Tanger1n3s - Kai

shanks has my entire heart <3

POV youre Chopper

"Mister Beckman"

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,113 Drabble

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Synopsis: The first mate of the Red-Hair pirates is attempting to relax and enjoy his evening with you, but is rudely interrupted by Shanks' tinkering and clanging within the Captain's quarters.

Themes: First-mate x crew, established relationship, lounging, drinking, smoking, gentle touches, sweet domesticity.

Notes: The Beckman brain rot got me. This beloved first-mate lives rent free in my head, and I adore him.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry

Echoes of clangs of metal meeting wood reverberated throughout the hallway of the Red Force. The ship shook against the metal banging, its source within the Captain’s quarters beginning to crescendo upwards in volume and the drawn out clangs became more erratic and frantic with each shattered bash. 

Benn Beckman sat on the wooden deckchair, closing his eyes and furrowing his brows at each of the beaten clangs ringing in his ears. Reclining against your own deckchair, your legs comfortably rested over his thighs and secured beneath the heel of his left palm. He drew up his right hand and pulled the cigarette from his lips, blowing the smoke away from you before slyly raking his eyes over your body from the corner of his eyes. 

Your brows knit in concentration as you read over the itinerary to be completed within the next port. He gave your calf a gentle squeeze before slowly dancing his index finger over your shin up to the point of your knee. Pursing your lips and arching your left brow, you refused to break your eyes away from raking them over the itinerary as he continued to trail his digits over the cap of your knee. 

“Mister Beckman,” your warning tone rising at the end of his name, your tongue clicking in a small reprimand, “I am trying to read.” His fingers end their small dance against your skin, his firm hand cupping over your knee as he leans forward. The clangs continue to pick up their rapidity and volume, before halting all together with a murmur of angry words strung into loose sentences.

Beckman hums in response, placing the butt of his cigarette within the glass ash-tray and pressing it beneath the pad of his thumb to extinguish it. He joins his right hand against your skin by cradling your calf and moulding the flesh beneath it. The angry vocal murmur continues to rise alongside the recommencing clanging and clashing within the Captain’s quarters. 

“Mister Beckman,” you sighed, turning over the page of the itinerary and glaring at the pages, “Are you going to check on our Captain?” He grunted at your question, a lengthy sigh pulling itself from his chest immediately following. Leaning down in a deep stoop, he placed his lips against your shin, cradling your calf against his chest as he drew his lips up. Pressing several fluttered kisses against your flesh, he continued to trail his lips upwards with his smile felt in each flurry. 

“Darlin’,” he muttered against your skin, “It’ll take nothin’ short of-.” A particularly loud clang of bashed wood meeting metal broke his words away from his lips, his head snapping over in the direction of Shanks within his quarters. 

“Beckman! Becks!” Red-Haired Shanks yelled at the top of his voice. The booming anxiety had Beckman removing your legs from his lap, and rising immediately to his feet to sprint towards the direction of the Captain’s quarters. 

You sighed at his warmth disappearing from beneath your legs, your ears pricking for any indication of the source of the clanging and banging.

Managing to scribe several notes over the itinerary, you glanced up to see Beckman re-emerging from the Captain’s quarters with a look of defeat over his face. Eyes closed, a deep frown found purchase against his brows, with his jaw both tense and slack at the same time. You could tangibly see the pulsation of a vein beating against his temple, his pulse elevated and aggressive in its rapidity.

He withdrew a cigarette from his pack and rose it to his lips, igniting the end and inhaling a deep gulping lungful of the nicotine-riddled tobacco. His exhale was heavy, the weight of what occurred within the Captain’s quarters falling from his exasperated breaths. 

Brows upturning with empathy, your lips pouted at the sight of the first-mate in such a sorry state. You rose to your feet, walking slowly over to him as he allowed a small hushed growl depart from his lips on his next exhale. 

“Why is it always me?” his raspy rumble mixed with his chagrin, prompting a small smile to elevate to your lips. You raised your right hand up to collect his left cheek, his eyes opening at the soft impact. The gruffness of his silver grained stubble danced with the softness of your palms as they drew his face closer to you.

“Because it’s what you do,” you offered him your response, gazing lovingly into his eyes, “And we all love and appreciate you for it.” He allowed a softness to dance in his eyes as he gazed into your orbs, the love dancing tangible within your rounded globes. He removed his cigarette from his lips and hung his hand limply to his side, stooping down to meet your face with his. 

“We?” His lip ticked up at the corner as he continued his descent to meet your face with his own. 

“Of course ‘we’,” you praised him with your wide and innocent eyes floating between half-lidded eyes, “But we know I love you most.” You gave him a small wink, prompting a rumbled chuckle to rise within his chest.

“Thank you, Darlin’,” he leant his forehead against yours, ensuring his cigarette was far enough from both of you to not dance its ignited end against your skin. You closed your eyes, humming at the kiss of your foreheads meeting, before pulling apart from him and gazing once more into his grey orbs. 

“You going to tell me what that was all about, Mister Beckman?” You asked him. His smirk danced over his lips, his hand collecting fallen strands from your forehead and hooking it behind your ear. 

“There you go again. Sayin’ ‘Mister Beckman,’ like it doesn’t rouse somethin’ in you,” his voice growled in a subtle purr down into ear, the follicles on the back of your neck rising to attention. He chuckled into your ear before rising himself away to press a chaste kiss against your temple with a small promise of, “I’ll tell you about it later. For now, let's go sit back down. I need a drink.”

“Aye, sir,” you offered him a two fingered salute, shooting a small wink at him before turning and walking back to assume your prior position reclining against the chairs. He sighed deeply, watching the small swing of your hips in front of him and shaking his head. He whispered below his breath to vocalize his thoughts.

“This is why I went grey before fifty.” You turned and glanced at him over your shoulder with a sly smirk dancing at the corner of your lips. 

“And what pretty grey hair you have, Mister Beckman.”

sabo

Falling in Reverse (Dazai Osamu x Reader)

There were many hazards with working for the Armed Detective Agency.

The hours were sometimes unpredictable, the possibility of being kidnapped or attacked by enemy organisations or just people who had a grudge against random members, was always a very real threat.  More than once you’ve been forced into some kind of underground bunker or secret location for a few days for your own safety. Plus, Kunikida's incessant shouting had made you start keeping painkillers stashed in your desk as a failsafe. But the real problem was... "Hello, everyone!" ...was him. Your eyes flicked up as Dazai Osamu came waltzing into the room, brown eyes shining. No doubt he'd just found out a thrilling new method of suicide he wanted to try out, or perhaps he'd found somewhere that sold crab meat on the cheap.

You quickly dropped your gaze as he passed your desk, greeting the others with a carefree smile and a wave you didn't buy for a moment. You continued typing busily, sucking on your bottom lip in thought. And there it was. Try as you might to ignore it, to dedicate your time and energy to your work and think about other, more productive things, the feelings would not - refused - to go away. All you could do was trap them and keep them in a box in the back of your head, tucked away and out of sight. Yet your heart still seemed to speed up whenever Dazai was within ten feet of you, like a dog wagging its tail with its owner nearby. And therein lay the problem - having a crush or whatever you called it on Dazai Osamu was nothing but a fool's errand. Suicidal former Port Mafia members were not good material for a relationship. Even a fling might be asking too much. Not to mention, Dazai was a serial flirt who couldn't stop himself from outrageously hitting on every pretty waitress or barista that he came across, he spent most of his time at work fucking with Kunikida and/or Atsushi, he never paid his damn tab and overall was an unpredictable mess of a person. Was he handsome? Of course - he made other men look shabbier merely by existing in the same room as them. Frighteningly perceptive and intelligent when he stopped acting like a crackhead? Undoubtedly. But it was far better to stay away from someone like him as much as possible. After all, a fire might be beautiful, but in order to survive, you learn to get as far away from them as you can.

Fortunately for you, even though you worked in the same building as him, Dazai rarely noticed you, much less held conversations with you in which you might blurt out anything embarrassing. He may have been an incredibly observant person, but he had his eyes on the important issues like whatever the Port Mafia were getting up to or trying to outmaneuver the Guild or dangerous Russian criminals. The possible infatuation of an insignificant secretary who happened to have a desk not far away from him no doubt barely registered in Dazai's busy mind, and you intended to keep it that way. To help maintain your cover, you made sure to treat Dazai with chilly politeness, as if you found him and his antics to be unprofessional and completely inappropriate. The fact that they were wasn't the point. More than once you’d had to sneak away into the ladies to giggle madly at whatever stunt Dazai had pulled on one of his hapless co-workers, then take the time to compose yourself before stepping back out again.

And you certainly didn't secretly resent him a little - for effortlessly making you fall for him without even trying. And leaving you knowing you were doomed to quietly pine over him and nothing more, because Dazai was a disaster, but he was still undeniably special. Like a human comet, dragging everybody else in his wake. He made you painfully aware of how unexceptional you were. I'm not pining. you corrected yourself, stapling together a stack of documents for Fukuzawa with perhaps a little bit too much force, the clicking sound loud in your ears. It's just a dumbass crush. Everyone fancies Dazai when they meet him for the first time, but they get over it. It's a rite of passage. Anyway, you had something else to distract you. Tonight, you were actually venturing out of your apartment instead of curling up in front of the TV - on a blind date. It hadn't been your idea, a friend told you there was some event going on at Kafka's tonight, a bar downtown you knew fairly well and somebody she thought you’d like would be there, so you thought: Why not?

It's not like you had anything better to do. Anyway, maybe if you met someone new, you'd finally be able to shake off whatever feelings you had and redirect them to someone less...messy. The only problem was, it started right after your shift ended, so you'd have to get changed and do your makeup here at the Agency to save time. "Damn!" The stapler you'd been holding slipped from your grip and you hastened to pick it up off the floor. You'd had a manicure the other day in preparation for tonight and you were still getting used to them. "Are you okay?" Kirako asked you, tilting her head, her expression one of mild concern. "You've seemed a little...high-strung today." “Highly strung,” you corrected absently, retrieving the stapler and straightening up. “And I am not, I’m not a horse. I’m just nervous.” “Huh? Oh yeah! You’re gong on that thing tonight, right?” “Right,” you said, partly wishing she’d shut up – you didn’t want people listening and asking you nosy questions. Unfortunately for you, Kirako was not telepathic and kept happily chattering away. “Have you decided what you’re going to wear? It’s important to make a good impression at these things!” “I’ve got an outfit with me,” you reluctantly admitted, since she’d probably figure it out anyway. “It’s easier than going all the way home to change.” “Ooh, show me!” Kirako said – somehow, she seemed far more excited about this than you were. Probably because she didn’t have to worry about what she’d do if the night turned out to be a complete bust or worse. “Absolutely not.” You replied – far from her enthusiasm being infectious, she was making you uneasy, hyping the night up into something far bigger than you’d intended. Fortunately for you, any further conversation was cut short by the arrival of the boss. As Fukuzawa strode in you both stood up to bow. Personally, you’d never been so pleased to see him. He just gave a regal nod to you both before approaching Kunikida and the others, no doubt about to deliver some new job to them. You let go of a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding – you could go back to being invisible. Invisibility was safe.

Kirako picked up some conversation she’d been having with Naomi about her cat and you made the right noises as she showed you some admittedly adorable pictures on her phone. And yes, you did check a couple of times, surreptitiously peeking from behind your monitor. Dazai didn’t look at you once. ~ “Fuck’s…sake!” You grunted as you battled with the stubborn zipper between your fingertips. You were sure you’d been wrestling with this damn dress forever and you didn’t have time for this – you’d go from ‘fashionably late’ to ‘why bother’ if this kept up- Finally! The zipper, which had been stubbornly refusing to cooperate with you for what had to have been at least ten minutes finally gave in to your relentless pulling and closed, tooth by sullen tooth. You might have asked Kirako or someone to help you, but they’d all left, so you were on your own.

You breathed a sigh of relief – you might have to limit what you ate for fear of the zipper bursting, but this dress had to be tight to stay up, so you had to make sacrifices where necessary. You turned and looked in the full-length mirror affixed to the wall. Wow. You didn’t think of yourself as a vain person, but as you turned around to make sure your outfit was all in place, you had to admit you looked good. Red was a pretty bold colour and the style wasn’t something you wore on a day-to-day basis, but you’re glad you went with it. The light seeping through the bathroom window bounced off the shiny material of the dress and you smiled to yourself as you added a final touch – a slick of lipgloss. You should commit to the idea of stepping outside your comfort zone and wearing an outfit like this seemed a good way to do that.

You pushed open the door and stepped out into the office, which looked weird without anybody in it, awash with a peachy-orange glow from the sunset outside. As you turned to leave, though, you quickly learned that you weren’t as alone as you’d first thought. “Oh,” came a voice. The last one you wanted to hear right now. (Yet the one you heard in your dreams, over and over again like a broken record.) Dazai stood there, staring at you and you’ve never seen that look on his face before. He wasn’t grinning or teasing but nor had he slipped into that chilly, calculating look that was known to a few people throughout the Agency as his “Port Mafia face”. Instead, he was simply looking at you with an unguarded look of surprise, his mouth slightly open like he had been about to speak but forgotten what he was about to say. He snapped out of it a moment later, hastily slapping on one of his signature flirty smirks the way other people would throw on a jacket.

“Well, well.” Dazai said and you hated the vaguely sultry hint to his tone, you hated it because you knew it wasn’t real. “Don’t you look lovely.” You swallowed. Dazai threw compliments at women all the time, but you’re pretty sure he meant it – no doubt he’d never seen you dressed this way before. From someone else’s lips, such a comment might range from sweet to creepy, but when Dazai said it, your bones felt like they were turning to water. “Well,” you echoed him, a beat too late, and despite your confidence a few minutes ago, getting the words out proved difficult, your cadence halting and awkward. “Thank you.” The urge to run away burned in your chest, like you had a cough waiting to come out, but the way he was looking at you…it was hard to pull yourself away. Your heart thudded loudly in your chest, and you had a peculiar urge to reach for him. To do what, you didn’t know. Rest a hand on his chest? Touch his face? Pull him closer? You tucked the hand behind you, in case it got any ideas of its own. “Got a hot date tonight?” Dazai said in a teasing voice, but there was something else in it that gave you pause, like a shard of ice in a refreshing drink. It made you wary, and you were glad of it – it wasn’t a good idea to get too comfortable around him, even under the guise of friendly banter. Obviously he’d reached that assumption from what you’re wearing and the hour it was, since you didn’t usually hang around the office for this long, but you can’t shake the notion that Dazai doesn’t approve of the idea. Too bad for him, you’re not asking permission. “Just a thing with a friend of mine,” you replied, which wasn’t really a lie, just vague enough to skirt the truth and you offered a breezy smile to placate him. “It should be fun. I’d better go, though. I’m already running a bit late.” Hitching your bag a little higher up your shoulder, you dodged around Dazai, who made no effort to stop you and headed out into the city that was preparing for the evening, your heels clicking satisfyingly across the floor. (Another thing you didn’t wear regularly, but hey, why not go all out?)

Dazai, unusually still, watched you go, his hands sliding into the pockets of his trench coat. He spoke thoughtfully into the empty air, dust motes dancing in the shaft of light pouring in through the window. “A friend, huh…” he mused, and his eyes held a look in them, the slight darkening of his gaze as he looked ahead at something only he could see, his sharp mind already racing far ahead to all sorts of potential scenarios to be countered, if necessary. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

🍃

IM GONAA KMSSSS

“What’s wrong, Sixer? You hated him all along”

Connor: fuckers went skydiving without me…

Zoro: Torao, I would just like to remind you of how much you adore me.

Zoro: And how boring your life would be without me.

Law:

Zoro:

Law: ... What did you do this time?

Wilbur and Tommy literally every time something goes wrong on the SMP