xxarryonxx

[xxarryonxx]

THE BOTTLE IN THE SAND

Shanks x Reader

Being trapped for thousands of years can be quite lonesome, but being a genie that is your job serving different kinds of people over the years and coming across different personalities, a certain red hair captain is not quite like all the others.

Y/N’s existence was a lonely one, but she had grown accustomed to it. The solitude was her only companion, and the silence her only comfort. Yet, even after all these years, a small part of her still longed for freedom, for the taste of fresh air, for the warmth of the sun on her skin. She knew better than to hope, but still, she dreamed.

And then, one day, something changed. The ground above her began to tremble, and a faint glimmer of light pierced through the darkness. Y/N stirred, her heart quickening in anticipation. Could it be? After all this time, had someone finally found her?

The sand shifted, and Y/N felt the bottle being unearthed, lifted from its ancient resting place. She braced herself for the inevitable release, the surge of magic that would accompany her return to the world. And then, with a rush of energy, she was free.

Y/N blinked as she stepped out of the bottle, the bright light of the sun blinding her momentarily. She took a deep breath, savoring the fresh air, the scent of the sea mixing with the warmth of the desert. For a moment, she simply stood there, relishing her newfound freedom.

Then, she turned to face the one who had released her.

He was a man of striking appearance, with a mane of vibrant red hair and a confident, almost reckless smile. He wore a long black coat that billowed in the wind, and a sword hung at his side. There was an air of authority about him, a presence that commanded respect.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed as she took him in. There was something familiar about him, something that tugged at the edges of her memory. But before she could place it, the man spoke.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, his voice smooth and confident. “What do we have here? A genie, eh? Haven’t seen one of those in a long time.”

Y/N straightened, trying to maintain her composure. She had been through this before, countless times, with countless masters. She knew how this worked.

“You have freed me from my prison,” she said, her voice steady. “In return, I am bound to grant you three wishes. Choose wisely.”

The man’s smile widened, and he let out a low chuckle. “Three wishes, huh? Sounds like a good deal.”

He stepped closer, his eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and something else—something darker. Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine, but she held her ground.

“I suppose introductions are in order,” the man said, his tone almost playful. “The name’s Shanks. Captain of the Red-Haired Pirates.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. Shanks. The name triggered something in her memory, a vague recollection of stories she had heard in passing during her long imprisonment. Shanks was a pirate, a man known for his power, his influence, and his unpredictable nature.

She had encountered many like him before—men who sought to use her power for their own gain, who saw her not as a person but as a tool. But there was something about Shanks that set him apart, something that made Y/N wary.

Shanks seemed to sense her hesitation, and his smile softened. “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice low and reassuring. “I’m not like those other bastards who’ve had you before. I keep my promises, and I’m loyal to those who are loyal to me.”

Y/N wanted to believe him, but she had learned long ago not to trust so easily. Still, she had no choice but to fulfill her duty. She was bound to him now, for better or for worse.

“Very well,” she said, inclining her head slightly. “What is your first wish, Master Shanks?”

Shanks grinned, clearly pleased with her obedience. He didn’t hesitate, as if he had already known what he wanted long before he found her.

“I wish for the best and most invincible ship in the entire sea,” he declared, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

Y/N nodded, already feeling the magic surge within her. It was a simple wish, one that she had granted many times before. But there was a peculiar thrill in granting it for this man—this Shanks. Perhaps it was because she could sense the depth of his desire, the intensity of his ambition.

She closed her eyes, focusing her energy on the wish. The air around them began to shimmer, and a faint glow enveloped Shanks. In a flash of light, the wish was granted.

When Y/N opened her eyes, she saw the results of her magic. The ship that now stood before them was a magnificent vessel, far grander than any she had ever seen. It was sleek and powerful, with a hull that gleamed in the sunlight. Its sails were vast and strong, and the flag of the Red-Haired Pirates flew proudly from its mast.

Shanks let out a whistle of admiration, clearly impressed by what he saw. “Now that’s what I call a ship,” he said, his voice filled with awe. “You’ve outdone yourself, genie.”

Y/N remained silent, watching him carefully. She could sense the greed in his eyes, the hunger for power that drove him. But there was also something else—a sense of loyalty, of honor. It was a strange combination, one that left her feeling conflicted.

Shanks turned to her, his expression one of genuine gratitude. “Thank you, Y/N,” he said, his tone sincere. “This is everything I could have hoped for.”

Y/N inclined her head again, acknowledging his thanks. “I am glad you are pleased, Master Shanks,” she replied, keeping her voice neutral.

But as she spoke, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. Shanks had two more wishes, and she had no doubt that he would use them. What those wishes would be, she couldn’t say, but she had a sinking feeling that they would lead to trouble.

And trouble, as Y/N knew all too well, was something she was all too familiar with.

The days passed in a blur of activity as Shanks and his crew made preparations to set sail on their new ship. Y/N watched from the sidelines, keeping to herself as much as possible. She knew better than to get too close to her master or his crew. Attachment only led to pain, and she had experienced more than her fair share of that.

But Shanks was different from her previous masters in more ways than one. He was not just powerful; he was also charming, charismatic, and surprisingly kind. He treated his crew with respect, and they in turn were fiercely loyal to him. It was clear that they admired and trusted him, and Y/N found herself reluctantly drawn to him as well.

Despite her best efforts, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a growing connection to Shanks. He was not like the others who had come before him—those who had used her and discarded her without a second thought. Shanks was different. He seemed to genuinely care about those around him, even if his greed and ambition sometimes got the better of him.

One night, after the crew had retired to their quarters, Shanks found Y/N standing alone on the deck, staring out at the sea. The moonlight cast a soft glow on the water, and the gentle sound of the waves filled the air.

Shanks approached her quietly, his footsteps barely audible. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice low and gentle.

Y/N didn’t turn to face him. “I don’t need to sleep,” she replied, her tone distant.

Shanks chuckled softly, leaning against the railing beside her. “Must be nice, not having to worry about things like that.”

Y/N said nothing, her eyes fixed on the horizon. She could sense Shanks watching her, could feel the weight of his gaze on her. It was a strange feeling—being the object of someone’s attention after so long in isolation.

After a moment, Shanks spoke again. “You know, Y/N, you don’t have to be so distant. We’re not enemies.”

Y/N finally turned to look at him, her expression unreadable. “Aren’t we?” she asked quietly.

Shanks frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Y/N hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “You have two more wishes,” she said slowly. “And I have seen what men like you do with power. It changes them. It consumes them.”

Shanks was silent for a moment, his eyes searching hers. Then he let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I get it,” he said softly. “You don’t trust me. And I don’t blame you, not after what you’ve been through.”

Y/N looked away, her heart heavy with the weight of her memories. She had been used and betrayed so many times before,

by so many different masters. It was hard to believe that this time would be any different.

But Shanks wasn’t finished. “I can’t change what’s happened to you in the past,” he said, his voice earnest. “But I can promise you this—I won’t let power consume me. I won’t let it change who I am.”

Y/N wanted to believe him, wanted to trust in his words. But she had been burned too many times before, and the scars ran deep. Still, there was something in Shanks’s eyes that made her want to give him a chance—a spark of sincerity that was hard to ignore.

She nodded slowly, not trusting herself to speak. Shanks seemed to understand, and he didn’t press the issue further. Instead, he simply stood beside her, staring out at the sea in companionable silence.

It was a small moment, but it was enough to plant a seed of doubt in Y/N’s mind. Maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.

As the days turned into weeks, Y/N found herself becoming more and more comfortable in Shanks’s presence. He was not like any of her previous masters, and she couldn’t help but be drawn to his easygoing nature and infectious laughter. The crew treated her with respect as well, and for the first time in centuries, Y/N felt like she was part of something—like she belonged.

But she never forgot that Shanks still had two more wishes, and the thought of what he might wish for weighed heavily on her mind. She knew that wishes were dangerous things, that they had the power to change the course of lives, for better or for worse. And she knew that Shanks was a man who was not afraid to take risks.

One evening, after a particularly raucous night of drinking, Shanks stumbled into Y/N’s quarters, clearly inebriated. Y/N had grown accustomed to his drunken visits, though she always made sure to keep her guard up. Drunk or not, Shanks was still her master, and she was still bound to him.

“Y/N!” Shanks slurred, a wide grin on his face as he swayed slightly. “There you are!”

Y/N looked up from where she was seated, her expression calm. “You should go to bed, Shanks. You’ve had too much to drink.”

Shanks waved her off, staggering closer. “Nah, I’m fine! Just... just needed to see you.”

Y/N sighed, rising to her feet. “What do you want, Shanks?”

Shanks’s grin widened, and he leaned in closer, his breath heavy with the scent of alcohol. “I wanna make my second wish,” he whispered conspiratorially.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, her pulse quickening. She had been dreading this moment, knowing that Shanks’s second wish could change everything. But she forced herself to remain calm, to stay in control.

“What is your wish, Master Shanks?” she asked, her voice steady.

Shanks’s eyes sparkled with mischief, and he leaned even closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke. “I wish... I wish you’d tell me where the One Piece is.”

Y/N froze, her blood running cold. The One Piece—the legendary treasure said to be hidden at the end of the Grand Line. It was the ultimate goal of every pirate, the prize that could make a man the King of the Pirates.

But Y/N couldn’t grant that wish, no matter how much Shanks wanted it. The One Piece was not something that could be found through magic; it was something that had to be earned through hard work, determination, and sheer willpower. It was not a shortcut, and it was not something that could be given away so easily.

“I can’t grant that wish,” Y/N said firmly, pulling away from Shanks.

Shanks’s expression darkened, his drunken grin fading as anger began to take hold. “What do you mean you can’t?” he demanded, his voice rising. “You’re a genie! You’re supposed to grant my wishes!”

Y/N took a step back, her heart pounding in her chest. She had seen this before—the shift from friendly to furious, the way power could corrupt even the kindest of souls. She had seen it too many times, and it always ended the same way.

“Some wishes can’t be granted, Shanks,” she said softly, hoping to calm him down. “The One Piece is not something that can be given. It’s something you have to find on your own.”

But Shanks was beyond reasoning. His anger flared, and he let out a roar of frustration, his fists clenched at his sides. “I don’t need you to tell me what I can and can’t do!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the ship.

Y/N flinched, instinctively taking another step back. She knew she had to tread carefully, to avoid provoking him further. But before she could speak, Shanks suddenly lunged forward, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her toward him.

“If you won’t grant my wish,” he snarled, his face inches from hers, “then you’re no use to me.”

Y/N’s heart raced with fear as she struggled to break free from his grip, but Shanks was stronger than he looked. He dragged her across the room, his grip tightening painfully around her arm. Y/N’s eyes widened as she realized what he was doing—he was heading for the bottle, the very thing that had been her prison for so long.

“No!” she cried, her voice filled with panic. “Shanks, please! Don’t do this!”

But Shanks was deaf to her pleas. In his drunken rage, he was beyond reason, beyond compassion. He grabbed the bottle, holding it up in front of her, a cruel smile twisting his lips.

“If you won’t grant my wish, then you can go back to where you came from,” he hissed, his voice filled with venom.

Y/N’s blood ran cold as she watched in horror as Shanks raised the bottle above his head, preparing to hurl it into the sea. The thought of being trapped in that bottle again, of losing the freedom she had only just regained, filled her with a terror she had not felt in centuries.

“Shanks, please!” she begged, tears streaming down her face. “Don’t do this! Please!”

But Shanks was beyond hearing her. With a furious cry, he threw the bottle with all his strength, sending it flying through the air. Y/N watched in despair as it arced through the night sky, the moonlight glinting off its polished surface, before it disappeared into the dark waters below.

For a moment, there was silence—an eerie, crushing silence that seemed to stretch on forever. And then, as if in slow motion, Y/N saw the bottle hit the water, the splash barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat.

“No!” she screamed, her voice breaking with despair. Without thinking, she ran to the edge of the deck, her eyes locked on the spot where the bottle had disappeared. She knew she had to get it back, had to retrieve it before it was lost forever.

But there was one problem—Y/N didn’t know how to swim.

The realization hit her like a physical blow, but it did nothing to quell the rising panic inside her. She couldn’t let the bottle be lost. It was the only home she had ever known, the only place she could truly call her own. Without it, she was nothing.

“Lady overboard!” someone shouted from the deck as Y/N scrambled over the railing, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

“Y/N, stop!” Shanks’s voice rang out behind her, but she ignored him. She had to get the bottle back, had to find it before it was too late.

With a final, desperate leap, Y/N flung herself over the edge of the ship, her body plunging into the cold, unforgiving sea. The water closed over her head, and she felt herself sinking, her limbs thrashing uselessly in the dark depths.

Panic seized her as she struggled to stay afloat, her mind racing with fear. She had to find the bottle, had to get it back. But the sea was vast, and she was so small, so helpless.

Her vision began to blur as she sank deeper and deeper into the water, the light of the moon fading above her. She could feel her strength leaving her, her body growing weaker with every passing second. She was drowning, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

As her consciousness began to slip away, Y/N’s last thoughts were of Shanks—of his anger, his betrayal, and the strange, inexplicable connection she had felt with him. She had thought he was different, thought he was someone she could trust.

But in the end, he was just like all the others.

Darkness claimed her, and Y/N felt herself sinking into oblivion. The last thing she heard was the distant sound of someone shouting her name, the words lost to the depths of the sea.

When Y/N awoke, she was lying in a soft bed, the gentle sway of the ship beneath her. Her body ached, and her throat burned with the taste of salt water. For a moment, she was disoriented, unsure of where she was or how she had gotten there.

And then she remembered—Shanks, the bottle, the sea. Panic surged within her, and she tried to sit up, only to be gently pushed back down by a firm hand.

“Easy,” a familiar voice said, and Y/N looked up to see Shanks sitting beside her, his expression filled with concern.

For a moment, Y/N couldn’t speak, her mind struggling to process what had happened. She had

been drowning, sinking into the depths of the sea. And then... what? She had blacked out, her consciousness slipping away.

“Shanks,” she croaked, her voice barely more than a whisper. “What happened?”

Shanks sighed, his shoulders slumping. “You fell overboard,” he said quietly. “I... I tried to stop you, but you wouldn’t listen. I had to jump in after you.”

Y/N stared at him in shock, her mind reeling. Shanks had saved her—had risked his own life to pull her from the sea. It was something she hadn’t expected, something she hadn’t thought him capable of.

“Why?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Shanks hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Because I care about you,” he said softly. “You’re not just a genie to me, Y/N. You’re my friend. And I don’t want to lose you.”

Y/N’s heart ached at his words, and she felt tears welling up in her eyes. She had been so afraid, so certain that Shanks was just like all the others. But he wasn’t—he was different. He had saved her, had shown her that there was still hope, still a chance for something more.

“Shanks,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

Shanks reached out, gently brushing a tear from her cheek. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “You’re safe now. And I promise you, I’ll never make you do something you don’t want to do. I’ll never use my wishes against you.”

Y/N looked up at him, her heart full of gratitude and something else—something warm and unfamiliar that she couldn’t quite name. For the first time in centuries, she felt a glimmer of hope, a spark of something more than just duty and obligation.

Maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.

And as Shanks sat beside her, his presence a comforting warmth in the cool night, Y/N allowed herself to believe that it could be true.