One Piece X Y/n - Blog Posts
maybe i need a whole fic with luffy x reader married now... i'm not charging you, maybe i'm just in love with your writing
a/n: thank u <3 hope u like this~
Wait… Luffy’s WHAT?!
Luffy reunites with his childhood sweetheart, who also happens to be his secret spouse. The crew thought he was joking… until they weren’t laughing anymore.
LUFFY X GN!READER | ONE SHOT
tags: fluff, sfw, ooc, marriage, reader is opposite of luffy
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: 1.3k
masterlist | ko-fi
: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊
The Thousand Sunny drifted through the final tunnel, water glistening against its protective bubble as Fishman Island came into view.
“WOAAAH!” Luffy yelled from the deck, eyes wide. “It’s so shiny!”
“I can’t believe it’s real!” Chopper spun around.
Robin smiled behind a hand. “The architecture here is said to be older than the Grand Line itself.”
“I heard the royal family is pretty generous,” Nami added. “If we play this smart, we could stock up for weeks.”
But Luffy? His mind was somewhere else entirely. Or rather, on someone.
He leaned against the rail, a soft smile tugging at his lips.
“I wonder if they’re here…”
“LUFFY, GET BACK HERE, YOU CAN’T JUST–!”
“NAMI!, I SMELL MEEAAT!”
He was already gone. Sprinting like a man possessed through the bustling bubble streets of Fishman Island, eyes wide, tongue out, arms flailing in glee.
“Captain,” Robin said with a small smile, “seems excited.”
“He's always excited,” Zoro muttered, arms crossed. “But this time he’s extra stupid.”
Brook hummed thoughtfully. “Yohohoho, I wonder if the meat will marry him too.”
“Wait, did you say marry?” Usopp blinked. “Oh yeah! Didn’t Luffy say he was married once?”
“…Didn’t we all think he was joking?” Franky asked, brows raised.
“Yeah,” Chopper added with a little snort. “He said something like ‘I already got a wife, and they’re way stronger than all of you!’ and we just laughed.”
The crew exchanged glances.
“…You think he was serious?”
MEANWHILE.
Luffy skidded around the corner, bonking a coral lamp post with his forehead. “Ow–!”
“Still no sense of direction?”
He froze.
That voice.
He knew that voice like the back of his hand — or the taste of meat. Slowly, his wide eyes turned toward the source.
There, standing with arms crossed and an eyebrow raised, was you.
Stoic, calm, one eyebrow raised, and totally unamused as always.
“Y/N!!” Luffy beamed, bolting toward you. “Y/N Y/N Y/N! YOU'RE HERE!!”
Before you could scold him, he’d wrapped you in a tight hug that nearly knocked you back.
“Still a hugger as usual, huh?” you mumbled, eyes softening just a bit.
“Missed you! SHISHISHI,” he grinned into your shoulder.
“You saw me six months ago,” you said, deadpan.
“Yeah!, but that’s like…so long!!”
You sighed, though your hand was already resting on his back, grounding the chaotic ball of sunshine that had stolen your heart all those years ago.
“…You never change.”
FLASHBACK - Windmill Village
“You’re so noisy.”
“C’mon Y/N, let’s go punch that tree again!”
Putting your book down, you sat with your arms folded, watching as young Luffy jumped up and down with excitement, a stick in his hand like it was the strongest sword in the world.
“We’ll get stronger together! Then we’ll go on adventures and eat meat every day!”
You blinked. “That’s your dream?”
“Yup! What’s yours?”
You shrugged. “I don’t have one.”
“Then make one with me!”
You raised an eyebrow. “Make a dream with you?”
He nodded seriously. “We can share. Like best friends. Or… like married people!”
“…That’s not how marriage works.”
“Then I’ll change the rules!”
You stared at him.
“…Fine.”
“Hey, Y/N.”
“What now.”
“If we ever get married, can I still eat meat at the wedding?”
You looked up from your book. “Obviously. I won’t marry someone who doesn’t love meat.”
He blinked, surprised. “So you will marry me?”
You went back to reading. “Didn’t say I wouldn’t.”
His heart exploded like fireworks.
BACK TO PRESENT
“Wait,” Sanji whispered from the side of the plaza, crouched with the rest of the crew behind some candy-colored seaweed. “Is that them?! MELLORINEE~~”
“THEM?!” Usopp whispered. “You know them?!”
“I’ve heard rumors,” Sanji sighed dreamily. “That’s Y/N — calm as the sea before a storm. Feared in the Grand Line and cold-hearted~"
“Yeah, but they’re…” Chopper tilted his head. “Letting Luffy carry them like a backpack right now.”
“Are they… cuddling?” Zoro’s eye twitched. “In public?”
“I’m SUPER! emotionally confused,” Franky muttered.
“Yohohoho,” Brook said softly. “So our captain is… married.”
“And he was serious,” Robin added, intrigued.
Luffy still hadn’t let go. You were currently being dragged around the island as he loudly pointed at every fish-person, street food stall, and bubble coral with endless excitement.
“Look, Y/N, look!! That octopus is playing drums!!”
You nodded. “Mm.”
“And that shark guy has THREE swords!”
You blinked. “Impressive.”
“Oh! That candy shop sells meat-lollipops!! Want one?”
“…Fine.”
He gasped, eyes shining. “You said yes! You never say yes to candy!”
“It’s for you, dumbass.”
He beamed so hard it could’ve powered the Sunny.
LATER, WITH THE CREW
“LUFFY!!”
He turned mid-bite of his meat-lollipop. “Huh?”
“WHAT. IS. GOING. ON?!” Nami shrieked.
You were sitting beside him, sipping seaweed tea calmly. “Can I help you?”
“YEAH, YOU CAN EXPLAIN HOW YOU’RE—MARRIED TO LUFFY?!”
He tilted his head. “I told you guys already.”
“YEAH BUT YOU SAID IT WHILE EATING A SEA KING LEG!!”
Franky pointed dramatically. “That’s not the time for SUPER confessions, bro!”
You raised a hand. “We’ve been married for years. It’s just not something we flaunt.”
“…You married Luffy. As in legal.”
“Technically yes. I still have the officiation snail photo. Luffy drew a mustache on it.”
“HE LOOKED SO FUNNY!! SHISHISHI” Luffy grinned, remembering it fondly.
“WHAT ABOUT YOUR PERSONALITY?! YOU’RE THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE!” Usopp flailed.
You stared at him. “What about it?”
“I dunno!! It’s just… Luffy’s sunshine! You’re like… moonlight. That can kill people.”
Zoro finally snapped. “Okay, no offense, but how do you even deal with him?”
You sighed, placing a hand over Luffy’s head as he practically melted beside you.
“…I’ve dealt with worse than a meat-goblin with a hero complex and zero sense of personal space.”
“That’s me!!” Luffy said proudly.
Robin giggled. “You really are opposites.”
“They’re so cool,” Sanji whispered, nose bleeding. “They’re scary. But like, in a hot way~”
“Are you crushing on our captain’s spouse?!” the crew hissed.
“Can’t help it~”
LATER THAT NIGHT ON THE SUNNY
You sat at the edge of the deck, legs dangling above the water, watching the glowing sea beneath.
Luffy flopped beside you, resting his head in your lap like he always did when the sky was quiet.
“You’re really okay with all this attention?” you asked, fingers brushing his hair.
“Mmhmm. Why wouldn’t I be?”
You raised an eyebrow. “You never cared about showing people.”
“I didn’t think I had to. You're mine. That’s already the best thing ever.”
Your hand paused. Then resumed slowly.
“You’re still dumb.”
He grinned. “Yeah, but I’m your dumb.”
“…Yeah. You are.”
He yawned, curling closer. “Remember the promise we made?”
“Which one? You made a lot.”
“The one about sharing dreams.”
You looked up at the stars. “Yeah. I remember.”
“I still wanna do that. Even if it’s dumb. Even if I die trying.”
You tapped his forehead.
“You won’t die. I’ll kill anyone who tries.”
NEXT MORNING — FISHMAN ISLAND MARKET
“I WANT TO BUY THAT ONE!”
“Luffy, that’s a pearl the size of a cannonball.”
“I WANT IT!!”
You pinched the bridge of your nose.
“Luffy, if I have to carry another crate of your ‘souvenirs’ I will drown you.”
He gasped. “Y/N!! That’s mean!”
“…You like that.”
“I DO!”
“Ew, please stop flirting where I can hear you,” Nami groaned as she walked by.
Zoro muttered, “Every time I think they’ll kill each other, they end up flirting again.”
“Do you think they’ll ever kiss in front of us?” Chopper asked innocently.
Sanji's eye turned into fire. “NO WAY! I'LL KICK YOU! YOU DAMN MONKEY!!!"
“Luffy, stop licking the pearl.”
“You know,” Robin said later that evening, watching you drag Luffy back from trying to arm-wrestle a sea king, “they’re oddly perfect together.”
“Opposites attract,” Franky nodded.
“They’re like fire and ice,” Brook added.
“More like hyper gremlin and emotionless murderbot,” Nami muttered.
“…Still somehow works,” Zoro said.
Sanji sobbed. “WHEN WILL MY TURN COME?!"
.
.
— A FEW DAYS LATER
“Hey, Robin,” Usopp whispered as the ship cruised along the current.
“Yes?”
“…Do you think we should throw them a wedding party?”
She sipped her tea. “I think if you try, you’ll die.”
“Right.”
“Besides,” she added, glancing at the couple watching the sunset at the bow of the ship, Luffy wrapped around you like a sleepy octopus, “I think they already had the only wedding they needed.”
Doctor Trafalgar, Love Expert?
Law gives terrible love advice to Penguin while clearly ignoring his own painfully obvious crush on you.
Law X gn! reader | ONE SHOT tags: fluff, sfw, friends-to-lovers typeshi(?) law being timid 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: 1.1k
masterlist | ko-fi
: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊
If there was one thing Trafalgar Law wasn’t qualified to do, it was give romantic advice.
Sure, he was a brilliant surgeon, a pirate captain, and had a smirk that could make a nun sin, but when it came to feelings—specifically his own—he was a flaming shipwreck in a storm of emotional denial.
And yet, here he was, arms crossed, giving unsolicited love advice to Penguin like he was the therapist from a soap opera.
“Just tell her she’s inefficient,” Law said with a straight face. “It’s a compliment.”
Bepo blinked up at him. “...Captain, I don’t think calling Penguin’s crush inefficient is going to help his chances.”
“You asked for honesty,” Law muttered, flipping through his medical journal like it was more interesting than this disaster in progress. “Efficiency is attractive.”
“To you, maybe!”
You, meanwhile, were watching this entire trainwreck from the galley door with a cup of tea and the kind of secondhand embarrassment that deserved its own trauma counseling.
“Law,” you called. “Did you just say ‘inefficient’ as a flirting tactic?”
He didn’t even look up. “It’s a practical compliment.”
You snorted. “What’s next? ‘Your presence improves my survival odds by 6.4%’?”
“…Depending on the environment, that’s a generous estimate.”
You and Bepo shared a look. A look that screamed, Why is this our captain?
The whole thing had started that morning when Penguin had walked into the common area in a flurry of nerves and confessed, “I think I like someone.”
Law, who’d been reading while pretending not to be listening to music in one earbud (yes, he still used wired ones, don’t ask), barely lifted his gaze. “Then tell them.”
Penguin shuffled. “It’s not that easy.”
“It’s the truth.”
“And what if they don’t like me back?”
Law gave the emotional equivalent of a shrug. “Then adapt. Rejection is survivable.”
Penguin groaned from the couch. “Cap, you can’t treat love like it’s battle tactics.”
“It’s a high-risk operation involving fragile variables and potential bloodshed. Sounds pretty accurate.”
Shachi nodded. “Okay, that’s fair, but also incredibly bleak.”
And that’s when Law was voluntold by everyone that if he was going to act like he knew how love worked, he had to give actual advice.
Hence: Doctor Trafalgar, Love Expert?
“Okay,” you said, taking the empty seat beside him and plucking the journal from his hands. “If you’re so good at giving advice, help me out.”
Law narrowed his eyes. “With what?”
“I think someone likes me,” you said casually, leaning back like you weren’t about to stir up the most delicious chaos. “But I can’t tell if they’re just awkward or trying to be subtle.”
His jaw tightened. “Who is it?”
You shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s why I need your expert opinion.”
Law closed the journal and set it down very deliberately.
Everyone in the room went very still. Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi exchanged silent screams with their eyebrows.
“Well,” Law said coolly. “What are the signs?”
“Hmm,” you hummed. “They hover a lot. Make excuses to talk to me. Kind of avoid eye contact but also stare when they think I’m not looking.”
His eye twitched. “Stare?”
“Yeah. And once, they brought me extra rice even though I didn’t ask.”
Silence.
Law stood up. “That’s suspicious.”
“Oh?”
“Sounds like they’re trying too hard.”
“Ohhh?” you said, biting back a smile.
“They’re probably nervous. Emotionally constipated. Bad at expressing feelings.” He said all this like he wasn’t describing himself to an absurdly accurate degree. “Possibly repressed.”
“Should I confront them?”
“No,” he said quickly, a little too quickly. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“It might scare them away.”
“But if they like me…”
“Then wait for them to say something first.”
Bepo coughed. “So… basically just let them suffer in silence?”
“It builds character,” Law said.
You covered your mouth to hide your grin. “You’re such a romantic.”
Law’s ears turned pink. “Shut up.”
Later that day, Shachi cornered you near the engine room with a look of deep judgment.
“You’re torturing him.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
He pointed a wrench at you. “You know he likes you.”
“Do I?”
“You’ve been fake-flirting with a ghost for the last week just to get him to react!”
You smirked. “It’s good cardio.”
Shachi groaned. “He’s gonna combust. I saw him look up love confession rituals on his snail phone last night.”
Your eyes widened. “No.”
“Yes! And he accidentally joined a forum for single dads in North Blue.”
You wheezed. “He’s going through it.”
“So help him out!”
“…Fine.”
The opportunity came the next morning when you walked into the kitchen and found Law staring at a mug of coffee like it had personally betrayed him.
He didn’t look up when you entered, just mumbled, “Morning.”
“Morning,” you said, walking over. “Sleep okay?”
He made a grunt of vague disapproval.
You sat beside him. “Thinking about your crush?”
He choked on his coffee.
“I mean,” you said, oh-so-innocently. “That mystery person you gave advice about.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re very nosy.”
“You’re very obvious.”
He gave you a look. “I don’t have a crush.”
You tilted your head. “Are you sure? Because everyone on this ship seems to think you do.”
“Everyone on this ship is bored.”
“Bored enough to notice how you go quiet when I talk, how you walk into rooms I’m in and pretend it’s for unrelated reasons, or how you stare at my lips when I eat dessert?”
He went dead silent.
You leaned closer. “So. Doctor Trafalgar. Any prescriptions for yourself?”
“…Shut up,” he muttered, face flushed.
You blinked. “Wait. That was a confession.”
He got up.
You grabbed his wrist.
He froze.
“Hey,” you said, suddenly softer. “I like you too, dumbass.”
He blinked.
You reached into your pocket and pulled out a little red candy. “I was going to make you say it first, but you looked like you were about to diagnose yourself with heartbreak.”
He blinked again.
“…You like me?”
“God, yes. Even when you’re being a brick wall with nice tattoos.”
“…I have more than just tattoos,” he muttered.
You grinned. “Yeah, you’ve also got a charming inability to express affection. It’s cute.”
He shook his head. “You’re insufferable.”
“You’re blushing.”
“I’m leaving.”
“You’re still holding my hand.”
Pause.
He looked down.
He was.
“…Tch.”
You laughed and tugged him back down. “Stay.”
“…Fine.”
Later, Penguin came in to find the two of you sitting shoulder to shoulder, quietly sharing a plate of snacks.
“Captain?” Penguin said, tilting his head. “Did you take your own advice?”
Law didn’t look up. “No.”
You grinned. “He took mine.”
Hot Springs, Hot Tempers
You and King accidentally end up in the same secluded hot spring. Cue awkward tension, steamy misunderstandings, and fluffy chaos.
King X gn! reader | ONE SHOT
tags: fluff, sfw, king being bad at flirting(?), ooc king, post-battle
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
: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊
You had no idea the hot spring was co-ed.
Okay, to be fair, the old innkeeper had mumbled something about the “blessed harmony of nature,” but you’d tuned her out while ogling the steaming bath behind her. After all, after days of dodging explosions, clashing with marines, and nearly getting cooked alive by Kaido’s fire breath (which—honestly—should be illegal), you were in desperate need of a hot soak.
So, in you went.
Alone. Glorious. Gloriously alone. Or so you thought.
You sunk into the mineral-rich waters with a satisfied moan, stretching out your limbs like a boiled noodle.
“Finally,” you sighed. “Peace.”
And that’s exactly when you heard it—the sound of something massive stepping through the entrance behind you.
You froze mid-soak. Slowly turned your head.
And there he was.
King.
All 20-foot-something of him, broad shoulders covered in black scales and steam, towering at the threshold with his helmet already off, wings folded behind him like a damn mythical creature who forgot how personal space works.
He stopped, towel hanging over his shoulder, completely stone-faced as your eyes met.
“Oh no,” you said flatly, water sloshing around you.
King blinked. “...This is the private spring, isn’t it?”
You shot up, half-submerged. “I thought this was the solo spring!”
“You thought wrong.”
“You’re the one barging in here like some half-naked goth dragon!”
“I’m wearing a towel.”
“Barely!”
An awkward silence settled like fog on the water.
Then you noticed it—King’s expression faltering ever so slightly, as though realizing he had, in fact, just crashed a very vulnerable soak session.
“I’ll leave,” he muttered, turning on his heel with all the grace of a man who never once had to care about bathing etiquette.
“No, wait—ugh. Don’t.” You sighed, flopping back against the smooth rock ledge. “It’s fine. Let’s just pretend we’re two strangers in an awkward commercial.”
King paused. “A what?”
“Never mind.”
He stepped forward, water rippling violently with every heavy-footed motion, and settled into the far end of the spring. The opposite end. The farthest possible distance between you and his very large, very shirtless self.
Great. Now you had to pretend you weren’t occasionally glancing at his shoulders.
To be fair, you tried not to. But he was right there. With skin that shimmered like obsidian under the moonlight and muscles that made Greek statues look like soggy breadsticks.
And then he caught you looking.
You quickly looked away.
“I wasn’t—uh—I mean, nice... wings?” you blurted out.
His eyebrow raised. “That’s the best you’ve got?”
You groaned and covered your face. “I’m under pressure, okay?! You’re like—intimidating hot.”
King blinked. His cheeks, you could swear, colored faintly at the edges.
“Don’t call me hot.”
“Well don’t show up shirtless, glistening with steam like some overworked fanfic trope.”
A beat.
“…What’s a fanfic?”
“Forget it.”
Another silence.
Then, out of nowhere, King spoke. “I didn’t know you used hot springs.”
You side-eyed him. “I didn’t know you bathed.”
“I’m not a savage.”
“Well, jury’s still out.”
King huffed, turning his face slightly. For someone who once split a marine ship in two with his boot, he looked incredibly put out by your teasing. Almost pouty.
You smirked.
“Well, since we’re stuck here together… might as well enjoy it,” you said, leaning back against the stone and letting the warm water lull your muscles.
King tilted his head. “You’re not going to try anything stupid?”
“What, like seducing you with my wrinkly prune fingers?” you held up your soaked hands.
“…Yes.”
You snorted. “Please, you’d combust before anything happened.”
He grunted. “Fair.”
A few more moments passed. You dared peek again.
He was leaning back, steam coiling around his broad frame like silk, wings shifting with every subtle motion. You noticed he had a faint scar running along his collarbone—jagged, healed-over, and oddly… human.
“You have a scar,” you said before you could stop yourself.
King opened one eye lazily. “Observation. Noted.”
“No, I mean… I didn’t think Lunarians could scar.”
He was quiet for a beat. “I got it before the flame. Before I could heal.”
“Oh,” you murmured, eyes softening.
The mood quieted.
But then you, unable to help yourself, added: “...So you were a clumsy kid.”
He side-eyed you. “I fell from a sky cliff. That’s not clumsy. That’s survival.”
“Uh-huh. And I’m sure you looked very majestic doing it.”
“I did.”
You both cracked a small laugh. A real laugh.
And then—
SPLOOSH!
A wild monkey cannonballed into the spring.
You screamed. King leapt halfway out of the water with his wings flared.
“WHAT IN—?!”
The monkey screeched, flopped onto a rock, and began casually bathing itself with a smug little expression.
“…Are you serious?” you muttered.
King glared at the monkey. “It’s staring at me.”
You nudged closer. “Probably impressed by your wingspan.”
“Or your screaming.”
“Excuse me! That was a war cry of surprise.”
“I thought it was a kettle exploding.”
“You—!”
You were cut off by the monkey stealing your towel.
It yanked it from the side, chattered triumphantly, and bolted into the woods.
“HEY!!”
King, somehow, did not move to help. In fact, he looked… amused?
“Don’t you dare laugh,” you warned.
His lips twitched. “Consider it karma for calling me a ‘goth dragon’.”
You groaned and sank deeper into the water. “I’m gonna have to air dry now like a soggy noodle.”
“You’ll survive,” King said, voice warm with uncharacteristic amusement.
You both sat in steamy silence for a bit longer, the earlier tension melting with the mist.
After a few minutes, King shifted closer. Not much—just a foot or two. But it was enough to make your heart stutter.
“...You come here often?” he asked, in the most unintentionally awkward tone imaginable.
You blinked.
“…Are you hitting on me?”
“No,” he said too quickly.
You raised a brow. “That was absolutely a pickup line.”
“It was not.”
“You literally just asked, ‘do you come here often?’ in a secluded hot spring.”
“…Coincidence.”
You stared at him. He stared back.
Then—you burst out laughing.
“I can’t believe this. You’re terrible at flirting.”
King flushed. “I’m not trying to flirt.”
“Oh, no, of course not. That towel drop earlier was just an accident too, huh?”
“That was gravity’s fault.”
You giggled so hard you slipped slightly under the water, splashing like a drunk dolphin.
And then—you felt his hand.
Gentle. Large. Holding your elbow to steady you.
You froze.
He looked surprised at himself too, eyes wide like he hadn’t meant to do that.
But he didn’t pull away.
“…Thanks,” you mumbled, suddenly very aware of the fact that your face was burning hotter than the water.
King’s gaze softened. Just slightly.
“You’re welcome.”
You both stayed like that, too long, too close. Until—
“HEY!!” someone called in the distance. “Is the spring free yet?!”
It was Queen.
You and King jumped apart like teenagers caught making out behind the gym.
“I should go,” you said.
“Yes. Right.”
You stood up, realized you still didn’t have a towel, and groaned.
King turned his back with a surprising amount of respect. “Take mine.”
“…Wait, seriously?”
“You’ll catch a cold,” he muttered, ears slightly red.
You wrapped it around yourself, stunned silent for once.
As you left the spring, water dripping and heart racing, you dared glance back at King—still chest-deep in steam, gaze lowered, face unreadable.
But there was a faint curl to his lips. Almost like a smile.
You didn’t know what that meant. But you did know one thing:
You were definitely coming back to this spring.
And next time, you might just forget to bring a towel again.
Hi! Hope you have a nice day. If it's okay with you, may i request something for the charming firefly, ace?
Something like ace is vv oblivious to the reader's flirting, just thinking everything just a coincidence, like their seat on the dining table are next to each other, or when he's thirsty or hungry, the reader will always have a drink or snack/food ready. While actually it's happening because of the reader and their observations.
Sorry if it's too long, thanks for your time for reading this! (Completely okay if you're not ok with writing this, i just wanna say thank you)
a/n: wahh! thiss is soo cutee! hope u like thiss ><
Clueless Hearts and Full Plates
Ace doesn’t realize the reader’s affection is behind every perfect coincidence—until one finally clicks.
Ace X gn! reader
tags: fluff, sfw, flirting, ooc, ace being oblivious
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: 1.1k
masterlist | ko-fi
: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊
It was always a coincidence.
At least, that’s what Ace thought.
Every meal, every shared moment, every little “accident” that placed you beside him was chalked up to fate, luck, or the universe just being weirdly nice to him that day.
Like this morning.
The Moby Dick rocked gently with the waves, and the crew had begun their daily scramble to the galley. Ace, still half-asleep with bedhead and one sandal barely on, made his way to the table. As usual, the crew’s chatter filled the room with the kind of loud, familial chaos only the Whitebeard Pirates could manage.
And, also as usual, the seat beside you was the only one open.
“Hey,” Ace greeted, plopping down with a yawn and no suspicion.
“Morning,” you replied, already pushing a glass of orange juice in his direction without a second thought.
He blinked. “Whoa, you read my mind. I was just thinking I was thirsty.”
You smiled. “Coincidence, I guess.”
Ace grinned, utterly unaware of how long you’d been keeping track of the way he always reached for juice in the morning, never coffee, never water. Just juice. Always.
After a minute, he added, “Also kinda hungry… I forgot to grab a roll or somethin’.”
You wordlessly slid a small plate of warm bread and butter closer to him.
He gasped, delighted. “Seriously, you’re magic! You always have just what I need!”
You bit your lip to hide the fond curve of your smile. “Lucky timing, huh?”
Lucky timing.
That’s what he called it the other day when he tripped coming down the deck stairs and nearly face-planted—only to find your hand catching him in time. It’s what he called it when he accidentally left his hat on the upper deck and you “just so happened” to come by with it a few minutes later.
You didn’t mind. Not really.
It was kind of… endearing. In an Ace-way. He wasn't cold or careless—he just genuinely didn’t see it. The thought that you might be observing him, remembering the things he liked, and subtly trying to show him how much you cared? It never even crossed his mind.
You watched as he messily buttered a piece of bread, crumbs falling on the table. He looked content, humming a tune and swinging his feet like a child in a giant’s chair. And when he caught you watching, he gave you a bright smile—one so open and warm it made your stomach flutter.
“Y’know,” he mumbled around a bite, “you’re always around. It’s kinda nice.”
“Kinda?” you teased.
He nodded, mouth still full. “Mm-hmm. Like, comfy.”
The word hit somewhere soft in your chest. He didn’t even realize he was flirting back.
Later that day, a few of the crew were setting up for poker in the corner, but you were more interested in the commotion coming from the training area. You leaned against the railing, watching Ace spar with Marco. He was shirtless, flames licking at his fingertips as he dodged and laughed, clearly having fun.
Your gaze lingered on him. How could it not? He was strong, fast, alive with every movement.
And when he collapsed on the deck in dramatic defeat—Marco having pinned him with a blue-flamed armbar—he wheezed out, “Water… I need water…”
By the time Marco released him, you were already at his side, bottle in hand.
“Holy crap,” Ace said between breaths. “You’re, like… everywhere.”
“I told you,” you said casually, helping him sit up. “Lucky timing.”
He chuckled, leaning back on his palms and chugging half the bottle. “At this point, I’m starting to think you’re my guardian angel or something.”
You raised a brow. “You think your guardian angel would watch you get elbowed into the deck before offering water?”
Ace grinned. “Gotta build character, right?”
You rolled your eyes, but your chest was warm with something fond and frustrating. How could he be so oblivious?
The truth was, you noticed everything about him. The way he only got grumpy when he was too hot or too tired. How he always tried to hide his hiccups when he laughed too hard. How he made sure the youngest crewmates never felt left out during meals, even if it meant giving them the last piece of meat on his plate.
You didn’t just like him. You admired him.
So yeah, maybe you rearranged your seat every meal to end up next to him. Maybe you kept his favorite snacks in your jacket pockets during long shifts. Maybe you started carrying an extra bottle of water—just in case a certain fire fist decided to exhaust himself in a sparring match.
He never asked. You just… wanted to.
And he just… didn’t notice.
It wasn’t until one particular night, under the stars, that things finally shifted.
You were both sitting on the edge of the deck, feet dangling above the sea. Most of the crew was asleep or out of sight. Ace had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and you handed him a second one without saying a word.
“Man, it’s like you read my mind,” he said for the hundredth time.
You sighed softly. “Maybe your mind is just easy to read.”
He looked at you, puzzled. “Huh?”
You gave a small, nervous smile. “I mean… I always seem to know what you need, right? I guess I just pay attention.”
There was a pause. The kind of pause where your heart beats a little faster, wondering if maybe, finally, he might catch on.
Ace blinked. “Oh. So you’ve got like, observation haki or something?”
You stared at him.
Deadpan.
“…Yeah. Sure. Let’s call it that.”
He beamed. “That’s so cool!”
You dropped your face into your hands.
But then—something changed in his tone.
“…Wait.”
You peeked up through your fingers.
Ace’s smile was still there, but it was… slower. Thoughtful. You could practically see the gears turning in his head. Every juice, every meal, every seat, every snack.
And then, like someone lit a match under his brain, realization bloomed across his face.
“…Wait.”
You watched the faintest red spread over his cheeks. He sat straighter. “Are you—? Have you been—? This whole time—?”
You tilted your head, lips twitching. “You’re cute when you put the puzzle together.”
He gawked. “So it wasn’t just coincidences?!”
You snorted. “Ace, I’ve been flirting with you for weeks.”
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
And then he laughed. It was loud, a little embarrassed, but full of warmth.
“I’m such an idiot.”
“A lovable idiot,” you corrected, nudging his shoulder.
“…So does this mean,” he said slowly, “you like me? Like, like like?”
You raised a brow. “Only if you like me back.”
He leaned in, pressing his forehead gently to yours with a shy, crooked grin. “Well, now that I know… I’m definitely gonna start paying attention.”
You chuckled, nudging the bottle of water into his hand again. “Start with drinking water. Then we’ll work our way up to romance.”
Ace laughed, and this time, he didn’t call it luck.
Flustered Fury
You flirt just to mess with him. It backfires. Now you’re flustered.
Benn Beckman X GN!READER | ONE SHOT
tags: fluff, sfw, flirting, ooc
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: 786
masterlist | ko-fi
: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊
The Red Force gently rocked on the Grand Line's turquoise waters. The crew of the Red-Haired Pirates lounged on deck, bellies full from a hearty lunch, half the crew already dozing under the sails while the other half busied themselves with maintenance or mock sword fights.
You had made it a habit lately to tease Benn Beckman. He was too cool, too collected, too... smug. So naturally, your favorite past-time had become finding new ways to get under his skin.
The man never cracked.
Not when you "accidentally" called him hot in front of the crew. Not when you wore his shirt without asking and claimed you needed something that "smelled like safety and sarcasm." Not even when you told Shanks you were considering writing a love letter to his first mate just to see if he'd burn it or frame it.
But today? Today you had a plan.
You sauntered over to where Benn leaned against the mast, smoking as always, eyes half-lidded as he watched some of the younger crew members spar.
"You know," you began sweetly, stopping just short of his shadow. "I read somewhere that intelligent men are more attractive because their brains are the largest... organ."
He exhaled smoke slowly. "That so?"
You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. "Of course. I think you're devastatingly well-endowed."
Benn turned his head toward you, one brow lifting in amusement. "Well, you're certainly... creative."
"You love it."
"You think you’re charming," he replied, deadpan. "But you’re mostly a menace."
You fake-pouted. "Rude. I was flirting."
"I noticed."
Silence settled between you for a moment before Benn gave a tiny smirk.
"You’re not very good at it, by the way."
Your jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"
He turned back to the sparring match like you were yesterday's soup.
"I’m an excellent flirt!"
"You’re an obvious flirt. That’s different."
Oh, it was on.
The next day, you doubled down.
"Benn," you greeted sweetly, hands clasped behind your back.
He didn’t even look up from his chart. "Yes?"
You dropped a folded napkin onto the map. Inside: a doodle of you and Benn holding hands, surrounded by hearts and the words 'Bennifer 4ever'.
He paused. Then picked it up. Then stared at it.
"This is a lot of glitter."
"I wanted it to sparkle like our chemistry."
He looked up at you with a neutral expression that screamed amused but suffering.
"...Are those supposed to be matching tattoos?"
"Yup. You and me. Our initials. On our biceps. I’m thinking cursive font, blood red ink."
"Mm. Dramatic."
You grinned. You were winning.
The next few days followed a theme:
You made Benn a heart-shaped sandwich. He ate it without comment but winked at you while licking mayo off his thumb.
You told Yasopp you had a dream about Benn proposing to you with a ring made from a bullet. Benn overheard.
You dropped your hat over Benn's head while he was napping. He woke up, smiled, and wore it all afternoon.
You were getting to him.
Until he got to you.
It was evening. The Red Force was bathed in amber sunset glow. You leaned on the railing, sipping juice from a coconut, when Benn joined you.
"You’re quiet today," he said casually.
You shrugged. "I figured you needed a break from all the attention."
"That’s sweet," he said, voice low. "But I never asked you to stop."
Your heart did a confused little flip.
You turned to look at him. He was very close. Closer than usual. Close enough that his scent—smoke, leather, and something warm like cedarwood—was the only thing you could smell.
"You enjoy being flirted with?" you asked, your voice a bit higher than intended.
"I enjoy watching you try."
Your mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
He smirked.
"You’re blushing."
"Am not."
He took a step closer. "You always this red when someone flirts back?"
Your brain went static. "...Did you just flirt with me?"
"You tell me, hotshot."
You took a step back. Then another. Right into a barrel.
Benn laughed.
Actually laughed.
Deep, gravelly, and smug as hell.
"You okay there, Casanova?"
You huffed. "I hate you."
"No, you don't."
"Fine. I hate how good you are at this."
"Mm. Acceptable."
You turned your back to him, trying to hide your flustered expression. Benn leaned on the railing beside you again, clearly amused.
"So... what now?" you muttered.
"Now? We pretend I didn’t win."
"You think you won?"
"I know I did."
You turned to him slowly. "That sounds like a challenge."
He grinned. That grin.
"Bring it, sweetheart."
And thus began round two of your very complicated, very flirty, very mutual war.
Only difference was...
You were now the one blushing first.
Got married by accident… Thanks, Vegapunk?
You and Luffy accidentally get married by a hyper-intelligent vending machine on Egghead Island. The crew takes it way too seriously, but Luffy is surprisingly into it.
LUFFY X GN!READER | ONE SHOT tags: fluff, sfw, acc!dental marriage, ooc 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: 706
masterlist | ko-fi
: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊
Egghead Island sparkled like something out of a futuristic dream. Or a nightmare. Depending on who you asked.
Laser drones zipped overhead, holographic sharks swam through the air, and the vending machines charged a 40% service fee to flirt with you.
You were already over it.
“What the hell is this?” you asked, staring at the sleek, metal screen of a suspicious-looking marriage kiosk that had popped out of a wall.
"CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR NUPTIAL INTEREST!" it blared.
You winced. “Nope. Not interested.”
Behind you, Luffy was already poking the glowing buttons like a toddler with a remote. “Oooh! What’s this do?”
“Don’t press that.”
He pressed it.
A beam of golden light scanned the both of you. "MATCH ACCEPTED," it beeped. “YOU ARE NOW LEGALLY MARRIED UNDER VEGAPUNK CODE 6.66 SUB-SECTION WE BALL.”
You blinked. “…What.”
Luffy blinked. “Cool.”
He grabbed your hand with that signature, easy grin. “We’re married now! Sweet!”
“LUFFY—”
Twenty seconds later, the rest of the crew found out.
Chopper: “You guys WHAT!?”
Sanji: (sobbing) “WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME, Y/N-CWAAAAN!?”
Robin: (smiling behind a book) “How lovely. I hope it was a beautiful ceremony.”
Zoro: “Of course you two would get hitched by a vending machine.”
Franky: “THIS IS SUPER!! WE GOTTA THROW A RECEPTION!!”
Jinbei: (serene) “I’ll call this divine destiny.”
Usopp: “Waitwaitwait—do we all have to get married now?? Is it contagious?!”
Nami, arms crossed, was the only one who looked vaguely sensible. “We’re not on a honeymoon, you idiots. We’re on a mission. Can’t believe you got fake-married on an island run by six genius maniacs.”
“It’s not fake,” Luffy said proudly, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.
“It’s legally binding,” the vending machine added.
“LUFFY,” you groaned, facepalming. “We are not actually married—”
“But you held my hand,” he said with a pout.
“I was trying to stop you from pressing the stupid buttons!”
“But you didn’t let go shishishi” he added.
You were going to kill him. Or maybe yourself. Or maybe the vending machine.
Over the next few days, the crew refused to let it go.
Nami “accidentally” started assigning you and Luffy shared quarters.
Franky built a honeymoon hover-chair for two that followed you around and played romantic music at inopportune moments.
Brook wrote a song called “Wedded Bliss on a Warped Island” and played it constantly.
Zoro made gagging noises every time you entered a room.
Even Vegapunk Stella got involved.
“Fascinating bond signature,” he mused, looking at the machine’s readings. “Unusual compatibility levels. Perhaps a cosmic entanglement. Or just dumb luck.”
You were ready to drown in holographic seagull juice.
Luffy didn’t help.
He insisted on calling you "my spouse."
He’d hold your hand while walking down the lab halls like it was the most casual thing ever.
He used you as a pillow during naps—okay, not new behavior—but now he’d nuzzle your shoulder and murmur, “This is what married people do.”
You tried to zap him with a soft stun from your energy-based power.
He laughed and asked for more.
He started sharing his food.
You shared back.
He offered you half his meat skewer.
You offered him half your fruit cube.
You even started sitting next to him at dinner on purpose.
...You were doomed.
One night, while stuck in a laser barrier room together (thanks to Luffy pressing another suspicious button), things got quiet.
“Hey, Y/N,” Luffy said, lying next to you on the cold sci-fi floor.
“Yeah?”
“Do you wanna be married for real someday?”
You paused.
“With… you?”
“Yeah.”
You turned to face him. “You don’t even know what marriage is.”
He smiled, soft and crooked. “I know it means I get to be with you all the time.”
You blinked. Your powers, which usually sparked when you were annoyed or overwhelmed, glimmered gently around your fingertips like starlight instead.
You didn’t respond. Just nudged his leg with yours.
He took that as a yes.
The next day, the machine short-circuited itself trying to process “divorce.”
You pretended to be annoyed.
But when Luffy yelled, “Don’t worry, I didn’t want a divorce anyway!!” and tackled you into a hug, your powers sparked again—glowing soft blues and pinks this time.
And you let him hold you.
CLINGY MUCH? | ONE SHOT
Shanks x GN!Reader
Zoro x GN!Reader
Mihawk x GN!Reader
a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc
tags: sfw, fluff, soft, ooc(?)
masterlist | ko-fi
: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊
SHANKS
You were many things aboard the Red Force—calm, sharp-tongued, and painfully unbothered by Shanks’ endless antics.
You were also completely unaware of the fact that the most feared (and flirted-with) captain in the New World couldn’t seem to stop touching you.
Not in a creepy way. Not even in a romantic way… at least, not that you noticed.
He’d toss an arm around your shoulders like it was a habit. Rest his hand on your waist when laughing. Tug you into his side when something “dangerous” happened, like a slightly aggressive breeze or a seagull flying too low.
You just chalked it up to him being Shanks.
Until, one bright morning, the crew decided enough was enough.
It started with Benn Beckman sighing dramatically as he walked onto the deck.
“Do you two need a room or something?”
You blinked from where you stood, arms crossed. “We’re not even doing anything.”
Benn pointed. “His hand has been on your lower back for ten minutes.”
Shanks blinked down at his own hand like it betrayed him. “Huh. Didn’t even notice.”
You raised a brow. “Are you okay? Do you have tactile issues?”
Lucky Roux snorted as he passed by with a turkey leg. “Yeah, it’s called ‘falling for someone and not knowing what to do with your hands.’”
Shanks turned red. You remained… utterly unaffected.
“Touch-starved pirate disease,” Lime Juice muttered, jotting fake notes like a doctor. “Tragic. Symptoms include: prolonged physical contact, excessive grinning, and spontaneous cuddling in public.”
Hongo popped his head out of the crow’s nest. “I saw him brush your hair behind your ear during the storm last week.”
“That was because it got in their face,” Shanks defended.
You nodded. “He didn’t want me to get stabbed by my own bangs. Very heroic.”
“You’re wearing a braid,” Yasopp called from the helm.
A long pause.
“…Okay, I’m not good with excuses,” Shanks muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. His hand bumped yours in the process.
You tilted your head, eyes narrowing. “Captain.”
“Yes?”
“You’re touching me again.”
“...I genuinely didn’t notice DAHAHAHA.”
The crew erupted into laughter.
You blinked slowly and glanced down at your joined hands, then back up at him. “You’ve been holding my hand for a minute now. You good?”
“Maybe.”
You stared.
He stared.
“…You’re kinda warm,” he added, grinning.
“I’m wearing gloves.”
“Exactly. Impressive.”
You didn’t smile, but your voice was flat with dry humor. “You wanna marry me, too? Get it over with?”
Shanks choked. “Whoa—what?”
“You’re already touching me like I’m your lover. Might as well commit.”
The crew howled.
“I’m starting to like them more than you, Cap,” Benn said, lighting a cigar.
“They’ve got more bite,” Lime Juice grinned.
Lucky Roux offered you a celebratory turkey leg like a sword. “You just proposed better than he ever could.”
You calmly took it, giving a single nod. “Thanks. I accept my own proposal.”
Shanks was still frozen. “Wait, are we actually engaged now?”
You took a slow bite of the turkey leg, deadpan. “Keep touching me like that, and you’ll owe me alimony.”
ZORO
You were minding your own business—arms crossed, eyes half-lidded, back leaned slightly against the Sunny’s railing—when a familiar weight thunked into your side.
Again.
You didn’t flinch, didn’t glance, didn’t even blink. Just spoke.
“Zoro.”
“What.”
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what.”
“Treating me like a living chair.”
He grunted. “You’re stable. And not annoying.”
“That’s a compliment?” you asked, still deadpan.
“Take it or leave it.”
The crew had noticed. Of course they had. This was the sixth day in a row Zoro had casually latched onto you like a sleepy barnacle.
“Oi, mosshead!” Sanji snapped, appearing from the galley with smoke swirling and a righteous fury in his eyes. “Get off them, you clingy cucumber!”
Zoro cracked open an eye. “Make me.”
“Oh, I will!” Sanji stomped over dramatically. “Y/N-chwaann shouldn’t have to carry your freeloading swordsman body weight! If anyone deserves to be close to them, it’s me!”
You raised an eyebrow. “You literally tripped into my lap yesterday trying to ‘tie your shoe.’ You were barefoot.”
“It was a metaphor!” Sanji cried. “For falling head over heels!”
Zoro scoffed. “That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Says the mossy limpet glued to their side like a touchy fungus!”
Zoro didn’t move. “Jealousy’s not a good look, curly.”
“You—!!”
“Guys,” Nami sighed, “can’t we go one day without turning affection into a shouting match?”
Brook leaned on his cane, chuckling. “Yohohoho! Young love… or something!”
Usopp squinted. “Wait. Has Zoro always been this clingy with Y/N?”
Robin smiled mysteriously. “Since thriller bark, at least.”
Franky nodded solemnly. “Saw him fall asleep on their shoulder mid-battle once. SUPER unconscious.”
“I thought he was dead,” Chopper added, horrified. “Turns out he was just really comfy.”
Zoro’s grip on your shoulder tightened very slightly, and you finally glanced sideways at him.
“Do you know you’re this touchy?” you asked.
He looked like he wanted to evaporate into the deck. “I… just don’t mind you being close.”
You blinked slowly. “Is that samurai code for ‘I like you’?”
Sanji audibly gagged. “Oi! Don’t flirt in front of me!”
“We’re not flirting,” you said.
Zoro mumbled, “Might be.”
Sanji died inside.
“Y/N-chwann” he said gravely, dropping to one knee. “I beg of you—pick me instead! I would never lean on you like a sweaty tree log!”
Zoro growled. “Because you’d faint from being close.”
“AT LEAST I’D DIE HANDSOME!”
You looked between the two of them and sighed.
“I just want to drink my tea without being fought over,” you muttered, walking off—Zoro immediately following, like a shadow with swords.
“You’re still touching me,” you noted.
“Didn’t say I’d stop,” he replied casually.
You stopped walking, turned, and looked him square in the eye.
“You’re aware this is very couple-coded, right?”
He blinked, then grunted. “Guess we should make it official then.”
You blinked right back. “That was fast.”
“Why waste time.”
You smirked just a little. “Romantic.”
He shrugged. “You’re warm. And you don’t talk too much.”
“That’s your idea of a proposal?”
“Worked, didn’t it?”
From behind you, Sanji dramatically screamed into the ocean.
MIHAWK
Kuraigana Island was a wasteland of stone, wind, and uncomfortable silences. You didn’t mind. You were the type to thrive in eerie places — quiet, observant, and allergic to nonsense.
Which is probably why Mihawk didn’t bother with small talk.
Or... so you thought.
Lately, the world’s greatest swordsman had developed a habit of materializing wherever you were. You’d be cleaning a blade — and there he was, pouring tea. You’d sit on the crumbling stone wall for some air — and there he’d be, suddenly trimming the overgrown vines right next to you.
At first, you thought it was coincidence.
Until today.
“...You know you don’t have to sharpen every one of my knives,” you said flatly, watching him work silently at the bench beside you.
“I didn’t,” Mihawk replied, still honing the blade. “Only the dull ones.”
You blinked. “That was my butter knife.”
“Then it was very dull.”
From the far side of the ruins, Zoro grunted as he finished a set of squats. “He refilled their canteen twice this morning.”
“Once,” Mihawk corrected, still not looking up.
“Twice,” Zoro insisted. “Once after breakfast. Then again after they just looked at the sink.”
Perona floated down with a snort. “He also folded their coat. While they were still wearing it.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Wait. Is that why my sleeves were shorter for a second?”
“You had a wrinkle.”
“I always have a wrinkle.”
Mihawk looked up with that unreadable expression. “And now you don’t.”
Zoro huffed. “What even is this? He acts like a butler. But like, a scary one.”
Mihawk narrowed his eyes at him. “I’m not a butler.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Perona muttered, arms crossed. “You fixed the strap on their satchel too.”
Mihawk didn’t respond to that.
Perona raised a brow. “You gonna deny it?”
“No,” Mihawk said coolly, “because it was crooked.”
Zoro leaned against a stone pillar, towel around his neck. “He also moved your seat at the dining table.”
“That was my seat,” you said.
Mihawk finally gave you a long, side glance. “You’ve sat on the left for the past four mornings. I simply ensured it remained consistent.”
You deadpanned. “You rearranged the furniture.”
“Briefly.”
Zoro stared. “And when they tripped over that vine—”
“I cut the vine before they fell,” Mihawk snapped with a tone just shy of defensive.
“Bro. You lunged across the courtyard.”
Mihawk sipped his wine calmly. “It was in the way.”
You raised an eyebrow. “And when you pulled me by the hood into the shade the other day?”
“You were overheating.”
“I wasn’t sweating.”
“You were blinking slowly.”
You stared. “That’s just how I blink.”
There was a long pause.
Then Perona gasped. “Wait, wait — you also fixed the strap on their scabbard!”
“I adjusted it. The weight distribution was uneven.”
Zoro clapped once, grinning. “So you are clingy.”
Mihawk’s eyes narrowed, the glint in them sharp and dangerous. “I am not.”
You leaned your chin on your hand, amused. “Then what would you call this?”
He paused. “Awareness.”
Perona lost it. “You mean hyper-awareness. Of one (1) person.”
Mihawk ignored her. “It’s strategic. I simply ensure you're at your most efficient.”
“That’s not efficiency,” Zoro said, wiping his forehead. “That’s doting.”
Mihawk arched a brow. “You think a swordsman cannot be observant?”
“You folded their laundry in order of fabric weight.”
“They prefer it that way.”
You blinked. “I never said that.”
He side-eyed you, expression cool. “You didn’t need to.”
You blinked again.
Zoro grunted. “You see? He’s acting like we’re all weird for noticing.”
Perona jabbed a finger toward him. “He's totally doing the ‘if I act calm, no one will notice I'm obsessed’ thing.”
Mihawk finally gave a soft, tired sigh — the kind that said you people are exhausting.
Then, turning to you, he asked, “Would you like tea?”
“I haven’t said I was thirsty.”
He didn’t blink. “You will be.”
You stared. “Are you psychic?”
“No,” he said simply. “You’re predictable.”
You squinted. “...That sounds like flirting.”
Mihawk blinked slowly. “I don’t flirt.”
Perona groaned. “OH MY GOD—”
Mihawk stood up, cloak sweeping behind him, expression unreadable as always. He held out the canteen like he’d already won this conversation.
You took it with narrowed eyes, muttering, “Thanks... I guess.”
He nodded, calm as ever. “You’re welcome.”
Zoro crossed his arms. “Still denying it?”
Mihawk looked at all of them — then at you — and with perfect poise said,
“I’m just efficient.”
And with that, he turned and walked away.
You stared after him, took a sip from the canteen, and sighed.
“…Efficiently annoying.”
Sugar & Spite
One stolen moment, one shared night, and a love neither of you saw coming—proving that even the coldest bonds can bloom into something warm.
(CH 1/3) (CH 2/3) (CH 3/3)
katakuri x fem!reader a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc tags: sfw, arrange marriage, enemies to lovers typeshi(?), fluff warnings: poorly written, ooc maybe idk words count: 1.3k
: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊
It was strange, waking up and realizing you didn’t hate him anymore.
Stranger still? Realizing he’d never hated you either.
After the merienda incident, things shifted in quiet, deliberate ways. Katakuri started coming back to the suite earlier. You noticed the scarf coming off more often. Sometimes, he didn’t even bother tying it back on at all when it was just the two of you.
You began training together in the mornings and winding down together at night — not with arguments, but silence, companionable and calm.
One evening, you both ended up sprawled on the same couch — you flipping through a book, him finishing his tea.
You felt his gaze on you more often now. Less guarded. More curious.
"You always this quiet when you're not teasing me?" you asked, voice soft.
"You prefer the teasing?"
You smiled, just a little. "Maybe."
He watched you, his expression unreadable. “You're not what I expected.”
You leaned your head back. “Good or bad?”
“…Good.”
A beat of silence passed before he added, “You saw my face. You didn’t laugh. You didn’t flinch.”
You turned to him. “Because I didn’t see a monster.”
His eyes softened. The silence between you grew warmer.
"Come here," he said suddenly.
You blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I want to show you something."
He reached for your hand, tugging gently. You followed him through the estate, through familiar halls now tinged with something new. Trust. Anticipation.
He led you to the garden where you’d caught him before — the sugar apple tree still blooming, a blanket laid out, steam rising from a fresh pot of tea. And donuts. Of course.
But this time, he didn't sit on the other side.
He sat beside you.
And when you looked at him — really looked — you found him already watching.
"You make it hard to keep walls up," he said, low and honest.
“Good,” you replied. “You don’t need them with me.”
A long pause passed before he reached out, fingers brushing your jaw. “May I?”
Your heart thudded once — loud, steady — and you nodded.
He leaned in. The kiss was slow. Gentle. A question you both already knew the answer to.
When you pulled apart, his hand lingered on your cheek.
"I didn’t want this marriage,” he whispered, “but I’m glad I got you.”
That night, something changed.
The couch between your futons disappeared. So did the futons.
You shared a bed for the first time — not out of obligation, but choice.
And in the quiet of the dark, when his hand found your waist and your breath caught in your throat, you realized how easily the cold could melt.
His lips found yours again, slower this time, deeper — less guarded. Your fingers curled in his hair, pulling the scarf loose, revealing the mouth you’d grown fond of.
He worshipped you like you were made of sugar and fire.
You returned the favor, gently, deliberately — showing him with every touch that he was wanted, that he was safe, that you weren’t going anywhere.
Soft sighs, heated whispers, and tangled limbs followed.
You didn’t fall asleep until hours later, curled against him, your head on his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around you.
"Y/N," he murmured, almost asleep.
"Yeah?"
“…'m glad you're here.”
A Few Years Later…
There were two sets of tiny feet running through the garden now.
A little girl with your eyes and Katakuri’s frown chased her brother, who was trying very hard to climb a tree — and failing spectacularly.
“Be careful!” you called, hands on your hips.
“Papa said I could!” the boy shouted.
You gave Katakuri a look. He shrugged from where he was lounging nearby, half a donut in his hand and an unbothered smile on his face.
“I said try, not succeed.”
You rolled your eyes and settled beside him. “They’re gonna break something.”
He glanced at you. “Like I broke my reputation falling for you?”
You blinked. “Did you just flirt with me?”
“…Maybe.”
You chuckled and leaned against him. “I liked it.”
He kissed the top of your head.
The children squealed in the background, fighting over who got the last donut.
You sighed. “They're exactly like you.”
“Smart, strong, and addicted to sugar?”
You snorted. “Exactly.”
He looked at you then, warm and full of pride. “I never imagined I'd have this.”
You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his.
“Neither did I.”
But you were glad you did.
BONUS SCENE:
You were only five months pregnant when the entire Big Mom household decided that you officially needed a twenty-four-hour protection detail.
Not because of enemy threats.
No — because you’d launched a fruit knife at Oven when he tried to touch your mochi-stuffed chocolate croissant.
It missed his ear by an inch.
“She’s hormonal,” Katakuri said flatly, standing behind you with his arms crossed and the most terrifyingly calm face in the room.
“I’m pregnant, not weak,” you muttered, throwing your legs over Katakuri’s lap and reaching for the aforementioned croissant. “Touch my food again and I’ll stab with accuracy next time.”
The room was silent.
Snack visibly gulped.
Perospero whispered something like “remind me never to get on her bad side” which made Katakuri shoot him a glare so sharp he nearly choked on his tongue.
“Don’t comment on my wife,” Katakuri said darkly, one hand resting protectively over your belly.
You grinned. “Aww. Look at you. Already a possessive dad.”
He cleared his throat and looked away.
You were used to him being ridiculously overprotective since you started showing. He’d physically moved an entire dinner table because he thought the seat was too close to the fire. When you sneezed, he’d almost called the family doctor. When your ankles started swelling, he threatened to drag Smoothie to personally drain the excess fluids from your legs.
It would’ve been annoying… if it wasn’t kind of adorable.
“You’re not allowed to walk without me,” he said one evening while tucking you into bed. “Or lift anything heavier than a spoon.”
You stared. “What about a fork?”
“…I’ll think about it.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m in love.”
That shut you up.
Because, yeah… he was. And so were you.
You went into labor a few weeks early.
Katakuri didn’t panic — but he did punch through a wall on the way to the birthing room. Cracker helped you get there while yelling at him to focus, while Smoothie held your hand and ordered everyone else out with a wave of her sword.
You refused to scream. You were too damn stubborn.
Instead, you gritted your teeth and glared at Katakuri every time the contractions hit. “This is your fault.”
He held your hand and nodded solemnly. “I know.”
“And if you ever breathe on me the wrong way again after this—”
“I won’t.”
“You better still want more kids after this.”
“…We’ll talk.”
The moment your first baby cried, everything stopped.
Katakuri froze — eyes wide, mouth open, like someone had just dropped the world in his lap.
You looked at your daughter, then at him.
He held her with the gentleness of a man who’d spent his whole life holding back — and was finally allowed to let go.
“She looks like you,” he whispered.
You smiled weakly, exhausted and dazed. “No, she’s prettier.”
He kissed your forehead, then your hand.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
“For what?”
“For being mine.”
A Year Later…
“You’re sure she doesn’t have mochi powers?”
“I think she just likes chewing on her brother.”
Katakuri sighed as he watched your daughter nibble on her twin’s arm like a teething donut. You sipped your tea, watching them from the garden swing, belly already swelling with your third.
“You said you wanted a big family.”
“I didn’t know I’d be outnumbered.”
You smirked and leaned against his shoulder. “You’re a war general. You’ll survive.”
He kissed your temple, arms wrapping around you.
And in the sunlight, surrounded by kids, chaos, and too many donuts, the two of you found peace in the most unexpected place.
Each other.
Sugar & Spite
Shared silences, reluctant teamwork, and one very accidental merienda — things are slowly shifting between you and Katakuri, whether you like it or not.
(CH 1/3) (CH 2/3) (CH 3/3)
katakuri x fem!reader a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc tags: sfw, arrange marriage, enemies to lovers typeshi(?), fluff warnings: poorly written, ooc maybe idk words count: 767
: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊
Married life, for all its dramatics, was remarkably uneventful.
You trained. He trained.
You ate. He ate — alone.
You slept on opposite sides of the suite, a whole couch separating your twin futons like it were a chasm made of disdain and mutual discomfort.
Still, the quiet had begun to change.
Not soften. Just… fill with different things.
You noticed it when you trained together.
At first, Katakuri wouldn’t spar with you — only watched from the sidelines with crossed arms and a face carved from stone.
But one morning, without a word, he stepped into the ring and beckoned.
You raised a brow. “You sure? Wouldn’t want to chip your perfect reputation.”
“Try not to die,” was all he said.
You lunged.
The fight lasted minutes. Sharp. Calculated. Brutal. Neither of you held back — not out of aggression, but something more primal. Something like curiosity. Respect hidden under heavy layers of sarcasm.
He pinned you once.
You flipped him once.
And by the time you both were catching your breath, you realized… this was the first time you’d looked him in the eye without wanting to throw a plate at his face.
It happened again the next day. And the next.
Soon, the guards were placing bets.
Another shift came during a mission.
You were sent together to oversee a transport of rare ingredients for Big Mom’s banquet — the sort of job usually given to siblings who worked well together.
You were not those siblings.
But despite the chilly atmosphere, the operation was smooth. Efficient. Maybe even too efficient, because when the job ended early, you found yourself in a quiet café at the edge of Totto Land.
Sharing tea.
“You always this quiet when not throwing punches?” you asked.
Katakuri sipped. “You always this nosy when not polishing your weapon?”
You snorted. “Fair.”
Silence. Then:
“…You’re not bad in the field.”
You blinked.
“…You too,” you replied cautiously, like the words were delicate glass.
Then, dryly: “Though you’re kind of a pain.”
His mouth twitched.
Was that a smile?
You blinked and looked away.
Nah. Must’ve been the wind.
It happened the next afternoon.
You came back to the estate early, your footsteps light, mind still buzzing from the strange calm that had started forming between you two. You hadn’t seen Katakuri since morning. Probably training. Or brooding.
You turned the corner of the west hall and—
Crunch.
You froze.
There he was.
Not in battle stance. Not dressed for war.
Just… sitting under the shade of a sugar apple tree in the inner garden, cross-legged on a blanket, a tall pile of donuts beside him.
Mouth uncovered.
Eyes closed.
Chewing slowly, almost in bliss, like he was savoring the flavor with his whole soul.
You blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then, without thinking, your boot tapped a rock.
His head snapped toward you.
Time stopped.
You met his eyes. His real ones. Clear, sharp — and full of horror.
He reached for his scarf too late.
“You—” he started, standing up so quickly the plate of donuts nearly flipped. “You weren’t supposed to—”
“What, see you enjoying your afternoon snacks?” you said slowly.
His face hardened. “Don’t mock me.”
You crossed your arms. “Why would I mock you?”
“You’re going to tell the others. Or laugh. Or—”
You tilted your head. “You’re kinda handsome.”
He froze.
“What?”
“I said,” you repeated, unfazed, “you’re kinda handsome.”
“You—”
“Don’t get cocky. I said kinda.”
He gaped at you like you’d grown a second head. You, in turn, gave him a blank stare as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
Then added, just to twist the knife: “Your mouth is a little big, though.”
“You—!!”
You smirked, turning to walk away.
“Wait.”
His voice was quieter now. Not angry. Confused. Almost… vulnerable.
You turned back.
He looked at you like you were a puzzle with missing pieces. Like he didn’t understand why you weren’t disgusted. Why you weren’t laughing.
“You’re not gonna say anything?”
You shrugged. “Not my business. But hey—”
You tossed a donut from his plate into the air, caught it, and took a bite.
“—thanks for the snack.”
He stared.
You winked.
And then left him there, standing under the tree, mouth still slightly agape, eyes tracking the place where you’d stood.
That night, for the first time, you found a small box of freshly made donuts placed carefully on your side of the suite.
No note.
Just a silent offering.
You smiled faintly and popped one into your mouth.
Maybe this marriage wouldn’t be so cold after all.
Sugar & Spite
Forced into an arranged marriage, you and Katakuri are bound by name but not by heart — and certainly not by patience.
(CH 1/3) (CH 2/3) (CH 3/3)
katakuri x fem!reader a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff cringe and oc tags: sfw, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers typeshi(?) warnings: poorly written, ooc maybe idk word count: 539
masterlist | ko-fi
: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊
The wedding had been painfully formal — too many flowers, too many eyes, and not nearly enough escape routes. You stood beside Charlotte Katakuri like a statue, your fingers locked at your front, refusing to even brush against his hand.
You could feel the judgment. The curiosity. The pity.
You were the outsider. The political pawn.
And he?
He was the perfect son.
Powerful. Respected. Feared.
You didn’t even like donuts.
The wedding ended with hollow applause and a shared bow. No kiss. Not even a glance. Just the stiff, practiced movements of two people doing their duty.
Now, days later, the newlywed suite might as well have been a battlefield drawn in invisible lines.
He sat at the far edge of the room, sipping tea and glaring at a book like it had insulted his mother. You lounged on the couch, polishing your weapon with a cloth, utterly unbothered.
"You’re getting the floor dirty,” he muttered without looking up.
You didn’t even pause. “You’re getting the air tense.”
A beat of silence.
“You always this disrespectful?”
You shrugged. “Only when I’m right.”
Katakuri exhaled sharply. Not quite a sigh. More like frustration being carefully filed down into indifference.
It was always like this.
A dance of verbal jabs, curt nods, polite venom.
You weren’t sure why it bothered you so much. Maybe because he was good at being cold. Too good. No cracks. No warmth. You weren’t looking for love — the marriage had nothing to do with that — but the least he could do was treat you like a person instead of a contract.
The only time you had seen a flicker of humanity was during training. You'd passed by the sparring ring the day after the wedding and found him mid-battle with Oven — fluid, ruthless, and sharp.
He didn’t know you were watching.
And maybe that’s why he looked... alive.
But here, back in the room, he was stone again.
“You don’t have to try so hard to ignore me, you know,” you said, resting your chin on your hand. “I already know you didn’t want this marriage.”
He glanced at you, eyes unreadable.
“I didn’t say that.”
“No. You just act like it.”
That earned you a long stare. Then, calmly: “I don’t waste energy on things I can’t change.”
You smirked. “Wow. And here I thought you just didn’t like me.”
“…I don’t.”
That made you laugh, just a little. “Well, at least you’re honest.”
Silence stretched between you, thick with shared annoyance and something else — something that hadn’t settled yet.
You eventually stood up and dusted off your coat. “I’ll be in the training yard.”
He didn’t respond, so you paused in the doorway.
“For the record,” you said, glancing back, “you’re not the only one who didn’t want this. But I don’t see the point in wasting it, either.”
That made his brows lift slightly. A rare reaction.
“Who said I’m wasting it?” he asked quietly.
You looked at him for a long moment. He didn’t look smug. Just… still.
The question didn’t sound like a challenge.
It sounded like a mystery.
You didn’t have an answer — not yet — so you gave a half-smile and walked off.
Fractures in the Silence
When a moment of anger turns into a lasting scar, both Shanks and the one he loves must learn how to heal from wounds they never meant to inflict.
shanks x reader ౨ৎ🖤 ONE SHOT
main characters: shanks
a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc
tags: angst, sfw, angst with comfort
words count: 1k
masterlist | ko-fi
: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊
The tavern was loud with laughter, the scent of spiced rum and sea salt thick in the air. The evening had started light, stories swapping like currency, the Red-Haired Pirates gathered together in their floating haven. You leaned against the wall, watching them with a small, fond smile. Shanks’ voice rang louder than the rest, that familiar carefree grin on his face — but there was tension in his shoulders tonight. Something was off.
You knew him better than most did. The way his laughter faltered half a second too soon, how his jaw clenched when no one was looking. It wasn’t the drink. It was something heavier. A rumor? A betrayal? You weren’t sure.
But it was only a matter of time before it boiled over.
“Captain,” Benn Beckman’s voice was low, cautious. “We can deal with this later.”
Shanks scoffed, slamming his cup down on the table hard enough to spill rum across the wood. “Later’s too damn late.”
You stepped forward, reaching for his arm gently. “Hey,” you murmured, “whatever it is, it’s not worth losing your head over tonight. You’ll handle it. You always do.”
But his eyes — dark, stormy, and burning with a mix of anger and helplessness — didn’t soften. Not like they usually did when you spoke to him. Not this time.
And then it happened. Too fast to stop it.
His hand shot out, sharp and unthinking, an open palm meant for the air — a gesture born from frustration, meant to chase away his demons, not hurt you.
But you were too close.
The slap connected with your cheek, a crack splitting the room’s noise in two. The sting bloomed instantly, white-hot against your skin. A sharp, horrible silence swallowed the room whole.
Shanks froze.
His eyes widened in horror, color draining from his face as if he couldn’t comprehend what his own hand had done. You blinked at him, your own shock mirrored in his expression, your skin throbbing.
“I—” his voice broke, barely a whisper. “Y/N…”
You forced a tight, almost too-wide smile, the taste of copper on your tongue. “It’s fine,” you said too quickly, waving a hand like you could swat away the moment. “Just… an accident. No big deal.”
But you saw it in his face. The guilt. The way his hand trembled as he lowered it. The way his whole body seemed to recoil from itself.
Benn Beckman stood up then, murmuring something about giving you both space as the rest of the crew quietly filed out, heavy boots against wood the only sound in the suffocating quiet.
You didn’t look at Shanks. Not when the world was spinning, not when you felt too much and too little all at once.
“You should sit,” he rasped, voice frayed.
“I’m fine.”
But you weren’t.
And for the days that followed, you kept pretending.
The bruise faded quickly enough, but the damage didn’t. Not the kind you could see.
Every time Shanks lifted his hand to run it through his hair, to gesture wildly in a story, to reach for you — you flinched.
It was a small thing, barely noticeable if you weren’t looking for it. But he saw it every time. And every time it cut deeper than any blade could.
He stopped raising his hands altogether.
Stopped reaching.
And the distance between you, once so easy, so natural, stretched like a wound neither of you could name.
“Y/N,” he tried, days later, as you sat alone on the deck under a half-lit sky.
You didn’t look up. Couldn’t.
“I… I need to say something.”
You forced a weak smile, pulling your knees to your chest. “You don’t have to. It was an accident. I get it.”
“But you’re scared of me.”
The words cracked in his throat like breaking glass. You finally looked up, meeting his gaze — and saw it. The raw, aching guilt in his eyes. The weight he’d been carrying since that night.
“I’m not scared of you,” you lied.
His shoulders sagged. “Y/N… please. Don’t… don’t lie to me.”
Your throat tightened. “I’m not scared of you. I just…” You trailed off, closing your eyes as the memory hit you again, unbidden. The sting. The shock. The way your body instinctively flinched when he moved too quickly now, no matter how much you told yourself it wasn’t real.
“I hate that I did this to you,” he whispered. “I swear on my life — on the sea, on everything I am — I never wanted to hurt you.”
A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it, hot and blinding. “I know.”
Silence stretched between you, thick with all the things neither of you could say.
“I love you, Y/N,” Shanks said quietly. “And I don’t expect you to forgive me. Not now. Maybe not ever. But I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never have a reason to flinch around me again.”
You swallowed, wiping your cheek roughly. “I love you too, you stupid idiot.”
A broken, shaky laugh escaped him then — the first real sound in days. He didn’t move closer, didn’t reach for you. Instead, he sat a few feet away, letting the space stay. Letting you control it.
“Can I tell you a story?” he asked softly.
You nodded.
And so he talked. About old battles, about mistakes, about fear and fury and the weight of being captain. About how sometimes anger takes the shape of something monstrous when you’re too exhausted to hold it in.
About how it doesn’t excuse anything.
But how it could maybe, one day, be forgiven.
By the time the sun rose, the space between you felt a little less jagged.
Weeks passed. It wasn’t perfect. You still flinched sometimes. Shanks still froze every time you did. But little by little, the distance closed.
The first time he reached for your hand again, he moved slow — giving you every chance to pull away.
You didn’t.
His calloused fingers brushed yours gently, and your heart stuttered. But you didn’t flinch.
“You okay?” he murmured.
You nodded. “I’m okay.”
And you were.
Not all the way. Not yet.
But enough to hold on.
Enough to let him stay.
Enough to know you’d both heal, slowly, piece by piece, in the quiet places between the crashing waves.
And maybe one day, the memory would stop hurting.
But for now, his hand in yours was enough.
It was hope.
Strings in Crimson
When our enigmatic Y/n accidentally lands in Dressrosa, it sets off a chain of chaos, power displays, and dangerously intoxicating tension with Donquixote Doflamingo.
PART 2 OF READER WHO CAN USE THE INFINITY STONES
doflamingo x reader ౨ৎ💗 ONE SHOT
main characters: doflamingo
tags: sfw, v!ol3nce
a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc
words count: 786
masterlist | ko-fi
: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊
Dressrosa was too bright.
Even from the moment you stepped onto the sun-bleached cobblestones, the place reeked of forced cheer. Laughter too loud, colors too vibrant. Like a festival that refused to end. You hated it immediately.
You’d landed by accident — or as close to an accident as someone like you could. Space liked to rip when you snapped your fingers too hard. One careless flick, a shimmer of stars, and there you were. Smack in the middle of the city square while a nearby woman screamed about her missing child.
You sighed.
A blonde in pink feathers clocked you instantly. It was impossible not to. Tall and lean, Donquixote Doflamingo practically radiated threat.
“Fufufufu~ well, well,” he crooned from above, perched like a smug vulture on a balcony. “A new face. And what a face.”
You didn’t answer. Not out of caution. You just didn’t care.
Instead, you turned a nearby pigeon into a tiny floating star just to see if you could.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Doflamingo’s grin sharpened.
In a blur, he appeared before you, a slash of color and power.
“Name,” he demanded.
“Y/n.”
“Devil Fruit user?”
“No.”
He tilted his head, intrigued. “Then what the hell are you? fufufufu~”
You glanced at the ground. It cracked under your gaze, spreading like glass under a hammer.
“Complicated.”
A chuckle. Low, dangerous. “I like complicated.”
He brought you to his palace. You let him. Not because you trusted him, but because you were bored.
His executives bristled. Trebol whined about taking in strays, Pica rumbled disapproval, Diamante preened. You ignored them all. Your presence was a storm in still air, and they felt it, even if they didn’t understand why.
“Test them,” Doflamingo ordered, one hand languidly swirling wine.
Buffalo charged first.
You didn’t move.
A thought, and space folded. He disappeared with a yelp, reappearing upside down, tangled in the palace’s chandelier.
Gladius tried next.
You blinked. His exploding fists paused mid-detonation, the tiny fragments suspended in mid-air.
“Cute trick,” you murmured, then rewound time by a second, leaving him disoriented and vomiting from vertigo.
The room fell silent.
Doflamingo leaned forward, interest gleaming.
“You could kill them all.”
You shrugged. “Could.”
“And me?”
A small, crooked smile tugged at your lips. “Wouldn’t be polite.”
He laughed. A real one. Not the shrill cackle, but something darker, lower.
“You’re mine now.”
“No.”
“Eventually.”
You poured yourself a drink, letting reality bend just slightly to fill the glass from a bottle across the room.
Weeks passed.
You became a ghost in the palace, appearing where you pleased, vanishing when bored. You rewound time to catch falling glasses, bent space to avoid dull conversations. The staff flinched when you passed. Doflamingo watched you with something dangerous, something almost fond.
He’d invite you to dinners you rarely attended. When you did, it was chaos.
Once, a rival warlord visited. He made the mistake of grabbing your wrist.
You didn’t react.
He blinked — and found himself standing in the middle of the sea, a thousand yards offshore.
Doflamingo’s grin nearly split his face.
“That was a gift,” he told you later, eyes gleaming.
You shrugged. “Didn’t like him.”
Neither did Doflamingo.
Trouble came in the form of a foreign warlord and a double-crossed deal. Not one for subtlety, the fool marched right into Dressrosa’s palace with a small army and a head full of bad ideas.
You found Doflamingo in the gardens, pristine and grinning, standing atop a mound of broken bodies like a crimson-clad god, not a scratch on him as enemies circled, too stupid to realize their doom.
“Care for a hand?” you asked mildly.
He bared his teeth in a grin. “Thought you’d never offer.”
You raised a hand. Reality convulsed.
Half the enemy force vanished into a pocket dimension of black nothingness. The rest scrambled, confusion thick in the air.
One bold lieutenant lunged. You tilted your head, and the man’s soul flickered visibly from his body — a ghostly echo you plucked between your fingers like a thread and snapped.
Doflamingo whistled, low. "You are a vicious thing."
“I get bored.”
Within minutes, the garden was a graveyard of twisted perceptions — enemies trapped in loops of false victories, others suspended mid-air like grotesque marionettes.
You dusted off your coat. "Clean enough?"
Doflamingo stepped over a dying man, his grin sharp and fond. “Marry me.”
“Pass."
He chuckled, licking blood from his teeth. "You’ll come around."
You would, maybe. Or not.
But for now, you flexed space one last time, leaving the remnants of the coup in a shivering bubble of frozen time, an unbroken reminder of what it meant to cross either of you.
Sea Kings, Smart Mouths, and Stolen Hearts
A wandering scholar with the rare ability to read the Poneglyphs finds themselves entangled in the chaotic world of the Whitebeard Pirates.
PART 3 OF READER WHO CAN READ PONEGLYPH
whitebeard pirates x gn!reader ౨ৎ💗 ONE SHOT
main characters: Ace, Thatch, Izou, Marco
tags: fluff, sfw, harem, soft
a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ffs cringe and oc
word count: 1.2k
masterlist | ko-fi
: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊
The Moby Dick was a floating temple of chaos.
You’d been on board for exactly three hours when you witnessed a fistfight over the last bottle of rum, a man juggling knives while drunk off his ass, and someone trying to arm-wrestle a literal sea king. And for some reason, every single one of them tried to rope you into it.
You were sitting on a barrel near the railing, minding your own damn business, when a piece of driftwood floated by — a small, smooth thing, carved with ancient script.
Your fingers twitched.
The words called to you. Whispered in a tongue long dead to the world. It was harmless, but old. You reached out, brushing your fingers over it, murmuring softly.
“Hey, what’re you doin’?”
You didn’t even flinch when the voice broke your concentration. You finished reading the last word before looking up. A man stood there, grin too big for his face, hair looks like bread, scar on side of his eye. He's sun-browned and scarred, and a bottle swung lazily in his hand.
“Talking to wood,” you said dryly.
He barked out a laugh. “Name’s Thatch. I like you already.”
“Is it because I didn’t scream?”
“Nope. It’s ‘cause you look like you’re about to either murder someone or seduce ‘em. That’s a rare vibe to pull off.”
You quirked a brow but said nothing. Thatch clapped you on the back anyway, nearly sending you overboard.
“C’mon,” he said. “You can sulk better at the fire.”
Dinner on the Moby Dick was less of a meal and more of a battle royale.
Men shouted, meat sizzled over open flames, and ale flowed like water. You sat at the edge of it, quietly nursing a cup of something that tasted like regret and old socks.
A man with fiery freckles and a grin to match dropped into the seat beside you. He immediately reached for your drink.
You grabbed his wrist without looking.
“Mine.”
He blinked, then grinned wider. “Name’s Ace. You’re the new one, huh?”
“No,” you deadpanned. “I’m the old one. I’ve just been invisible this whole time.”
Ace snorted. “Smartass.”
Thatch appeared behind him, slinging an arm around both your shoulders. “Told you, Ace — they’re my favorite.”
You were already plotting his demise.
It didn’t take long for the others to circle.
A man with long, flowing hair and sharp eyes introduced himself as Izou. He looked you up and down like you were a puzzle with missing pieces.
“You’re strange,” he said, not unkindly.
“Thanks.”
“I like strange.”
You raised your cup in salute.
And then there was Marco.
He didn’t say anything at first. Just watched you from across the fire, golden eyes flickering like dying embers. When he finally approached, you were standing alone on the deck, staring up at a sky so thick with stars it made your teeth ache.
“You’re not like them,” Marco said quietly.
“Observant.”
He smirked. “What’s your deal?”
You hesitated. But the truth felt easier here, in the dark.
“I read things,” you said. “Things I shouldn’t be able to. Ancient things.”
“Poneglyphs.”
You stiffened, and Marco’s smirk turned sharp.
“Relax,” he murmured. “Your secret’s safe. Pops wouldn’t give a damn. Most of us wouldn’t either.”
You eyed him. “And you?”
“I find it interesting.”
You snorted. “You would.”
His laugh was soft. “Smartmouth.”
The next day, some poor idiots tried to attack the Moby Dick.
They came in hot — four ships bristling with cannons and swords, foaming at the mouth about bounties and revenge. You barely blinked.
The crew went feral.
Ace leapt into the fray with fire on his heels, Thatch laughing as he tossed knives with deadly precision. Izou shot a man out of mid-air, unfazed as blood misted the deck.
One fool broke through the chaos and made a beeline for you.
“Oi, scholar!” he sneered. “You’re worth a fortune!”
You sighed.
Raising a hand, you spoke a word older than kingdoms, and the man’s sword crumbled to dust in his grip.
He paled.
You spoke again, and the air around him shimmered — his boots turned to brittle stone, cracking beneath him. The third word sent him flying backward with a force that shattered the nearest mast.
The crew went dead silent.
Ace let out a long, low whistle. “Yo.”
“Did you see that?” Thatch yelped. “That was badass.”
Izou eyed you like you’d just turned into his favorite thing.
Marco, perched on the highest beam, grinned.
“Not helpless, then.”
You rolled your eyes. “Hardly.”
After that, you became a sort of legend.
The scholar who spoke to stones and made enemies vanish with a word. The one even sea kings gave a wide berth.
And the harem started forming before you could stop it.
Thatch started bringing you food, drinks, and increasingly ridiculous trinkets (“This is a seashell shaped like a butt, you’re welcome.”).
Ace followed you everywhere. Literally everywhere. You once found him outside the bathroom.
“What,” you demanded.
He shrugged. “Felt like it.”
"tsk."
Izou taught you how to braid hair. His hands were surprisingly gentle for a man who could blow your head off without blinking.
And Marco? He made it worse.
Sitting beside you at night, speaking of things he shouldn’t remember. Old places, lost names. His hand brushing yours when no one was looking.
You should’ve run.
You didn’t.
And the comedy never stopped.
Like the time Ace tried to fight a giant crab to impress you and got pinched in a place no man should ever get pinched.
Or when Thatch bet you couldn’t outdrink him and passed out three shots in, leaving you to doodle a mustache on his face.
Or when Izou declared you’d look better in one of his kimonos and actually wrestled you into one. (It did look good. You never admitted it.)
Even Marco wasn’t safe. You caught him napping once, a seagull perched on his head. You didn’t tell him. You let it happen.
Then came the Poneglyph.
Buried in the heart of a ruined island, half-sunken beneath the sea. You felt it before you saw it — an ache in your chest, a pulse beneath your skin.
The crew followed you in.
“This place gives me the creeps,” Thatch muttered.
“Maybe ‘cause it’s cursed,” Ace said, poking a skull.
“Both of you shut up,” Izou hissed.
You found the slab in the heart of the ruin. Black stone, ancient words glowing faintly. It sang to you.
And like an idiot, you answered.
You spoke the words.
Power thrummed through the ground, the air, your bones. The sea roared. The sky cracked.
The world shifted.
When you opened your eyes, you were on your knees. Marco was crouched beside you, worry in his gaze.
“You okay?” he asked.
You nodded, breathless. “Yeah.”
“What did it say?”
You hesitated. “War’s coming.”
His jaw tightened.
But then Ace clapped you on the back, nearly toppling you. “If anyone’s startin’ a war with you on our side, they’re screwed.”
Thatch grinned. “Dibs on being your right-hand man.”
Izou smirked. “I call left.”
Marco chuckled. “I’ll be wherever you need me.”
You sighed. “You’re all idiots.”
But you didn’t feel alone anymore.
That night, on the deck beneath a sky bleeding silver, Marco sat beside you.
“You belong here, y’know,” he said quietly.
You didn’t answer.
“Not just as some scholar. As one of us.”
You stared at the sea. “Even if I’m dangerous?”
He shrugged. “So are we.”
He touched your hand, fingers curling around yours.
“Besides,” Marco added, a grin tugging at his lips, “you still owe me a drink.”
You smiled.
For the first time in years, it felt easy.
“Deal.”
You Punched a Yonko?
In which the reader, quietly trying to study Poneglyphs in peace, accidentally punches a Yonko and ends up entangled with the flirtatious chaos.
PART 2 OF READER WHO CAN READ PONEGLYPH
red hair pirates x fem!reader ౨ৎ💗 ONE SHOT
main characters: shanks, benn, limejuice, hongo
tags: fluff, sfw, harem, soft
a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ffs cringe and oc
words count: 1.4k
masterlist | ko-fi
: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊
You really weren’t trying to punch a Yonko.
In fact, your goal for the day was to peacefully study a centuries-old Poneglyph hidden beneath a sleepy island temple. Instead, you were now standing in front of a red-haired man grinning at you with blood trickling from his nose, surrounded by his crew, who all looked one second away from drawing their weapons.
“…Okay,” you breathed. “In my defense, you startled me.”
“You punched him in the face,” a blond man in sunglasses said, his voice straddling awe and amusement.
“Yeah, but like—accidentally.”
Shanks wiped his nose with the back of his hand, still smiling like you’d just offered him a drink. “DAHAHAHA strong punch though! You train often?”
“I didn’t know you were behind me! I thought you were a thief trying to steal the stone!” you pointed at the half-buried Poneglyph glowing faintly behind you. “You snuck up on me!”
Benn Beckman gave an exaggerated sigh from where he was puffing on his cigar. “He always does that.”
“You should wear a bell,” Hongo added dryly, as he examined your clenched fists. “You nearly broke his nose.”
“I think I’m in love,” Shanks muttered, still grinning at you like an idiot.
You blinked.
“…What?” You deadpan at him.
Lime Juice snorted. “I told you not to lean in so close when people are muttering to themselves. She was clearly in the zone.”
“I was reading an ancient, world-changing text,” you snapped, still frazzled. “I didn’t expect someone to breathe down my neck!”
“To be fair,” Benn chimed in smoothly, “not many people can actually read those things.”
That made you hesitate. Your breath caught in your chest. Most people only guessed at what the stones meant. And those who could decipher them—like the Ohara scholars—were erased for it.
The crew noticed your shift.
Shanks tilted his head. “Hey… you alright?”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re being very casual about all this.”
“Well, you punched me.” He rubbed his jaw. “That kinda earns you a place at the table.”
“What table?”
“Our lunch table,” Lime Juice said, gesturing broadly to a blanket on the grass behind the trees. “We were picnicking. Captain wandered off to chase ‘Poneglyph energy.’”
“You tracked me?”
Shanks shrugged. “You glow like a beacon when you read those stones.”
Your jaw dropped. “That’s not—?! That’s not normal!”
“Nope,” Hongo agreed. “Very intriguing.”
“And very pretty,” Shanks added.
You turned on your heel. “I’m leaving.”
“No wait!” Shanks called after you. “Join us for lunch! I promise not to get punched again!”
You paused, hesitating. The idea of eating with the Red-Hair Pirates seemed… suicidal. You’d spent years hiding your ability, keeping a low profile, ducking Marines and bounty hunters alike.
But they didn’t look like they were planning to turn you in.
And the smell of roasted fish was really good.
“…I’m watching all of you,” you muttered, stomping over.
“Great!” Shanks beamed. “You can sit next to me! DAHAHAHA”
“Absolutely not.”
Lunch with the Red-Hair Pirates was insane.
You had to admit: they were nothing like you’d expected.
Shanks, despite being a Yonko, acted more like a chaotic older brother than a fearsome warlord. He kept nudging plates toward you like a golden retriever trying to feed its owner, all while regaling you with stories that involved an alarming number of explosions and nudity.
Benn Beckman, calm and poised, sat at your other side. He didn’t say much, but you noticed how his eyes never left you—watchful, calculating, but not in a threatening way. More like… protective.
“You always travel alone?” he asked quietly.
You nodded. “Easier to hide.”
He hummed. “Doesn’t sound easier to live.”
His words stuck with you longer than you cared to admit.
Lime Juice kept trying to impress you with “tricks,” most of which involved lighting things on fire or juggling knives. When he tried to balance a plate on his head and walk backward up a tree, you genuinely feared for his life.
“I’m very flexible,” he claimed proudly as he slipped and crashed into Shanks’ lap.
“Yeah, flexible like a bag of rocks,” Hongo muttered under his breath, flipping through a medical book beside you. Occasionally, he asked you questions about ancient glyphs and your translation methods, clearly more interested in your brain than your punching skills.
Which, okay, was kind of flattering.
You didn’t know when it happened, but by the end of the meal, you were… laughing.
You were laughing with people you’d met barely an hour ago. People who, by all logic, should’ve either kidnapped you or sold your secret to the highest bidder.
Instead, they argued about who could get you to smile the fastest.
“You like wine?” Benn asked, offering you a rare vintage.
“You like beer?” Shanks grinned, popping open a keg.
“You like really strong mystery juice I made last night?” Lime Juice offered, holding a bubbling bottle that Hongo promptly knocked out of his hands.
“Do you guys always compete like this?” you asked, bewildered.
“Only when it’s worth it,” Shanks winked.
You choked on your drink.
The day slipped by quickly after that.
You showed Hongo how Poneglyphs resonated when you hummed certain tones. He looked at you like you were the eighth wonder of the world and scribbled notes furiously.
You sparred—lightly—with Lime Juice, who was surprisingly nimble when not setting himself on fire.
You chatted with Benn about navigation, philosophy, and—when Shanks wasn’t listening—what kind of wine pairs best with sea-king meat.
And Shanks? Shanks hovered. Endearingly. Annoyingly. Constantly.
“You know, I could protect you,” he offered at one point, lying back on the grass beside you with a grin. “If you joined us. Nobody would ever dare come after you again.”
“Why would I ever trust a Yonko?” you teased, resting your chin on your hand.
Shanks tapped his temple. “Because I’m handsome and charming.”
“Debatable.”
“Because I didn’t press you about your ability.”
You paused.
“…Less debatable.”
He turned his head toward you, more serious this time. “I know what it means. What you can do. I know the world will hunt you for it. And I also know—without a doubt—anyone who tries will have to go through me first.”
You stared at him, heart hammering. “That’s very dramatic.”
“Have you met me?” he grinned.
Before you could reply, Benn’s voice called over, “Captain, stop seducing our guest and help clean up.”
“I am helping,” Shanks called back. “With my charm.”
Benn just groaned and threw a towel at his head.
Night fell.
You sat with Lime Juice and Hongo near the fire while Shanks played a drunken game of darts with a tree (he kept missing) and Benn nursed a glass of something expensive, eyeing his captain like a babysitter on overtime.
Lime Juice offered you his coat when the wind picked up. “You know,” he said, voice quieter now, “you’re kind of amazing.”
You turned. “Me?”
“Yeah. Punching a Yonko. Reading the un-readable. And laughing at my jokes. Triple threat.”
You laughed. “Thanks, I think?”
“Don’t let Shanks hog you too much,” he added. “Some of us want a shot too.”
Hongo hummed behind his book. “I’ll second that.”
You looked between them, blinking. “Wait, what?”
Benn walked over, his cigarette glowing faintly. “They’re not joking.”
Shanks stumbled into the circle, arms wide. “Did I hear flirting?! I object! You’re all banned.”
You stared at the four of them.
“You’re telling me,” you said slowly, “that all of you are flirting with me… at the same time?”
There was a beat.
Then Shanks, Benn, Lime Juice, and Hongo all nodded in sync.
You buried your face in your hands. “This is absurd.”
Shanks grinned. “Absurdly charming.”
“I need a drink,” you muttered.
Benn passed you his glass without a word.
You didn’t leave the next morning.
Or the next.
Or the next after that.
Somewhere between watching Shanks get his foot stuck in a barrel, Lime Juice trying to build you a “romance swing,” Hongo diagnosing him with “chronic dumbassery,” and Benn pulling you aside just to ask how you were holding up, you realized something:
You were happier than you’d been in years.
For the first time, you weren’t hiding.
You weren’t running.
You were laughing. Living. Loved.
And sure, maybe the world still wanted your head.
But you had a Yonko, his second-in-command, a chaotic firecracker, and a broody medic wrapped around your finger.
If the world wanted to come for you?
Let it.
You had your crew now.
The Lost Reader
A mysterious reader of Poneglyphs finds a new home among the Straw Hat Pirates, slowly becoming an irreplaceable part of their crew as their love for them grows.
READER WHO CAN READ AND SPEAK PONEGLYPH
Strawhats x Poneglyph gn!reader ౨ৎ💗 ONE SHOT
main characters: luffy, zoro, sanji, nami, robin
tags: fluff, sfw, harem(?), soft
a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ffs cringe and oc
words count: 1.9k
masterlist | ko-fi
: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊
It started with silence.
Not the heavy kind that suffocates—but the quiet peace of wind brushing through trees, waves lapping against the sand, and birds singing above crumbled ruins. Your only companions were time-worn Poneglyphs, mossy stone relics, and the hollow ache of knowing you shouldn’t exist.
You didn’t know what you were—only that you could read them. The Poneglyphs. Their words came to you like breath, like blood. It wasn’t learned. It just… was.
And then one day, the silence broke.
“WOOOOAAAHH! What a weird island!!”
You looked up from a worn page, blinking at the explosion of sound.
A rubber man had landed face-first in your tomato garden.
You blinked again, rubbing your eyes to make sure you weren’t imagining the scene before you. The man—his limbs were stretched at impossible angles, and his face was, well… currently smushed into the dirt of your carefully cultivated tomato patch.
“Luffy!” a woman’s voice shouted from the shore. “Stop crashing into things!”
You stared in disbelief, watching as a circus of chaos disembarked from a sunny, lion-faced ship. At least, that’s what it looked like to you.
“Wha—?” You stumbled back, half-wondering if you’d stepped into some sort of dream. But no, the crew’s laughter was real. Loud, boisterous, utterly chaotic, and very much present.
Before you could comprehend the whirlwind that had just descended upon your quiet life, a figure bounded toward you. The rubber man—Luffy—was grinning at you like you were the most interesting thing he’d seen all day. And, for all you knew, you were.
“Hey! Who're you? you live here? cool! SHISHISHI” Luffy asked, already sitting cross-legged on the ground as if he hadn’t just completely flattened your garden. “Wanna eat with us?”
You blinked, still too stunned to form a coherent sentence. “I… guess?...Im Y/N”
And so began your first real encounter with the Straw Hat Pirates.
Nami, with her keen eyes and sharp questions, immediately assessed the situation, interrogating you about your maps and supplies like she was about to audit your entire existence. Sanji, the ever-romantic chef, started cooking a feast so lavish that you were half-tempted to check if the food had its own backstory. The man even had heart-shaped eyes every time you praised his cooking.
Usopp, ever the over-the-top self-proclaimed hero, proudly handed you a coconut with a grin that could only be described as a “friendship orb.” “From me to you,” he declared, as if he had just made the world’s most profound offering.
And then there was Chopper, who took your pulse the second he saw you, declaring that you had “island person syndrome” and needed immediate attention.
Robin, however, watched you closely. Her gaze sharp but gentle, as if trying to figure out a puzzle no one else could see.
“You can read those stones, can’t you?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
You stiffened. The question sent a shiver through your spine, a fleeting reminder of the secret you kept buried deep within. You didn’t answer. Not immediately.
She smiled, soft and knowing, her eyes never leaving yours. “We’ll talk later.”
Zoro, ever the brooding figure, glanced at you and muttered under his breath, “You don’t look dangerous.” It seemed like a funny thing to say, considering he had just been trying to slice a boulder in half mere moments earlier.
It didn’t take long for you to realize what was happening: You were trapped in their orbit. In their madness. In their chaos.
And you couldn’t have been more content.
The Thousand Sunny became your new home—bright, loud, and utterly unpredictable.
Sanji insisted on cooking you all your meals. Breakfast, lunch, dinner—each time, his cooking came with a full-on serenade, and if you didn’t finish your plate, he might just shed a tear. “It’s not just food,” he’d say. “It’s love. It’s my soul in a dish!”
Nami dragged you into shopping sprees with no regard for your dwindling supplies or your protestations. “You need to look fabulous, Y/N. Don’t you want to blend in with the rest of us?” she’d tease, while tossing a dozen new outfits into your arms. You always ended up spending more than you intended, but there was something so infectious about her enthusiasm that you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
Robin was the one who quietly fascinated you. You’d find her at all hours of the day, absorbed in reading a book or studying the surroundings with quiet intensity. There was something about the way she looked at you, like she already knew your secrets but would never pry.
And then there was Luffy. Always smiling. Always laughing. He treated you as though you were already part of the crew. No pretense, no hesitation. You didn’t even need to be invited. You were just… in.
“Wanna ride on top of the mast?” Luffy asked one morning, as casually as if he were asking if you wanted a snack.
You stared up at the towering mast, then back at him. “Is that… safe?”
“Nope! shishishi” he beamed, looking excited about the prospect.
Somehow, that made it make sense to climb up there with him. He helped you up like it was nothing, laughing all the while. The wind whipped through your hair, and for the first time in a long while, you felt alive. You weren’t just existing anymore.
Zoro, ever the silent guardian, began training near you. You noticed him constantly observing your movements, his gaze intense but not unwelcome. One day, you lost your footing on deck, but before you could even react, his hand shot out and steadied you.
He didn’t say much, just stared at you for a moment, before clearing his throat and muttering, “Watch your step, dumbass.”
Romance, clearly.
It crept in slowly. Unnoticed, at first.
Sanji’s compliments, light-hearted at first, began to hold a different weight. “You look beautiful today, Y/N~chwann” he’d say with a soft smile, not just as a joke, but as something that meant more.
Nami’s teasing turned into lingering glances, moments where her eyes softened when she thought no one was looking.
Robin’s hand on yours during those quiet late-night reading sessions made your heart skip a beat, like it was a shared secret, a connection you didn’t have the words to describe.
Zoro’s silence, once intimidating, became your comfort. When he was near, you didn’t need to talk. You didn’t need to explain yourself. He was just there, a steady presence.
And Luffy’s laughter—oh, Luffy’s laughter. It started to feel like home, like the sound of safety, of warmth. A constant reminder that with him around, there was nothing to fear.
But you kept your secret.
That was until one night, when you and Robin stood over a relic you had no business being near. It was buried deep beneath the cursed island’s soil, half-buried like a forgotten truth. Robin stood behind you, arms crossed, waiting for you to decipher it. You already knew what it would say, but that didn’t stop the rush of dread that surged within you as your fingers traced the ancient glyphs.
“You know what it says, don’t you?” Robin’s voice was barely a whisper. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.
You stiffened.
“It’s just a story,” you muttered, voice low.
Robin smiled, a soft and knowing smile, one that suggested she understood far more than she let on. “Then you should know—they’d kill you for it.”
You didn’t answer, didn’t have the words. You just continued to trace the lines, the ancient language flowing effortlessly from your mind, sinking into the earth beneath your fingertips.
Everything changed when you found the half-buried Poneglyph on a cursed island.
It was a trap. Not for Luffy. Not for the Pirate King in the making.
For you.
You read the stone aloud, your voice quiet, shaking slightly. And for the first time in your life, the stone responded.
The words were not just etched into stone, not just an inscription—it was a message. A message that burned through the world like a beacon.
“The last of the Whisperers,” it said. “Hunted. Hidden. Forbidden.”
The ground shook. The air turned electric. The Poneglyphs around you shimmered, the glyphs becoming light, illuminating the island with a soft, ethereal glow.
The Straw Hats arrived just as you stumbled backward, your eyes wide, heart pounding, the power coursing through you like an uncontrollable force. The glyphs pulsed, and the power in your veins burned bright.
“What’s happening?!” Usopp screamed, looking ready to fight a ghost.
You looked at them—at your crew—and whispered, “They were hunting us. People who could read these stones. I shouldn’t exist.”
There was silence.
Then Luffy stepped forward, his voice unwavering, “You’re not alone.”
The Marines came shortly after.
You fought, of course you did.
For the first time in your life, you let the power in your blood surge freely. The words of the stone became light, flames of energy erupting from the ground as you slashed through the battlefield, carving the very earth with your newfound strength. You cracked the island’s crust. You didn’t even know you could do that.
Sanji’s hand grabbed yours as the ground beneath you cracked, pulling you from the collapsing cliff. Zoro fought beside you, silent and determined. Robin’s steady hand on yours kept you grounded in the chaos.
When the battle was over, and the last Marine had been driven back, you passed out.
You woke in the infirmary, Chopper hovering over you, his worried eyes darting around like he was waiting for you to disappear again. Franky was sitting beside you, sobbing into a bowl of soup.
“You scared us, you moron,” Nami whispered, brushing your hair back from your face. Her voice was soft, a rare tenderness that made your heart ache.
Robin kissed your temple as she hovered over you, whispering, “You’re more than your gift.”
Sanji didn’t say anything, but his presence was unmistakable. He curled up beside you, pressing his forehead to your shoulder, a silent vow of protection.
Zoro sat across from you, cleaning his swords. “Don’t ever do that alone again.”
And Luffy… Luffy beamed at you, that infectious smile lighting up his face as he exclaimed, “You’re stuck with us forever now!”
The tension unraveled like fraying rope.
Nami kissed you when you least expected it, quick and teasing, a spark of affection.
Robin kissed you in the library, with parchment between your hands, and the world felt like it stopped turning for a moment.
Sanji kissed you with all the intensity of someone who had been waiting for years, every touch filled with longing.
Zoro kissed you like it was the only thing that made sense, his hands warm and steady.
And Luffy—Luffy’s kiss was upside down, playful, and completely unexpected, but perfect in the way only Luffy could be.
Usopp ran away screaming, “AAAH! ROMANCE ATTACK!”
Chopper fainted. Twice.
Brook played a love song with three verses about your “sultry stare” that made everyone uncomfortable except Sanji, who wept.
Franky asked if you wanted to build a heart-shaped cannon to “blast your feelings at the world.” You said yes. It now sits in the garden.
Jinbei just gave you a nod and said, “It’s about time.”
You weren’t a secret anymore.
You were theirs.
Not claimed, not owned—but cherished. Loved, wholly and fiercely.
And though the world may hunt you, you had a crew that would burn it down before they let anyone take you.
Say something
Straw Hat Pirates with a newly recruited reader who has selective mutism, appears unassuming but is secretly op
Strawhats x psychic!femreader ౨ৎ💗 ONE SHOT
tags: fluff, sfw, bit of angst(?)
a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ffs a bit cringe
words count:968
masterlist | ko-fi
: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊
You weren’t used to crowds.
And right now, that was a problem—because you were very much in one. A particularly sweaty, loud, and increasingly hostile one. The Straw Hats had docked at a lively but rough port for supplies, and in an unfortunate twist of fate, you’d gotten separated from the crew while browsing a small weapons stall.
Now you were surrounded by a group of sneering pirates, each one more obnoxious than the last, forming a loose circle around you like a pack of hyenas smelling blood.
“Aww, what’s wrong, sweetheart?” one of them leered, waving a cutlass lazily at your side. “Cat got your tongue?”
“She ain’t said a word,” another said, voice thick with mockery. “Too scared, huh?”
“She’s shaking,” a third laughed. “Bet she can’t even hold a sword properly.”
They were right about one thing: you hadn’t spoken. But it wasn’t fear that silenced you—it was them. Strangers. Eyes. Loud voices demanding a reaction.
Your throat felt tight. The words—simple ones, just leave me alone—were locked behind a door your mind couldn’t open. So you did what you always did when this happened.
You stared.
Expression blank. Shoulders loose. Breathing calm.
The mask of silence you wore never failed to make people underestimate you.
And right on cue, the biggest of the group stepped forward, cocky and smug. “C’mon, sweetheart. Say somethin’. Just one word.”
You tilted your head and blinked at him slowly.
He leaned in closer, thinking you were cornered prey.
And that’s when he made his mistake.
He reached out—fingertips brushing your collarbone, tugging at your cloak—like you were some kind of doll to poke and prod.
You whispered, barely audible: “Don’t touch me.”
He blinked. “What was that—”
And then you moved.
—
The first crack was his ribs.
You didn’t look strong. That was your favorite part about this whole thing. Small frame, loose clothes, no visible weapon. You’d always been dismissed as fragile, silent, soft.
But that was before your elbow shattered the man’s chestplate and launched him backward into a fruit stand. The market screamed and scattered. In seconds, chaos erupted.
Two more charged at you from either side. You twisted—agile, fluid—and drove a sharp heel into one’s temple while catching the other’s blade between your fingers. Not even a scratch.
He stared at you in shock.
You smiled sweetly.
Then bent the sword in half like it was tinfoil.
“Oh, she’s weird,” one pirate shrieked.
“Demon!” another cried.
You crouched low and pressed your palm to the ground. There was a faint ripple of energy, subtle and shimmering. A deep hum thrummed beneath the earth. Then the cobblestones exploded, launching your remaining attackers into the air like popcorn kernels.
Psychic force, compressed and sharp like a blade of wind. You didn’t need to speak to cast—just focus. Just want.
—
Across the square, the Straw Hats had heard the explosion before they saw you.
“What was that?!” Usopp shouted, ducking behind Franky.
“I think the market’s being destroyed!” Nami yelled.
“Could be marines,” Sanji muttered.
“Could be her,” Zoro said suddenly, eyes narrowing.
“Huh?” Chopper squeaked.
Zoro didn’t answer. He was already walking toward the noise.
—
When they arrived, the square was in shambles.
Stalls crushed. Dust everywhere. Six pirates knocked out cold. A seventh trying to crawl away with only one shoe and his pride in pieces.
And you—standing alone in the middle of it all, clothes scuffed but otherwise untouched, casually spinning a small rock above your palm with lazy telekinesis.
You looked up when they approached. Your eyes locked with Luffy’s first.
You expected him to be surprised.
Instead, he beamed.
“THAT WAS AWESOME!” he yelled, running up to you like a kid seeing fireworks for the first time. “You exploded the GROUND!”
You blinked, unsure how to respond.
Zoro whistled low. “You’re stronger than you look.”
Nami was wide-eyed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
You shrugged, still spinning the rock.
Robin tilted her head, looking more curious than shocked. “Psychic ability,” she murmured. “Very rare. You must have excellent control.”
Sanji, meanwhile, was clutching his chest. “Mon dieu… she flipped a man with her foot. I am in love. I am ascending.”
You rolled your eyes.
Chopper scrambled up your shoulder, stars in his eyes. “Can you teach me that thing you did with the sword?!”
You raised a brow, then made the rock hover in front of him. He squealed in delight.
Usopp ducked behind Luffy. “Can she read minds?! Wait—can she read MY mind?!”
You smirked. Then deliberately looked at him and said nothing.
He screamed and ran behind a barrel.
And through it all, Luffy never stopped smiling.
—
Later, back on the Sunny, Luffy found you sitting at the railing, watching the sea. The sun was setting, sky turning to amber and pink. You didn’t hear him approach, but you felt him sit beside you.
You glanced at him, then looked away.
He leaned closer. “You okay?”
You nodded.
“You don’t talk a lot,” he said, not as a complaint, just a statement.
You shook your head.
“But you can.”
You hesitated. Then leaned in, gently cupping your hands around his ear.
“I only speak when it matters,” you whispered.
He grinned. “It mattered earlier?”
You nodded again.
He sat back, still smiling. “Good. Then I’ll wait. ‘Til it matters again.”
You stared at him for a second longer. Then reached out, flicked his forehead gently with a little psychic zap.
He flinched. “Hey!”
You didn’t reply. Just smirked.
He grinned wider.
“You’re cool shishishishi,” he said.
And you finally let yourself laugh—quiet, barely audible, but real.
They’d seen your power now. The cat was out of the bag.
But you still had a hundred secrets left to keep.
And the crew?
They were just getting started.
a/n: idk if its just me but i love an overpowered reader, especially if theyre psychic ><
Reblogs and comments are appreciated
Potions
Pairing- Usopp x reader x Zoro
Summery- Based off this ask
Warnings- drinking, sex pollen (kinda ig??), sex while under the influence, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (m receiving), penetration
.
Usopp explored the plethora of booths at the market he got Nami to bring the crew to this specific island for a specific booth. “Ah, here it is!” He spotted the place he had so eagerly sought out.
Although, it was strange he could have sworn the name of the booth he was searching for was Amil’s and not Amel’s but oh well!
Stepping up to the man who stood behind the booth. He greets Usopp. “Ah, good sir! How can I assist you on this fine day?”
“Oh, yes.” Usopp clears his throat, pulling his glasses down covering his eyes as he leans in closer. “You see, I may have heard you have procured a certain strengthening potion.” He tries to sound laid-back, almost tipping over once his arm doesn’t find support on the small booth.
“Oh….” the man's voice trails off as his eyes scanning across his almost empty cart before he sees a random bottle. “This!” He pulls it out eyes trailing over it, he’s been meaning to find someone to take this off his hands.
“And you’re sure this is it?” Usopp eyes the mixture that reminds him of a beer bottle or maybe wine. The red and pink sealant that protected the substance dripped down almost covering the peculiar drawing on the gut of the bottle. Depicting a creature with three heads, one of a goat, one of a human and one of a bull.
The bottle itself definitely didn’t scream potion but never judge a book by its cover y’know.
Salesman's eyes trails down for a sly second before answering, “Yes, of course friend. I would never lie.” Before Usopp could question him any further he quickly gives the price before shoving it into Usopp's hands.
He found the man's behavior odd but didn’t question it as going off to explore the island now that he’s got what he came for, or at least what he thinks.
A few hours later
Walking into the kitchen with Zoro your eyes land on the decorated beer bottle on the table. Usopp sat on the other side, clean glass in hand. He goes to pick it up but you swiftly swipe it up you turn the bottle to its back not caring to look at the label.
“What’s this?” You ask, twisting the cap off the bottle smelling it. A pungent smell hits your senses, nostrils flaring before you hand it off to Zoro, himself smelling it trying to suppress the surprisingly sharp smell.
Usopp debates on whether to tell then he sees you going to take a swig. “A Potion!” He yells reaching for the container. You stop right before the bottle touches your lips, pulling away your cock a brow at the man across the table.
“Potion?” Zoro questions.
“Okay so, a week or so ago I overheard someone talking about a potion so strong it gives you the strength of ten horses, ten horse man! Could you imagine what I could do with the strength of ten horses.” He rambles stopping once he sees the uninterested expressions of the two in front of them. “But it’s rare and could only be found here.” He finishes his rather short explanation you sit the random liquid down.
“And you how this is the exact potion? How?” You ask and Usopp just smiles sheepishly. “Well I mean if it’s not what’s the worst it could do?”
“Uh–I don’t know. Mutate us, shift our bodies. Change out Genders!!” You list out the tame possibilities but Usopp just shrugs as he pulls out two more cups for you and Zoro.
“I mean other than that, what could happen?” Usopp asks, taking the bottle in hand pouring double shots in each cup. The color of the drink was akin to blood and makes you judge their carefree attitude to the strange concoction.
“Zoro what do you think?” You turn to the silent man.
“I mean, I don’t need a strength potion but if it gets me drunk, sure.” Zoro says taking the cup Usopp hands him.
Huffing in annoyance you look down at the cup Usopp offers to you. Rolling your eyes you take it; “Fine, I’ll drink it. But not because both of you are doing it.” You grumble shooting the drink back in one gulp the sappy flavor overcoming your tastebuds.
You all wait for something, anything, to happen. But nothing, no bulging muscles appearing out of thin air, no ghastly mutation. Just a really, really strange taste.
“Well, then let's get this party started.” Usopp sounds disappointed as he pours another drink, this time normal bourbon.
You drink that one rather quickly, wanting to get the strange flavor of the other out of your mouth.
It only takes a few minutes for what you suspect is the ‘potion’ to kick in and it definitely makes you feel something. Your stomach felt queasy all the heat in your body going down.
You look at Usopp, who was already looking at you. You blink a few times, head feeling foggy, “Usopp..” You say stopping mid sentence for some peculiar reason. You want to finish, say ‘are you sure this is a strength potion’ but you can’t focus on anything but Usopp and his lips. When had his lips become so attractive?
“Y/N?” Usopps’ voice was dry making your thigh quiver for a second, Zoro definitely doesn’t miss it watching from the interaction from side taking another sip of bourbon.
You move to sit on your knees in the chair, head tilting to the side, eyes trailing over Usopp, low-lidded eyes, no jacket allowing you to see all of his muscles. With ypur gaurd down, no logical mind to stop think, you grab Usopp by his jaw pulling him into a soft kiss.
His lips felt exactly how you thought they would be, heavenly. The kiss slowly morphed from gentle to hungry. He grabbed the back of your head pulling you closer and guides you to his lap. You pushed deeper into the kiss teasing, testing to see how far he would go. He pulls away from the kiss, both of you gasping for air. His hands gripped your hips, both of you waiting for the other to attack.
You could feel how wet you were, surely your panties were already soaked; at this point you would take anything.
He flips you around sitting you sit in his chair now. His hand moves across the top of your shorts hand dipping inside. Moving your panties to the side slips two fingers teasing your slit before pushing past your folds.
He does a few experimental circles around your clit seeing what made you twitch and twist. “Oh..” you say heat grows through your body like a wildfire taking over a forest. Your legs spread, letting him move deeper, fingers teasing your tight entrance. He pushes inside, quickly opting for two digits he explores your body. Your bodies seemed to be hypersensitive as every touch felt like coals being thrown in a fire. Your hips moved in sync with Usopp's thrust, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.
The way your walls pulse around his fingers, Usopp knows you're close.
“Be a good girl and cum,” He whispers, kissing your inner thigh, his slender fingers pumping in and out of you; thumb moving perfectly on your clit. Usopp looks up at Zoro who’s observed the entire situation but has yet to do anything. “If you cum you’ll get Zoros’ cock.” Your walls clench around him. “Oh, poor baby needs some cock.” Zoro mockingly teases, finally speaking once he sees the way your cunt responds at the mention of getting fucked.
And just like that you cum. Body shaking, the air in your throat catches as pure pleasure controls your mind, soul, and body.
Usopp pulls his fingers from you, looking at them they shine with arousal. On a sudden power trip Usopp stands up straight, smirking before shoving his fingers in Zoros’ mouth.
Taken back a bit he eyes Usopp but once your tangy flavor seeps into his mouth he doesn’t mind it, Zoro allows Usopp to have this little ego trip as he cleans you off of his digits.
You wish you could paint this moment, it was beautiful, they were beautiful. Usopp pulls away from Zoros’ warm mouth, fingers whispering against the green haired man’s bottom lip.
Zoro gets up from his seat, not once breaking eye contact with the other male. Usopp gulps once Zoro is at his full height, “Get over there.” Zoro instructs him to stand right next to you.
Allowing Zoro to lay you on the three chairs you once occupied, his lips connect to your neck leaving rough hickeys. Yelping when he hikes your leg up with a deathlike grip your foot hits the bottle knocking it to the ground, the rest of the elixr pouring out.
Zoros’ lips travel down your body, strong hands tearing your shirt down exposing your hardened peaks. He holds them his tongue exploring your chest, his hips moving slowly trying to suffice the need to be in your cunt. You can feel him harden beneath you.
Turning your head back to the spilt bottle your eyes center onto the illustration that covers the label.
You try to place where you’ve seen it before and then it clicks;
Asmodeus. Demon of lust.
Your face twists into a smile as you realize, it was never a strength potion.
You giggle as Zoro rips your bottoms and panties down, tip of his cock slipping and sliding on your soaking pussy. You can’t hold the pornographic cry that falls from your lips once he pushes in, bottoming out in one big thrust.
Zoro kisses you harshly once more if both of you were not under extreme influence you would have thought it gross how both of your saliva gathered as you made love to each others’ mouths.
He pulled away spit string pulling with him. He began to thrust, quickly becoming lost in your tight cavern.
As your body rocked you never lost eye contact with Usopp whose eyes were buglike and his bulging cock sat right in your face.
Moving your hands up you untie Usopps’ slacks letting them fall to the ground the only thing hiding his cock thin briefs. You palmed him biting your lip in anticipation and trying to keep in the moans Zoro seems so adamant to pull out.
He helps you pull his briefs down, his dick springing free. You thrust him in your hand, pre-cum leaking out. Using your thumb swiping over his crown using it as lubricant as you jack him off over your face.
You try to keep up the pace of your hand to Zoros’ thrust but your efforts were in vain making tears well in your eyes, the overwhelming need to please both of them consuming your mind. Opening your mouth you take him in, a raspy sigh leaves Usopp as you hollow your cheeks out, tongue swirling over his tip, egging his hips on to move.
Slowly he does his movements start slowly, his long cock quickly hitting the back of your throat but you take the rest of him.
Your air supply goes tight when he pushes on your throat feeling it wrap around his cock. He slides out letting you suck in as much air with your nostrils as possible before sliding back in. He tries to keep his thrust calm, collected. But it’s just so hard when you feel so good. He fucks your throat hard, almost as hard as Zoro torments your cunt.
Groans falling from the men and the muffled moans that could escape between Usopps’ wild thrust bounce throughout the room.
The coils in your tummy tighten with each thrust from either man. The lightheaded euphoria overtook you, possessing you. Your nerves shock as a volcano inside you erupted. The world went still, your lungs tightened as burning pleasure blasted its way through your body.
Zoro stifled a moan as your pussy spasms around him, he grabs onto Usopp's arm, shoving his face into your neck inhaling your pheromones and with one quick thrust both of them cum. Drinking down the salty liquid that feels your throat your cling to Zoro as he rides his high out.
The men pull out of you both helping to clean you up before all you're left with is silent.
Zoro grabs the bottle that didn’t fall off the table and pours two cups. One for him and one for you.
“Well, that just happened.” Usopp says sitting, shirtless, in his chair.
“Yeah, that did.” You say taking the shot with Zoro.