the “reader” has sex with other men. He starts setting plans in motion.

- Mihawk also collects a lot of pirate smut a lot of it is about himself as well and this is his equivalent to jerking off. His next favorite people to read about are of course Shanks, Cricodile he is ashamed of just how much Doflamingo smut he owns. Lowkey maybe some King smut too.

- a contribution from someone on Twitter tha I live is that he also grades said smut about himslef and then sends the notes to the authors.

- he pseudonym is well known and well lived in the community.

-this is infact where more than half of his riches comes from.

- yes he also does read marine porn. He steers clear of anything that even remotely mentions garp tho. His favorite marine to red about is Sengoku I don’t fucking know 😭. I can just imagine him seating in warlord meetings shipping Sengoku with random fucking marines and pirates as he is trying to talk about very serious business

- he sure write the well known and well loved “the red haired emperor & me” series which is published in Morgan’s magazine or whatever and Shanks always seeks him out no matter where he is and fucks him good and hard everytime a new chapter goes out.

- he continues to do this while at Cross Guild Buggy and Crocodile are non the wiser. His crocodile descriptions start to get more detailed a clown pops up every now and again in his writing Shanks might be on the verge of a heart attack.

- shanks is a little too invested in the situation some (Benn) would say.

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

The Proposal

Warnings: none? Lingerie is mentioned?

Shanks x GNreader

Word count: 1184

Chapter 1

You and Shanks have been dating forever, like since you were apprentices on Rogers' ship forever. In the decade-plus that you have been together, you've been patiently waiting for him to make the next move. But now you were starting to get impatient with him because you felt that your relationship has not progressed to the next stage. Granted you had no right to be annoyed with him since you didn't voice your feelings on the matter to him. Shanks always said he would want to get married one day and have a spouse, you just didn't understand what was taking him so long.

"You're glowering at the boss," Benn grumbled, leaning back in his chair as his grey eyes scrutinized your features. You bit your lip and weighed your option, ask Benn for advice and the possibility of the whole finding out, or talk to Shanks first.

"I need some advice, and you're Shanks's best friend, maybe you might have some insight." You mumble.

Benn took a drag off his cigarette and huffed, "Really? I thought you're his best friend, and I'm the one who's been third wheeling you two since you were teenagers."

"You're both of our best friends I guess, but you know how Shanks wants to one day get married?"

Benn's eyes got wide for a moment, and he darted to Shanks, as he replied, "vaguely recall him saying that when he was drunk a number of years ago. Why do you ask?"

"I'm just wondering why he hasn't proposed yet."

Benn rolled his eyes, sensing your insecurity, and groaned, "if you're really so impatient why don't you propose to him?" His words shocked you, why hadn't you thought of that? You've always been the one to initiate new things in your relationship. From asking him out when you were eleven, to asking if you can move into the same room when you were nineteen. It was always you making the first move, so why wouldn't marriage be any different?

When he realized you were actually considering it, you'd already thanked him for his insight, and gotten up to return to your room. Hongou came over and sat down in your chair, drunk as a skunk and grinning like an idiot. As he takes a swig from a bottle of rum,  he asks, "what's got you so slack-jawed?"

Benn put out his cigarette and got up, "I need to start planning a wedding, and...fuck I'm gonna need to get a camera."

A week later, despite the constant pestering from the crew's helmsmen, you finally settled on how and where you would propose. You planned to buy the ring on the next island and propose on the island after that, the Fern Kingdom. Which was famous for its brilliant foliage, deep fjords, crisp air, and copious waterfalls. But there was still one problem, you didn't know Shanks' ring size. When you expressed your issue with Benn, he pointed out all you had to do was to wait for him to fall asleep to get it.

"But he's such a light sleeper," you grumbled.

Benn leaned over the back of his chair, twisting to face you as you were curled up on the sofa in his office, he said, "what are you talking about? He sleeps like a log. I've literally dropped him down a flight of stairs carrying him back to your room after a party, and he didn't wake up."

"He only sleeps like that when he's drunk, which I suppose is often enough I shouldn't have a problem."

"Does he usually go to sleep with you sober? " Benn asked, "Because all the times we've shared sleeping quarters, he's always insisted he needs a nightcap to sleep."

"He sleeps best cuddled up to someone, but any way will you help me get the ring size if you encounter him passed out before I do." You inquired, putting the ring-sizing tape on his desk.  Benn nodded his head and tossed it in his cigarette box, and huffed, "If we need to we can always take him drinking before going ring shopping."

"You want to come with me to pick out the ring?"

Benn's sharp eyes flicked up t you as his expression soured, "of course, I'm coming with you to pick it out. There is no way in hell I'm letting you go without me. I've been with you two through most of the big steps in your relationship."

"You mean you were around when we were going through most of the big steps."

"No I mean I was with you, Shanks always had me follow along on your dates."

You blinked at him incredulously, "you really have been third-wheeling us."

Benn nodded, "yer damn right I have. I had to pep talk Shanks before you two boned the first time. I deserve to have input on y'alls wedding and engagement rings."

You held up your hands in surrender, and Benn tucked his cigarette box back into his pants pocket.



That night Benn kicked in the door to your bedroom, short of breath when he panted, "Shanks has passed out, but he's surrounded by the crew and I can't check his ring size without raising any questions. We'll have to do this as a team to get it." When you nodded your head and grabbed the sizer, Benn said, "Alright, I'll distract the crew while you get the ring size."

"Please one look at me, and they'll be too distracted by me to watch you get his size," You stated, opening your robe to show the lingerie and nightie underneath.

Benn clicked his tongue, "that'll work,” and followed after you as you glided down the hall.

The crew had gathered in the lounge area, bottles littered across almost every flat horizontal surface in the room that wasn’t the floor. Yassop, Lucky Roo, Hongou, and Lime Juice were gathered around Shanks passing a few markers back and forth drawing on their unconscious captain’s face. You put your hands on your hips and started to gently scold them like they were children. “Boys, what are you doing? That’s not nice. Benn would you carry him to our room?”

Benn snapped his fingers and muttered, “good idea.”

The group looked over their shoulders to see you playfully glaring at them, only vaguely registering Benn as he circled around. Yassop whistled, “god-damn, what’d Shanks do to earn this?”

You chuckled, “can’t I dress cute for myself?” Despite looking at the group as they abandoned their markers and drifted toward you, you were watching Benn sneak around and scoop up the redhead. 

Once Benn had him out of the room you excused yourself and went to your room. Where you found Benn had haphazardly thrown Shanks half on and half off the bed and was fitting the sizer around his ring finger. 

“He’s a size 10,” he announced, glancing over at you expectantly. When you stared at him, he rolled his eyes, “well write it down, 'cause neither of us will remember, and we’ll have to get him drunk again, which’ll cost a fortune.”

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