#red-hair pirates

[fanaticsnail]

Kind And Gentle

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 3,100+

Synopsis: Your shoulders and back ached with a pain you had attempted to cast aside as you went about your duties. The ache turned excruciating, your focus now being taken hostage between the gripping pain. Fortunately, the grip of two firm hands found your body and eased you through the torment.

Themes: Benn Beckman x reader, Friends to lovers, confessions of love, suggestive dialogue, massaging - reader receiving, pain, aching, yearning, small kiss, Shanks is a meanie, swearing, teasing, Beckman is a softie, Beckman is a gentleman, term of endearment "Darlin'" used - it's just what I associate him saying.

Notes: Pure self-indulgence fic, procrastinating while I should be going through my WIPs. My shoulder hurts, guys. Needed this to get out of my system and get through the pain.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @carrotsunshine @i-am-vita @gingernut1314 @mfreedomstuff @missbeckman @tiredemomama

Pain. White and hot, swelling and encumbering. This was what you were experiencing in the middle of your spine; just a little to the right side of your body.

The ache never eased, no matter what position you slept in, nor adjusting your posture throughout the day. It was unending, the torment which knit your muscles together and cemented them in place. 

You clenched your eyes tightly shut, bracing yourself against the wooden hallway wall as you rotate your neck in a circle atop your shoulders slowly. Arching your back, you winced as the knot continued to integrate itself in a woven entanglement of painful muscle beneath your skin. 

Biting back a whimper, you tried as you might to reach the cursed divot beneath your flesh, whining quietly as your fingertips barely brushed against the surface of the painful coil. The ache called to you, the burden causing a small tremor in your lips from the electric heat of the hidden wound. 

Shaking your head, you huffed out a breath as you attempted to soldier on about your daily chores. Ignoring the tight ache beneath your skin with a deep grimace written on your lips, you finally gave into your pain and balanced your hands against the wooden beam atop the deck of the Red-Force. 

The sea breeze hit your nose, relaxing you briefly before the pain eclipsed all your senses. Brain foggy with anguish, lips parted and panting, eyes frantic and wife: you could bear it no longer. You muted a cry, muffling it within your mouth while you tried to release the elastic coil in your back by twisting your torso. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you curse in a soft whisper, your brows rising in a pain-riddled peak in your forehead. You moaned out in a soft whimper, praying nobody could hear your weakness as you tried to reach for the spot a second time.

The band was bordering on excruciating, your mind contemplating whether or not to seek out Hongo for medical attention due to the intensity of the pain. Just as you began to turn on your way, two strong hands clapped over your shoulders: thumbs moving in rough circles against your skin. 

“I got you, Darlin’,” the gruff voice Shanks’ first mate whispered in a calming rumble, “Just tell me when I'm gettin’ close to it.” 

Benn Beckman. It was always Benn Beckman. Any time any of the crew needed anything, no task too small, no feat too great: Beckman was the champion you had all grown accustomed to rely on. Leaning back into his touch, you hung your neck low to grant him greater access

“Oh-... mmmf-... -‘kay,'' you whimpered, curving your back down to expose more of your spine to him, “It's not-... Hhah-... It's not normally this-...fucking, shit-... -this bad.” A small click of his tongue snapped at you in empathy as his thumbs brushed against the coil of pain. 

Although your friendship with Beckman ran deep, you had never engaged with him physically before. You respected one another, adored one another, and were as close as two crewmates could be. Two sides of a coin, twin edges of a blade, the gunpowder and the spark that lit the fuse - this was how you were described by your red-headed captain. 

But as his thumbs sought out your deepest pain, all your thoughts escaped you. There was nothing else, just: Beckman, his focus and his expert touch. 

“Just a touch to the right-... ahh, Becks!” you cried out as his digits flicked over the painful swell beneath your flesh. Huffing out pants of breath, you sobbed in strained relief as he continued massaging your body. 

“Oh, fuck. It's there, isn't it?” he whispered, the thumb of his right hand pressed firmly against the tight knot as his left hand braced you against the side-beam of the boat, “There it is, Darlin’. I found it. There's the spot.” You arched your back within his broad hands, your arms stiffening in firm pillars against the deck as he prodded the painful peak in your back. 

“Oh, that's it! Right there, that's the spot,” you mewled out, crying and gasping for him as he untangled your muscles with his rough, practiced hands. Just as he pressed his strength further against you, you winced out a strangled, “Fuck, not so rough! Be kind and gentle with me, Becks!” 

“Darlin’, this is me being kind and gentle,” he bullied his thumb into your skin, stapling you to the wall of the ship by his hips and holding you steady with his hand perched on your left shoulder, “You need a bit of rough treatment. Hold still, let me coax it out of you.”

“Becks,” you whispered out his name, lulling your head back on your shoulders as he continued to pry, paw and claw the knot apart with his right hand, “Becks it hurts.”

“I know, I know,” his gruff voice reassured you, the gentle hold of his left hand against your shoulder contradicted the right hand that bruised your muscles, “It'll all be over soon. I'm nearly there, I can feel your body moving it with me. Just hold on.”

His thumb pressed an intentional swipe up, directing the pain up your back and into the peaked corner of your shoulder. His brows knit low in deep concentration, prompting him to suck in an empathetic breath in anticipation. 

“Ohh… You're gonna hate me,” he whispered in your ear, kicking your feet apart with his heavy boots before anchoring his pelvis against your glutes to hold you firmer against the ship's wooden railing, “You need an elbow.”

“No, no, no! Not an elbow!” you cried, just as his right elbow drew itself against your spongy flesh, “Becks! It's-... nnmfph-... too much! Ahh! Too much!”

Attempting to break from his grip, you shook yourself away from his hands, only for your body to immediately betray you. Bent over the railing, your back immediately became unraveled by a firm grip and a strong elbow to the point that ailed you. 

“Oh hush, you need it,” he barked in a soft tone, eclipsing your concern with an intentional rotation of his elbow against your shoulder, “Be a good little thing and take it.” He was moving the vines of the entanglement away from the source point, breaking it down beneath his body and flushing it out with heavy swipes. 

Benn Beckman was experiencing the toughest battle he had ever had the displeasure in engaging with. He was trying to tune out how good you sounded calling out his name in pants and whines, his own empathetic huffs and groans mixing harmoniously with yours as he gripped your flesh.

“Benn Beck-...fuck-... It's right there. Right there, Becks! Don't stop!” you whimpered, your voice high and your desperation showcased in the soft pants of your breath. The release of your entangled flesh was just within Beckman's grasp, prompting him to switch back to using his fingers to expel the pressure beneath your skin. 

“I got you. There ya’ go,” he confirmed again, expanding the heel of his palm against the binding presence of the last of the entanglement, “Breathe through it with me, I'm not gonna stop ‘til you're done.” 

“Oh, fuck Beckman,” your eyes glazed over, your lips parting and crying out in bliss as his skillful ministrations cast out the pressure in your shoulder as a priest would cleanse unholy ground to make their sanctuary.

“Th-That’s it. Oh m-my fuck-,” you whined back into his hands, “You're so good. Your hands feel so good.” As the last of the knot fled your shoulder, a warm chuckle rumbled from behind you. Beckman's laugh brought you comfort, his softness depicted in this small moment as he held you in his arms. 

His firm hands turned soft, caressing your shoulders in tender, gentle touches. He molded both of your shoulders within his palms, your body becoming jelly beneath his rough and calloused hands. You moaned softly as he maneuvered your body in a perfect arch against his chest, the rumble of his chuckle reverberating within your back to vibrate within your chest. 

“Better?” he whispered in the shell of your ear, easing his body back to enable you to escape his broad cage. Instead of breaking away from his body, you relaxed into his arms, sighing out a warm breath of contentment. 

“Thank you, Becks. You're bloody amazing at that,” you praised him, feeling light and free of the bonds that confined you, “Why did you offer to help me with it?” 

“There was something in your face that told me you needed it,” he shrugged, huffing a small chuckle out of his nose and leant down to rumble out a whisper in your ear, “Always wanna help you, Darlin’.”

“Oh Becks, I could kiss you,” you turned in his arms, gazing through half-hooded eyelids up at him, “Can I?”

He smirked down at you, a small pink due flushing his cheeks with a subtle dust, bobbing his head in a soft nod to grant you permission. As you circled your arms over his neck and began to draw him closer to your lips, a chorus of barked laughter and an uproar of cheers echoed along the hull of the ship. Clapping hands, whistles and hoots erupted from your crew now surrounding the two of you. 

“Oh, Beckman,” your captain cackled at you, his right hand clapping over his heart, “In public, big guy? And you,” he pointed his index finger at you, his wolfy grin painted in a drawn-out taunting smirk, “You sly little fox. Gettin’ the big man to take you right on the deck?”

“What?” you questioned your captain in a warning tone, floating your eyes between the rest of the crew gathered on the deck beside him. Shanks’ playful twinkle fluttered beneath his weighty eyelashes. 

“Be gentle with me, Becks,” he mocked in a needy moan not too dissimilar from your own, before hardening his features and deepening his voice in a grunted, “You need a bit of rough treatment,” he commented gruffly. The color drained from your face, eyes widening and lips parting once again in bashful horrification. 

“Oh right there, Becks, don't stop,” Shanks continued his performance, a small warning began to rise within Beckman's throat in a rumbled growl. Breaking out of your embrace, he grimaced at the red-head in front of him. 

“Enough, Cap’n,” Beckman snarled, reaching within his pocket and pulling out his lighter with his left hand, fishing out a cigarette to follow, “Got out a knot, s’all. You know how shit they are.” Beckman ignited the end, taking a lengthy drag and exhaling a puff away from your face. 

“Really? That's all?” Shanks cried out a laugh, the crew echoing his unashamed and carefree joy at the notion, “I thought I saw some hips moving together, Becks. You were letting some of your own groans out too, mewling like a wh-.”

“-Or should I relay half of the bullshit you curse out when Hongo releases the knots in your own shoulder?” Beckman smirked, his eyes daring his captain to say another embarrassing quip. After a pregnant pause, silent tension only momentary before another uproar of laughter barked out amongst the Red-Hair pirates. 

“Yeah, yeah. I'm done,” Shanks waved his hand in the air, shooting you a small wink before turning to face his crew, “What say we make port, huh? Resupply with some fresh drinks, a hot meal, some good company, and a comfortable sleep on dry land?”

“Aye, sir!” the crew echoed in unison, your own confirmation falling from your lips as you began maneuvering around the first-mate to resume your duties. Just as you passed Beckman's shoulder, a firm hand shot out and gripped your forearm to hold you in place. 

“Beckman?” you asked, turning to meet his eyes. You floated your own between his, hovering your attention to fixate on him completely, “Everything alright, Sir?” 

“Goin’ back to ‘Sir’ again, after all that,” he murmured, barely above comprehension. Your quizzical feeling never left you, still hovering between the lenses of his glassy orbs. 

“How you feeling?” he asked as he pressed down the filter end of the cigarette beneath the pad of his thumb, placing the butt-end in the small drawer attached to the hull of the ship, “I get it all out, or the ache still hangin’ in there?”

Humming in thought, you rotated your right arm and felt the ghost of your prior pain simmer down and flee from your form. The small pinch only remained behind in memory, but the small remnants of the ache threatened to return. 

“It's gone for now, I think,” you uttered with a small shrug, “It'll likely begin the slow journey back up my spine in a pinch.” Beckman hummed in thought, nodding along as he checked over your body for any changes. 

After a small lull, you held your ground as the atmosphere once again fell into awkwardness. You shook your head to stifle your nerves, sucking in a breath to elevate your courage. 

“Can I buy you a drink or two when we get to port?” you ask him, eyes dropping to the ground and hands laced behind you, “An expression of my gratitude for you helping me out?”

“You askin’ me out on a date?” Beckman disguised his growing smile by arching himself away from you, loosening the tie in his hair and beginning to restyle it.

“And if I am?” you ask, still avoiding his gaze by holding your eyes firmly against the floor, “What then?”

“What then, Darlin’,'' he smirked, his eyes softening as his hands found your hips, “Is that I'd accept.” He pulled you flush with him, prompting your eyes to widen and search his gray orbs in your shock, “I wouldn't mind spending an evening with you, havin’ drinks in a quiet corner for a change.”

“It would be a nice change,” you confessed, eyes again falling soft for the first mate. He leant his hips back on the wooden railing, reaching up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. His index finger lingered on your chin, holding your eyes against his. 

“What was it for you? To have you finally make a move after all this time?” he asked, his eyes turning playful as he looked down at you through half-hooded eyes, “The hands or the elbow?”

“I think it was the words,” you confessed with a small laugh, “Not used to having the Great Benn Beckman whisper: ‘be a good little thing and take it.’ Wouldn't mind hearing that again, if I'm being honest,” a small choked pause fell from Beckman's lips, your own question now posed to him.

“What made you accept a drink with me?” you searched his eyes quizzically, pursing your lips as you continued, “We've served together for so long, what made you consider it now?”

“Oh Darlin', I've always considered it. More than considered it,” he huffed out a chuckle, bringing your face closer to his with the curl of his index finger, “Just didn't know how much I wanted it ‘til you started sayin' my name like that.” He hovered his lips over yours, his breath still scented with the sour, smoky tang of his last cigarette as he beckoned you in. 

“Wouldn't mind hearing that again, if I'm bein' honest,” he parroted your words back at you before finally claiming your lips beneath his own in a chaste kiss. The attention he gave your lips was brief, ending contact almost as soon as they touched. 

He pulled away from your lips, noticing your pout and slight agitation at the hastiness the kiss ended. Chuckling, he leant over your ear and confessed his intentions further. 

“Cap’n’s watchin’,” he nodded over to where Shanks’ taunting eyes and winning smile wordlessly teased you both, “Don't wanna give him more ammunition to tease you with, Darlin'. No matter how much I really wanna kiss you.”

“I owe you more,” you hummed up at him with a soft smile, tucking the loose strand of hair away from his forehead and behind his ear, “Anything I can do to repay my growing debt to you? More than a couple drinks later, a little kiss, or taking care of your duties for you today?”

“Just the promise of your company later will do for now,” he chuckled, leaning into the heel of your palm with his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your skin.

“Aye, Sir,” you smirked at him, giving his cheek two gentle taps before returning back to duty with a newfound rejuvenation. Your limbs felt lighter, your body felt freer and your head felt less foggy with the prior pain you felt. 

Shanks sauntered over towards his first-mate, smirking and kicking up his feet all along the way in a playful dance. Beckman shook his head, reaching for another cigarette and lit the end. Shanks leaned his head against Beck’s shoulders, uttering not a single word as he fluttered his eyelashes, wiggled his eyebrows and clicked his tongue at the broody, larger man. 

“Don’t even start,” Beckman growled under his breath. Shanks smiled wider, jolting his right index finger into Beckman’s side as he hummed up a playful mock at him. 

“But you finally made a move, big man,” Shanks chuckled, nudging him with his left shoulder, “How long’s it been now? Two, maybe three years of longing, yearning and lusting from afar, hm?”

“Four,” Beckman commented gruffly, inhaling a deep breath of smoke in his mouth and holding it still behind his lips, “And I remember saying: ‘don’t even start’.”

“Alright, alright. I’m going, I’m going,” Shanks held his right hand up in defence, an extra buzz in his step at the knowledge that Beckman and you had finally allowed a small crack in the door open to engage with one another this way. A small chuckle erupted in Shanks’ voice, his own amusement adamant over his features.

“Right there Becks, don’t stop,” Shanks’ voice whined again in a needy moan, before growling out a rumbled mock of, “I’m not gonna stop ‘til you’re done,” he laughed, turning back over his shoulder, “Honestly, Beckman. Show a bit of composure, man.” 

Beckman’s blush scorched scarlet on his features, prompting him to thrust the butt of his cigarette into the drawer and begin to charge at his Captain. Shanks shrieked out a giddy cry of amusement at his first-mate.

“Be kind and gentle with me, Becks!” Shanks laughed, turning tail and began running away in glee from successfully taunting his first mate. The barrelling boot heels of the first mate almost managed to catch up to the Captain immediately, but Shanks continued successfully darting away from Beckman’s disciplinary grasp.

[missmungoe]

She's done! On the writing desk she goes 🏴‍☠️

[constructwork]

look at that little panel of Shanks smiling and calling Uta daughter!

[assiraphales]

shanks is that spiritually enlightened beach bum constantly holding a jack n coke w a splash of lime who wasn’t lying that time he said he knew karate

[succoallimone]

Unexpected fan

Shanks realised too late he had in fact just been adopted by Luffy as his dad

[reineydraws]

✨️ like father, like son ✨️

was talking to @eastbluesaga about how buggy dresses and acts more like roger, and how shanks dresses and acts more like rayleigh. the parallels are so good! especially considering buggy's getting pushed into the limelight now as the series ends, and how shanks has been making moves more in the background like a dark horse (or a dark king, perhaps?) this entire time.

like, you'd want to compare shanks to roger at first, especially considering the straw hat legacy, but shanks seems to be aware that it's more his role to facilitate than to be in the light himself--a similar role i assume rayleigh took as first mate of the pirate king. conversely, buggy's being quickly propelled into an advantageous position that spotlights him as important--a key figure in all things, surprisingly like a king, even tho he never quite believed he could have that for himself (and then hid in the east blue, where his captain was born!!!).

them!!!

[multifandomnonsense]

Made a few more

[chinelacanta]

i like to think that ever since they met it was mutually ON SIGHT bullying <3

they’re both losers (said with love)

[imasimpforshanks]

how they react when you randomly say “im so lucky to have you”

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

a/n: idk what this is but I thought of it! And it’s been a while since I’ve written headcanons/imagines like this so this is kinda weird and badly written this time LOL

with a giant grin plastered across his face, luffy’s response is instant and genuine, “im so lucky to have you too!” he laughs boisterous and bright as he continues, “that’s perfect isn’t it? im lucky to have you and you’re lucky to have me! we sure do make a great team.” you can’t help the way your body shakes with warm laughter at his sincerity.

there’s a moment of silence as law gathers himself. you think he didn’t hear you but then he coughs to break the silence and gain your attention. the tips of his ears are pink and he’s avoiding eye contact with you as he mumble his response, “yeah well, thanks for putting up with me.”

zoro pauses briefly turning to look at you with mild surprise. but before he’s even had time to fully process your remark, he finds his lips quirking into a smirk as you add on “i mean you are a bit of a moron, but you’re MY moron, ya know?” and with that he’s laughing the most he has in a while (but you’ve always had that affect on him, always made him feel things he didn’t think was possible), “you took the words right out of my mouth, dumbass.”

“my love,” sanji exclaims, “it’s me who should be considered the lucky one!” he gently reaches for your hand to bring it to his lips. he places a delicate kiss to each of your knuckles before continuing his sentiment, “i get to see your wonderful face and spend time with you each day. it’s far more than i am worthy of!” but then your eyebrows knit together and your lips are being pulled into a pout and sanji feels his love for you grow tenfold as you object to his statement, “you deserve all my love and affection!” and sanji concedes immediately because your word is law.

wordlessly, ace pulls you into a tight embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “you okay?” you ask, and the concern in your voice is enough to make his heart melt. “yeah, can we just stay like this for a little.” he whispers into your skin. you nod, understanding his need for this reassurance, “i mean it though, i really am lucky to have you.” and as you slowly run your fingers through his hair, ace whispers “i really really love you.”

a cheeky grin sneaks across shanks’ face “you sure are! i am pretty funny, sexy, caring, and intelligent.” you snort at his expected response, “not to mention humble.” he gasps in faux shock, “of course! how could I forget humble?!” as you burst into a fit of laughter so beautifully unrestrained shanks can’t help but think that out of the two of you, he is, most certainly, the lucky one.

[taco-tuseday]

Day 4 of buggytober

Ex-Roger pirates

[dilf-pirates-ask]

Red haired pirates, who’s the best straw hat?

[fanaticsnail]

Daughter of the Sea: Chapter 5

Masterlist Here, Header Masterlist Here

Word Count: 3,500+

Synopsis: The news you received made a ripple turn into a tidal wave, the information shaking you to your core and shatter not only your own heart, but the heart of your niece and her crew. The man you love pleads for you to process this information in another way, and you truly want to, but your duty causes you to place a hard barrier back up to fortify your heart.

Themes: Unrequited requited love, slow burn, long fic, long distance relationship, friends to lovers, found family dynamics, love over time, (smut, mdni 18+, NSFW - chapters will be marked accordingly), love-making, angst, hurt, gendered terms used, swearing, adult language. 

Notes: Benn Beckman x f!reader, platonic!Mihawk x f!reader, platonic!Shanks x f!reader, slight mention of MiShanks ship, Beginning: Shanks is 19, Mihawk is 23, Beckman is 30, f!reader is 22, Uta is 2 months old for the sake of the plot (canonically she's 2 years old). The f!reader is suggested to be native to Kuraigana with her mannerisms and language.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @since-im-already-here @mfreedomstuff @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @indydonuts

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Approaching the land, you heard the soft music of Uta's songs spill from her voice and smelled the bready pancakes fried in sizzling butter. Immediately, your heart panged with a guilt unlike anything you had ever felt. Wanting nothing more than to join in on the merriment and remain blissfully ignorant, you kept your hood up and darted into the bar unseen. 

No sound was emitted from you that you did not intend, your skills throughout the ages not going unpracticed. As Shanks moved away from the main bunch, you tugged at his left sleeve, prompting his eyes to meet yours. You gestured with your index finger to your covered lips for him to remain silent, his face immediately growing cold at your attire. He gave you a curt nod, steely eyes holding to your own with absolute seriousness.

Leading him away from his crew and out of sight behind the bar, you stood upright and informed him of exactly what was relayed to you. 

“Mihawk has been promoted to one of the seven warlords of the sea, his orders now being given by the World Government,” your voice remaining hardened and emotionless, “His bounty is canceled, as has mine been by association.” Shanks’ surprise and horror wrote itself on his face, his expressive hazelnut eyes welling in rage. 

“What does that mean?” Although his words had all the elements to depict a question, there was no ask within. He knew what it meant, just as you came to terms with it moments prior. 

“It means, for now,” you felt the danger rise between you, “You, your crew, and all those associated with you,” you darted your eyes between his, “Are not only Mihawk’s, but are my enemy.” He clicked his tongue, immediately stepping forward and reaching for you, prompting you to step aside to dodge his embrace. 

“You're going to let him tell you how to lead your life?” he spat his question, looking at you with brutal animosity, “Going to let the World Government house-break you, to force you to serve them like a dog begging for a scrap at their master’s table?” He attempted to reach for you again, you stepping back to avoid him. 

“Please don't, Captain,” you attempted to keep your tone steady, the small wobble in your voice giving you away. “I-It’s hard enough as it is to come to terms with. You think I want this?” Shanks attempted one last time to grasp you, his two hands immediately finding your biceps and tugging you into a warm embrace. 

The tears finally fell as you buried your head into his shoulder. You circled your arms up his back, physically shaking through your silent sobs. He held you, placing his chin atop your head and biting back his own emotions. 

“How long until I can make contact with you or Mihawk?” he whispered, his hand smoothing your hood over your shoulders. 

“Two years for a single call,” you whispered between soft cries, prompting Shanks to raise his right hand to cup over his lips. He was wracked with grief, already mourning for his friendship with Mihawk and grieving the relationship he had developed with you over the years. 

“Letters would be out of the question until three to four years have passed?” he choked out, gripping you tighter as he felt you begin to fall apart in his arms. You admitted his rationale with a soft nod against him. 

“When will we see you again?” Shanks’ voice was barely above a whisper, his tears now spilling over his lash line and down his cheeks. You solidified your fate with two condemning words. 

“Five years.” 

Holding each other for a moment longer, both of your bodies remained eclipsed by shadow and your presence not missed from within the bar. After a moment, his kindness poured from his lips with a soft question. 

“Would you join me and my crew if I asked you to?” he tilted your face up with his index finger, “Serve aboard the Red-Force, live with Uta and be with her always. Use your skills as a spymistress to keep her safe, use them to make contact with Mihawk. Be with Beckman-.”

“-I can't, Shanks,” you whispered, the quiver of your mouth shielded beneath the shroud of the covering, “I owe Mihawk my life. I only live and breathe now because of him, and I refuse to leave him to bear this new burden alone.” Shanks' fury ignited, feeling the wound fester and bubble within him as he slowly released you. 

“You're not even going to say goodbye to them, are you?” he accused you, his anger feeling tangible as he bore his unrelenting stare against you, “You're going to slink and cower away like the viper you used to be, the snake I knew you to be all those years ago. Not even going to reassure the crew you don't hate them-.”

“-This was a mistake,” you whispered to yourself, backing away from him and shifting out from the shadows and into the light, “I never should've been persuaded to come here.” Shanks' stalking approach had you raise your arms in defense. Yassop straightened his back, immediately clocking your shrouded figure and whistling to get Roux's attention. 

“Get out of here, snake,” Shanks barked at you, his unblinking gaze having panic written itself over you, “Slither back into the beak of the hawk. Live in his talons, enjoy your wines in the gloomy prick’s castle in silence. Have no joy within the walls, and enjoy a life eclipsed by shadow.” Instead of backing away further, you stood firm in place. Your hands extended out in defensive combat, your eyes narrowing. 

“I am no mere animal you can bark at to intimidate, Red-Hair,” you snarled, a deep frown warning him to not to engage you further, “I have my orders, and you know where my loyalty lies. If this is where you strike me down, so be it.” Instead of taunting you further, his booming, commanding voice cut over the lively chatter within the bar. 

“Dracule Mihawk, lord of Kuraigana and World's Greatest Swordsman has been promoted to a mighty warlord of the sea, boys,” he barked to his men, voice dripping with hate and venom, “And his spymistress has decided to join him on this next plight as the whispering word of the World Government.”

Your panic shot up your spine, freezing you in place as you felt several eyes draw over your form. A soft cry of your name shattered your heart, Uta's voice quivering over every syllable of it. There was no more ‘Pretty Aunty,’ there was simply your name. The name felt foreign on her tongue, as did her absolute sorrow. 

“So, drink up to the promotion, boys,” Shanks continued his taunt, his humorless voice stabbing you in the heart with each subtle jab, “We have two new enemies in our midst: Dracule Mihawk, uncle to Uta, and my f-former-...” Shanks couldn't finish his sentence, his heart shattering at the memories he shared with his rival turned friend. 

Movement was temporarily gone from your mind, your body frozen in your defensive stance as you watched the Red-Hair Shanks fall apart in front of you. You wanted to lunge forward, to comfort your friend and to reassure him that both you and Mihawk still love him: want to see him thrive and grow, but your guard refused to lower. A soft and steady drawl called over to you, your name first shattering before his question tumbled from his lips. You were frozen, your eyes snapping over to meet the source of a soft question. 

“It’s true, Darlin’?” 

It would've been so much simpler to just leave, to flee the bar and not face the two sets of eyes you could barely stand the thought of meeting with. You were adamant to all who knew you that you were not a coward, not one to turn away when things got rough and you allowed your actions to speak for themselves. 

As soon as you drew your eyes up to his steely orbs, you were lost within their depths. His face had a soft tuft of flour smudged atop his chin, his hand holding a spatula for Uta's pancakes. You could feel everything in his eyes, watching as the windows revealing his heart to you began to eclipse with the hardened curtains of steely betrayal. 

“I have no choice,” you whispered to him, “I live in Kuraigana, I serve Mihawk as his-.”

“-Take that fuckin’ mask off and face me properly,” his bark stung deeper than Shanks’, Uta now clutching at him and soothing over his shoulders as he slouched on the ground. 

You closed your eyes, inhaling a deep breath through your nose before removing your mask by hooking your middle finger beneath it. Stalking lowly towards him, eyes refusing to depart from him for a moment. The image of him like this was branded in your memory, the former night and morning spent within each other's arms faded away with each soft step. 

“And your hood,” Beckman halted your slow approach, prompting your hand to raise to your hair and tug back the hood from concealing your hair. Again, you walked over to him, halting when he barked once more at you. 

“Your uniform,” he uttered in a low and bitter drawl, “Take off that thieving robe, and let me see you properly.” You immediately scoffed at him, untying the bands and loosening it from your body, revealing your torso adorned in a soft, dark bandeau. Marks of the prior night of shared love littered your body. The Red-Hair crew all witnessed the indents, welts and swollen kisses over your torso and shoulders, Beckman’s pride soaring in his chest as the cause for such unbridled expression of love. 

“Anything else, sir?” your low growl taunted him, chin firmly in the air as you looked down your nose at him. He raked his eyes over each mark, memories of the actions that caused them momentarily flooding his mind before his eyes met with yours. His gaze was hard and unmoving, unreadable and unexpressive, and it frightened you. 

“Aye, actually,” he handed the cooking supplies over to Roux at his side, “There's so much else that needs to be said, questions that I have that I know will lead to nothin' but heartache.” He stepped towards you, his shoulders squared as he looked down at your shorter form. 

“But I'll settle for this first,” he leant down, his arms immediately hooking over your shoulders and drawing you into his body. Lips locking with yours, you felt his sorrow stab at you like one of the blades tucked at your calves. You tried to hold back, tried to not give in to feeling the way you wanted to, but his lips coaxed every truth you could muster with his lips gently collecting yours beneath it. The shards guarding your heart melted away, all within the arms of the man you loved.

Raking your arms over his torso, your guard completely fell away. All of your prior, pent up guilt and sorrow pushed into him by meeting his passion and pressing more of yourself into him. His fingertips raked through your hair, his mouth humming against yours as you anchored yourself against him further. 

A soft shriek of joy prompted you to break away from the kiss, both of you snapping over to meet with Uta’s gleeful applause. Shanks sighed, cocking his head to the side as he watched you both lovingly continue to hold each other while Beckman glared at him. Uta rushed over to you, slotting herself between you both and circling her arms around you. 

“Okay, Pretty Aunty,” she suddenly uttered, prompting your voice to catch in your throat, “Can we please be enemies after breakfast? And can breakfast be extra slow?”

The desire to both laugh and cry overtook you at once, immediately slinking to your knees and out of Beckman's embrace to collect her in your arms. Uta mimicked your emotion, her tears spilling freely as she laughed with you. 

“I'm so sorry, gorgeous girl,” you whisper, pressing your lips against her cheek and giving her several soft pecks against her face, “I can’t. If the marines get wind of it, they’ll report it to Uncle Hawk and he’ll likely get punished for it. I can’t do that to him.”

“Not even gonna stay for a cup of coffee before you go?” Beckman jokes with you, his sorrowful voice holding a scrap of hope that you'll cave and remain behind with him. You gripped Uta tighter, ensuring she felt how hard this was for you to break from her. She clutched at your shoulders, her arms wringing around your neck and holding you close. You chose to ignore Beckman’s question, physically unable to answer him without breaking down further. 

“How long until we see each other again?” Uta whispered between soft sobs. You cradled her head, placing it against your shoulder as you did the first time you held her in your arms. Feeling your heart shatter as soon as the comparison was made, you whispered into her hair. 

“It will be five years until I can hold you like this, my princess,” you stuttered, “My beautiful, gorgeous girl,” you released her from your arms and gazed into her pooling eyes, “Daughter of the sea, with the sweet song of a siren.” She sniffled, her lip quivering and clenching her teeth against the flesh to halt her cry. 

“I promise I will watch over you,” you whispered after taking a moment to collect your thoughts, “While I may not be able to be with you like this in some time, I will always see you have your needs met in one way or another.” Just as you moved to pull away from the embrace, a warm hand cupped over your shoulder. 

“I’ll walk you to your ship,” Beckman’s stoic voice caused your spine to tingle and your heart to beat faster. You rose from your low bow after holding Uta for one final time. As she slipped from your arms, she immediately ran to Shanks. He cradled her, refusing to look at you as he shepherded his daughter towards the bar.

Elevating your body to your feet, you gripped your discarded clothes and slung them over your forearm. Refusing to turn back to face the Red-Hair pirates, or to acknowledge the man at your side, you began to make your way back to the docks. 

As your foot drew up to meet the plank of your ship, you were immediately halted by a strong arm slinking around your waist and drawing you back into his chest. Turning immediately in his arms, you hung your head low and balled his shirt within your clenched fists. 

“Oh, Darlin’,” his lips found the crown of your head, whispering softly against your hair, “You're truly gonna leave, just like that?” You sniffled, choosing not to say anything to him as he continued to prod at you, “Nothin' I can do or say to make you stay with me?” 

“Could I say anything to have you leave Shanks and join me in Kuraigana?” you shot back, looking up at him with your eyes narrowed and accusatory, “Could I have you give up piracy and work for the World Government with Mihawk to be with me?” 

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head and sighing mournfully. He pressed his forehead against your own, raising his palm to collect your cheek within it. 

“I thought as much,” you smiled at him, your eyes softening as you gazed into his, “Just as I couldn't ask you to remain faithful to me in any other way. You deserve happiness and love, Beckman. If you find it with another-.”

“-Stop it,” he hushed you, pressing his lips against your forehead before gazing back down into your eyes, “I've only ever had your name written on my heart, and it will only ever belong to you.” Time stood still, both of your hearts yearning to remain beating as one. 

“I've wanted you in my arms for five long years, Darlin’,” he continued, his resolve almost breaking as he softly whispered his vow-like promise, “What's five more to someone like me?” 

“You know where to find me,” you whispered, hovering your lips over his as you stepped up onto your toes. Your breath was quaking, your hands shaking and your heart fluttering so hard you felt sick. 

“Keep a weather-eye on the horizon,” he uttered before his lips collided with yours. His right hand cradled your face, his left arm holding you firmly against him as you hooked your arms beneath his shoulders and held him firmly against you. 

His lips molded against yours, his feet ushering you up the panel to board your boat. Moving his left hand down to collect your hands, he moved them around his neck as he hoisted you into the air to carry you aboard. Kisses never ending, he wrapped your legs around his hips and caged your body against the topmost post in the center of your small ship. His hips stapled yours against the wooden post as his lips roamed over your face. 

“Beckman, I have to go,” you moaned, Beckman's lips trailing over your neck and towards your collarbone, “I have to go, now.”

“One more,” he uttered desperately, his lips finding yours and expertly chipping away at your intentions with each slow, intentional kiss. Your hand found his cheek, swiping at the flour he had spattered on his face from making Uta her pancakes, and you smiled against him. 

“Five years,” he murmured against your mouth, “Five years of waiting for you to admit you loved me, and five more until I get to have you again.” He playfully bit your bottom lip, nipping at the slightly bruised flesh. 

“Five years,” you confirmed with him, leaning forward in his arms to place a gentle bite against his jaw, “Unless we just so happen to be in the same area at the same time.” His body froze, his heart swelling at the notion. 

“We could accidentally run into one another,” his excitement gathered in the pit of his stomach, “There’s a few vineyards that Mihawk might need some samples from, and we could always do with more barrels to travel with.”

“Elegia is a beautiful country for music and poetry,” you informed him, trailing several kisses down his throat and nipping at the prior marks, “Uta would do well there with her vocal practice, and Mihawk always needs more romantic smut-novels to keep him entertained.”

“Oh, Darlin’,” Beckman found your lips by coaxing you up with his chin, “If you could use your talents to whisper a word to get to me,” he hummed against your lips, his longing already tangible in his motions, “I'll be waitin’.”

“We'll wait for the hurt and the heat to die down,” you whined against him as his hands hooked over your thighs and pressed more of himself into you, “Then we'll see how much I can get away with.”

“Don't do anything reckless,” he warned you, breaking his lips away to gaze into your eyes, “For now, keep your guard up and I'll do the same for the sake of Uta, my captain, and my crew.”

He placed you back onto the ground, immediately turning to aid you in readying your ship. As the last of the ropes withdrew, you shrugged your uniform back over your shoulders, leaving the front wide open to showcase Beckman's marks to him. Smiling, he jumped over the railing and began unweaving the ropes on the dock. 

“Whatever happens next, please know that my heart is with you,” you confessed to him, tugging up the wooden plank and tying it off at the side. “Enjoy your life, enjoy raising Uta, and enjoy wooing a variety of women-.”

“-Why would I want other women when I have you waitin’ for me?” Beckman scoffed, shaking his head, “You're worth enduring the lonely suffering of a man in love at sea.” You laughed at him, reaching forward and taking his hand in yours as your ship began to carry you to sea. 

“Then I will make your endurance well worth it the next time we meet,” you smiled at him, causing his heart to swoon for you as your grip slipped through his fingertips. He attempted to reach for you once more, but the distance was far too wide for him to meet his hand with your own. 

“I love you, Darlin',” he called to you, “No amount of years’ll change that.”

“And I love you,” you called in return. You saved your tears for the moment Goa kingdom was out of sight. 

The image of Shanks, Uta and Beckman was branded forever in your memory, prompting your breakdown to propel longer. Each item aboard your ship that was from the crew and your niece, you locked in a chest away with the entirety of your heart. 

There it would remain until the time came where you could expose your love to the light once more.

[missmungoe]

And they’d discussed this―the danger, should the world discover who she was, and whose child she was carrying. Red-Hair the Emperor, as loved as he was feared, however hard it was to reconcile that last part with the man she’d married, who misplaced his sandals and loved jokes at his own expense, and who helped run her bar, apron and serving tray included.

That was the man sitting at her bar now, but she found him behind his eyes, the Emperor with a thousand enemies, with his chips and cracks, but as beautiful as the first time she'd laid eyes on him.

Her smile sought to lift his worries, and, “No one’s turned up yet,” Makino said. “But if anyone does, I know what to do.”

His frown deepened, and with a smile, “I’m a barmaid,” Makino said. “I’ll offer them a drink.”

He stared at her. Then, “You say that so earnestly,” Shanks said, “I’m afraid you’re not joking.”

With a delicate shrug, “Well I can’t exactly challenge them to a bar brawl,” Makino said. “And you’ve said yourself that it’s your preferred method of conflict resolution. So drinks it is. Not on the house, though; I have bills to pay. And if we’re serious about opening that brewery, I’ll need the customers.”

“Again,” Shanks said, carefully. “You are joking, right?”

[shanediomorrissey]

You’ll never guess who he lost a bet to

[mamoru-chiba-ua]

Blue hair, love for gold jewelry, bright clothes... You must be from Alabasta! © 😄

(I wish Buggy had a family, at least someone who would love him just for what he has, and Vivi also has blue hair, so I came up with a story in which they are relatives)

[reineydraws]

spot benn tryna dig up when the mishanks situationship started, since the boys have a bet going. (shanks says they officially started dating a few years ago but everyone knows that's not when things actually started.)

part 1 of this sketch dump.