warriorheart13-blog

[warriorheart13-blog]

Ok but can i get some fluff on shanks, Beckman, Marco and Ace? Maybe how they try to cool you down after suffering a heat stroke? Where i live we are getting a severe heat wave and its causing me to lose salts from sweats making me suffer a bit

I hope it's gotten a bit better for you, but I'm getting cooked in my own room, too, so... yeah 😭🤝And this is just a PSA: I didn't include actual heatstroke in the request because... the only one on that list who'd be able to help at all is Marco LOL Heatstroke is incredibly dangerous, so if you suspect you're suffering from it, call the emergency services immediately.

This is just a heatwave extravaganza edition because we're all suffering through summer (not including you Southern Hemisphere guys grr)

Cooler Than Me

feat. SHANKS, BENN BECKMAN, MARCO, ACE

SHANKS

Shanks is the type to approach things in a fun way.

As the Captain, Shanks is certainly used to making rational decisions that can be explained with logical reasoning… as a person, however, he isn’t quite as likely to keep his cool. He’d be miserable once the heat gets to him and lose it on a pretty tight schedule. Frustrated groans and curses just follow him around once he realised that his own sweat seeped through today’s linen shirt once more – after he’d let his cape be, too. It’s a tragedy! With you as his beloved, he tries to prevent himself from turning into a complete grump, but every sweet moment at night is cut off after he realises, after barely a minute, that he cannot cuddle you to sleep today without dying.

Shanks is still very much smitten with you and cannot bear to watch you suffer just as much as he does. Most of his crew can handle the heat, some even prefer the intense climate of summer islands, but you two stick out like a sore thumb. Shanks, as fun-loving as ever, would try to cheer you up by eating popsicles with you. It’s a sweet treat that cools you from the inside out – and he can share flavours with you. Watching how giggly you get when you saw just how deeply red the ice cold popsicle dyed his tongue made it worth all the hassle. He excitedly looks at your own tongue, now dyed as blue as the sea.

And he cannot help but kiss you right then and there.

BENN BECKMAN

Benn is the type to approach things in a methodical way. Benn is a force to be reckoned. You may not hear him, but you can feel his presence; that’s how imposing he is. Despite not hailing from more exotic lands, he can handle the heat quite well. If the temperatures rise too much, he cools himself down by keeping his hair wet. Still, he’s willing to move crates around, do ship maintenance and do other forms of physical labour. It honestly makes you jealous. He is so unbothered that he doesn’t even look like he’s sweating all that much. Meanwhile, you can barely move around without breaking a sweat. Moisture gathers at the nape of your neck as the sun beats down on you, which has you taking a shower almost twice a day. It is ridiculous!

Benn notices just how much you struggle, feeling sympathetic towards the person he secretly fell in love with… He doesn’t want to treat you any different from the rest, you should be able to fit in without any complications, but the Vice Captain himself just cannot ignore his affections for you, no matter how much he tries to bury them. He follows you around like a ghost and wordlessly hands you glasses of water. Somehow, he picked up on your bad habits and takes care of you in his own way. The water’s always cool, fresh and he always appears when you need him the most.

It’s bizarre, but you might just pick up on the fact that acts of service are his love language and he’s desperately trying to be serious and respectful about this…

MARCO

Marco is the type to approach things in an analytical way.

Marco is a doctor, which means that he’s definitely best equipped to help you. Plus, his eyes just dart towards you fanning hot air towards yourself after Whitebeard asked you to mop the deck… and you just chose to do it in the dry heat. Congratulations, now you’ve got Marco monitoring you. He watches you carefully, analysing every sway with a judgmental gaze – he’s always ready to step in and excuse you for the day, but he also doesn’t want to take your autonomy away. You’re independent and he honours your own decisions, no matter how irrational they may seem. If you want to work in the sun, fine, but he’s not letting up until he can make sure you’re safe.

He loves you so dearly, that’s why he doesn’t even mind sneaking around your peripheral vision to make it seem like he’s nonchalant about his pining… he’s really not. He’s just waiting to pin your hair up and apply wet towels to your pulse points, slowly cooling your blood down. That refreshing feeling will distribute itself evenly throughout your body and he can just watch with a soft smile as relief makes you go lax instantly. And he’s just there, touching your neck and wrists like it doesn’t make him nervous, like there’s no fire in his eyes at the sight of you feeling so safe in his presence… You’d rest your pretty head on his shoulder and let him check your vitals… just to be close to you without seeming like a total try-hard!

Marco’s also most likely to keep you in the med bay and secretly fan air towards you with his fiery wings. It’ll be your little secret!

ACE

Ace is the type to approach things in a silly way.

So… being around Ace when you’re suffering from the extreme weather is actually pretty hard. His body temperature is just naturally a lot higher, which means the match-up is just overall bad. He trails after you like a lost puppy as he ignores all those stares that follow the two of you around. Ace doesn’t feel the heat at all – the fact that fire is hot doesn’t even register to him; he’s made of it. Of course he notices that you’re not exactly in top shape… you sweat a lot, started carrying around a massive jug of water – oh, and you avoid touching him. He’s yearning so bad, flashing you the sad kicked animal eyes every five minutes because he cannot stand not being close to you…

Ace does, however, have a genius idea that he remembers from his childhood.

You aren’t as impressed as he is when he presents a tiny kiddie pool to you… right on the main deck. Anyone could watch you lounge here, but your dear boyfriend even propped up a deckchair right next to this abomination… and the thought alone is what counts. It’s kind of sweet, to be honest, to watch him go bright red as soon as sit down in a tiny puddle of water, looking up at him with a deadpan expression, legs hanging off one side of the meagre ‘pool’, but he still listens with rapt attention once you tell him what you’ve been up to on this hot day. He even clenches his fist in victory for this million Beri idea.

And… it’s ridiculous, but it did cool you down!

[warriorheart13-blog]

guys please add ages to your blogs, my pinned very clearly says "ageless blogs and minors dni". I will block you if you don't indicate in your bio somewhere that you are 18+ 😭😭😭

[warriorheart13-blog]

Make Stupid Choices, Win Stupid Prizes (Katakuri/F!Reader)

Summary: Oven convinces Katakuri to try a new "trending" prank on the reader.

a/n: Been writing a lot of angst recently, thought I should lighten up the mood with something lighthearted. I also love this sixteen-something feet of a man.

Warning(s): slightly ooc, fluff, comedy, established relationship

Inspo.

Posted on AO3

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“I don’t think that’s smart, I don’t think she’ll like that very much,” Katakuri fussed over with his siblings. The recently hot and trending topic was to do a ‘current girlfriend vs. next girlfriend,’ and a lot of different responses came; most of them were rather violent. As the second son of Big Mom, everyone expected perfection from him, everyone but you. You knew he still had to be human enough. And human he was to you, aside from being several feet taller than you, and several times stronger than you. You’re more than grateful he hasn’t ‘accidentally’ killed you in his sleep yet. 

“You love her, don’t you?” Oven questioned; Katakuri answered with a nod, but beneath his calm demeanor lay a worried demon. “Come on, I’m sure it’ll be okay, she loves you, and you love her too, I’m sure she’s aware it’s just a joke and would love to play along. Playing is a sign of a healthy relationship!” Oven exclaimed happily, as Katakuri mulled over those details, Oven glanced off to the side at his other siblings, “Right?” There was a light discourse before they nodded and gave him a thumbs up. 

Some time had passed by the time you had gotten home from helping with the shipment and intake of materials for your next big project. You had a big dream and an even bigger ambition to succeed. You returned home to your shared abode with your boyfriend, who seemed more jittery than usual. You were hoping for something more intimate when he had said he wanted to do something with you. What you didn’t expect to see was a small transponder snail looking back at you as you turned to face your boyfriend, who knelt to get to eye level with you, “what’s the snail doing here? Who’s watching?” 

“Just my siblings, I wanted to talk to you about something,” you saw through his calmness, and saw how much he was fiddling with his scarf with his fingers. He was a friendly giant in your eyes, though not everyone agreed with you. He probably only showed you that side of himself because he fancied you. 

“Hm…” you side-eyed it a few times before turning your attention to your boyfriend, “alright, what is it?” 

You watched him closely; it seemed whatever he planned to do was weighing on him too much. As you were about to move to comfort him and relax, you heard him speak. You smile, and watched closely in response, “as many of you are aware, this here,” he watched him leisurely wrap his arm around you, “is my current girlfri–” you’re not aware of what you were thinking. But when you heard the words ‘current’ slip out of his mouth hidden beneath his scarf, you felt a vein pop, and all rationality fled you in the blink of an eye. You’re a normal civilian trained in self-defense originally because your parents worry that you would get kidnapped, and again because your boyfriend says he fears for your safety.

Without a second thought, a burning sensation rushed through your body, gathering at your hands. For a second, you recognized that to be Armament Haki. Still, you didn’t even process how you knew how to use it, you throat-chopped your boyfriend, which caused him to fall back in the middle of his introduction. A stupid one at that; the transponder snail widened its eyes as you turned towards your boyfriend, who was gasping for air. Trying to crawl back to you to calm you down, “you want to say that again, Charlotte Katakuri?” 

The color drained out of Katakuri’s features as he saw what could be his future with his Observation Haki, a future where he sustains more wounds than in his fight with Luffy. “I– ack–” he massages his neck through his scarf, reaching over to the snail to turn off the transpondance, “Oven just– he said it would be fun to try the trend with you, I–” he cleared his throat, a tinge of metallic liquid tainted his tongue, “I didn’t want to–”

“But you did,” you hissed, raising your hand again, Katakuri quickly protectively clasped onto your hand, “was that fun for you?” 

“No, respectfully, I didn’t think it was a smart decision either, but I couldn’t just say no to my siblings.” You knew Katakuri loved his siblings, no matter the hardships they put him through. You let your anger subside a little, watching him kneel back to your height, “I’m sorry for making such a stupid decision, but you sure are strong, maybe my next girl–” you didn’t give him time even to consider finishing that question when you placed him in a head lock this time.

“‘Current’ now ‘next’? You have a death wish, Charlotte Katakuri.” Katakuri’s features paled as your headlock tightened around him. He could easily break through, but he didn’t want to; to him, this was a sign of a healthy relationship. 

You let go of him after a bit of suffocation for him as you head back towards your shared bedroom, “where are you going?” 

“No kisses, no cuddles tonight,” you hissed, moving to close the door behind you.

Katakuri moved to hold onto the door knob, a look of distraught painted his features, so much so that his mouth was left agape after his scarf had fallen to the ground from the shock, “wh-why!?” 

You pried his hands off the door knob, “make stupid choices, win stupid prizes,” you growled, slamming the door behind, locking it after it was closed shut. 

Katakuri had never regretted listening to his siblings as much as today. However, it confirmed that your feelings for him were genuine, but you were stubborn enough to leave him in shock, standing outside the door to your shared bedroom for the entire night without opening it, no matter how he apologized.

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[warriorheart13-blog]

All my wip fics rn. I write them in my phone notes hahaha

[warriorheart13-blog]

Yall, if you wanna request a song fic from me with a one-piece character and a song of your choice, def hit me up. Any song and any character. Just be aware that i love doing indulgent fics that have a happy ending (my poor brain can't handle the pain ;^;) so keep that in mind. I usually dont have a set idea until i hear the song. So i let the song and emotions guide me!!

[warriorheart13-blog]

One Piece Hongo x Reader: Save The Last Dance For Me

This was requested by @akagami-no-laney with their song of choice. And honestly it fit Hongo so well?? I hope you enjoy! I had fun writing this!

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You can dance

Every dance with the guy

Who gives you the eye, let him hold you tight

The mission was supposed to be simple. You and Hongo were to disguise yourselves and infiltrate a Marine Gala. Find out what they were up to and rescue your crew mates.

Hongo gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw. This was supposed to be simple, he reminded himself. However, Shanks said you needed to seduce an admiral who had info on what you needed.

And you were dancing with this disgusting man. The mans hands were dangerously low on your hips. He noticed a bit of tension in your shoulders.

You were definitely cursing Shanks internally. The man was definitely getting a right hook into the face when you guys got back.

You can smile

Every smile for the man

Who held your hand 'neath the pale moon light

This admiral had kept you at his side the entire night, despite him having a date of his own and you coming with Hongo. You looked severely uncomfortable, and he could see it.

Then he saw you work your magic. You were the best pickpocket in the grandline. You snatched the keys off him with ease. You had wordlessly communicated what info you needed. As Yasopp and Limejuice got captured while drunk, and you now knew where they were being held. Idiots.

He adjusted the collar of the tuxedo he wore. It was an unusual outfit for him. But your dress... God, the shimmer of the purple garment made you look radiant and goddess like. Though he wanted to enjoy you with that dress on the floor...

Baby don't you know I love you so

Can't you feel it when we touch

I will never never let you go

I love you oh so much

You finally managed to get away the admiral, his date finally dragging him away, and you giving the woman a wordless nod of thanks, one she returned. You walked over to Hongo, who you watched become more and more infuriated as the night drew out.

His whole body visibly relaxed when you wrapped your arms around him from behind and rested your chin on his shoulder. He let out a long sigh.

"God, thought that rat was going to steal you away from me. I would have gone mad."

"I could never leave you doc~ he could never please me in the ways you do~" you purred in his ear, making him stiffen but relax immediately.

"Oh sweetheart, dont tease. You might get more than ya bargained for~" he grinned before turning to press a kiss.

You returned it but pulled away too quickly for his liking. As much as you'd love to indulge in the blonde, you had 2 idiots and a captain who was going to need medical attention when you got your hands on him waiting for you both.

Oh I know

That the music's fine

Like sparklin' wine, go and have your fun

Laugh and sing

But while we're apart

Don't give your heart to anyone

"I know you wanna continue, but we need to go rescue our idiots first." You chuckled at his pout.

He sighed. "Yeah, i suppose we should, huh? Let's go." He took his jacket off and placed it on your shoulders and walked to where they kept the two locked up.

Yasopp and Limejuice had luckily sobered up. You seamlessly managed to knock the guards out with one swing of the staff.

Yasopp lit up at your sudden appearance. "Sweetheart! You came! You didn't come with Benn, did ya? He'll scold me to the moon and back."

Hongo walked up into the light, and Yasopp was visibly shrinking. Benn was bad, but Hongo could be worse at times. Limejuice gave a groan.

You can dance

Go and carry on 'til the night is gone

And it's time to go

You made it back to the Red Force and were already sailing off. Hongo looked defeated. He secretly wanted to dance with you but never got the chance.

You saw it and gathered the boys to play a soft number before walking over to a curious Hongo. You giggled as you offered your hand, his eyes lighting up. He gladly pulled you close to him as you began to dance a simple waltz with him.

It wasn't grand or anything like the Gala. But dancing with your lover under the gorgeous moonlight and soft music your crew produced felt so much more special to him.

You would always give your last dance to him. And he cherished the moment every time.

Oh baby, won't you save the last dance for me?

Ooh you make the promise that you'll save the last dance for me

Save the last dance

The very last dance

For me!

[warriorheart13-blog]

Your colors

Summary: (fem) Reader sucks at makeup but luckily, Izou helps her to see her beauty.

Note: He is UNDERRATED. And I am so happy to write for so many underrated characters. It is mostly g/n but not fully, as a female reader was in mind for this.

A comfort one, so, remember my friends, YOU ARE PERFECT.

✦═════✦═════✦

You were never the type for delicate things.

Nail polish, lipstick, eyeliner — all those graceful, fine touches that seemed to come so easily to others, especially someone like Izou, always left you feeling clumsy and out of place. Smudges, crooked lines, shaky hands. You’d long accepted you weren’t “that” kind of woman.

But today... well, today you’d decided to try.

A little crush had bloomed in your chest, whether you liked it or not. One you were sure would never notice you unless you stood out a bit more — looked more polished, more... elegant.

Your attempt had gone about as well as expected: lipstick too uneven, your nails blotchy and full of streaks, your eyeliner an accidental battle scar more than a charming wing.

You were mid-frustrated sigh, perched on a crate, cotton pad smudging away another failed attempt, when a shadow fell across you.

“Having trouble, darling?”

That smooth, silk-soft voice could only belong to one man.

Izou.

You stiffened a little, caught like a child with her hand in the cookie jar. He stood there, poised as ever — perfectly applied makeup, the scent of something sweet and expensive lingering around him. A man made for grace.

You offered a halfhearted shrug, chewing your lip. “I wanted to... try something different.” You waved vaguely at your mess of beauty supplies. “But I’m no good at it.”

Izou tilted his head, a small smile curving his lips, both knowing and fond.

“Different?” he echoed, stepping closer, folding gracefully to sit beside you. “For who?”

Your throat tightened. “Just... wanted to look nice, that’s all.”

His eyes softened, though the teasing lilt never left his voice.

“Y/N, you’ve always been ‘nice’ to look at. But if you want a little help...” His fingers reached out, featherlight against your chin, tilting your face ever so slightly. “I’d be honored to assist.”

You hesitated, cheeks already warming. Letting him see you like this — vulnerable — felt far more intimate than you expected.

But Izou, as always, was gentle. His hands were steady, the soft brush of makeup over your skin like silk. He worked in comfortable silence, smoothing away imperfections without judgment, highlighting features you’d never thought much of.

When he finally leaned back, inspecting you with a slow, approving nod, you blinked at your reflection in the small hand mirror.

You looked... beautiful. Not like anyone else. Not like someone pretending to be graceful. Just you. Polished, but still you.

“See?” Izou murmured, voice like velvet. “It wasn’t about changing yourself. Just learning to show off what was already worth admiring.”

Your heart gave a traitorous little flutter, but before you could thank him, you noticed the smallest flicker of something in his expression. Something quiet.

Like maybe you weren’t trying to impress the right person at all.

You swallowed, lowering the mirror. “You’re good at this.”

His fingers brushed a stray hair from your face, lingering a little longer than necessary.

It wasn’t a confession. Not quite. But it was enough to leave your stomach in soft knots, and your lips a little too aware of how close he still sat.

“I’ve had practice,” he replied, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “And... I happen to like the subject.”

Neither of you spoke the words — but they lingered there, painted between you like the softest brushstroke.

But you couldn’t sleep.

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, painting the sea in deep indigos and violet shadows. The crew had scattered for the night, the world around you gone quiet except for the soft lap of waves against the ship’s hull.

Not after earlier. Not after the way Izou had touched you — so gentle, so steady — or the way he’d said those words, lingering on the edges of a confession.

You found him on the upper deck, as expected, perched in his usual spot, tending to a small tray of nail polish bottles. His sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, hair pinned back just enough to avoid falling into his eyes.

You lingered in the doorway for a moment before softly calling his name.

He glanced over, always poised, but his expression immediately softened when his gaze landed on you. “Can’t sleep, darling?”

You wandered closer, sitting beside him, curling your knees up to your chest. “Not really.”

A comfortable silence stretched between you, broken only by the sound of the tiny glass bottle clicking softly against the tray as he capped it.

You picked at the hem of your shirt, voice quieter now. “Earlier... when you said you liked the subject... did you mean me?”

His hands stilled. Just for a second. The only crack in that polished, graceful armor he wore so well.

His eyes slid sideways, studying you in the dim light, and his lips tugged into a slow, quiet smile. One of those rare, real ones — the kind that stripped away all the performative charm.

“I did.”

Simple. Honest. Heavy.

Your throat felt dry, but your heart fluttered like the sails catching wind. You looked away, flustered, but his fingers gently curled around yours, steady and warm.

“You never needed to change a thing, you know,” he added softly, brushing his thumb along the back of your hand. “I noticed you long before you ever thought to impress anyone.”

Your chest tightened, a laugh bubbling up unbidden — light, shaky, but genuine.

“You’ve always been better at hiding your feelings than me,” you mumbled, squeezing his hand.

Izou tilted his head, voice low and teasing, but there was a softness beneath it:

“Well, you’ve got a way of making me want to stop hiding.”

And before you could gather the nerve to say another word, his free hand lifted to your cheek, guiding you forward — his lips brushing against yours in the kind of kiss that was as careful as it was deliberate. Nothing rushed. Nothing messy. Just right.

When he pulled back, his smile returned, easy and a little smug, as if your flustered expression was exactly what he’d expected.

“See?” he whispered. “You were already perfect.”

[warriorheart13-blog]

Accidental Courting (Izou x Reader)

Sharing food, exchanging gifts… You only want to be kind and show Izou how much you appreciate him and his willingness to share his culture while visiting Wano with you. But every gesture seems to draw stares and knowing chuckles.

Are you accidentally being rude, despite your best efforts?

If so… why does Izou look at you with such soft eyes instead of scowling?

_____

~ 8.000 words

Part One of the “It’s Never Easy” Series

The moment you set foot on Wano soil, it’s like stepping into another world.

The air smells like cedar smoke and summer rain while mist curls along distant hills and crimson torii gates stand like sentinels along the winding path that leads toward the capital. Moreover, a procession of paper lanterns sways in the breeze as you and the others disembark from your small, hidden ship.

Your jaw drops instantly. “It’s… beautiful.”

Izou glances at you from the corner of his eye. “Still want to come?”

“Are you kidding?” you breathe. “This is incredible.”

Next to you, Ace stretches his arms behind his head, already looking somewhat bored. “The trees are cool, but where’s the food? I heard they’ve got sweet buns the size of your face.”

Whack.

Thatch smacks him on the back of his head with a huff. “Stop only thinking about food. I’m pretty sure the point of this trip isn’t stuffing our faces. Right, Marco?”

Marco is already scanning the treelines. “Right, yoi… Izou wants to visit family, so we keep a low profile, stay out of trouble, and let Izou enjoy himself for once.”

You nod. “Right. We let Izou do all the talking then.”

“Why does he get to talk?” Ace instantly grumbles.

“Because if you talk,” Marco says calmly, “we’ll start a war yoi.”

You stifle a laugh while Izou doesn’t even glance at Ace as he leads the group forward, robe swaying with every step. His posture is straighter here, and his expression quieter like something in him slots back into place just by being home.

You fall into step beside him, your boots crunching the gravel path.

“You okay?” you ask softly.

He nods. “Haven’t been here in a long time. Feels… strange.”

You look at him for a second longer, watching the way the breeze brushes against his dark hair and the faint lines at the corners of his eyes. “Well, thanks for letting us come with you. I feel like I’m walking through a painting.”

He doesn’t smile exactly, but his eyes soften.

“Just… mind your manners,” he murmurs.

You travel for nearly thirty minutes before encountering the first locals—a small group of older people standing near a roadside shrine, their voices hushed, their movements slow. One of them, an elderly woman, spots Izou as you approach. Her expression shifts from curiosity to recognition, and she bows. Deeply.

You stop, startled, and watch.

Izou returns the bow, his spine folding forward with elegant ease, hands folded neatly at his waist. The others pick up on the gesture and follow suit, if a little awkwardly. Thatch tries to match the depth, Marco bows with precision, and even Ace gives it an honest attempt.

You’re the last one just standing there like an idiot.

Panic rises. You bow quickly, clumsily, but now your brain’s screaming: How deep? How long? Too short? Too stiff?

Then, just as you start to straighten up, a hand presses gently between your shoulder blades. Not forceful, just steady. Guiding.

Izou.

“Lower,” he murmurs, voice barely audible. “Just a bit.”

You freeze in place, heart skipping in your chest, and adjust yourself with a muttered apology.

The elderly woman says nothing, and the others don’t seem to react, but you swear one of them gives you a look. Not cruel. Not judging. Just… assessing.

You feel your cheeks heat.

When the group moves on again, Izou falls into step beside you once more. He doesn’t say anything about your awkwardness. Doesn’t tease. But his shoulder brushes yours, just barely.

You get the sense he’s watching your every move - not to scold you, but to make sure you’re okay. And somehow, that makes it worse. Or better. You're not sure yet.

“You did fine,” Izou says calmly.

“I short-circuited, Izou,” you mutter, still warm in the face from the encounter. “You all bowed and I just stood there like a statue. I might’ve actually squeaked.”

“I noticed,” he says dryly, though there’s no real judgment in it.

You groan. “Great.”

“You’re not from here,” Izou says simply, like that settles it. “No one expects you to get it right.”

You glance at him, squinting. “But you fixed it anyway.”

He lifts one elegant shoulder in a soft shrug. “Couldn’t let you keep bowing like that. It looked like you were apologizing for murdering someone.”

Marco’s voice pipes up just behind you. “To be fair, you usually are.”

You swat him without even looking back. “Not here, I’m not.”

Ace snorts. “Give it time.”

“I’m trying to respect the culture, thank you very much,” you huff, crossing your arms as the group continues up the path.

The path narrows as you wind deeper through the countryside. The scent of smoke and incense thickens, and soon the trees thin to reveal a small cluster of wooden buildings nestled at the foot of a hill.

Izou slows his pace, gaze drifting over the buildings with something like nostalgia softening his features.

Then someone bursts out of the front door.

A young woman in a pale kimono practically flies down the front steps, long dark hair streaming behind her. She looks so much like Izou, with the same dark eyes and elegant bearing, that you blink in surprise.

“Izou!” she gasps, voice high with joy.

He barely has time to react before she throws her arms around him, hugging him so tightly he actually takes a step back. His arms come up automatically, one hand cradling the back of her head as he laughs—a real, full laugh you’re not sure you’ve ever heard from him before.

“You got taller,” he murmurs into her hair.

“You got slower,” she sniffs, squeezing him tighter before finally pulling back. Her eyes are shiny, but her smile is huge. “You didn’t write, you didn’t send a message, I didn’t even know if you were really coming until I heard rumors!”

“I didn’t want to get your hopes up,” he says gently.

She swats his arm. “Idiot.”

“Definitely related,” Marco mutters behind you.

You grin.

Izou turns toward you, still smiling in that quiet way of his, the kind of smile that seems rare enough to feel important when it happens.

“This is my little sister,” he says, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. “Kikunojo.”

"Nice to meet you," you smile and glance at Izou. "Should we bow again?"

Kikunojo lets out a soft, melodic laugh. “You don’t have to. This isn’t an audience with the shogun.” She bows to you anyway, graceful and deep, with hands folded over her stomach. “But it is a pleasure. Izou rarely brings anyone home.”

You bow quickly in return, not quite as fluid but sincere. “It’s an honor to be here.”

Kikunojo’s smile softens further. “You must all be exhausted from the journey, and hungry, I imagine. Please, come inside. You’re just in time. Dinner is nearly ready.”

The moment the word hungry leaves her lips, Ace lights up. “Finally,” he groans. “I was about to start chewing on my own arm.”

Whack.

Thatch doesn’t even look at him as he smacks the back of Ace’s head with ease. “Have a little grace, would you? We’re guests.”

Ace scowls, rubbing the spot. “I was being honest!”

“Try being quiet instead yoi,” Marco mutters, brushing past them both.

Kikunojo giggles behind her sleeve, her expression unreadable and amused all at once. “You brought quite the lively group, brother.”

Izou exhales through his nose, his tone dry. “They grow on you.”

“I believe you,” she says, stepping aside to let you all pass through the inn’s doorway.

The air inside is warm and softly lit, the floors polished to a gentle sheen, and the scent of simmering broth drifting in from the back. You slip off your shoes, following Izou’s lead, and step up onto the raised wooden floor.

The place feels lived in but not worn down instead it appears to be quiet and welcoming. Like someone took the time to make sure everything was ready for your arrival.

But you’re not the only one taking it in.

“Wow,” Thatch murmurs, glancing around. “This is… way nicer than I thought.”

Ace’s jaw drops. “They’ve got yukata ready?!”

Sure enough, a small wooden rack nearby holds a variety of neatly folded yukata—indigo, cream, deep green, patterned with delicate motifs. Without hesitation, Ace grabs the brightest one he can find: a bold red with orange wave patterns.

“This one’s mine,” he declares.

“Of course it is,” Marco says dryly, though you catch the faintest twitch of a smile as he surveys the room.

Kikunojo steps in behind you. “I’ve laid out a few things to make you comfortable. Please, feel free to choose whichever yukata you like. You’ll find washing basins and fresh towels through the hallway to the left. When you’re ready, we’ll be in the main room for dinner.”

You nod quickly, bowing your head again. “Thank you. Really. This is… amazing.”

She smiles, and something in her eyes suggests she’s glad you’re being sincere about it. “I hope you’ll enjoy your stay. And don’t worry about formalities too much while you’re here. Just try not to break anything.”

Ace already has one arm in his yukata, half-spinning in the middle of the room. “No promises!”

“Ace,” Thatch groans.

You’re guided to a smaller adjoining room, divided by sliding paper doors - simple but elegant. Inside are bedding rolls tucked neatly to the side, low lacquered furniture, and enough space for each of you to rest in separate areas without feeling cramped.

As you gather your chosen yukata and step toward the changing area, you glance back at Izou. He’s standing just off to the side, watching the group settle in with a mix of fondness and mild disbelief.

“Go on,” he says, catching your eye. “We’ll eat soon.”

You nod again, clutching the fabric in your arms.

____________

A low table is set in the center of the main room, surrounded by floor cushions, each place set with care. There are ceramic dishes arranged with seasonal vegetables, simmered fish, miso soup, and delicate pickles.

Moreover, a warm clay pot steams gently in the center, its broth bubbling as Kikunojo ladles in thin slices of meat and tofu with ease.

You sit beside Izou, mimicking his every move like it’s a test you desperately want to pass. When he folds his hands and bows slightly toward the food, you do the same. And when he uses chopsticks, you mirror him, resisting every urge to fumble.

Across the table, Ace is already digging in, slurping noodles and humming with his mouth full.

“This is amazing!” he exclaims, eyes sparkling. “Is this lotus root? What is this WHACK Hey!”

Thatch swats him again. “At least try to act like you weren’t raised in the wild.”

“I was raised in the wild!”

Marco sips his tea without comment.

You manage to hold back a laugh and return your attention to the food, trying not to seem too wide-eyed at how beautiful everything looks.

Carefully you pick up a delicate slice of fish glazed in something sweet and smoky, and when it hits your tongue, you actually pause.

Oh. Oh, that’s good.

Then, without thinking, you reach for another piece and gently place it in Izou’s bowl.

“You have to try this,” you murmur, leaning in just a little, your voice softer than before. “I swear, it’s perfect.”

You expect a quiet thank-you, maybe a nod, but what you don’t expect is the softening of his whole expression.

He pauses, just for a heartbeat. His eyes flick down to the fish, then back up to you, softer now. There’s something gentle there, almost guarded, like a secret he’s not ready to share. And then, a small smile, almost like it’s just between the two of you.

“Alright,” he says, and picks up the piece with his chopsticks like it’s nothing.

But across the table, Kikunojo has stopped mid-pour, her eyes sharp with sudden interest as she glances between the two of you.

She notices the way Izou’s shoulders relax ever so slightly, how his voice carries a different warmth when he talks to you. And when he tastes the fish, he doesn’t comment on the flavor; instead, he offers a small, satisfied nod, like he’s savoring more than just the food.

Then in the corner of your eye you catch Kikunojo watching you – just briefly – before she looks away, but not before her gaze makes you question yourself and your gestures.

“…Did I do something wrong?” you ask softly, careful not to make it obvious. Your eyes flick to Izou’s bowl. “I… was that rude?”

Izou meets your gaze, his brow lifting slightly. He studies you, as if debating whether to say more. Then, with the faintest shrug, he replies, voice steady and soft. “No. Not rude.”

“Really?” You glance at Kikunojo this time, your expression openly concerned. “Please tell me if I did something out of line. I wouldn’t want to offend anyone.”

She looks at you for a long moment. Then at Izou.

There’s a beat, where she seems ready to explain something. But the way her brother looks at you—quiet, unreadable, yet undeniably tender, makes her pause.

“No worries,” she says at last, her voice smooth and kind. “No harm done.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, the tension easing from your shoulders. You smile again, lighter this time.

“And here I was thinking I accidentally called you an idiot or something,” you say to Izou, half-joking, half-trying to hide your earlier nerves.

Izou chuckles, low and easy. “No... nothing even close to that.”

His eyes flicker toward yours, linger for just a second too long, then drop back to his food like he’s trying to play it cool.

You smile, turning back to your own plate… only to be interrupted by no other than Ace.

“Hey, was that the fish you gave Izou?” he grins, leaning across the table. His eyes gleam with mischief. “Come on, share some with me too!”

You turn to him, unimpressed, and gently push his chopsticks aside. “Get your own. I’m not your personal waitress.”

Ace blinks, a little surprised by your edge, then smirks, delighted. “Oh? But it’s totally fine when it’s Izou, huh? Playing favorites.”

“I’m not.”

“You so are!”

You roll your eyes, trying to dismiss it with a scoff, but your ears burn all the same.

As you continue to eat you don’t seem to notice how Kikunojo continues to watch you closely. But eventually she shifts her gaze to Izou and raises a single, knowing eyebrow. It’s a silent question, not teasing exactly, but close.

”Why don’t you say something?”

Izou doesn’t answer with words. He only offers the faintest of shrugs, eyes still on his tea as he lifts the cup to his lips. But his smile lingers a little longer this time. And it’s different, not one meant for the table, or even for Kiku.

It’s the kind of smile you offer when something quietly matters. When you're not ready to name it out loud, but you’re already holding it close.

And Kiku sees that, too.

She hums under her breath, almost like a laugh, and finally looks away.

_____________

Later that evening, when you return to your room well fed and tired, you find a small hand-painted charm in the gift basket left in the corner of your room. It’s a delicate little thing – red, gold, and black, strung with a paper tag that reads “for protection and sincerity”.

You think of Izou, how gently he’d touched your back, how he hadn’t laughed when you messed up. How he looked like someone caught between two worlds and carried himself like he belonged in both.

So, you pluck the charm from the basket and tuck it into your pocket. He needs this more than you do right now… so maybe you’ll give it to him tomorrow.

_____________

The next morning, you find Izou standing alone beneath a flowering tree behind the inn. Soft petals drift around him, caught in the breeze, and scatter across the surface of the koi pond below. He’s watching the water, arms folded neatly, his face unreadable.

You shift the little paper-wrapped charm in your hands and step closer, careful not to crunch the gravel beneath your feet.

“Hey,” you say gently.

He glances over. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you admit. “Too many crickets. Loud little things.”

You come to stand beside him, the silence stretching out in the way it only can with someone you trust. A comfortable quiet, filled with birdsong and the ripple of fish in the water. And after a few beats, you hold out the small bundle.

“I found this in the gift basket in my room. Thought you might like it.”

He raises a brow, but takes it from your hands without question. His fingers are warm against yours, and as he peels back the paper, his expression stills. Inside is a deep red omamori charm, threaded with gold and marked with two careful ink strokes: protection and sincerity.

He studies it for a long moment.

“…You’re giving this to me?” he asks, voice lower than before.

“Yeah,” you say, suddenly unsure. “I figured, with us being here and… probably messing up a bunch of stuff culturally without realizing, you might need it. I mean… not need it, but maybe it’s, like, a nice buffer? I don’t know. Is that not okay?”

His eyes flick up to meet yours.

“No,” he says firmly, and closes his fingers around the charm. “It’s not rude. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

You blink. “Really?”

Izou nods once. He doesn’t smile, not quite, but the edges of his gaze soften. Then, to your surprise, he tucks the charm into the inside fold of his kimono close to his chest, pressed over his heart.

“I’m planning to go to the temple today,” he says after a pause. “If you want to come.”

You blink. “Oh.” Then you smile, bright and open. “I’d like that very much.”

Izou returns your smile, though his is more reserved. Softer. “Me too… If it’s not too much to ask we could go now… You know… before it gets crowded. It’ll be quieter.

You blink again, then nod quickly. “Oh. Yeah, that makes sense. I’m gonna get dressed then!” you say quickly, practically bouncing. “Give me ten minutes!”

You rush back inside before the excitement can bubble over. Your room is still dim with morning light, and the scent of tatami mats and sakura hangs in the air. You go straight to your luggage and pull out two kimonos you’d set aside the night before.

One is pale lavender with delicate silver cranes stitched along the hem, airy and graceful. The other is a deeper shade of indigo with subtle plum blossoms curling around the fabric.

You hold them up in front of the mirror, shifting your weight back and forth.

“They both look nice,” you murmur to your reflection, but the mirror is no help at all.

So, you purse your lips, glancing toward the door. Izou’s room is only a few steps away, and you know him well enough to know he wouldn’t mind.

Probably.

You pad quietly down the hall, barefoot, the fabric of your robe rustling softly as you go. You knock lightly, but don’t wait long before sliding the door open.

“Izou?” you call gently, poking your head in.

He’s already dressed, standing beside a low table adjusting the sash at his waist. His kimono is dark with soft floral patterns stitched in faded silver and violet. It fits him perfectly, of course.

He looks up the moment he hears your voice. His gaze drops to the two kimonos in your arms, then back to your face.

“I can’t decide,” you confess with a sheepish grin, stepping inside. “Do you think the lavender or the plum one suits the temple visit more?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just steps forward and gently lifts the plum kimono from your arm. His fingers brush yours briefly, a warm touch that lingers longer than it needs to.

“This one,” he says softly.

“Yeah?” You tilt your head, looking between the one he’s holding and the one still in your arms. “I thought you might say that actually… It’s a bit more traditional-looking, huh?”

Izou’s lips quirk, but he doesn’t explain further. His gaze flickers over your face, then down to the fabric again.

“We’ll match if you wear it,” he says softly.

“Match?” You blink, then look at his kimono. Sure enough, plum blossoms. “Oh! That’s adorable. We’ll look like a set.”

He chuckles, low and smooth, but there’s something else behind it. Something softer. Fonder. “Yes… a set.”

You beam without catching the subtle shift in his expression. To you, it’s just a cute coincidence. But to him…. To Izou it means something more… because matching outfits are a sign of commitment.

A subtle declaration, but of course you don’t know that.

“Thanks, Izou!” You tell him and rush off to change with a smile.

_____________

Even though it is rather early the road through the village is busier than you expected.

Many stalls line both sides of the path, vibrant and loud, filled with vendors shouting over one another to sell fresh peaches, steamed buns, trinkets, and charms. Moreover, children run between adults, chasing kites and each other.

You walk beside Izou, your sleeves brushing now and then. The road is just crowded enough to press you closer than usual.

Every so often you glance to the side, eyes catching on something you think might make a good souvenir — a little frog-shaped coin purse, or a painted wind chime that jingles softly in the breeze. You're in the middle of admiring a delicate porcelain tea set when movement at a nearby pottery stall catches your eye.

To your left, an older woman glances up from arranging her wares. Her gaze sweeps over you Izou briefly, then lingers a little longer than necessary. She takes in your matching colors, the slight closeness, and the ease in your movements beside each other.

Then she offers you a small, knowing smile.

“Oh,” she says softly, to no one in particular, but clearly aimed in your direction. “How lovely! Plum blossoms for both. A sign of harmony, you know.”

You blink. “Huh?”

The woman doesn’t explain further just tucks a strand of silver hair behind her ear and returns to adjusting a small clay vase like she hadn’t said anything at all.

You glance at Izou, puzzled. “What did she mean by that?”

He’s quiet for a beat longer than expected. Then his lips quirk faintly, and he says far too casually, “Just an old saying.”

“If you say so…” You push the rising feeling of unease down and keep walking.

But it happens again.

A man selling persimmons catches your eye. He gives you a knowing smile - small, but unmistakably amused, and nods politely as you pass. You blink, confused, and glance behind you to check if he is looking at someone else.

Unlikely, there is no one, but Izou beside you, close as ever, with his arms tucked neatly into his sleeves.

“Odd,” you think, and try not to think about it too much. After all, Izou doesn’t seem to be concerned, so why should you be?

But then a few steps later, a mother walking with her child suddenly slows as you approach. Next, she leans down and says something in a soft voice, too fast for you to catch, but the child giggles and stares right at you. Then at Izou. Then back again.

“What was that about?” you murmur, trying to smile politely as they pass.

Izou shrugs, face neutral, but his eyes are almost too calm. Like he’s holding something back.

”Why do I get that feeling that everybody knows something I don’t?”

Luckily, you’re finally nearing the far end of the village, the crowds thinning out, the temple just visible beyond a row of trees. Only a handful of stalls remain between you and the quiet ahead.

But then one of the stalls catches your attention immediately. The air around it smells of something grilled and sweet, a smoky, nutty aroma that makes your stomach twist in a pleasant way.

You pause without thinking.

“Smells amazing,” you murmur, already stepping closer.

The vendor beams at your reaction and begins wrapping one of the rice cakes before you even ask. And before you can pull out your coins, Izou’s hand moves quietly between you and the vendor.

“I’ve got it,” he says simply.

You blink, surprised, but say nothing as he pays.

The vendor chuckles softly as he hands the rice cake to you, not unkind by any means, but with the kind of knowing smile that makes your stomach flutter for a different reason. His eyes flick from you to Izou, and there’s a warmth there.

“Enjoy,” the vendor says. Then, with a subtle smile, “She’ll love it.”

You feel your ears go warm.

Izou only offers a polite nod and turns to continue walking, his expression unreadable save for the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth.

You scramble to follow him, clutching the warm bundle in your hands. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.”

His tone is casual, but your heart skips anyway.

And behind you, the vendor chuckles again low, amused, and just loud enough to feel like the punchline of a joke you weren’t meant to hear.

But then finally the road leads you to the edge of the village, and the noise of the stalls fades behind you. Ahead, a stone stairway leads up the hill, flanked by carved lanterns and shaded by tall pines. The temple you two plan to visit sits above, overlooking everything.

You slow at the base of the steps, still holding the rice cake. The warmth has soaked through the paper by now, soft and steady in your hands. A harsh comparison to the chaos inside of you that you can no longer ignore.

“…Are people staring at us?” you ask quietly.

Izou doesn’t look away from the path ahead. “Mm.”

“…Why?”

This time he glances at you, brief but deliberate. “Why do you think?”

You frown, uncertainty knotting in your chest. “I don’t know,” you mumble, heat blooming across your face. “I must’ve messed something up again. Maybe I did my hair wrong, or it’s the kimono’s color, or I wore the wrong sash, or…” Your heart suddenly drops. “Should I go back? I can change!”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says. “I picked the kimono, remember?”

You blink up at him, that spiraling panic softening just a touch. “I know, but—”

“Why don’t you take a bite,” he says gently, nodding to the rice cake in your hand. “Might help settle your nerves.”

You glance down at it, the scent drifting up—sweet and warm and toasty. You take a slow bite. The crisp edge gives way to soft chew and sweet red bean paste, and despite everything, a tiny noise of approval escapes you.

“…You’re right,” you murmur, chewing. “That actually helps.”

Izou hums, watching you with the faintest smile ghosting the corner of his lips. The breeze lifts a lock of his hair and carries with it the distant sound of wind chimes.

You take another bite, then hold the rice cake up to him, offering it wordlessly.

He raises a brow. “You’re sharing?”

“Of course,” you smile up at him, trying to cover the quiet flutter in your chest.

“I bought that for you,” he says quietly and you would have assumed that he truly doesn’t want to take a bite if it weren’t for that lingering look in his eyes.

“I’m offering a bite,” you chuckle softly, “not the entire thing. Come on. It’s really good.”

Izou hesitates for a moment but then leans in slightly and takes a small bite close enough that you feel his breath brushing your fingers, warm and brief. Then he pulls back, chewing thoughtfully.

“…You’re right,” he says. “It is good.”

You try to laugh, but it comes out too breathless.

Luckily Izou doesn’t tease. He just watches you for a moment longer, then reaches out with two fingers and adjusts the edge of your sleeve where it slipped slightly off your wrist.

He doesn’t say why. He doesn’t need to.

You look at him, heart suddenly full of something you don’t have words for, and in that moment, the noise of the market fades completely. The laughter, the whispers, the tension from before, it all disappears into the quiet space between you and him.

Izou’s voice breaks the silence, soft and almost hesitant: “Do you still want to go to the temple?”

You blink, surprised by the question, by how careful he sounds. Do you?

“I can take you back to the inn,” he offers gently. “If it’s too much… if you’d rather.”

Your eyes drop to the small, warm remnant of the rice cake in your hands, then up to the stone steps ahead, the temple looming just beyond. You take a slow breath, then shake your head.

“No,” you say quietly, but with certainty. “I still want to go.”

Izou studies you for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as if weighing your words.

You offer a small, shy smile. “You wanted to go. And I don’t want to ruin this for you.”

Izou’s brow furrows, and he steps closer. “You’re not ruining anything,” he insists firmly. “Whether you stay or go back, it doesn’t change anything. You don’t have to worry about that.”

You bite your lip, uncertain.

He softens, voice dropping to a gentle rumble. “If you want to go, then we'll go. If you need a break, we can turn around. Either way, it’s fine.”

You smile again and shake your head, pushing down the soft giggle that dares to escape your tight lips.

You move on.

_____________

The temple sits quiet at the top of a stone path, surrounded by wind-chimes and willow trees. It isn’t grand or towering. It feels lived-in, loved. Worn wooden beams curve softly under carved tiles, and paper lanterns sway between weathered posts.

You climb the last steps slowly, trying not to let your thoughts race ahead of your feet. Izou walks beside you, hands folded neatly in front of him, expression unreadable but unmistakably calm. Always calm.

Naturally, you fall into step just half a pace behind, unsure where you should be.

You glance at him from the corner of your eye. Every step he takes seems sure, quietly measured, and respectful. You watch the way he holds his hands, how he walks without rushing. It feels like there’s a rhythm to it, one you weren’t taught.

So you copy him.

Or try to.

Hands folded the same way. Stride small and even. You don’t want to risk doing something wrong, not in a place like this not when it clearly matters to him.

At the main hall, Izou slows, then stops just before the offering box. He bows once—deep and respectful, and steps forward silently. You mimic the bow a beat after, not quite as fluid, but earnest.

He pulls a small coin from his sleeve and drops it gently into the box, the sound barely a whisper against the wood. You fumble for your own coin, offering it the same way.

Izou brings his hands together in front of his chest, fingers lightly touching, and bows his head in prayer. His eyes close. Shoulders still. He doesn’t rush.

And of course, you follow every movement. Match the shape of his hands. Lower your head. Try to still your breath the way he does.

Eventually, he opens his eyes, and for a moment his gaze flickers toward you. Feeling his stare you look up, half-expecting him to look surprised or annoyed. But his gaze softens… just slightly… just for you… and a small smile flickers across his face, brief but real.

You blink at him. “What?” you whisper, uncertain. “Did I mess it up?”

He shakes his head slowly, that tiny smile still curling at the edge of his mouth. “No,” he murmurs, “you’re doing it… perfectly.”

And then he turns to light incense, stepping quietly to the side.

Of course, you follow. Just close enough to match his pace. Just close enough not to lose your place beside him. And together, you place the incense upright in the ash bed. Side by side. Your hands nearly brush.

You keep your gaze lowered, but movement catches at the edge of your vision.

Two older shrine-goers, praying near the incense trays, glance up. One smiles. The other leans toward her and whispers something beneath her breath. You catch the phrase “still so traditional” before it’s lost to the wind.

You blink. Traditional?

You’re just trying not to embarrass yourself further.

Still, your steps stay cautious. You keep your hands folded the way Izou does. You walk in silence.

You want to do it right.

Then, when the offering is done you two turn to leave. Still, you can’t help but look over to the older women again and notice how one bows her head while the other smiles as she watches you both pass, like she knows something you don’t.

So, you glance at Izou and lean toward him, keeping your voice low. “Are you sure I didn’t mess anything up?”

He hums lightly, almost amused. “You didn’t.”

“Because…” You glance back again. “They keep looking at us like we just announced something. Or agreed to something. And I… I don’t know what I’m missing.”

Izou doesn’t answer right away. But his pace slows just enough that you notice.

When he does speak, it’s quiet, thoughtful. “They probably saw something familiar.”

You blink. “Familiar?”

“Something they remember,” he says. “From when tradition wasn’t just formality. When it meant something.”

You glance sideways at him, brows still slightly knit. “Is that a good thing?” you ask, still not completely understanding.

Izou doesn’t look at you right away. His gaze stays ahead, fixed gently on the path winding back down through the trees. But the corner of his mouth lifts, not a smirk, not teasing. Something softer.

“Yes,” he says, and this time, he does look at you. “One might say that.”

His voice is steady, but there’s a glimmer of something behind the words something you can’t name yet, but it feels warm. Quietly proud. Maybe even fond.

But you don’t press. You just walk the rest of the way beside him, wondering what, exactly, they all saw that you didn’t.

_____________

What a day… You enjoyed experiencing the culture and interacting with the locals, but once evening comes around, you’re truly happy to be back in the inn.

The inn’s common room glows with golden light, lanterns swaying gently as night folds over the village outside. The table is already full with ceramic dishes piled high with leftovers, cups clinking softly as another round of sake is poured.

Thatch leans back, laughing at something Ace just said, something loud and ridiculous, at Marco’s expense, judging by the exasperated look on his face.

You smile faintly, letting their voices fade to a low buzz and not really listening, thoughts bouncing from memory to memory, replaying the day’s moments over and over.

Eventually, you glance to Izou, who’s sitting next to you. He hasn’t said much all evening.

But to be fair, you haven’t either.

“Izou,” you murmur, low enough that only he hears. “Can we talk?”

He looks at you then, eyes steady. “Is something wrong?”

“I just… Please…” You nod toward the hallway, and he follows without a word.

You end up near the edge of the garden, where the paper walls let in the soft sound of wind chimes and the distant laughter of your friends. It’s dimmer here, quieter. And when you turn to him, your hands are folded tightly in front of you.

“I’m not stupid,” you begin, voice soft but firm. “I know something’s been going on.”

Izou doesn’t respond, he just watches you, unreadable.

“People stared,” you go on. “They whispered. They laughed. At us. And you…” your voice catches, “…you won’t tell me why. I’ve asked. I’m asking again now. Just once more.”

Still nothing.

You exhale, starting to turn away, but then Izou reaches into his sleeve and pulls something out. A small, rectangular parcel, neatly wrapped in deep red cloth.

He holds it out to you.

You blink, confused, but take it carefully. Your fingers unwrap the cloth slowly, revealing a slim wooden box. You open it.

Inside is a hairpin.

Delicate and exquisite—silver inlaid with lacquered flowers, with a tiny crane poised in flight at the end. It glimmers faintly in the light, too beautiful to be anything casual.

Your breath hitches. “Izou, this is…”

He cuts in, voice low but clear. “In Wano… when someone wants to court another person, they don’t use words at first.”

You look up sharply.

“They offer gestures,” he says. “Meals. Walks. Small touches. Gifts. And eventually… a hairpin. It’s the final step before the proposal.”

The silence that follows is thick. Dizzying.

You stare down at the hairpin, its delicate craftsmanship glinting in your palm. The crane’s wings are outstretched mid-flight, caught in a moment of motion, and yet your whole world feels like it’s holding its breath.

When you speak, your voice comes out quieter than you mean it to. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Izou’s gaze lifts to meet yours, but he doesn’t answer right away. You push, just a little more, because you need to understand.

“All those times I asked if I did something wrong,” you murmur. “If I offended anyone. You could’ve told me what it meant. That I was…” Your words falter. “That I was doing all that by accident.”

Still, he says nothing.

Your voice sharpens, not with anger but with hurt. “Why didn’t you explain it to me?”

Izou finally exhales, slow and quiet, like he’s setting something down inside himself.

“Because it wasn’t wrong,” he says simply. “It never felt wrong.”

You blink, startled.

“I liked it,” he continues. “Being looked at that way. Being given food, and walked beside, and…” He hesitates for a moment, then finishes softer, “It felt like I was being chosen. And I… I wanted to pretend. Just for a while.”

Your breath catches in your chest. He’s looking at the floor now, his voice low, unsure. Like he’s afraid to look up and find regret on your face.

And maybe you should be angry, or embarrassed, or feel tricked. But you don’t. You’re just quiet for a long moment.

Then, with slow, careful fingers, you lift the hairpin from the box and hold it out to him.

Izou freezes.

His eyes drop to the pin, to the crane resting in your open palm, then to your expression. Whatever he sees there makes his jaw tighten. He doesn’t reach for it at first.

You give it a little nudge toward him.

And finally, he takes it.

His hands are shaking.

You see it, the tremble in his fingers as he wraps them around the gift he gave you. The way he holds it like it’s something fragile, something breaking.

Like he thinks you’re handing it back.

“I just…” You start, then pause. You turn away, looking down toward the wooden floorboards, suddenly very interested in the weave of your sleeve. “I don’t know how to put it in.”

You don’t see his face, but you hear the breath he lets out. A sound caught somewhere between disbelief and relief.

“Could you…?” You swallow, still not facing him. “Would you… put it in for me?”

Silence stretches just long enough that you wonder if you misread something until you feel him move.

He steps behind you, slow and steady. And when his hands rise to gently brush your hair aside, your whole body goes still.

His touch is feather-light, reverent. He gathers your hair with more care than you thought possible, pulling it back just enough to find the right place near your ear. You feel the cool brush of metal as he slides the pin in.

And he sees it, then—your ears flushed bright red, the blush creeping all the way to the tips. Your shoulders tense under his touch like you’re trying to hold yourself perfectly still, even though you’re clearly on the edge of bursting into flames.

Izou smiles.

It’s soft. Private. A little stunned.

“Adorable,” he can’t help himself from saying it out loud.

He lingers just a moment longer, smoothing one last stray piece of hair away from your cheek, his fingertips ghosting across your skin.

And when you finally turn to look at him again, your blush hasn’t faded, but there’s something proud in your eyes now, too. Like you’ve chosen this. Like you’re not afraid of being seen anymore.

The crane glints in your hair between you.

And Izou… he just stares at you, utterly undone.

Then, like his body moves before his mind can catch up, his thumb brushes softly across your cheeks, tracing skin like he’s memorizing it.

You stay still, heart fluttering like the crane resting just above your ear.

Your breath catches when his hand tilts ever so slightly, his fingers cradling your jaw now. You open your eyes to find him already looking at you—closely, deeply—like you’re the only thing in the room.

“Izou,” you whisper, though you’re not sure what you meant to say. Maybe just his name. Maybe just to breathe it into the space between you because you need him to know how you feel without saying anything else.

“I know,” he murmurs, just as quietly.

But he still doesn’t move.

Not yet.

There’s a reverence in the way he waits, giving you time… always giving you time. And it’s that patience, that gentleness, that makes your chest ache with wanting.

So you tilt your chin up. Barely. Just enough.

His eyes flick to your lips. Just once.

And then he leans in.

The kiss is slow, almost tentative at first. A brush of lips, soft and searching, like he’s still unsure if he’s allowed to have this… if you’ll stay or pull away.

But you don’t.

You lean into him, one hand rising instinctively to grip the front of his kimono, grounding yourself in the warmth of him. And that’s all the answer he needs.

His other arm curls around your waist, drawing you closer, holding you steady as his lips press more firmly into yours—still tender, but now with more weight. More intent.

It’s not a kiss meant to steal your breath.

It’s a kiss that gives it back to you.

When you part, neither of you speaks right away. Your foreheads rest together, the hush between you humming with something alive.

But then a sudden gust of wind chills your skin, making you shiver beneath the soft night air and Izou feels it instantly.

His hand presses to the small of your back.

“Come on,” he murmurs, already shrugging off his haori. “Let’s head back. It’s getting cold.”

The walk back is slow and quiet, your steps unhurried, your heart still fluttering from the kiss and everything it meant. The hairpin glints gently in your hair as you lean a little into him, warmed more by his presence than the borrowed fabric.

When you return to the inn, laughter and voices are already spilling out of the common room. Inside, Ace, Thatch, and Marco are sitting cross-legged around low trays stacked with sake cups and half-eaten snacks, joined now by Kikunojo.

The moment you and Izou step into the light, Kiku looks up. Her gaze sweeps over you both—your flushed cheeks, the borrowed haori still wrapped around your shoulders, and then... the crane hairpin gleaming in your hair.

Her expression shifts immediately, all amusement and recognition. “Well,” she says, eyes dancing. “Congratulations.”

You blink, not expecting anyone to figure out what just happened by looking at you for less than three seconds.

Ace immediately pauses mid-sip and whips his head toward her. “Congrats for what?!”

Thatch nearly chokes on a rice cracker. “Hold on, hold on, what did we miss?! You two were gone for, like, five minutes!”

Kiku smiles behind her cup, absolutely enjoying herself. “Look closely.”

Thatch squints. “What am I looking for…? Oh. OH.” He points dramatically at your head. “The hairpin. It must have something to do with the hairpin!”

“Exchanging gifts, especially hairpins and other accessories are a sign of commitment, yoi.” Marco sips calmly. “It’s the final step in a Wano courtship ritual.”

Ace screams. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN FINAL STEP?! WHEN WERE THERE OTHER STEPS?!”

You burst into laughter just as Izou casually sits down and pours himself a drink like nothing is happening. You slide down beside him, flushed but smiling, and reach for his hand your fingers linking without hesitation.

“Oh my god, it’s real,” Thatch whispers. “It’s actually happening. I thought you two hated each other.”

“We bickered like once,” you say, amused.

“Which is flirting, apparently!” Ace gestures wildly between you. “Since when? No one tells me anything! Was this happening under our noses the whole time?!”

You’re laughing into your sleeve, but Izou’s hand is still in yours, steady and warm. He watches the chaos unfold with a faint smirk, as though this is exactly what he expected from his loud brothers.

“Okay but LISTEN,” Ace says, suddenly pointing between you and Izou. “We need a timeline. When did this start? When did you fall in love? WHO confessed? Was it dramatic? Did someone cry?”

Thatch slaps the table. “Did you hold hands before this? Kiss behind the inn? Is there a secret love letter somewhere? I need to know everything.”

You open your mouth to respond, but Ace cuts in again.

“Oh my god… NO… did you accidentally court him? Was it one of those ‘oops we’re married now’ situations?!”

“Well…” you begin and than look towards Izou for help, but he doesn’t answer, just raises his sake cup to his lips and takes a slow sip.

“Oh no,” Thatch groans, smacking the table again. “That’s what happened.”

Ace gasps. “And he knew the whole time! Maybe even planned it!”

“I didn’t plan anything,” Izou says smoothly.

“I don’t believe a single word that’s coming out of your mouth !!” Ace howls, flailing dramatically. “I swear, if one more surprise drops on me tonight, I’m throwing myself into the koi pond.”

You’re laughing so hard your sides hurt, but there’s a fluttering warmth in your chest you don’t want to let go of. You look at Izou - his eyes, his steady presence, the way his thumb gently brushes your knuckles beneath the table.

And maybe he feels it too, because he leans in and murmurs, just for you: “You’re glowing.”

“Blame the sake,” you tease.

“No,” he says softly, his smile deepening. “It’s not the sake.”

“STOP WHISPERING SWEET THINGS WE CAN’T HEAR,” Ace yells.

“WE’RE YOUR FAMILY, DAMN IT,” Thatch adds. “WE DEMAND TRANSPARENCY.”

“You two are the worst,” you say, still smiling.

“No, YOU TWO are the worst,” they shout in unison.

_____________

The docks are bustling as you prepare to leave, the sails of your ship tugging gently in the wind, and the early morning light painting everything gold.

You hug Kikunojo tightly, your voice soft. “Thank you. For everything.”

She squeezes you back just as firmly, a warm smile on her face. “Take care of him,” she whispers into your ear, then pulls back with a glimmer in her eyes. “And keep wearing the pin. It suits you.”

Your hand instinctively touches the ornament tucked neatly into your hair, and you nod, throat tightening a little.

Izou stands nearby, exchanging quiet farewells with a few other locals, and when your eyes meet, his expression softens in that way that makes your heart flip all over again.

But the moment is short-lived, because as soon as you both step aboard the ship, you can feel that chaos is about to start.

“Alright, listen up!” Ace announces, sliding down the mast with exaggerated flair. He plants himself firmly in front of you, arms crossed. “New rule: no sneaky late-night strolls, no romantic moonlit talks, and absolutely no eloping behind our backs!”

You blink at him. “We’re not… Ace, seriously?”

“I mean it!” he insists, pointing between you and Izou. “If we give you two even an inch of privacy, next thing we know, you’re getting married in the middle of the night by candlelight with no witnesses and we’ll all find out from a note taped to the mast!”

You can’t help laughing, lifting your hands to try and calm him. “Ace, come on, it’s not like that. We’re not planning anything. I swear.”

Thatch strolls up behind him, arms crossed, clearly enjoying the drama. “That’s what they want us to think. But we’ve seen the signs. The blushes. The stolen looks. You’re one quiet dinner away from exchanging vows.”

“Exactly. Therefore, I will sleep outside your door,” Ace threatens dramatically. “I will do it. Just try me.”

You open your mouth to protest again, but you feel Izou shift beside you, entirely too calm. In fact… smug.

“Well,” he says smoothly, folding his arms, “technically… I could marry her right here. In my cabin. Doesn’t even need to be formal. Quiet. Private. No interruptions.”

You turn to look at him, eyes wide. “Izou!”

But he’s smirking now, and there’s a dangerous glint in his eyes. He’s enjoying this.

Ace gasps loudly enough to echo off the sails. “OH HELL NO. You are NOT sharing a room! Not unless I’m sleeping between you two from now on!”

You sigh through your laughter, watching as Ace frantically starts drawing diagrams in the air with wild gestures while Marco walks away in the opposite direction, pretending not to hear a word.

Through it all, Izou’s hand remains firmly in yours.

You glance up at him, smiling despite the ridiculousness of it all. “You really like riling him up, don’t you?”

His smile softens. “Only a little.”

And even with Ace shouting about curfews and Thatch declaring himself your “maid of honor just in case,” it’s quiet between the two of you in that one perfect moment, like the chaos only makes it sweeter.

You glance up at Izou with a snicker you can’t hold back, eyes still bright from laughter. “Just wait until the others hear about this.”

He lifts a brow, returning your grin with a gleam of mischief in his gaze. “And Pops.”

Your expression shifts into a mixture of amusement and mock horror. “Oh, Pops is going to love this.”

Your laughter softens as Izou turns toward you, the teasing fading into something quieter, gentler. The breeze tousles his hair, and the warmth in his eyes isn’t playful anymore… It’s something deeper.

You don’t need words.

His hand rises, fingertips brushing against your cheek before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, lingering there as if afraid the moment might slip away. You tilt your face up instinctively, breath caught between heartbeats.

And then he kisses you.

It’s slow, tender, full of the kind of affection that’s been building in quiet glances and stolen moments. The world around you fades away… the sway of the ship, the distant shouting from below deck, even the sound of the sea. It’s just the two of you, wrapped in that single, perfect kiss.

Until…

“OH MY GOD IT’S HAPPENING AGAIN!!”

[warriorheart13-blog]

𖥔┆ misfortunate departure .

⤷ oneshot; shanks × reader : failed romance .

t͟a͟g͟s͟: shanks, red hair pirates reader, angst, romance, sfw.

Romance.

Or relationships, as they call it.

Are they really worth it?

Beckman used to say, or rather insist, that it was a bad, bad idea. Written in bold and possibly every existing font, and underlined twice. He said; "We're a pirate crew, not a soap opera."

And while the rest of the crew mostly agreed. Obviously, your red-haired captain stood firm against that. Arguing with Shanks felt like throwing a cup of water at a burning house.

It was pointless.

His love for you knew no bounds, his morals as a fierce pirate and a threat as an emperor to quite literally any naval base, crumbled entirely. With that stupid, corny smile of his that just came naturally. A smile that yelled "I'd have the sea swallow everyone whole and bring the One Piece itself to your hands in the blink of an eye."

It started off strong. It always does. Romantic, cheesy, always sticking to eachother like someone had forcibly handcuffed you together, except you did it willingly.

The quiet stares from the crew when you ate together. The first time you held hands, the feeling of his warm, calloused hand interlocking with yours in an ever so gentle hold. The loud whistles and cheers at the sight of your first kiss, with some in the background talking about losing a bet ;

"Called it! I gave it two more days max." Lucky roux laughed, slapping Yasopp lightheartedly on the back in a comforting gesture at his loss.

And so on.

And from there, it slowly escalates, into more problems, more disagreements. More "I'm too emotionally attached to not risk my life for you." type of stuff. Into, "We shouldn't have done this, we're pirates," and a bit of "This is getting risky."

You didn't want that. Neither of you wanted that. You loved him, he loved you. Certainely.

Not to the point of recklessly letting your emotions win and giving your lives away.

But you. Oh, you sure recalled. All those sweet moments, your mind sending you what seemed like an unlimited amount of very much unwanted flashbacks as you sat in your previously shared cabin. Hands on your temples like you were massaging the anger, the sorrow and the hurt out of your head forcibly. It wasn't working.

Wondering, how did you go from smiling to yourself and giggling into the pillow like a lovestruck teenager as your mind wandered to him, whenever you thought he wasn't looking.

How did you go from watching him, from a comfortable distance. Observing. Admiring. The way he talked about you to the crewmates like no other. When you thought he wasn't watching. But he was. He always was. And perhaps you knew, yet pretended not to, just to listen to him a bit longer. Paid attention to how he spoke of the smallest details about you that even you thought you didn't know, or never seemed to notice. Like you're more valuable than the One Piece itself. Which, to him, you are.

Or you were.

..Or so you thought?

You couldn't tell, at this point. Because what you had, was long over.

How long has it been now?

A few days? A week. Maybe two.

You lost count after a while. The only times you stopped reminiscing what you two had, was to run a few errands for the crew. Maybe a fight here and there. Taking care of some rookie who was brave enough to challenge Shanks himself. Perhaps an occasional mission.

What appeared to be a distant memory of you two now, you felt it. Deep inside, you could still feel it. Even now. Every inch of you felt it. Like a ghost's breath, his touch was still somehow there. Lingering. Soothing. Sometimes cold, sometimes burning hot from your shared intimacy.

Your head spiraled. You could barely focus on missions and whatever else. The clock on your wall ticking over your head like a countdown. A constant warning. The sound seemingly getting louder and louder, ringing in your ears.

A warning for you to get back to yourself, an independant pirate who never depended on anyone's measly feelings to function properly. Well, maybe that's pushing it a bit far. But Shanks definitely changed your perspectives and views of certain things. Some of your resolve completely shattered around him. And the worst part? You liked it. You loved it. You couldn't help but absolutely adore that goddamned red haired imbecile with the sweetest soul, the most heartwarming, calm voice and the kindest smile you'll ever see.

But that was it for you. Snapping out of those thoughts, one cold night at the Red Force. You made your way out of your cabin, carrying a bag over your shoulder as you took quiet, deliberate steps towards the railing. The moon hanging low, casting a spell on the calm tides of the sea, which was glittering like it was trying to mimick the dark, starry night sky underneath your gaze. A calming view, contrasting sharply with the wild storm spiraling inside your mind.

You thought you were quiet and slick. Though, amidst your heavy thinking, you seem to have forgotten one important detail ;

Shanks notices every thing.

Every move, every step, the subtle creaking of the wooden floorboards under your boots. The sound of the bag slouching over your shoulder.

Just as you were about to jump over and disembark. You, so unfortunately, felt a strong, oh so familiar grip on your wrist. It was strong, but not exactly there. Enough to hold you back, never sufficient to inflict any other feeling on you.

Great, just the guy you weren't trying to meet on your way here.

"Hm? Where to?"

He asked, quietly. Adding nothing else. A simple, firm question. Like he's asking you to confess your sins. And there it was. A voice you thought you haven't heard in decades. Deep, smooth, not overly gruff. It almost got on your nerves. How infuriatingly calm he always was, no matter the situation.

"..I'm off to clear my head, maybe a day or two.. maybe more." You sighed out. Brows furrowing ever so slightly as your eyes averted in the opposite direction of his.

And with that, his hand slipped away, freeing your wrist of his grip. He turned around, cape flaring behind him. Waving his hand dismissively.

His steps came to a sudden stop, taking a moment to glance at you over his shoulder, the scar on his eye diminishing under the dim lighting. A small glint in his eyes, a doubtful, regretting one as he spoke again ;

"..Come back safe, Y/N. We always need you here." In the most calm, collected, and gentle tone ever. Emphasis on the "we", like he was afraid to say he was the most worried specifically. But he couldn't hold you back, seeing the state you put yourself in after the break off.

Without another word, he left into the dark shadows of the upper deck, probably to the hammock he'd normally use.

Which was fine by you. Though a tinge of something you couldn't quite pinpoint, stirring in your chest. A familiar warmth, one you promptly ignored as you hopped off the ship, onto your dinghy.

And off it went. The slight frequency of the wind, along with the waves lapping gently against it, sailing it forward. Your mind wandered for a while longer, before drifting off to sleep.

Back where you left Shanks, he laid sleeplessly on the hammock, gazing up at the dimly moon lit sky, hand under his head, propping it like a pillow. His shirt half open, leg crossed over the other as the gentle wind swept through his shiny red hair. Thinking. Ever so deep in thought. Thinking about how you actively avoided his gaze in your earlier interaction. To how you were never like that with him. He's not the type of guy to move on from something like a break up so easily. No, never. He just never spoke of it much. But so did you, really.

His silence was soon to be interrupted, by the sound of a flick.

"You just let her leave like that?" A gruff, low voice spoke out, it was as if he appeared from nowhere, like a threat. It was Beckman.

Flicking the lighter, — click — ,and the flame on the cigarette— resting lazily on his lips as they curled around it— came to life.

"She'll come back. It's not like she's leaving forever." The red hair glanced at his wingman from the side of his eye.

"That's not my point." Benn exhaled, a puff of smoke emitting from his lips as he continued; "You know why she left, and you didn't speak a word."

"Women need time, Beckman, if I tried to talk her out of it, she'd just do it even faster to spite me." Shanks reassured, a small, involuntary smile tucking at the sides of his lips at the thought of you. How fierce and feisty you were. One of the most prominent things about you.

The silver haired individual was quiet. Convinced by the other's argument, but more like, not bothering much with Shanks. After all, he knew you much better.

"..Told you it would be no good." He sighed out, to which the captain quickly responded to, with a full on smile plastered on his complexion now ;

"It was worth the shot though, wasn't it?" Shanks grinned.

"..I guess it was. Couldn't have convinced you out of it back then anyway." Benn replied in surrender.

"I'll make it work again."

"You're not trying that again."

"Oh, I sure am."

Beckman rubbed his temples, rubbing a hand across his face like he was helplessly watching the world crumble right infront of him, like he wasn't just giving up on Shanks, but life itself. Or maybe life was giving up on him. An indistinguishable groan emitting from the back of his throat.

That idiot.

With the break of day, you emerged from sleep, eyes slowly blinking open to the sight of the bright sunlight ahead of you, straining your vision.

You stood upright, rubbing your eyes with a low, groggy groan. Or so you tried. Until you noticed your hands were restrained.

You didn't exactly wake up, it was more like something startled you out of your slumbers' dreams. A quick shake. A loud noise, too loud for such an early time in the morning. When the realization set in, your eyes fully widened in alert, looking at your surroundings in a daze.

Distant sounds could be heard, a few men speaking, waves lapping against the hull of a ship.. a hull.. of a ship?

You were no longer in your dinghy.

Keeping your composure, you analyzed your surroundings, for any sign of an exit, an escape route. It was a navy ship.

"Fuck, how did I not notice." You complained under your breath, looking back at the shackles holding you to the ground. Feeling the slightest bit lightheaded. "Did they drug me?"

"I don't have time to think about that now, I have to —"

"Have to what?" Mid breaking the shackles off, a sword at your throat held you back, one of the marine officers was standing right infront of you, ever so menacingly. "I don't know how one of the red hair pirates was slacking off for us to take so easily, but we sure weren't gonna let the opportunity slip between our fingers."

"You— Opportunity to do what ??" You growled, brows furrowing in a mix of anger, and.. admission? You admitted to yourself that you'd never get caught off guard so easily, never this easily. Things were really taking a toll on you, hm.

"Why, to use you as bait for that absolute menace of a pirate."

"Don't speak of him like that."

He tightened his grip on the sword at a few degrees.

"Aw, hit a weak spot, hm?" The marine chuckled, like he was enjoying getting on your nerves. And guess what, he was.

"You're really brave if you think you'll even stand a chance." You rolled your eyes, ignoring his previous comment.

"I'm sure he'll do what it takes to get you back in one piece." He spoke ominously, sword pressing a little harder against your throat, like a pending warning.

Within the deck of the Red Force, it has been days now. About four days. No sign of you.

"She said a day or two.." Shanks mumbled to himself, a tankard of rum in hand, staring out at the vast, peaceful horizon ahead of him.

"She said maybe more, Shanks." Beckman added reassuringly, like some kind of guardin angel. Always calm, always collected. Never panicked. Never thinking the worst.

The red hair turned around, leaning casually against the railing, his one elbow propping him to it.

"..Yeah." He sighed out, a small smile tucking at the corners of his mouth. "She'll come back anytime."

"Stop thinking about her so much, you lovestruck fool."

"It's true love, Beckman!"

"You're so far gone."

"I'm right where I want to be."

The interaction was soon to be cut off, by a familiar panicked voice;

"Captain, captain — !!" Lucky roux yelled out, running to Shanks like his life would end if he ran any slower. A meat skewer dangling off the side of his mouth, muffling his words, along with a newspaper in hand.

Now standing infront of Shanks, the rotund pirate took a moment to catch his breath, handing the newspaper to his captain with a slightly shaky hand. "It's her — !!"

Shanks raised an eyebrow curiously, head mildly tilted in intrigue, with that same laid back smirk he always wore, a hand raised in surprise.

"Calm down, Roux— who's.." He trailed off, taking the press from his hands, his previous smirk immediately faltering, as though he'd crossed a bridge between life and death itself. You were on the front cover, name written in bold like an alert. "..Captured." He finished.

Beckman, who was still standing beside him, sighed. Crushing his cigarette on the railing nearby, then taking the paper from his hands and reading through it carefully.

"Don't do anything reckless, Shanks. She's fine, we need a strategy."

"It's been days, Beckman, her life is on the line."

From the lower deck, Gab voiced ; "How did she get caught of all people, anyway ?!"

Shanks gathered the crew around, an unyielding expression plastered on his face. A look that could make anyone's knees buckle with just a glare.

"It doesn't matter how she ended up there, we'll find her." The red hair spoke firmly. His voice cold, gruff, leaving no room for argument.

Beckman sighed, though cracking a faint smirk at his captain's never changing determination. He could be an idiot, but Benn would follow him through hell and back.

Shanks raised his hand, where your vivre card was pointing. "Everyone, heading north now !"

The rest, on the other hand, roared fiercly in agreement. Yasopp turning the helm and sailing forward with all the speed the Red Force had to offer.

An adventure, a rollercoaster, certainely awaited.

It seemed like you were aboard that damned navy ship forever. They barely even fed you, purely on purpose. Your means of escaping were all blocked, haki significantly weakened.

Great, just what you needed. Piling up on everything happening, just the thought of everyone finding out you got kidnapped by some measly marine group, made you want to throw yourself overboard and land somewhere hot, and preferably die in a way no one would hear of you again.

But you knew they would hear, and you most certainely knew he'd come to your rescue anytime now. And you hated it, you hated being treated like some damsel in distress, but that smiling ginger idiot would do it anyway.

And so you waited, a sense of impending doom heavy on your chest. You slipped in and out of consciousness, almost forgetting there was this annoying marine guy pestering you all freaking day.

"Listen, if you're gonna be over my head yelling at me for some.. secret information from the crew or whatever, I might aswell start asking you to kill me soon." You sighed out, not even giving him the luxury of facing him.

"You're real cocky for an unarmed weakling in shackles." He teased, holding your chin up towards him with the dull side of his sword.

"And you're pretty full of yourself for threatning an.. unarmed weakling in shackles, as you say. Give me that attitude again once I'm out of here." You snapped back, calmly, firmly, giving him a bored look.

"You —"

He didn't have the chance to finish whatever he was saying, the words catching in his throat as the rest of the marines onboard yelled out, alerting ;

"Raid alert !!!! I repeat ; Raid alert, The red hair pirates are here !!!" One blurted out in panic, watching the others passed out one by one like bug sprayed flies.

There it goes.

The sentence you'd been anticipating. It was.. very much predictable. And that unmistakable haki of his.

Looking ahead, you saw him. Jumping from the deck of the Red Force into marines' vessel. That same grin plastered on his face like someone drew it on with permanent marker. He looked like he was walking into a birthday party, not invading a navy ship.

"What happened to coming back in a day or two?" Shanks chuckled, now kneeled beside you, breaking the shackles and freeing you.

"..I said I would be back, I didn't need you to interfere again." You avoided his gaze, again.

He lended you a supporting hand to stand up.

You didn't even look at it, standing up by yourself, but you quickly stumbled, holding onto the nearest thing beside you. Him.

"Hey, careful now, wouldn't want you hurting yourself." The red hair cooed, draping his arm over your side and pulling you against him, supporting your weight. You didn't protest, holding onto him aswell, barely conscious.

"I'm.. perfectly.. fine." You muttered out, almost to yourself than to him, before you allowed yourself to sleep it off, now that you knew you were safe. In his arms. In a way you absolutely despised. Yet loved at the same time.

And you woke up.

Again.

But this time, in a familiar place. The scent of your beloved cabin filling your nostrils, eyes squinted. A candle hung on your wall, spilling a dim, warm light onto the room. You didn't pay attention to how your previously dirty clothes were changed into a clean, fresh set.

And there he was. Because of course he was.

Sitting beside your bed, laid back on a chair ever so nonchalantly, like it was completely normal to watch your ex sleeping. Just another normal tuesday night.

You sat up abruptly, your bed-hair tousled from sleep, your calm, tired expression soon sharpening.

"What are you doing here ?!"

"..Uh, watching over you?" Shanks admitted sheepishly.

"Do I look like a dying victorian child?"

He held back a small laugh. "I wouldn't say that. Just thought you'd want company when you woke up, after what happened."

"Well, thanks, I'm perfectly fine by myself. You can go now."

"I think I'm good, I'll stay."

Silence.

..And more silence.

If you waited a bit longer, you'd hear crickets chirping in your ear.

He didn't leave, didn't even budge. Didn't even think or consider leaving.

And then a sigh came out of him. You were still actively avoiding his gaze like the plague.

"Listen.. Y/N. We can't keep running from this."

"From what?"

"From this conversation. From this.. whole thing going on."

"There's nothing going on, I thought it was clear that we're over."

"We're not —"

You suddenly interrupted him, raising your voice by just an octave.

"We are, Shanks. You know, I.. we both know it's just not gonna work, and you just proved my point."

He raised his hand in a surrendering gesture ; "I don't recall proving anything." He smirked.

You rubbed a hand over your face. You hated how aloof and casual he was, even now.

"You came to save me, that's also a risk."

"Come on, that doesn't count. They were just rookies."

"Well, what if they weren't ?! What if it was another emperor crew, or, or— an admiral, hell, I don't know, any high ranking figure." You stuttered, stumbling over your own words, still looking around everywhere but him.

You were scared, even if you wouldn't admit it, you were scared that just looking at him would break your entire resolve again; the one you spent weeks rebuilding. Because it would absolutely break again. It was still fragile as glass.

And when you didn't expect it, Shanks reached out comfortably, his warm hand resting under your chin, tilting your head ever so gently, not wanting to rattle you.

His earlier sheepish, cheeky grin, had disappeared. His expression softened into a warm smile. One you were too acquianted with.

"I'd fight them, too. Without hesitation. I'd fight the gods themselves for you, Y/N. Whether you like it or not." The red hair spoke, his hair falling over his face just right, the dim light highlighting his sharp features and sun-tanned skin. Eyes lighting up and glinting lovingly at the sight of you.

It was unmistakable.

That look of love.

You knew he still loved you.

He knew you still loved him.

But that was exactly the problem.

Your lips parted slightly, as if to say something, but for a moment, nothing came out, until you gathered your thoughts, not wanting to say something stupid.

"That's.. that's exactly it, Shanks.. I don't want that. I don't want you to risk your life for me. I don't want you to get attached. I want you to live freely, as my captain." You muttered out, voice slightly shaky with unspoken feelings. You said what you had to. Not what you wanted to.

His hand trailed from your chin, to the side of your jaw, your cheek, then to the bangs on your face, gently pushing them behind your ear, soothing your hair back.

You didn't protest, at all. You didn't want to. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself you did. You haven't felt his touch in what seemed like decades. Sending a warm, loving feeling to your chest.

And then, unexpectedly, he leaned in and whispered an ever so tender against your lips. Feather light, like he was afraid to scare you away. Yet passionate.

Silence reigned over the moment, until he reluctantly pulled away, looking at you with heavy lidded, loving eyes, his fingers never leaving your hair in the moment.

"If you think that'll get me to stop loving you, you ought to try harder, my dear." Shanks murmured in a deep, smooth voice. Barely above a whisper.

All you could do was stare at him, eyes wide in surprise, your ears warming up. A faint blush dusting your cheeks. Heart fluttering in your chest. You couldn't even think of anything to say.

"I'm not getting scared off. As a pirate, my life is always on the line. It's what we sign up for, isn't it." He trailed off, then continued;

"And as your captain, I order you to let me love you, hm?" Shanks cooed, the most soft spoken command. And possibly the best one you'd ever gotten to hear from him.

Maybe your resolve wasn't that important now. All you wanted right now, in this moment, was to pull him back in for a kiss you've been holding back for ever so long.

And that's exactly what you did.

Even he was slightly thrown off guard, but quickly melted into it. Fingers wandering to the back of your head, tangling in your hair and deepening the kiss, your arms hooked onto his neck like an anchor.

You leaned away, again. Letting your lips linger for a moment longer. You weren't avoiding his gaze anymore. You couldn't afford to. Like you were scared he'd disappear the moment you looked away.

"Guess we could've avoided all the hassle if we had this talk from the beginning, eh?" He chuckled in a low, lighthearted tone.

"..I wish you'd stop speaking sometimes."

"Ouch. Hurts my feelings." Shanks joked dramatically, putting a hand over his chest in mock pain.

"Stay that way."

From behind the door, you heard a loud crash, like someone fell. A specific someone, big enough to cause such a noise.

Then his voice blurted out ; "Move, I can't hear anything !!"

"Not my fault you're blocking the whole doorway!!" Yasopp's voice echoed right after his, before the door swung open from the weight of both of them leaning against it.

Beckman sighed, from a distance. But you could definitely hear it. If there was a bounty up for the most disappointed, and done man ever. He'd long have surpassed Roger, the king of the pirates himself.

"I told you that wouldn't end well." He sppke firmly.

Shanks only chuckled at the sight of them, while you just facepalmed, groaning into your hands like you'd wanted the earth to swallow you whole. Seeing that, Shanks shot them a singular glare, without another word. Didn't need words.

With that, they closed the door behind and left the room, running.

"..So I guess this makes us—"

"I love you too." You cut him off.

"..What am I supposed to say to that?" Shanks chuckled.

"I hate when you say it first because you keep repeating that you love me more even when I give up."

"Fair."

You stayed quiet for a moment, before reaching your hand towards his, locking your fingers together.. for the first time in weeks, aswell.

"You could.. always say it back."

The red hair gave you a cheeky smile, one that quickly warmed up as he squeezed your hand gently, bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your palm.

"Always love you more, Y/N."

Thus, the endless conflict ended. It wasn't such a failed romance after all. All you needed was a thorough talk, and maybe a bit of reassurance. Shanks would've gotten his way either way, because of course he would. He's Shanks. Unbeatable, undebatable, always got a solution for everything. But it's one of the things you liked most about that imbecile. A very loving imbecile.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

[warriorheart13-blog]

Terms of Endearment

DESCRIPTION:  You call them by a term of endearment without realising 

WARNINGS: just fluff, mentions of alcohol in Luffy's

CHARACTERS: Ace, Sabo, Luffy | Law, Kid, Shanks, Marco, Zoro

WORDS: 1,933

A/N: The next part in this in honour of reaching 500 followers. Hope you all enjoy

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

ACE

You knew nothing would ever happen between you and the Division Commander. You knew he was just a likeable guy who was friendly and warm with everyone. Countless times you told yourself that he was just nice with everyone and yet still you couldn’t help but feel your heart beat just a little faster when he smiled at you and you couldn’t stop yourself from liking him a little more each time he spoke with you and spent time with you outside of chores and tasks being done onboard the ship. It didn’t matter though, even with the knowledge nothing romantic would happen you were happy to be considered a close friend of Ace’s.

One morning you were perched on the edge of the ship’s railing and keeping a critical eye on the thick wall of cloud draped over the entirety of the sky above the next island you were approaching. It made a stark difference to the clear blue you and the rest of the crew were currently under. You were no stranger to the absurdity of the ever changing weather and separate climates certain islands had but seeing what you were going to be greeted with was starting to sour your mood. It wasn’t as fun stopping at an island if there was a storm to endure.

“Glaring at the clouds won’t make them change you know.” You looked over your shoulder to see Ace hop up onto the railing and sit down beside you. Glancing out of the corner of your eye you were jealous of how relaxed he was and let out a long sigh as you returned your stare to the clouds you could now see were darker than you had originally thought. 

“Who knows, stranger things have happened on these seas.” You mused, scowling harder now that the idea was in your head. “Maybe I have the ability to control weather and neither of us knew it? Don’t know unless I try.”

From beside you Ace laughed, reclining back to support his body on his elbows and grinned up at you. 

“If that were possible, that’d be a pretty dumb gift. Glaring at clouds to make them obey you? You’d get a headache all day.” You rolled your eyes and laughed, getting more comfortable too, lying down and tucking your arms behind your head. 

“Look we can’t all be super amazing and control fire like some people, Ace.” You teased, a small yawn breaking from your lips as your eyes closed. You were still a ways away from the stormy island so you may as well make the most of the sunshine and warmth until then. “Some of us are just boring.”

“I definitely wouldn’t call you boring.” Ace told you. Safely in the knowledge that you couldn’t see him, he could observe you carefully with softened gaze. “You’re one of my favourite people to hang out with.” 

“Aw thank you love, you always know just what to say.” Your relaxed smile brightened considerably but you were too drowsy to open your eyes again to look at the man beside you. It was also why you hadn’t realised your slip of the tongue. Ace however tensed and sat up a little straighter from his once relaxed position. His eyes were widened and a soft pink was dusting his freckled skin. All this time he’d thought his feelings were one-sided and now he was hit with the reality that it might not be the case. Overcome with a burst of excitement and hope he quickly lay back down and used his hat to hide his giddy expression and began to think about how to subtly broach the subject when you were awake.

SABO

“You’re not going to improve if you don’t keep your focus.” Hack lectured, swiftly knocking Sabo back with ease. Sabo managed to recover from the attack and retaliated with one of his own that was completely dodged to the point it made the attack look so pitiful. Hack paused in the sparring match to frown at the younger Revolutionary. “Seriously, what’s with you today? Do you need to take a break?” Quickly Sabo shook his head and forced himself to keep his attention on Hack but even then he couldn’t help but feel your presence silently calling to him. 

You were oblivious to the power you had over the Chief of Staff, even from the very first day you joined the Revolutionary Army you’d somehow managed to make Sabo immediately endeared to you. Given Sabo’s personality he was able to pass off his momentary slips and lack of concentration when you were around and for the most part others hadn’t made the connection. Most being the word. People like Hack, Koala, and Dragon however knew. Normally Hack wouldn’t mind and ignore it but this was the third time in the short amount of time of the sparring match that he’d seen Sabo zone out and look your way as you were speaking with Dragon about a recent mission you’d been on. Enough was enough. After knocking Sabo onto his back, Hack turned and called you over. You finished your conversation with Dragon and approached the sparring pair with a soft, expectant smile while Sabo got to his feet. “I want you to spar Sabo with me. Perhaps having two opponents will help sharpen his dulled senses.” 

You became concerned to hear Hack’s less than complimentary tone at the blond and you looked to Sabo with a light frown, scrutinising his features carefully. Could it be he was sick? Was something else be bothering him? It wasn't like the Chief of Staff to be so distracted especially when it came to his training. At the suggestion of you fighting along with Hack, Sabo’s expression became a mix of uncertainty and irritation. He didn’t want to spar against you but he couldn’t outright deny Hack requesting you join them given he had no real reason to oppose it. Sabo could only take a breath and adjust his stance while praying he didn’t make an embarrassment of himself.

At first having you as part of the fight helped Sabo when it came to focusing on the fight, by having two skilled fighters attacking he didn’t have the ability to pay attention to his personal feelings. However when he kept his sight on Hack as the priority he’d slipped up and forgotten you. You took the window of opportunity and ducked under Sabo’s arm, your face less than inch from his. Quickly you hooked her arm around his and tucked your foot around his ankle, twisting and knocking him to the ground. You kept a firm hold on Sabo’s wrist and pressed your knee into his back. “Give up sweetie?” you asked innocently, unable to see Sabo’s eyes widen. Before he could respond you were abruptly called for by another Revolutionary to go out on a mission. Pouting you released Sabo and left him and Hack. 

“Please tell me I didn’t imagine that…” Sabo uttered, almost begging Hack. He looked up to see the Fishman grin at him and help him to his feet. 

“No I heard it too. Funny thing is I don’t think they noticed they did it.” Sabo watched your retreating form and brightly smiled. 

“Interesting.”

LUFFY

For the most part Luffy can be considered fairly clueless about a lot of things if they don’t involve his ambition to be King of the Pirates and obtaining the One Piece, doing whatever he wanted and eating all he wished. That included his own deeper feelings at times. However no matter how complex Luffy’s emotions were about certain things he found it easier to break them down into more simplistic views and gain a better understanding about them. He found he had to do that with you and the longer you were part of his crew the more he had to take an inward look at his feelings. So far he was able to discern that he liked you, he liked being around you and it was mutual because you’d been all too eager to join his crew. For the longest time it was simple as that. 

Things however became complicated one night after he and the rest of the crew helped free another town from a corrupt ruler. As always the celebration was a large affair with plenty of food, music and drink. While Luffy wasn’t a drinker and happily indulged in all the food he could get his hands on, you were pulled into a drinking contest with some of the locals along with Nami, Zoro, Franky, and Usopp. You’d managed to hold your own for a respectable amount but when you felt the world being to tilt and your mind grow hazy you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle anymore. 

Staggering from the table you somehow managed to wander to the only spot you knew you’d feel completely safe and content with. You didn’t know how you managed it, call it instinct or sheer will but you stopped beside your Captain and slid down to sit on the soft grass beside him, leaning against his back for support. Luffy looked over his shoulder to grin at you before continuing to eat. “You lost huh?” he laughed before taking a large bite of a meat skewer.

“It’s cheating when Zoro plays.” You grumbled, shifting to get more comfortable against your Captain. “He’s so smug too. Didn’t even wanna win anyway.” You fell into soft laughter with Luffy and then drifted into content silence. Subconsciously Luffy moved while he ate, seamlessly turning so you were leaning against his side and neither of you seemed to even notice the new position.

When morning came and you woke with a hangover and lack of memory you let out a worried groan, hoping that whatever you’d done wasn’t too embarrassing or at the very least you hoped that everyone else was also too drunk to remember too. Wincing you pushed yourself up to see that you were in your own bed. Hazily you tried to force your brain to work and managed to pull out the image of Luffy which made sense, he was your go-to for anything. Knowing he didn’t drink, you knew you could also rely on him for the truth on what you failed to remember. You found Luffy sitting on Sunny’s head just as you knew he’d be but you became worried to see him frowning, deep in thought. “Everything okay Luffy?” you asked, flinching when Luffy’s head swiftly snapped around to look at you intently. 

“No! You’re not allowed to call me that.” Immediately worry and guilt took hold. What had you done? Would he ever forgive you? Oh no, what if it was so bad he’d kick you off of the ship for good. 

“Wh-what do you mean?“ You asked panicked and feeling sick which was not from the hangover. “Whatever I’ve done I’m sorry but I don’t remember. Please tell me what I did wrong. I can fix it.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Luffy’s expression became confused. “I’ve just decided that you can’t call me Luffy anymore I like what you called me last night after I helped you to bed better.” 

“Oh…” you couldn’t tell what you were feeling in that moment exactly. Desperately you tried to think what you called him, silently thankful that whatever it was hadn’t offended him. “Well if you want me to call you that instead you have to remind me.”

“You called me dear.” Luffy grinned while your face reddened.

[warriorheart13-blog]

Hello!!! What a fun activity haha I love this My blorbo: Thatch <3 Activity: Doing each other's hair

So I fell behind on these again, and I apologize for that. Work and the heat here have been bad.

I may have gone a little too ham with the backstory, but I regret nothing. I really hope you like it, my love! And first Thatch piece! I really hope i did him justice 💖

Enjoy!

• Hairstyling • SFW • 813 words

You had been employed as one of Whitebeard’s nurses for a while. Long enough for you and Thatch to casually start seeing each other, then more seriously down the line. You and the girls each did shifts for the evenings, but when you weren’t monitoring his vitals through the night, you could be found sneaking into Thatch’s bed for a good night’s sleep and—as he put it—“hefty cuddles.” It was mostly him falling asleep with his arms and legs wrapped around you like you were in a bear trap, but it was oddly soothing. That, or you would just be so tired from your duties, you just slept through it.

Just before you would feel the warmth of the sun through the window, your body would wake up on its own like clockwork. It would take you a few moments to untangle yourself from Thatch’s death grip, causing him to barely open his eyes more in protest about your actions than waking up. Since he was much taller than you, it was a fight to release yourself, get him out of the hammock, and shuffle him into the bathroom before both of you had to fight what felt like a million other men just to brush your teeth. Not only that, but Thatch needed to get to the kitchen so he could start breakfast for the entire crew, and no one else in the bathroom that early meant the two of you could get in and out.

Thatch would always finally wake up once the water hit his face, and he always thought he was drowning. Granted, you lived on a ship, it would be a reasonable fear to have. The two of you would shower together, washing each other’s backs and hair. Izou had shown you how to use this thing called a “wind dial” to help dry your hair, then handed it off to your boyfriend. He grunted, starting the tumultuous process of rendering his long hair that almost fell to his shoulders into the exaggerated shape that few ever saw him without.

You idly brushed your hair, watching him dry his hair with minor fascination. Since your focus in life was your career as a nurse, and lately a private nurse in charge of Whitebeard’s health (despite how little he would actually listen to you or the other nurses), you had never really thought much about styling and products like some of the other ladies you worked with. Even most of the crew took the time to do something with their hair, which was not what you were expecting when you were hired to a pirate ship full of men, but stranger things had happened.

“Did I miss a spot?” Thatch asked, as he had noticed you staring. He felt along his jaw with his free hand, feeling none of his stubble other than his goatee.

Shaking yourself from your thoughts, you looked away, clearing your throat, “Oh, no, sorry, I was just…” your gaze moved back to him, his soft and natural smile on his lips making your heart beat rise ever so slightly, “I’ve never understood how you got your hair to do… the thing?” Saying it out loud made you realize you didn’t actually know what it was called.

“The thing?” He watched as you motioned with your hands as if making a shape of his usual style around your head, then laughed, “Oh, my pompadour?” Thatch looked at himself in the mirror for a moment, then looked back to you, “Come here. I’ll teach you.”

Since you had never done anything to anyone’s hair outside of braiding, it was a little strange at first when he explained the products and brushes to you. Teasing? To hair? The motion of back combing it to make it look almost like a tangled bird’s nest was foreign to you. The pomade and gel felt weird on your hands, more like medical items than hair product. He directed your hands over how to apply it, though you think he may have preferred you just running your fingers through his hair.

Thatch showed you how to brush everything in place, and between the two of you, he looked like his usual self when it was all said and done. He made you sit down in his lap as he did your hair for you, nothing fancy, just finishing your blow-dry and brushing it out. He even managed a small braid, and tied his yellow neckerchief around your hair, then pressed a light kiss to your temple.

“We look good,” he smiled as you both looked into the mirror together, “Next time, we’ll make your hair a pompadour and match!”

You laughed, attempting to get out of his lap, but instead he pulled you back into his embrace, showering you with more kisses and mussing up yours and his hair.

• Mini Event: All the Small Things!

© This work belong to Zoro’s Sheath/Mama Alpha. You MAY NOT repost, modify, copy, translate without permission, feed into AI work, or share on other platforms.

Comments and Reblogs appreciated!

[warriorheart13-blog]

One Piece Marco x Reader: Sanctuary

This one is a little short but equally sweet! I may do another Marco eventually! Also i took some inspo from @hannahbarberra162 Marco's mating call fic. Please read it, its really good!!

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

In you and I there's a new land

Angels in flight

My sanctuary, my sanctuary, yeah

Where fears and lies melt away

Music will tie

What's left of me what's left of me now

Marco knew. He knew something was wrong with him. But somehow, he couldn't pinpoint what was wrong. His body temp rose, his heart beated fast, and he grew uneasy and nervous. And his words came out wrong.

But for some reason, it only happened around you. But how could he help it? Your devil fruit was the bird Bird fruit model: Frost Phoenix. A mythological type. Your feathers shone like crystal, and you were absolutely gorgeous. His own powers felt a pull towards you.

You were a friend of Thatch he brought aboard when he joined. You were meek but a fiery spirit. Never spoke, but never disobeyed. But one day, you proved how fiercely loyal you were.

I watch you fast asleep

All I fear means nothing

Somehow, someone got the better of Whitebeard. He was exposed, unguarded, and vulnerable. They went for the kill, Marco screaming for Pops to wake up.

Suddenly, a long clang rang, and the sound of fallen metal caused Marco to open his eyes. His breath hitched at what he saw. A pure snow white bird, feathers of ice. The wings were in a defensive position atop Whitebeards' chest. Then it flashed.... to a human hybrid.

It was you... your eyes with a strong fire ablazed. "Do not touch Pops!" You growled loudly before taking a feather from your wing, and it becoming a sword. You went and attacked.

My heart's a battleground

Marco smiled at the memory. When he found out your bird fruit was a legendary Ice Phoenix, he fell heavily in love....love! That's it!! He rushed out, feeling the flames of courage.

He found you alone on the upper deck, enjoying the soft breeze... and looked adorably peaceful.

"(Y/n)..."

"Marco...have you finally figured out what ailed you?" You said softly, eyes opening to look at him.

"I have...it seems im madlessly and hopelessly in love with you yoi...you seem to be my other half."

You smiled widely before standing up to tackle him into a hug.

"I believe we were destined to meet Marco...as my love for you seems to know no bounds." You said, nuzzling his nose with yours.

The action stirred his Phoenix in a way he hoped would never go away.

You show me how to see

That nothing is whole and nothing is broken

"Marco...from the moment we met, i knew you were my safe space, my Sanctuary away from the cruelty of this world."

"And you, my pretty bird, are equally mine as well," he said, kissing you softly.

They say that when a Phoenix bonds, they bond for life to their destined mate.

In you and I there's a new land

Angels in flight

My sanctuary, my sanctuary, yeah

Where fears and lies melt away

Music will tie

What's left of me what's left of me now

[warriorheart13-blog]

What is Love?

[beckman, ace]

synopsis: you don’t understand, why is he upset?

Beckman:

+ You laid in the med bay, silent, as Hongo tended to your severe wounds from the raid earlier. Beckman sat next to the bed, staring at you. Noticing his gaze, you turn your head to look at him

+ The loss of blood and the pain of getting stitched up made you paler than ever, cold sweat wetting the bed sheets, but no sounds of complaint came out of your mouth

+ “Why did you block that attack for me?” He finally asks. 

+ “Was I not supposed to? You were gonna get hurt.” You replied, looking away, “I don’t want you to get hurt, because that’s what love is, right? I love you.”

+ Beckman stayed quiet and sighed, a hand over his eyes. He sat for another few minutes, then stood up and ruffled your hair gently. “It seems like you have a lot more to learn,” he says, walking out the room, relighting his cigarette. “That’s fine. We have all the time in the world.”

Ace:

- You stare at the boy in front of you, covered in bandages. The Marineford War just occurred a few days ago. He came to visit you the moment he woke up from his coma

- Tears stained his face as he hugged the cold grave stone in front of him, you reached out to wipe it away for him, but your hand went right through his face

- You didn’t understand his sadness, if love was protecting someone even if it meant death, shouldn’t he be happy that you died for him? It wasn’t like you stopped loving him

- Maybe it sounded good in your head when you thought he was going to remember you forever, but looking at his tears, and the dark circles under his eyes, you started to regret your decision a little

- Maybe he would be better off forgetting you

[warriorheart13-blog]

Pinned Post Masterlist!

I love browsing through the homepage on Tumblr, but looking through profiles, especially my own, feels like hell.

So here's a masterpost! Yay!

Also! My questions are always open for literally anything. Just prepare to get trolled back if you ask any outrageous questions! ;)

Oh yeah! I guess I'm supposed to link my stuff and stuff. Uh. Yeah.

Fanfiction here. Twitter here.

Find my merch here

If you wish to support me:

Patreon /// Ko-Fi

Corazon / Rosinante Master List

Eustass Kidd / Master List

Donquixote Doflamingo / Master List

LoveyBug / Master List

One Piece Party Translations / Master List

One Piece figures / Master List

Comics / Master List

One Piece Art!!

Heart Pirates:

Law:

Corazon and Law Doshinji "A small present"

Law Halfhead-shot

Law + OC:

Banshee and Law's first meeting (OC x Canon)

Banshee and Law - 2 trauma babies (OC x Canon)

Onigiri:

Onigiri hedgehog adventures

Shachi and Penguin:

Shachi and Penguin military uniform lineart

Happy birthday Shachi

Team Penguin or Team Shachi?

Penguin head made out of paper trash

Bepo:

Bepo Birthday Doshinji

Strawhat Pirates:

Sanji and Nami going for a swim!

Sanji on a notebook

Luffy waiting for food to be done

Kid Pirates:

Killer Birthday art

Killer grieving over Kid

Whitebeard Pirates:

Ace sleeping sketch

Unlisted:

Pencil half-head sketches (best art I've ever made) (Ace, Corazon, Kid, Zoro)

One Piece Notebook Designs (Doflamingo, Kid, ...)

Big Appreciation post with art

One Piece Art Collage

One Piece Daily Drawings Post

One Piece Unlimited World Red Cutscene Collection

-> Part 2 of it

One Piece Treasure Cruise Cutscenes

One Piece Animations!!

Sad Ace Animation (my longest yet!)

Ace eating the Mera Mera No Mi

Onigiri Shimeji (available for download)

One Piece Fanfiction:

Reader characters are practically always female in my fics! ^-^

AO3 is always the first to be updated, the other platforms may lag behind by months.

Law fanfictions:

Cook-ya's Self-Indulgence on AO3 (NSFW, LawXReader)

Warm my Soul (Reader x Law, Shachi, Penguin) on AO3 (one designated smut chapter)Warm my Soul on Wattpad

The Onigiri Bribe on AO3 (Law, Rosinante, Doflamingo in a modern AU)

Lane Rat (Law x Arcane) on tumblrLane Rat on AO3

Sanji fanfictions:

Love at first bite (Sanji x OC Beatrice) on tumblr

Love at first bite on AO3

Heart Pirates:

Mama Bird (Penguin x OCs) on tumblr Mama Bird on AO3Mama Bird on Wattpad

Bepo's Birthday Shenanigans on AO3

Bepo's Birthday Shenanigans on Wattpad

Ace fanfictions:

Knocking on Heaven's Door on Wattpad (AceXReader)

Knocking on Heaven's Door on AO3

Zoro fanfictions:

Chef's Envy, Swordsman's Delight on Wattpad (NSFW, ZoroXReader)

Chef's Envy, Swordsman's Delight on AO3

Couple's Therapy on AO3 (ZoroxSanji)

General One Piece fanworks (multi-character):

One Piece Headcannons on AO3

One Piece Art & Animations on AO3

Many cramps, many lovers on A03 (explicit, Doflamingo, Sanji, Law, Crocodile)

One Piece Playlists:

Part 1 and 2 of a masspost of my One Piece Playlists on Spotify

Killer Playlist + explanations

Eustass Kid Playlist + explanations

Random One Piece Ramblings!

One Piece Headcannons + draw a character you like

Voice Acting

One Piece Fanfictions turned into audiobooks

Original work!!!

Art: Original Characters Flep and Lollibob :)

Writing: Personal collection of writing tips on AO3

Edelweiss Oneshot (Original fantasy series)

[warriorheart13-blog]

sleepy

just some sleepy time with law while its cold outside, this is my first piece so feedback is appreciated :0 enjoy! i type on laptop and was half asleep so no caps lmao!

tags? fluff, cuddling, sweet, established relationship, fem reader

.˚₊‧˗ˏˋ ─── ★ ─── ˎˊ˗‧₊˚. the rain hits the side of the polar tang in soft, rhythmic pulses, oh so muted and steady. the kind of sound that makes your eyes heavy and your muscles go slack. it’s cold outside today. grey and quiet.

but in here, under law’s blanket, wrapped in his arms, it’s nothing but warm.

you’re small against his chest, tucked in tight, your head rising and falling with every slow breath he takes. your body’s fresh out the shower, dressed nothing but a small lacy sleeping gown, legs tangled with his beneath the warm encasements.

his hand is resting on your lower back, nimble and tattooed fingers spread out over the curve of your spine like he's anchoring you.. to him. every now and then, he runs his thumb up and down in soothing strokes. law just wants to feel you.

you hum, almost asleep and nuzzling against his chest

“you’re warm.” cold hands brushing his forearm

he’s silent for a bit, then you hear a fond, smooth voice. “you always say that.”

“b'cuz it’s true.” your voice is thick with sleep, but soft and sweet with a little mischief.

you shift slightly against him, snuggling closer until your face presses into the crook of his neck. his arms tighten around your waist.

“don’t move too much,” he mumbles in that gosh beautiful smooth and baritone tone. “you’ll get cold.”

you don’t tell him it’s not the cold you’re worried about. you just whisper, “can we stay like this a bit longer?”

he doesn’t even hesitate. “we’re not going anywhere.”

outside, thunder rumbles faintly in the distance. but inside, it’s just the steady thump of his heart under your ear.

no responsibilities or expectations. it’s all just you, wrapped in his blankets and his warmth, while you forget about the world for a while. and as you drift off, you swear you hear him whisper something soft into your soft strands of hair.

“mine.”

[warriorheart13-blog]

Hi, can you do a Benn Beckman-X-Reader piece, please?

Something about Beckman not expecting to fall in love and keeps trying to deny it and the reader isn't even trying but it happens anyway?

Beckman at his current (50), reader can be any adult age.

& if possible, Shanks being an ass about it & teasing Beckman relentlessly or something.

not much but hope u like it~ (●'◡'●)

Late Bloom

Benn Beckman didn’t expect to fall in love again—least of all with you, the new recruit who wasn't even trying. And of course, Shanks noticed.

Benn Beckman X gn!reader | ONE SHOT tags: fluff, sfw, ooc, age gap, unexpected love a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe word count: 1.2k

masterlist | ko-fi

The Red Force swayed gently on the New World, the sun painting golden stripes over its deck. It was one of those rare, lazy days between island raids and drink-fueled tavern chaos.

Benn Beckman leaned against the railing, a cigarette loosely hanging from his lips, eyes half-lidded as he watched the sea. Peaceful. Too peaceful.

Until your laugh broke the air.

He didn’t mean to glance over. Really. But his head turned of its own accord, a stubborn old reflex his body had yet to unlearn since you joined the crew. And there you were: seated cross-legged on a barrel, half-drenched from a water bucket prank Lucky Roux had just pulled, laughing like the world was made for joy. You looked up, wiping seawater from your face, and smiled at Benn in passing.

He immediately looked away.

Goddammit.

“Problem, old man?” Shanks leaned beside him, tipping a bottle of rum against Benn’s bicep.

“Don’t call me that,” Benn muttered, exhaling smoke.

Shanks followed his line of sight, spotted you still giggling with the crew, then whistled low and smug. “You know, for someone who’s always lecturing me about ‘discipline’ and ‘not mixing business with pleasure,’ you stare like a lovesick schoolboy.”

“’m not staring.”

“Yer sulking then. Even worse.”

“I’m not—” Benn shut up, scowling.

Shanks grinned wider. “Face it. You’re smitten. With the new recruit no less. Twenty-five, energetic, dangerously charming—reminds me of me at that age.”

Benn rolled his eyes. “You were an idiot at that age.”

“And yet here we are, me being right.”

You had no idea.

Well, not really.

You just liked Benn. He was cool. Quiet. Mysterious. The type that didn’t speak unless necessary but always listened. The type who offered you a towel before you even realized you needed one, who pulled you behind cover during a skirmish like it was second nature. Who corrected your aim once by gently guiding your elbow from behind, and left your heart thundering for an hour.

But you never tried anything. He was twice your age and carried himself like a war-hardened mountain. If he wanted you, you figured, he’d say something.

Spoiler alert: he didn’t.

It started with little things.

Benn would pass by you in the corridor and mutter, “Eat something,” like it wasn’t the third time he’d noticed you skipping meals.

You’d grumble, “Yes, Dad,” but then find a plate of food mysteriously placed near your hammock.

He’d always end up walking beside you during port landings, even if you’d started out ten feet apart.

He’d grunt when you fell asleep on deck after a night of drinking, but throw his coat over you anyway.

You were starting to think he wasn’t as indifferent as he acted.

Benn Beckman was annoyed.

With himself, mostly.

This was not supposed to happen. He’d had his youth. He’d had flings, lovers, flares of passion burned out by time and life and war. He’d made peace with that. He had the sea. He had his crew. He had Shanks.

And now, suddenly, he had you—bright, loud, impossible you—occupying more mental real estate than any enemy plan or tactical maneuver.

And of course, Shanks had noticed.

“You’re scowling again,” Shanks said one night, stretching out beside him on the deck, drunk and smug.

“I always scowl.”

“No, this is the ‘why do I have this feelings’ scowl. Big difference.”

“Shanks—”

“She’s not even trying, you know. That’s the best part.”

Benn gritted his teeth.

“You ever consider,” Shanks continued, “just…telling them? Instead of glowering from corners like a wounded bear?”

“It’s not like that,” Benn said, voice tight.

“Sure it’s not.” Shanks slapped his shoulder, laughing. “You’re in so deep, it’s hilarious DAHAHAHA.”

One night, it happened.

You were sitting on the mast beam, swinging your legs, watching the stars. Benn approached quietly, hands in his pockets. You smiled when he climbed up beside you—surprisingly agile for someone his age, not that you were counting.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked.

“Not really,” you murmured. “Too many thoughts.”

“About?”

You shrugged. “Life. My place here. Wondering if I’m doing well enough. If I belong.”

Benn was silent a moment.

“You do,” he said firmly.

You blinked.

“You belong,” he repeated, not looking at you. “You’re sharp, reliable. You keep your head in fights. And…you make the crew better. Happier.”

Your chest warmed. “Coming from you, that means a lot.”

Benn finally looked at you then. The moonlight touched half his face, making his silver hair gleam. There was something unreadable in his eyes, something you’d never seen before—vulnerable, almost soft.

“I didn’t expect…” he started, then trailed off.

“Didn’t expect?”

He exhaled. “To feel this. Again. Not at my age. Not like this.”

You blinked.

“Oh,” you said dumbly.

He gave a half-laugh. “Yeah. ‘Oh.’ I know. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” you said quickly. “Just…surprising. But not bad. Never bad.”

Benn raised an eyebrow. “You’re okay with it? With me?”

“I’ve liked you since the third island,” you admitted. “But you were all ‘grr’ and serious and unreadable. I thought maybe you just hated me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“I got that part now, thanks.”

You smiled shyly. Benn’s hand brushed yours, tentative, like he didn’t quite believe this was real. When you laced your fingers with his, he squeezed gently.

From somewhere below deck, Shanks let out a loud, drawn-out wolf whistle.

You groaned. “Ugh...He was eavesdropping, wasn’t he?”

“Probably since the third island,” Benn muttered.

The next morning, Shanks strutted around like a peacock on sake.

“Well, well, well,” he sang, arm draped around both of you at breakfast. “My first mate’s finally a man again!”

Benn grunted into his coffee.

You snorted. “I don’t think he ever stopped being a man.”

Shanks gaped. “Oh my god, they’re already defending him. You’re doomed, Benn.”

Benn didn’t reply. He just tugged you a little closer, deadpan as always, and muttered:

“Shut up, Shanks.”

A week later…

“You’re glowing,” Lucky Roux teased you while polishing a dagger.

“I’m not glowing.”

“You are,” Yasopp agreed. “It’s like your aura changed. You’re smug.”

“I am not smug!”

“You’re sleeping in Benn’s room.”

You dropped your spoon.

“We heard you snoring. And him not snoring. Suspicious.”

You buried your face in your hands. “I hate all of you.”

“You love us,” Roux said. “Just not like you love Beckman.”

You moaned dramatically.

Behind them, Benn leaned against the doorframe with a small smile, watching you suffer with the patience of a saint and the pride of a man whose crew was clearly rooting for him.

When you saw him, you blushed. “Help me.”

“Nope,” he said, lighting a cigarette. “You’re on your own.”

“You traitor.”

He chuckled, took a drag, and added, “But I’ll walk you to bed.”

The crew exploded into teasing hoots.

Shanks sat beside Benn again on the deck, watching stars and counting empty bottles.

“You’re smiling again,” Shanks said, nudging him.

“I always smile.”

“Liar.”

They were quiet a while.

“You happy, old man?”

Benn exhaled slowly. “Yeah.”

“Didn’t expect it, huh?”

“No. But…maybe that’s the point.”

Shanks smiled at that. “A late bloom’s still a bloom, eh?”

Benn looked down toward the sleeping quarters, where your laugh had just echoed faintly. He felt warmth in his chest—unfamiliar, dangerous, and beautiful.

“Yeah,” he said. “It is.”

[warriorheart13-blog]

Wanted Warmth

Summary: Timid (gn) Reader likes it cold. Ace, however, is usually way too hot.

Note: As I promised, you will get some of the Requests that sat in my lil box for way too long. Enjoy!

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The sun hung high over the Grand Line, its heat merciless against the sea-salted breeze. You stood with your back pressed against the cool wood of the ship’s shaded rail, soaking in the faint chill the ocean’s spray offered. It wasn’t much — not nearly enough, but it was better than nothing.

You’d been aboard the Moby Dick long enough to know which hours to avoid the deck entirely, which crew members ran hotter than the sun, and which corners offered the most relief. And unfortunately, the one person you couldn’t seem to avoid lately was Ace.

It wasn’t personal. He was... fine, you guessed. Loud, warm... too warm. Every time he passed by, the air around him seemed to climb five degrees, his devil fruit power always seeping off him in little unconscious flickers. His carefree laughter was usually followed by the subtle crackle of heat, like a summer day sneaking up on you in the middle of winter.

You’d mastered the art of slipping away unnoticed whenever he entered a room.

Or at least, you thought you had.

Today wasn’t your lucky day.

"Oi, Y/N! Hiding from the sun again?" His voice floated over before you even saw him.

You flinched, resisting the instinct to step further back, but the rail gave you no room. When you turned, there he was — shirt half-unbuttoned, hat tipped back, and a lazy smile stretched across his sun-kissed face.

"I’m not hiding," you mumbled, eyes flicking away. "Just... prefer the cold."

Ace tilted his head, as if genuinely puzzled by the idea. "Huh. The cold, huh? I never really got that."

You shrugged, wishing he’d step back, just a little. The heat rolling off his skin was stifling, and even the slight shift in the breeze couldn’t save you.

"I don’t hate you, y'know, but could you...back off?," you added quietly, aware of how often you'd avoided him, how distant you probably seemed. "You’re just... hot."

A beat passed. His eyebrows lifted.

"Hot, huh?" The teasing lilt in his voice hit immediately, and your face burned before he even opened his mouth again. "I didn’t realize I had that kind of effect on you."

Your eyes snapped wide, horrified, but Ace let out a laugh. That easy, sun-bright laugh that always made your chest twist uncomfortably.

"I meant temperature-wise," you deadpanned, turning away. "Your Devil Fruit. You’re literally too hot."

"Ah," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fair enough."

For a moment, silence stretched between you. Not the awkward kind, surprisingly. Just easy. Warm, even. Metaphorically, anyway.

"...You know," he started again, voice softer this time, "I could try turning it off. The heat, I mean. When I’m around you."

You blinked, caught off guard. He rubbed his arm, sheepish now, gaze dropping away from yours.

"I figured... if you're always avoiding me ‘cause of that, well — it’s not fair. I don’t want you to feel like you have to freeze alone just to get away from me."

Your throat bobbed, unsure what to say.

Ace, who always seemed to burn brighter than anyone around him, was offering to dim his flame for your comfort. The thought made your heart ache, just a little.

"...Thanks," you managed, voice soft as the breeze.

He grinned again, this time without the teasing. Just warm.

"Anytime."

Later the day, the sun had finally dipped low, leaving behind only faint traces of heat on the deck. This was your favorite time — when the ship exhaled the last of the day’s warmth, the sky painted deep blue, and the cold finally began creeping in around the edges.

You lingered a little longer on the deck than usual, leaning over the rail, watching the waves glitter under the moonlight. The evening breeze pulled at your sleeves, cool enough to raise goosebumps along your arms. Perfect, really.

So perfect, you didn’t even hear the soft footfalls behind you until a shadow shifted beside you.

"...Hey."

You blinked, turning slightly. Ace.

But something was different this time. He wasn’t radiating his usual summer heat. If anything, he almost felt... normal. Human. Just another person in the cool evening air.

You stared at him for a second, puzzled, before he gave you a small, sheepish smile.

"Told you I’d try to keep the heat off when you’re around," he said, leaning his elbows on the rail, gazing out at the sea like it was nothing. "Been practicing all day."

The thought made your chest twist in a new way. He’d actually remembered. Spent energy — real effort — on something as small as your comfort.

"You didn’t have to," you murmured.

"Yeah, I did," he replied, eyes still fixed on the horizon. "You’ve been part of this crew longer than me. I figured I should stop making it hard for you to stand being near me."

You swallowed, the words sticking somewhere soft.

The silence this time wasn’t awkward. It felt... safe, almost. And for once, you didn’t feel the need to back away.

You stayed like that for a while, shoulder to shoulder, the cool breeze ruffling both your hair. The distance between you wasn’t much — a few inches — and with Ace keeping his warmth under control, it was almost easy to forget why you’d avoided him in the first place.

After a while, his voice broke the quiet again, lower, more careful.

"...Y'know, you never really talk much. I always figured you didn’t like me."

Your lips twitched into a faint smile. "I never disliked you," you repeated softly. "Just couldn’t handle the heat."

Ace huffed a quiet laugh. "Guess I can’t blame you. But... I was hoping that if I kept the heat in check, maybe you wouldn’t mind being around me more."

You turned your head, meeting his gaze. His freckles were just visible in the moonlight, the usual cocky spark in his eyes softened into something more honest. Something more hopeful.

Your chest gave a quiet, traitorous flutter.

"I don’t mind," you said, voice just above a whisper. "Not anymore."

For once, you really didn’t pull away when he shifted slightly closer, the space between you melting away like frost under the sun. His shoulder brushed stronger against yours — not too warm, not too cold, just comfortably in-between.

"I’m glad," he murmured, and you could feel the smile in his voice before you saw it. "I’ve been trying to find an excuse to be around you anyway."

You let out a small, shaky breath, but didn’t move.

Maybe you didn’t need the cold as much as you thought.