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mephisto-reporting · 3 months ago

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The Engineer's Gravity - Yandere! Caleb

Plot: You're a biomechanical engineer in Caleb's fleet, incharge of repairs of prosthetic parts. What happens when you become the subject of the Colonel's obsession? Based on this request. Pairing: Non MC Mechanic! Reader x Yandere! Caleb Note: This story is with slightly darker themes. I do not want people to come at me saying Caleb isn't like this. Yes, I know. This is a Yandere! version of Caleb. Please keep that in mind. If you want to be a part of my taglist, please let me know in the comments, DMs or inbox. Content warning: Yandere male, implied deaths, mutilation, mentions of blood, possessiveness, gaslighting, voilence

CALEB'S POV

The faint hum of the Farspace fleet’s engines was a constant background noise, a rhythm that Caleb had grown accustomed to. It filled the silence as he walked down the dimly lit corridor toward the engineering bay, his gloved left hand flexing instinctively while his right hand remained eerily still. It wasn’t the arm itself that unnerved him anymore. No, he’d gotten used to the weight, the cool touch of the synthetic skin against his chest when he rested his hand there. What grated on him was the maintenance—the vulnerability of needing someone else to keep it functional.

The first time he’d come to the mechanic for maintenance, he had been indifferent, as he was to most things in his life. The arm was a tool, no more. Just another part of the machine that was Caleb, the Colonel. She was just another cog in the vast machine of the fleet, a means to an end. He barely remembered their first meeting beyond her clinical efficiency and soft voice, far removed from the barked commands of his officers or the detached drone of his superiors. She’d introduced herself simply, a name he didn’t bother committing to memory at the time, and had begun her work without wasting a second.

He’d sat in silence, his arm stretched out on the diagnostic table, his gaze fixed on the wall as she meticulously checked the connections and replaced worn components. She’d asked him questions—about the arm’s performance, any discomfort he’d noticed—but he’d only answered in monosyllables. He wasn’t trying to be rude; he just didn’t see the point.

She had been… different.

No. She spoke with compassion, with a voice that held an undercurrent of something human. When she’d first touched his arm to inspect it, there was no clinical detachment in her touch—no cold professionalism. Instead, there was a softness, a care.

But she kept showing up, week after week, her presence a constant thread in his routine. She didn’t just maintain his arm; she paid attention. She noticed when he was tense and adjusted her tone accordingly. When she worked, she hummed under her breath—a tune he couldn’t place but found oddly soothing. And unlike the professor who saw him as little more than a prototype for their next experiment, she treated him like a person.

Caleb first noticed it when she spoke to the other fleet members. The soldiers and officers with Toring chips embedded in their bodies, their minds augmented for efficiency but stripped of their individuality, were often treated as tools. Most of the crew barely acknowledged them, but she… she smiled at them. Asked about their day. Made sure they were comfortable during her examinations and modifications.

It wasn’t long before Caleb began to see her differently.

Their interactions changed subtly over time. He found himself lingering in the engineering bay longer than necessary, watching her work under the sharp white lights. She was focused, hands deft as they manipulated wires and micro-tools, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“You’re due for recalibration next week, Colonel.” she said during one session, not looking up from the neural interface she was fine-tuning.

“I’ll be here,” he replied. Then, after a pause, “You’re good at this.”

She glanced at him, surprised. “I’ve had a lot of practice.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Not just the work. The way you… treat people. You’re good at that, too.”

Her lips parted slightly, and for a moment, he thought she might dismiss the comment. But instead, she smiled—a soft, genuine thing that made something unfamiliar stir in his chest. “Everyone deserves to be treated like they matter.” she said simply, turning back to his arm.

He didn’t respond, but those words stayed with him long after he left the bay. Caleb watched her closely, taking note of every smile, every laugh, every time she showed kindness to someone else. It made something dark curl in his chest.

The first time Caleb intervened on her behalf, it was almost instinctual.

He was passing through the mess hall when he heard the sharp edge of Lieutenant Varro’s voice. “You know, for all your compassion, you take forever with repairs. Maybe stop coddling the freaks and do your job faster.”

Caleb froze, his blood turning cold. He rounded the corner to see Varro towering over her, his expression smug. She was holding a tray of food, her shoulders tense but her expression calm as she replied, “I do my job thoroughly, Lieutenant. If you’re unhappy with my work, you can file a complaint.”

Caleb’s steps faltered, his jaw tightening. A cold, simmering rage filled him as he turned to look at the man. He wanted to snap his neck right then and there, but he couldn’t let her see this side of him. Not yet.

So he smiled instead. A cold, calculating smile that sent a chill down Varro’s spine.

“Lieutenant,” Caleb said, his tone deceptively calm. “A word.”

Later that night, Varro didn’t return to his quarters. Whispers spread through the fleet about an "incident" during a routine maintenance check. Caleb made sure it looked like an accident—a malfunction in Varro's own bionic enhancements. No one questioned it, least of all her.

She remained blissfully unaware of the lengths Caleb went to for her.

As the days turned into weeks, Caleb’s obsession deepened. He found himself lingering in her workshop longer than necessary, watching her every move. She would smile at him, her eyes warm and kind, and Caleb would feel something he hadn’t felt since he left home for the DAA. A strange, aching need to keep her close.

“You know,” she said one day, her voice light, “you don’t always have to come here for repairs. You can just... visit, if you want.”

Caleb froze, his gaze locking onto hers. Did she know? Had she figured out how much he craved her presence? But her smile was so genuine, so innocent, that he realized she didn’t suspect a thing.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, his voice steady.

He told her about his family one evening, when the workshop was quiet and the rest of the fleet was asleep. He spoke of the girl he had grown up with, her fiery spirit, and the way she had carved a place for herself in Linkon.

“She is strong…” Caleb said, his voice low. “Stronger than anyone I’ve ever known.��

She listened intently, her expression soft. “You must miss her.” she said gently.

Caleb hesitated. Did he? The memory of that girl felt distant, overshadowed by the woman sitting in front of him.

“I don’t think about her much anymore.” he admitted. “There are... other things on my mind.”

He didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t press.

But Caleb couldn’t stop thinking about her. He thought about the way her hands moved over his arm, the way her laughter echoed in the workshop, the way she seemed to light up the cold, sterile corridors of the fleet.

And when he saw other officers talking to her, laughing with her, something in him snapped. He didn’t like the way they looked at her. He didn’t like the idea of anyone else getting close to her.

Caleb began to manipulate things behind the scenes, ensuring that no one spent too much time with her. He assigned officers to tasks that kept them far away from her workshop. He spread subtle rumors, casting doubt on the intentions of anyone who showed too much interest in her.

She never noticed. She never questioned why the workshop seemed quieter, why fewer people came to her for help.

And Caleb made sure it stayed that way. In the privacy of his quarters, Caleb would sit in the dim light, his bionic hand flexing involuntarily as he thought about her. She was his. She didn’t know it yet, but she belonged to him.

And he would do whatever it took to keep her safe. To keep her close.

Even if it meant destroying anyone who stood in his way.

YOUR POV

Lately, you’d noticed something strange.

The crew didn’t treat you the way they used to. At first, it was subtle—an officer averting his gaze when you greeted him in the corridor, a technician hurriedly ending a conversation when you approached. Then it became more blatant. People gave you a wide berth in the cafeteria, whispers died the moment you entered a room, and the occasional sidelong glances you caught were laced with something unspoken.

Fear.

It didn’t make sense. You’d always prided yourself on being approachable, on treating everyone with the respect they deserved. Sure, your work was demanding, and your position as the fleet’s biomechanical engineer meant you often had to be firm when it came to protocols, but you weren’t cruel. Far from it. You treated the crew like people, not machines.

But now? It was as though you carried some invisible aura that screamed danger.

And then there were the... incidents.

The first time, you brushed it off as coincidence. Lieutenant Gregor had been reassigned to another fleet without warning, just days after he’d mocked you during a team briefing. You’d chalked it up to bad luck or his own poor behavior catching up to him.

But then it happened again.

And again.

Officers and fleet members who dismissed your concerns, who snapped at you during high-stress missions, who made snide comments about your methods—they all disappeared. Some were reassigned to far-off posts, others were suddenly discharged for disciplinary reasons, and a few even suffered freak accidents that left them unfit for duty.

The pattern was impossible to ignore.

The only constant in all of this was the Colonel.

Or just Caleb, as he’d asked you to call him when it was just the two of you.

“Colonel” felt too formal, too distant, he’d said one evening as you adjusted the fine motor controls on his bionic hand. He’d leaned back in the chair, watching you with an intensity that made you feel both self-conscious and oddly comforted.

“Just Caleb,” he’d said, his voice softer than usual. “When we’re alone.”

You hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Over the past few months, he’d become a steady presence in your life, someone you found yourself looking forward to seeing.

And lately, he seemed to be around you more than ever.

It wasn’t just during maintenance sessions anymore. He’d stop by your workshop for no apparent reason, lingering by your workbench as you tinkered with your tools. He’d accompany you on supply runs, his tall frame a protective shadow at your side. When the fleet docked at Skyhaven for shore leave, he invited you to join him for coffee or walks through the market district. He’d cook for you and bring you meals to your residence in Skyhaven, unprompted.

It felt... nice.

You couldn’t deny that you enjoyed his company. Caleb had a dry sense of humor that never failed to catch you off guard, and there was a steadiness to him that you found grounding. Still, there was something about him—something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

The way he always seemed to know when someone had upset you. The way his gaze lingered on you just a little too long, as if he were memorizing every detail. The way his voice dropped when he said your name, like it was a secret only he was allowed to keep.

You tried to push the thoughts aside. Caleb was your superior, your colonel. He’d never given you any reason to distrust him. And yet...

One evening, as you recalibrated the sensory feedback in his arm, you decided to bring it up.

“Have you noticed how people have been acting lately?” you asked, keeping your tone light as you adjusted a tiny screw. “It’s like they think I’m some kind of... I don’t know, threat or something.”

You glanced up at Caleb, expecting him to shrug it off with one of his usual dry remarks. Instead, his body tensed, just for a moment. If you hadn’t been watching him so closely, you might have missed it.

“What makes you say that?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

“It’s just a feeling.” you said, turning back to his arm. “People avoiding me, whispering when they think I can’t hear. And then there are the reassignment orders. It’s like anyone who crosses me is... gone.”

There was a long pause.

“It’s nothing.” Caleb said finally. “Tensions have been high since the last Deepspace tunnel exploration. People are on edge.”

You frowned but didn’t press the issue. Maybe he was right. The fleet had been through a lot recently, and stress had a way of making people act strangely. Still, something about his explanation didn’t sit right with you.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile. “That makes sense.”

But it didn’t. Not entirely.

Still, you knew better than to poke your nose where it didn’t belong. You’d learned long ago that asking too many questions could lead to trouble, and trouble was the last thing you needed.

So you stayed in your lane, focusing on your work and pretending not to notice the way Caleb’s presence seemed to permeate every aspect of your life. You told yourself it was fine, that his increased attention was nothing to worry about. After all, you trusted Caleb. He’d always been kind to you, always treated you with respect. And if his gaze lingered a little too long, if his touch was a little too gentle when he handed you a tool, if his smile held a hint of something darker—you ignored it.

Because Caleb was the only person who hadn’t changed. The only person who still treated you like... you.

The ship was silent at night, the hum of its engines a low, constant thrum beneath your feet as you walked through the dimly lit corridors. You’d been restless, the bitter taste of Lieutenant Reese’s words still fresh in your mind. The new Lieutenant had been transferred to Caleb’s fleet three weeks ago and was already causing tensions within the hierarchy of how things ran in the fleet.

“Guess even engineers need quotas filled, huh? They really let anyone take up space on this ship these days,” he had sneered during a systems check earlier. “Bet you’ve only kept this position because someone up high likes the way you look.”

His smirk had twisted into something crueler as he leaned closer. “Face it. You’re not here because you’re good—you’re here because you’re convenient.”

The humiliation burned as much now as it had then. You clenched your fists at the memory, your footsteps echoing softly against the metal floor. You’d worked too hard, poured too much of yourself into your work, to have it dismissed so callously. And yet, his words lingered like a stain, refusing to be scrubbed away.

You were so lost in thought that you almost didn’t hear the sound.

A muffled grunt. A crash.

And then—a sickening crunch.

You froze. Every instinct screamed at you to turn back, to return to your quarters and pretend you hadn’t heard anything. But your curiosity—or perhaps some misplaced sense of duty—compelled you forward. Quietly, you padded down the corridor, following the noise until you reached a maintenance bay.

What you saw made your breath catch in your throat.

Caleb stood over Lieutenant Reese, who was slumped against the wall, blood smeared across his face. The lieutenant’s arm hung at an unnatural angle, his body trembling as he let out a pained whimper. Caleb’s hand was clamped tightly around Reese’s throat, his grip firm but not enough to choke.

Not yet.

“You thought you could get away with it?” Caleb said, his voice low and steady, each word laced with venom. “Insulting her. Undermining her. Disrespecting her.”

Reese tried to stammer out a response, but Caleb’s hand tightened, silencing him.

“You signed your life away the moment you opened your mouth.” Caleb continued, his tone almost conversational, as if he were discussing something as mundane as a supply requisition. “She’s worth more than you’ll ever be. Do you even understand that?”

Reese’s legs kicked weakly, his breaths ragged. Caleb tilted his head, his expression shifting from cold fury to mild disappointment.

“Pathetic!” he muttered, releasing the lieutenant’s throat. Reese crumpled to the ground, wheezing and coughing. Caleb watched him for a moment, then raised his foot and brought it down sharply on Reese’s hand. The sound of bones breaking echoed in the bay.

The lieutenant went limp, his body a lifeless heap. Caleb crouched beside him, his expression one of disdain. “Weak,” he said, his voice barely audible.

And then he turned his head, his gaze locking onto you.

The moment seemed to stretch, the air thick with tension. Caleb’s expression shifted from cold to shocked in the blink of an eye, but his eyes—the ones that had always been so warm towards you—now seemed empty, calculating.

He stood still for a moment, then took a step toward you, his movements slow, deliberate. His voice was a whisper, but it cut through the silence like a blade.

“Don’t be scared,” Caleb said softly, though there was an edge to his words. “I’m just protecting you. I would never let anyone hurt you, never.”

Your mind raced, your pulse quickening. You’d seen this side of Caleb before—quiet, intense, protective—but this? This was something else. He was different.

“Protected me?” you repeated, your heart pounding. “From what?”

“From him,” Caleb replied, gesturing to Reese’s motionless form. “He disrespected you. He questioned your worth. He hurt you.”

His gaze softened, and he took another step closer. “I won’t allow that. Not from him. Not from anyone.”

“This—this isn’t right,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t just—”

“I can,” Caleb interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. “And I will. You may not see it now, but this is what’s necessary.”

You stared at him, searching for any hint of remorse, but there was none. Only conviction.

“I’ll always protect you.” he continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Even when you think you don’t need it. Even when you don’t understand why.”

You took a step back, your mind racing. But even as you tried to process what you’d seen and heard, a cold realization settled over you.

He closed the distance between you, his steps soft but purposeful, until he was standing right in front of you. His face was close, too close, his breath warm against your skin. “You’ve been through so much,” he continued, his voice soothing, almost affectionate. “You don’t need to worry about the people who don’t understand you. I’ll always protect you.” He repeats. “Even when you don’t ask for it.”

You swallowed; your throat dry. You should have been afraid, terrified even. But you weren’t. A part of you was frozen, caught in the web of his words, of his gaze. He was so sure of himself, so confident, and it was hard not to believe him when he looked at you like that.

His hand reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

“You’re mine,” Caleb whispered, his words not a command but a promise. “No one will ever take you from me. Not ever.”

You should have questioned it, should have asked him what he meant, why he was doing this. But you didn’t. Because in that moment, you realized you couldn’t escape.

Not really.

You knew who Caleb was. You knew what he was capable of. And you knew that the resources of the Farspace Fleet, the professor, and Caleb’s power meant there was no running, no hiding from him. You’d seen what happened to those who crossed you. And now, you didn’t doubt for a second that Caleb was behind it.

But what unnerved you most was the way he looked at you now. Not with malice, not with cruelty, but with something softer. Something almost tender.

“Stay.” he said, his voice coaxing. “I’ll keep you safe. You don’t need to worry about anything else.”

You swallowed hard, your mind screaming at you to run, to fight, to do anything but stand there. And yet... you nodded.

Because deep down, you knew he was right about one thing.

Caleb would never hurt you.

As long as you stayed.

He would never let anyone touch you. He would never let anyone harm you.

You were his, and he was yours.

At least, that’s what you told yourself as you stood there, the weight of his gaze heavy on you.

And as Caleb stepped back, his eyes softening, a reassuring smile tugging at his lips, you knew one thing for certain: you were far past the point of no return.

And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t so bad.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Taglist: @cordidy, @natimiles @leighsartworks216 @notisekais @raining4food @fallthelong @pomegranatepip @juliuscaesarsstabbedback @krystallevine @lemurianmaster @nenggie @loverindeepspace @sinsodom

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monstersholygrail · 1 month ago

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Alien bf never knew there was even more love and affection to behold than what you had shown him and what he’s seen in the data archives found on their ships computers. But ever since he discovered sex and what it felt like to be so deeply connected to you he had turned into a fiend.

If you thought he was taking up all your time before, you literally cannot take a breath without him sliding up behind you and gathering you in his giant arms. Picking up your plush body with ease and molding it against his hard frame.

He carries you everywhere to the point where you often forget the last time your feet have touched the ground. The rest of your crew looks over at you in pity but you honestly can’t find it in yourself to complain. He views you as his mate, it only makes sense to want to do these things for you.

You can’t even delude yourself into thinking it’s innocent anymore. He knows what he’s doing, especially since he was caught watching porn with a hand around his cock. Moaning your name loud enough for someone to think he was calling for help. And he loves it. Making you squirm as he shamelessly feels you up. Soft chirps leaving him as he noses at your cute blush.

But his favorite noises from you come when he’s gotten six or seven orgasms out of your pretty cunt. Making a total mess of his throbbing cock that’s been wrecking you for hours. Fucking you stupid to the point where you forget your own language and start letting out the familiar clicks of his species.

His clawed fingers curl around your waist, using you like a fleshlight as he slams back down on his cock at a brutal pace. Meeting his own thrusts to hammer up into you even harder. Those lovely clicks that sing your pleasure pierce the air and your pussy pulses around his thick girth.

It brings him more satisfaction than he can express. Above all he relishes in the fact that there’s no doubt by now that your crew knows what’s going on in just the next wing of the ship. That’s right. You’re taken and no human cock could ever compare to what he can give you.

“Louder, sweet mate. L-let them, unngh, let them hear how good I make you feel. Need them to know you’re mine,” he growls, his cock twitching inside you and hitting that spot that has you seeing stars.

You cry out loudly, not wanting to admit how good his possession over you feels. Now that you know it’s intentional it makes it all a million times hotter. You’d be embarrassed by the loud squelch that echos with each thrust if you weren’t so unbearably needy, even after coming so much already.

The coil in your belly tightens so hard you fear you’re about to burst. And the second it snaps your releasing streams of your orgasm all over your Alien bf’s huge lap, soaking his lower half entirely. He only lasts for a few more thrusts before he’s burying himself inside you and splashing buckets of cum into your eager cunt.

He keeps you firmly on his lap, your bodies still deeply joined long after he grows soft again. Both of you panting heavily. His breath ghosts across your burning skin as he nuzzles into you, showing no signs of letting go any time soon.

It won’t take much to get him going again. So you take advantage of the break for as long as you can. Trying to ignore the way your pussy flutters as if trying to get him hard again. You can’t control it, he’s turned you into as much of a sex fiend as he is.

Reaching behind you, you brush your hand against your bfs large cheek until you’re weaving your fingers in his long silky hair. A deep purr rumbles from his chest and he leans contently into your touch.

“You’ve gotten pretty good at this whole human intimacy thing. Is there anything else you want to learn?” You ask teasingly, every inch of your body humming with satisfaction.

But of course he takes your words seriously. Perhaps humor will be next up on the list of lessons to get through. Something to think about perhaps when his cock isn’t creating a bulge in your soft belly.

“I wish to learn everything… so long as it’s you teaching it to me, my mate.”

Though all thoughts of lessons and teachings fly out the window when you feel his long thick fingers slowly making their way down to your swollen puffy clit. That he finds with ease by the way. Your bf already growing needy for you again.

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inseobts · 2 months ago

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Hello there, dear! I hope you're having a good day!

I absolutely love your "Accidental PDA" scenarios. Could I please request a part 2? Maybe with Shanks, Mihawk, and Crocodile?

I love those silly men~♡

(Accidental) PDA

characters: shanks, usopp, mihawk, crocodile, sabo

a/n: I tried to make them longer and added usopp and sabo, hope you don’t mind

words count: around 0.5k - 0.8k each

(zoro, sanji, law, ace, kid)

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Shanks:

The tavern is loud, filled with the usual rowdiness of the Red-Haired Pirates, and you’re just trying to enjoy your drink in peace. Shanks, however, has other plans.

Without thinking, he throws an arm around your shoulders, tugging you in closer as he laughs at something Benn said. It’s casual, effortless, like it’s second nature to him. You stiffen for a second, heat creeping up your neck, but Shanks doesn’t even seem to notice. Or if he does, he doesn’t care.

The crew does, though.

Lucky Roo is grinning into his plate, Yasopp gives a low whistle, and someone in the back yells, “Oi, Captain, didn’t know you were the handsy type!”

The teasing sets off a chain reaction. More whistles, some exaggerated winks, and a few dramatic “Get a room!” comments. Shanks finally glances around, noticing the way everyone is looking at you, at him, at the way his arm is still draped over you like you belong there.

And then, the bastard smirks.

“Jealous?” he asks, completely unfazed.

You, on the other hand, feel like sinking into the floor. You push at his chest, but he doesn’t budge, only chuckles as if this is the funniest thing in the world.

“You could let go…” you mutter, but your voice lacks conviction.

“Could,” he agrees, but his arm stays right where it is, fingers lazily tracing patterns on your shoulder “But I like this better.”

The crew erupts into laughter again, and you just know they’re never letting this go.

You groan, sinking deeper into Shanks’ side as the crew erupts into even more laughter and teasing. His arm is still draped lazily over your shoulders, fingers tracing idle patterns on your sleeve like he has all the time in the world.

“Captain, you should at least buy ’em dinner first!” someone calls out, setting off another round of whistles.

Shanks just grins “Dinner? Please, I treat ’em well every day.”

You swat at his chest, finally pushing him off you, only for him to dramatically clutch his heart like you just mortally wounded him “Ow, sweetheart, that hurt.”

“Not as much as this embarrassment,” you mutter, crossing your arms “Do you have to be like this?”

He hums, tilting his head as if considering “Hmm… yeah, I think I do.”

The crew howls at that, and Yasopp slaps the table “Damn, you’re really done for, huh, Captain?”

Shanks just leans in again, closer this time, and you can feel his warmth even though he’s not touching you anymore. His voice drops, low and teasing “I mean… you don’t seem to mind that much.”

You open your mouth to protest but what can you even say? That your face isn’t burning? That your heart isn’t racing just a little? Because that would be a lie, and everyone here would see straight through it.

So instead, you huff and grab your drink, taking a long sip to avoid answering.

Unfortunately, Shanks notices.

He chuckles, resting his chin in his palm as he watches you, utterly amused “Oh yeah,” he murmurs “You’re definitely cute when you’re flustered.”

The entire crew loses it.

── .✦ Usopp:

The two of you sit together on the deck of the Sunny, basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun. The ship rocks gently on the waves as you both watch Luffy, Chopper, and Franky attempt to launch themselves out of a makeshift slingshot (which is absolutely going to end in disaster).

Usopp is so focused on their antics that, without thinking, he reaches out and takes your hand.

Not in a grand romantic way. Not with any intention at all. Just… naturally. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Your fingers are warm, your grip instinctively curling around his. And for a few blissful minutes, he doesn’t even notice what he’s done.

Then, of course, someone has to ruin it.

Zoro snorts from where he lounges with his sword resting against his shoulder “Oi, Usopp, holding hands now? When’s the wedding?”

Usopp nearly throws your hand away like it’s on fire. His face goes red so fast it could put a cherry to shame.

He waves his hands frantically “W-WHAT?! I—HOLDING HANDS? WHO? ME? NO WAY!”

Zoro looks unimpressed “You literally just were.”

Luffy grins wide “Ohhh! Are you guys dating? Why didn’t you tell us?!”

Usopp flails, looking at you for help, only to find you laughing.

You’re not embarrassed. You’re not panicking. You’re just sitting there, watching him combust, an amused glint in your eyes.

Oh, this is bad.

Sanji smirks as he lights a cigarette “My, my, Usopp. Didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

Usopp’s hands are everywhere, gesturing wildly as he tries to dig himself out of this nightmare ��I—I wasn’t—I mean, I was, but I wasn’t—”

Robin chuckles behind her book “Don’t worry. It was cute.”

Usopp makes a strangled noise that is somewhere between a squawk and a plea to be thrown into the ocean. His heart is about to explode. He can’t even look at you now.

And then you—still so infuriatingly calm—just shrug and say “Well, I don’t mind.”

Usopp forgets how to breathe.

Chopper gasps “So you are dating?!”

Usopp immediately short-circuits “THAT’S NOT WHAT THEY MEANT—WAIT, WHAT DID YOU MEAN?!”

You just laugh again, standing up and stretching like this is the most casual thing in the world “I’ll let you figure that out.”

Then you walk away, leaving a completely fried Usopp sitting there, hands in his hair, while the rest of the crew loses their minds.

Luffy grins “I think you just got confessed to.”

Usopp screams.

He stares after you, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

Sanji exhales a puff of smoke, looking far too entertained “Well? You gonna sit there like an idiot or go after them?”

Usopp smacks his hands against his face “G-go after them? WHAT FOR?!”

Luffy tilts his head “Because they just confessed?”

“THEY DID NOT CONFESS!” Usopp shrieks, pointing wildly in the direction you disappeared. “THAT WAS VAGUE! THAT COULD MEAN ANYTHING!”

Franky crosses his arms “Could mean they like you.”

Chopper nods “Or that they wouldn’t mind if you liked them.”

Robin smiles behind her book “Or that they’re waiting for you to make the next move.”

Usopp is malfunctioning. His brain is overheating. This is worse than any battle, worse than any enemy encounter—this is romantic ambiguity, and it is killing him.

Zoro sighs, clearly losing patience “Look, either go ask them what they meant or sit here and keep yelling about it. Either way, shut up.”

Usopp grabs his head “This is too much. This is a nightmare. I need—I need time to process—”

Nami rolls her eyes “If you take too long, they might think you don’t care.”

Usopp bolts upright.

He cares. Oh, he cares. The thought of you thinking otherwise makes his stomach twist into knots.

He groans dramatically “UGH—FINE! I’LL GO!”

The crew cheers. He glares at them “If I die of embarrassment, I’m haunting you all.”

Luffy beams “Can ghosts hold hands?”

Usopp sprints before he can get sucked into another round of teasing.

── .✦ Mihawk:

The castle is quiet, save for the clinking of cutlery against fine china. You, Mihawk, and Perona are seated at the grand dining table, enjoying, or rather, trying to enjoy, dinner.

Everything is peaceful until your fork slips, clattering against your plate before tumbling off the table’s edge. Without thinking, Mihawk moves.

In one smooth motion, he catches the utensil mid-air, his fingers brushing against yours as he hands it back. It’s nothing, barely even a touch, but the air shifts immediately.

Perona, halfway through taking a bite, freezes.

Her wide eyes flick between you and Mihawk, and a slow, knowing smirk spreads across her face “Oh?” she sings, resting her chin in her hands “That was… interesting.”

You blink, confused “What?”

She grins “Didn’t know Hawky was the touchy type.”

Mihawk sighs, unimpressed “Don’t be ridiculous.”

But Perona isn’t letting this go “Ohhh, don’t try to act all cool—I saw that.” She points her fork at him accusingly “You totally just pulled a ‘casually affectionate, but I won’t admit it’ move.”

You scoff, shaking your head “It was just a fork—”

“It was not just a fork!” Perona interrupts dramatically “He caught it! He touched your hand! He lingered!”

Mihawk pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly regretting every life decision that led to this moment “This is absurd.”

Perona leans in with a wicked grin “Admit it. You like them.”

Mihawk finally meets your gaze, and for just a second, so brief you might have imagined it, you see something flicker in his eyes. Something unreadable. Something dangerous.

Then, as if nothing happened, he looks away “You’re being insufferable” he mutters to Perona, taking a slow sip of his wine.

She cackles, delighted “And you’re avoiding the question!”

You, caught between amusement and second-hand embarrassment, shake your head “Alright, that’s enough. Can we just eat in peace?”

Mihawk exhales through his nose, giving you the faintest nod. But as you pick up your fork again, you feel his gaze lingering just a second too long.

And this time, you are the one avoiding eye contact.

Perona is still grinning, twirling her fork between her fingers as she watches you both like a cat who just found the perfect toy to play with “You’re blushingggg” she sing-songs.

You nearly choke on your drink “I am not.”

She gasps dramatically “Oh my God, you so are! This is the best day of my life.”

Mihawk sighs, setting his glass down with an audible clink “Perona.”

Something about the way he says her name, low, warning, should be enough to shut her up. Should be. But Perona, being Perona, just grins wider “What?” she asks innocently, resting her chin in her hands “I’m just making an observation. It’s not my fault that you—”

Mihawk lifts a hand, and for a moment, you think he’s about to cut her off with a sharp retort. Instead, his fingers brush against the base of his wine glass, moving it an inch to the side. A subtle shift. A deliberate one.

And then you realise his gaze hasn’t left you since this conversation started.

Your breath catches. It’s not dramatic, not obvious, but it’s enough.

Enough for Perona’s eyes to widen.

“Oh.” She leans back, eyebrows raising “Wait. Hold on. Wait.”

Mihawk finally looks at her, his usual unreadable expression in place “What?”

Perona points between you both “This is real, isn’t it?”

You stiffen “What is real?”

She gasps again, clutching her chest like she just uncovered the biggest secret of the century “You! Him! This! Oh my God, I was just teasing, but you’re actually—”

Mihawk exhales sharply, reaching for his wine again “Perona.”

“What! You can’t expect me not to react!” She gestures wildly “I live in this creepy castle with you, and nothing fun ever happens! Of course I’m going to enjoy this!”

You groan, rubbing your temples “Perona, I swear—”

But she’s already giggling, positively thrilled “Oh, this is so cute. Mihawk, are you going to deny it? Hm?” She bats her lashes dramatically “Gonna tell me I’m imagining things? That you don’t look at them like that?”

Mihawk doesn’t answer right away.

Instead, he sets his glass down, levels Perona with a stare so sharp it could probably cut through steel, and says, voice smooth as ever “Mind your business.”

Perona lets out a scream of pure, unfiltered excitement.

── .✦ Crocodile:

The casino is buzzing, filled with the sounds of clinking glasses and the murmur of high-stakes deals. You walk beside Crocodile as he moves through the crowd, his presence alone enough to part people like the Red Sea.

It’s nothing new, he’s intimidating without trying, and people know better than to get in his way. But as the two of you step toward a private lounge, the crowd thickens, bodies pressing in too close. Instinct takes over.

A firm hand lands on your lower back.

It’s subtle, barely even a touch, but the warmth of it sends a jolt through your spine. Crocodile doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even glance at you—he just guides you forward, fingers pressing lightly, keeping you close as he moves with that same effortless authority.

You don’t even have time to process it before you hear a quiet, amused scoff.

Daz Bones, walking a few steps behind, raises a brow “Didn’t think you were the chivalrous type.”

Crocodile barely reacts. If anything, he looks bored, taking a slow drag of his cigar before exhaling, smoke curling through the air “Shut it.”

Daz, to his credit, doesn’t push. But the corner of his mouth twitches, like he’s holding back a smirk.

You glance up at Crocodile, expecting him to move his hand away now that the crowd has thinned. He doesn’t.

In fact, his fingers shift just slightly, a feather-light movement that sends a slow, creeping heat to your face.

Daz chuckles under his breath “Didn’t peg you as the clingy type, either.”

Crocodile stops walking.

The air changes.

It’s not obvious, no outburst, no harsh words, but the shift is immediate. Tension crackles, and for a split second, it feels like the temperature in the room just dropped.

Daz, wise as he is, raises his hands in mock surrender “Forget I said anything.”

Crocodile doesn’t even spare him a glance. His hand, however, still doesn’t move.

You swallow hard “Uh. You can—”

“Stay close,” he interrupts, voice low and even “People stare too much.”

It’s a flimsy excuse. You both know it.

But as his fingers press just a little more firmly against your back, guiding you forward once more, you decide not to call him out on it.

You don’t say anything. Not because you don’t want to, but because you don’t trust yourself to.

Crocodile’s hand is still there, still resting on your lower back like it belongs, and every nerve in your body is hyper-aware of the heat seeping through his glove. You try not to think about it, try to focus on anything else, but the way his fingers occasionally press just a little firmer, like he’s keeping track of you, making sure you’re right where he wants you, has your thoughts spinning.

Daz Bones says nothing more, though you can feel his amusement. The bastard’s probably enjoying this way too much.

Finally, Crocodile leads you into the private lounge, away from the crowd. The moment you step inside, you expect him to pull away. To let go.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he moves past you to the plush seating area, finally sliding his hand away slowly, like he’s reluctant to do so.

You exhale, a little too sharply. His golden eyes flick to you, sharp and assessing.

“You nervous?”

You scoff, folding your arms to hide the way your hands might be shaking just a little “Please. Why would I be nervous?”

Crocodile doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he takes a slow drag from his cigar, exhaling smoke in a way that feels almost deliberate. Calculated. Then, just as smoothly, he reaches for the glass of whiskey set out for him.

“You tell me,” he says finally, voice smooth as silk “You’re the one who went quiet.”

Your jaw clenches “You’re imagining things.”

He hums, low and amused “Am I?”

Before you can fire back, the lounge door swings open, and one of his subordinates steps in with a report. The atmosphere shifts immediately, Crocodile’s expression goes from teasing to cold, all business. He gestures for you to sit beside him on the couch, as if nothing just happened, as if he didn’t have his hand on you like a silent claim minutes ago.

You’re still reeling, still trying to get a grip on yourself, but you move toward him anyway, settling next to him as he begins discussing plans.

And then, so casually you almost don’t notice—his arm drapes along the back of the couch.

Close.

Too close.

Not touching, but close enough that if you shifted even slightly, his fingers would graze your shoulder.

It’s intentional. It has to be.

You glance at him, searching for any hint of smugness, but he’s unreadable. Just focused, listening to the report with that same cold indifference.

But when you shift in your seat, just slightly, testing—his fingers twitch.

Your stomach flips.

He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t acknowledge it. But that single, almost imperceptible movement is enough to confirm it:

Crocodile is absolutely doing this on purpose now.

── .✦ Sabo:

Sabo considers himself a composed man. A logical man. He doesn’t fluster easily.

At least, that’s what he thought.

Until you came along and ruined everything.

It happens on a regular afternoon at the Revolutionary Army base. The sun is shining, birds are singing, and Sabo is absolutely not panicking…yet.

The two of you are sitting together, going over some mission reports. Nothing unusual. Nothing suspicious. Just work.

And then it happens.

Without thinking, Sabo rests his hand on your knee.

Not in a weird way. Not in an intentional way. Just… naturally. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

You don’t move. You don’t even react.

Sabo doesn’t notice.

But Koala does.

She grins.

“Wow, Sabo, I didn’t know you were so affectionate.”

Sabo blinks “Huh?”

Koala gestures at your knee, where his hand is still resting comfortably.

He follows her gaze. Sees it. Processes it. Immediately short-circuits.

His hand jumps away like he’s been burned. He chokes on air. His soul leaves his body.

“I—THAT WAS—WAIT—” He scrambles for an excuse, for an explanation, for anything that isn’t I just did that on instinct like a lovesick idiot.

Koala smirks “Oh, don’t stop on my account.”

Sabo malfunctions. He turns to you, desperate for backup, only to find you watching him with amusement.

Oh, this is bad.

Hack strolls by, raising an eyebrow “You two finally together?”

Sabo dies on the spot.

“WE’RE NOT—” He practically explodes, looking at you with betrayal when you don’t immediately deny it.

You shrug “I don’t mind.”

The world ends.

Koala gasps dramatically “So you wouldn’t mind if Sabo kept touching you?”

Sabo chokes “KOALA.”

You just smile “Nope.”

Sabo’s brain shuts down. His face burns. His entire life flashes before his eyes.

Koala grins “Sabo, you gonna sit there or take their hand again?”

Sabo does what any rational, composed second-in-command of the Revolutionary Army would do in this situation.

He runs.

Straight out of the room, down the hall, past a very confused Dragon, who barely lifts an eyebrow as Sabo barrels past him like he’s fleeing for his life.

He does not stop until he’s outside, hands on his knees, breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

“You okay there, Chief of Staff?”

Sabo jumps.

Koala is standing behind him, arms crossed, looking way too smug.

He straightens immediately, clearing his throat “I—I just needed fresh air.”

“Right,” Koala says, unconvinced “Totally not because you just had a full-blown crisis over a little hand placement.”

Sabo groans, burying his face in his hands “I wasn’t thinking! It was instinct! And then—and then they said—” His voice breaks. He can’t even say it out loud.

Koala grins “That they don’t mind?”

Sabo melts into the floor.

She claps him on the back “Come on, Sabo. This is a good thing.”

“How is this a good thing?!” He looks at her, betrayed “I made an absolute fool of myself!”

“No, you just made it obvious.”

Sabo freezes.

Koala raises an eyebrow, like she can see the realization hitting him in real time “Wait. Don’t tell me you actually thought you were being subtle this whole time?”

Sabo has to sit down.

He buries his face in his hands “This is a nightmare.”

Koala laughs “You’re so dramatic. Just go talk to them.”

“I can’t just—just walk up to them after that!” Sabo gestures wildly “What if they were just teasing me? What if they didn’t actually mean it? What if—”

“Why don’t you ask them instead of spiraling?”

Sabo hates how logical that is.

Koala grins “They’re still inside, you know.”

Sabo grits his teeth. Stands up. Forces himself to breathe.

And then, before he can overthink himself into oblivion, he marches back inside.

You glance up when he approaches “Hey, you okay? You ran out of here pretty fast.”

Sabo feels his entire existence collapse.

But he forces himself to focus, to stay calm. He sits down across from you, clasping his hands together like he’s about to deliver a serious political statement.

“…Did you mean it?”

You blink “Mean what?”

He swallows hard “That you don’t mind.”

There’s a pause.

Then you smile, tilting your head “Yeah. I meant it.”

Sabo forgets how to breathe.

You lean forward, resting your chin on your hand “Why? Do you mind?”

His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. He is malfunctioning at maximum capacity.

“…No.”

You grin “Good.”

Then, so casually, you reach over and take his hand this time.

Sabo dies.

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