You Are Great

Hello, thank you so much for writing this story about Marco. I loved it. I've never read a good ending to the war. One of the best. You're a goddess.

hii~ thank uu sm! i really appreciate it!! im worried that its still missing some things but either way im glad u enjoyed it!

Hello, hello, how are you? Can I please ask you for a story? Marco from the Shirohige Pirates finds out by chance that he's going to be a father. 🤣

T/n is Ace's sister, a Marine, and a vice admiral. And Marco's partner, although they see each other occasionally. Marco found out. She had been acting strange the last time they saw each other.

Aunque se ofreció a examinarla, ella se negó porque, según ella, no sería objetivo con su diagnóstico. Días después, T/n se embarcaría en una nueva misión: escoltar a nobles mundiales.

T/n was leaning on her desk, feeling a little dizzy. It's lucky her assistant gives all the orders to the others while she's feeling ill. Not even her haki has been working well these past few weeks. Hello...

T/n dio un salto y casi tiró un vaso de jarabe para el mareo que le había traído el médico del barco. T/n retiró el vaso discretamente, pero Marco lo notó. Siempre estaba tan claro, pero yo no lo había notado.

Y/n, "Hey, what's going on here? I think our next appointment is in two weeks, don't you darling?" Trying to sound normal. Covering herself with her coat. A few folders were falling.

T/n tenía que proteger su secreto. Seguramente, si él lo descubría, la arrastraría. No peor. Probablemente se enojaría con ella por no haberle dicho nada.

Vice Admiral, we're ready. The doctor asks if she's feeling better yet. Seeing the pirate in front of her, Wait, Marco, don't do it. But Marco was faster. The man was already unconscious on the floor. Y/N got up worriedly to check on her subordinate, but Maco grabbed her wrist. She was even thinner than the last time he saw her.

sounds cool tried my best >< tis not much but hope u like it, i apologize in advance if its not that accurate lolol

Blue Flames and Baby Rumors

When you starts showing unusual symptoms, Marco begins connecting the dots—and ends up with the surprise of his life.

Marco the phoenix x reader

tags: fluff, sfw, secret relationship, light drama

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: 1k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The ship rocked gently under the pull of the current, but your head swam like you were being thrashed in a whirlpool. Vice Admiral or not, no amount of rank could prepare you for the unpredictable wrath of morning sickness.

Leaning on your desk, you pressed two fingers to your temple, squinting at a report you weren’t processing. Your assistant was already barking orders outside your office door—thank the heavens. You hadn't given a single command since sunrise.

Then, like a damn ghost in broad daylight—

"Hello."

You jumped, nearly upending a glass of syrup meant to settle your stomach. It sloshed dangerously before you caught it, hurriedly sliding it behind a folder.

And there he stood. Marco the Phoenix.

Golden hair, calm ocean-blue eyes, and a presence that had always made your heart ache in the worst and best ways. Your partner, occasional lover, and the last person you wanted to see right now.

"...Hey," you started, voice too casual. “What’s going on here? I think our next appointment is in two weeks, don’t you, darling?” You tugged your coat tighter over your chest as a few folders slipped off your desk.

Marco didn’t smile. His gaze flicked toward the now half-hidden glass. “Motion sickness?” he asked, and his tone was far too neutral.

“Long voyage,” you replied quickly. “The escort mission has been dragging through choppy waters.”

The look in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t buying that.

You forced a light laugh, walking around the desk to pick up the fallen papers. “I’m not made of sea-stone. Even Vice Admirals get woozy sometimes.”

“You wouldn’t even let me examine you last time-yoi” he said, stepping closer. “You said I wasn’t objective.”

“I stand by that.”

He tilted his head. “You didn’t even let me try.”

You swallowed. No way in hell were you going to talk about this. You were already gambling every inch of this mission by just standing here, trying to keep a secret from the one man who literally healed people for a living.

"Vice Admiral!" your assistant called from outside. "The nobles are waiting. The doctor asks if you're feeling better yet."

You could see the moment the dots fully connected in Marco's sharp gaze.

"Wait—Marco, don't—"

Too late. In one swift movement, Marco disappeared in a flash of blue and reappeared outside. You dashed after him just in time to see your medic crumple to the ground with a startled grunt.

"Marco!"

You dropped to check your subordinate’s pulse—he was unconscious, not harmed seriously—but Marco’s hand clamped gently but firmly around your wrist.

“You’re thinner than before-yoi” he muttered. “You’ve been exhausted. Your Haki’s off. And now motion sickness?”

You stared at him. “Marco, I swear, if you say it—”

“You’re pregnant.”

The words hung in the air like cannon smoke.

You looked away, breath caught in your throat. “It’s none of your—”

His grip tightened slightly, only to loosen as you flinched.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” he said. “But you are, aren’t you-yoi?”

Silence.

Finally, you exhaled. “...Yes.”

He stepped back. “Is it mine?”

Your head snapped toward him. “What? Of course it’s yours! You—! We—! I haven’t been with anyone else, you idiot!”

Marco blinked. “I just—sorry. I wasn’t accusing. Just… processing.”

He ran a hand through his blond hair, the tension in his usually relaxed frame tangible now.

You crossed your arms, trying to look like the proud Vice Admiral you were instead of the world’s most irresponsible soon-to-be parent. “I didn’t tell you because I thought you’d drag me back to the Grand Line and throw me in a nest of phoenix feathers.”

“You were going to hide my kid from me-yoi?”

“I was going to figure things out myself first,” you said, quieter now. “I didn’t want you to worry. We barely see each other as it is.”

“Because we’re on opposite sides of the damn sea.”

“Exactly.”

A long pause. You shifted uncomfortably, ignoring the familiar twist of nausea.

“I get it,” Marco finally said. “But you should’ve told me-yoi”

You frowned, defensive. “You think I don’t know that? It’s not like I’m thrilled about this, Marco. I’m a Vice Admiral. You’re a pirate. Ace—Ace would’ve flipped if he knew.”

Marco smiled faintly. “Ace would’ve been smug as hell. He always said we’d end up together.”

That made your eyes sting, unexpectedly. “...Don’t do that. Don’t talk about him like he’s still here.”

Marco stepped closer, resting a hand on your shoulder. “You’re not alone in this-yoi.”

“You’re not exactly on call, either.”

“Then I’ll make myself available.”

Your brows shot up. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” he said. “You’re having my kid. I might be a pirate, but I’m not irresponsible. I’ll be there.”

You stared at him, seeing not just the Phoenix, the First Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates—but Marco. The man who always showed up exactly when you needed him, even if you didn’t say it aloud.

He took your hand and pressed it to his chest. “You don’t have to hide anymore-yoi”

You let out a long sigh, finally allowing yourself to lean into his warmth. “I still have to finish this mission.”

He groaned. “Of course you do.”

You smirked. “I am a Vice Admiral.”

“You’re a pregnant Vice Admiral.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Later that night, you found yourself leaning against the rail of the ship, the cool breeze easing your nausea better than the syrup. Marco leaned beside you, arms crossed, watching the sea.

“So… how far along?” he asked.

“Almost two months.”

“...Was that before or after I gave you that weird seaweed stew in Alabasta?”

You snorted. “Definitely after.”

He grimaced. “I hope the baby doesn’t remember that-yoi”

You laughed, and for the first time in weeks, it felt real. “Thanks for coming, Marco.”

He turned his head slightly. “I’ll be back before the baby’s born. Promise.”

“You better be,” you replied. “Or I’m naming it Garp.”

Marco's face turned pale. “You wouldn’t.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Try me.”

He stared, then smirked. “...Fine. But I’m putting ‘Phoenix’ on the birth certificate.”

“Oh, absolutely not.”

LET'S ROCK 🔥

hello! I saw some of your posts and was wondering if u could wright something with sanji from one piece where the reader is also a chef? Like escoffier from genshin impact. But like she has the same looks and vibe cause I was looking at her trailer or something and she only scolded the male cooks when they did bad and I LOVED that PLEASEE try to make this! Established relationship pls, thank u!

this sounds nice! im not quite familiar w the charac mentioned, tho i looked her up, soo its not much but hope u enjoy this!

Fire in the Kitchen, Heart on the Line

Being in love with a fellow perfectionist chef isn’t always easy—especially when your kitchen becomes a battlefield. But with enough butter, banter, and a little love, Sanji and his fiery girlfriend might just make it through the heat.

sanji x Escoffier!reader | ONE SHOT tags: fluff, sfw, soft romance, ooc(?) a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff a bit cringe, akward, and confusing word count: 1k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The kitchen on the Thousand Sunny was unusually quiet—until a sharp clatter echoed off the walls.

“You call that a brunoise?” your voice rang, sharp as a blade slicing through bone.

Usopp flinched, the knife slipping out of his hand. “I—I was just—”

“No excuses. These cubes are uneven enough to offend geometry itself.” You folded your arms, pristine gloves still white despite the chaos around you. “Throw it out and start again.”

Zoro, seated at the table with a skewer half-loaded with meat, muttered under his breath, “It’s a miracle you two haven’t killed each other in that kitchen yet.”

Sanji entered just then, whistling cheerfully, a towel slung over his shoulder. The moment he caught sight of you—your meticulously tied hair, that commanding glare you reserved only for the incompetent male cooks on board—his eyes lit up with hearts, and his feet nearly floated off the ground.

“Ma chérie~!” he sang, sliding behind you and planting a kiss on your cheek before dodging the spatula you halfheartedly lifted to swat him.

“Sanji,” you said in your signature calm-but-deadly tone, “I told you not to interfere when I’m teaching.”

“I’m not interfering, my love~ I’m admiring.”

“You’re lucky I like you,” you muttered, finally allowing the smile that had been threatening your lips to peek through. “Now get Usopp another carrot before I use his nose as a cutting board.”

“Right away~ Goddess of Gastronomy!” he said, twirling toward the pantry.

You sighed, pressing two fingers to your temple. Life aboard the Sunny was nothing if not chaotic.

And Sanji? He was the eye of your storm, and somehow the hurricane too.

It had been four months since you and Sanji had made your relationship official—not that the rest of the crew hadn’t seen it coming. From the moment you stepped aboard the Sunny, knives flashing and heels clicking like war drums, you and Sanji had danced around each other like rival chefs in a culinary showdown.

Your reputation had preceded you. Known in the South Blue as "Escoffier" your dishes were renowned for their flawless precision, complex flavor pairings, and an almost terrifying level of discipline. Especially toward men. Male chefs, in particular, bore the brunt of your cutting critiques. You didn’t hold back—and you certainly didn’t tolerate mediocrity.

But Sanji? He was different. He matched you plate for plate, idea for idea. And beneath all his dramatic fawning and over-the-top flirting, you had discovered something rare.

Respect.

He listened when you spoke about your work. He valued your opinions. And above all, he didn’t take it personally when you yelled at him for burning the beurre blanc.

(Well—he pouted, but only for a moment. Then he’d get right back to whisking.)

That afternoon, the kitchen was alive with rhythm. You and Sanji moved in tandem, a pair of dancers trained not in waltz but in whisk and flame.

“Ladle,” you said.

“Ladle,” he replied, handing it over.

“Temp check on the lamb?”

“Fifty-two Celsius. Medium-rare in five.”

You turned your head to glance at him, and the two of you paused, catching each other in the moment.

“You’ve got sauce on your cheek,” you said.

“So do you,” he answered, voice softer than it had any right to be.

He wiped your cheek with his thumb. You dabbed his chin with a towel. And then, just as naturally, he leaned in to steal a kiss.

Nami’s voice broke the moment. “Ugh, seriously? You two are gonna make me lose my appetite.”

You didn’t even look back. “Good. More for us.”

That night, Sanji insisted on preparing dinner himself, claiming he wanted to "treat the queen of his kitchen like the royalty she is."

You allowed it—reluctantly.

But as the aromas filled the galley—roasted duck with plum glaze, golden dauphinoise potatoes, and sautéed green beans with garlic and lemon—you couldn’t help but watch him closely from the doorway.

He had removed his jacket, sleeves rolled to his elbows, his golden hair tucked behind his ear. His focus was intense, his movements precise. You knew he was trying to impress you. Even now. Especially now.

And it was working.

When he caught you staring, he grinned. “Enjoying the view, darling?”

“I’m mentally rating your performance,” you replied, though the warmth in your voice betrayed you.

“Out of ten?”

“Six.”

“Six?!”

“You docked three points for putting the duck skin down too early. And one for letting the fond burn—again.”

He dramatically clutched his chest. “You wound me.”

You stepped into the kitchen, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

He turned his head, his lips brushing your forehead. “I know.”

Later that night, after the meal had been devoured and Luffy had fallen asleep mid-dessert, you and Sanji found yourselves alone on the deck.

The sea was calm, the moonlight painting silver trails across the waves.

Sanji sat with his back against the railing, you curled against his side, your head resting on his shoulder.

“Do you ever think,” he murmured, “about opening a restaurant together someday?”

You blinked. “Like… an actual building? Four walls? Guests?”

“Yeah. Something quiet. Cozy. Somewhere we can work together every day and still kiss between courses.”

You smiled. “And scold the interns together.”

His laughter rumbled in his chest. “I’ll be the bad cop this time. You can be the terrifying angel of death.”

“I always am.”

He kissed the top of your head. “You’re perfect, you know?”

“No one’s perfect,” you said quietly. “Not even me.”

“You’re perfect for me. That’s better.”

As you watched the stars, warm in his embrace, you thought about everything the two of you had built. Not just the food. Not just the flirtation. But the trust. The balance. The unspoken understanding of two chefs who demanded excellence—and gave each other grace when they didn’t quite reach it.

In the kitchen, you were a storm. Outside of it, he was your shelter.

And together?

You were a fire that never burned out.

© mariah for the divider <3

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.

Marshall D. Teach

When he faced Ace and defeated him, he was ready to hand him over to the Navy. But Ace's sister appeared, saving him at the last minute. Ace was almost unconscious, but he recognized his sister

Blackbeard recognized the young woman. He began to laugh, inviting her to join his crew. Before Perl could finish his sentence, a Navy ship fired at the pirates' ship. The young woman placed her brother on her shoulder and escaped.

a/n: hope u like it!~

I Won't Leave You

He never ran from a fight, and you would never run from him.

Ace x Sister!Reader

tags: angst, sfw, near-death experience, hurt/comfort, happy ending, v!olence

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 world smelled like blood, burning wood, and the sickening sweetness of betrayal.

You skidded to a halt at the edge of the clearing, heart hammering against your ribs as your eyes locked onto him — Ace — crumpled on the scorched deck, shirtless and broken under the heavy boot of Marshall D. Teach.

His skin was mottled with bruises, cuts, and blackened burns, the once-vibrant freckles on his shoulders drowned under smears of blood. His arms lay limp, wrists scorched raw from seastone cuffs. His chest, usually so strong and proud, rose and fell shallowly, each breath a struggle. He looked half-dead.

But it was the expression on his face that gutted you the most.

Even as Blackbeard sneered down at him, even as pain wracked his body, Ace’s jaw was clenched tight. His eyes, half-lidded but burning, glared up at his enemy with undying fury. He would never beg. He would never run.

“Ace...” you breathed, the name nearly crumbling in your mouth.

His head stirred weakly at the sound, barely lifting.

And then, he saw you.

A flicker — a raw, shattered light — flashed across his bloodshot eyes. His lips parted, like he wanted to call to you, to warn you, to tell you to run — but no sound came out. Only a broken, rasping cough as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

“Oh-ho?” Blackbeard rumbled, turning, grinning like a madman. His teeth gleamed in the firelight. “Zehahahaha! Well, well, look what we got here! If it ain't the little sister."

You didn’t move. Your fists clenched at your sides until your nails cut into your palms.

Ace struggled weakly. "Y/N… run… he's—"

"Quiet, Ace." You didn’t even glance at him. "You’ve done enough."

You remembered Ace as a boy, standing battered in front of you after a fight, a black eye blooming across his face, fists still raised even as the odds towered against him.

"I don't care if they're bigger," he had said, bloody-nosed but grinning. "I’ll never run away in a fight. Not when it matters!"

Your throat burned.

“You got guts, girlie,” Teach chuckled, raising a thick, calloused hand. “Y’know... you could join me. Family stickin' together, huh? You're wasted on that washed-up old man Whitebeard.”

You didn't answer. You didn't blink. Your entire world had narrowed down to the battered figure barely holding on at Blackbeard’s feet.

Ace tried to move again, a hoarse growl clawing up his throat. His body shuddered violently, trying to rise, trying to shield you even now — even while seastone sucked the life from his veins, even while blood poured from open wounds.

Tears blurred your vision, but you forced them down.

You were his sister. You were Portgas D. Ace’s sister. You would not break.

Teach's mouth twisted into something cruel. "Come now, girlie. Don’t be stupid. Join me, and maybe I won’t hand your brother here to the marines. Zehahahaha!"

Ace, barely conscious, bared his teeth in a snarl. “Don’t... don’t listen to him..." he rasped, voice shredded. "Run... idiot... run...”

He could barely even lift his head. And still, he tried to protect you.

You snapped.

A roar shattered the air — but it wasn’t you. It was the Marines.

Cannonfire screamed past overhead, splintering the already-ruined deck. Shouts erupted as marines flooded toward the island. Panic rippled through the pirates.

In the chaos, Blackbeard turned to bark orders at his crew — and you moved.

Faster than thought, you sprinted across the ruined planks, heart in your throat. Ace saw you — and tried, gods, he tried — to push himself up to shield you, but his body gave out, collapsing with a low, agonized sound.

You dropped to your knees beside him.

“Ace,” you gasped, hooking an arm under his shoulders. His body was terrifyingly hot and terrifyingly heavy — the deadweight of someone clinging to life by a thread. He smelled like smoke, salt, and blood.

“No... y-you can't... stay,” he mumbled against your shoulder, trying to shove you away weakly. “Run... don't... don’t die here.”

You pressed your forehead against his burning temple.

“Shut up, you idiot,” you whispered fiercely. “I’m not leaving you. Never.”

Somewhere behind you, Blackbeard roared your name.

You didn't look back. You didn’t hesitate.

Grunting under his weight, you heaved Ace onto your back, wrapping his arms over your shoulders. His seastone-cuffed wrists dangled heavily across your chest. His bare chest was slick with blood against your back. You could feel every stuttering breath he fought for.

Memories crashed into you — Ace at ten years old, hauling you out of a river when you couldn’t swim; Ace at fifteen, punching three grown men to defend your name; Ace at seventeen, bleeding and laughing after fighting an entire gang because they "looked at you wrong."

"As long as I can stand," he had grinned, split-lipped and proud, "I’ll always protect you!"

You gritted your teeth, blinking away tears.

"You saved me all those times," you whispered. "Now it’s my turn."

The ship rocked violently as another cannonball struck.

You bolted.

Bullets whistled past you. Pirates cursed and shoved. Blackbeard’s furious roars echoed behind you. You didn't dare look back — every ounce of your strength was focused on one thing: getting Ace out alive.

He groaned faintly against your back.

"Hang on," you gasped, stumbling through smoke and chaos. "Just a little further, Ace. Please."

His fingers twitched weakly against your chest — like he was trying to hold onto you.

Like he was trusting you.

You made it to the edge of the ship — a rope ladder dangling wildly where a smaller escape skiff bobbed below. It would be risky. The seas were rough, the navy ships were closing in, and you had Ace’s full weight on you.

But you had no choice.

You tightened your grip on his legs, whispered a shaky apology — and jumped.

The impact rattled your bones, but somehow, you landed half-right in the skiff. Ace tumbled limply into the bottom of the boat, coughing raggedly.

You scrambled up, grabbed the oars, and shoved off with all the strength you had left.

Gunshots peppered the waves around you. Blackbeard’s enraged bellow tore through the smoke.

But you didn’t stop.

Ace’s eyelids fluttered weakly as the sea breeze hit him, cooling his feverish skin. He turned his head slightly toward you.

"...thought I told you..." he croaked, voice barely a whisper, "...not to... run into fights..."

You let out a half-hysterical, half-relieved laugh, tears streaking your face.

"And I thought I told you not to be a suicidal idiot," you shot back, rowing faster. "Guess we both suck at listening."

Ace gave a breathy, broken chuckle — then winced sharply, clutching his side.

You dropped the oar immediately, sliding down beside him. You pressed trembling hands to his ribs, feeling the jagged, shallow breaths rattling through him.

"Stay with me, Ace," you whispered fiercely, pressing your forehead against his. "Stay awake. Please."

He was silent for a long moment.

Then, in the faintest, rawest voice:

"...'course... I'm not going anywhere..."

He smiled — small, bloodied, stubborn as hell — the same way he had when he was a kid, swearing he'd protect you from the whole damn world.

Your heart shattered — and healed — in the same beat.

You pulled him into your arms as gently as you could, cradling his battered body against your chest, feeling the heat of his skin, the faint but steady beat of his heart.

The navy ships shrank behind you. The gunfire faded. The sea rocked you both like a lullaby.

You were safe. You had him. You weren’t letting go.

Not now. Not ever.

Later, drifting under the stars in the quiet safety of night, Ace mumbled something against your shoulder:

"Hey... thanks for coming back for me..."

You smiled through your tears, kissing his sweat-damp hair.

"I always will," you whispered. "You're my brother, Ace."

He sighed, heavy with exhaustion, but peaceful now.

"Love you, sis..."

Your arms tightened around him, protecting, promising.

"I love you too, Ace."

The sea carried you onward — battered, bleeding, broken — but alive. Together.

You had survived. And you would never, ever leave each other behind.

Can you do Kuzan (aokiji) ?? Like, the reader was rumored witch and when he heard that, he goes excited suddenly and wanted to find that witch? ( You can do what ever you want with the ending. But please add a smut hehehe, thank you!!

hii this is a good idea!! i apologize, as of the moment, i don't plan on writing that includes s3x anytime soon:< but theres some kissing scene tho idk if kissing is considered as smut? dahaha but i hope you enjoy this! let me know what u think! ><

Frostbite and Witchcraft

When a bored ex-admiral hears rumors of a dangerous "witch" living near a chaotic port town, he can't resist hunting her down—only to find himself ensnared in a slow-burn game of teasing, ice, and forbidden heat.

Aokiji (kuzan) x fem! reader Tags: fluff, flirty, slow burn(?) neck kissing / collarbone kissing, minor bondage (ice restraints), a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff cringe and oc word count: 1.5k MINORS DNI!!

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

It all started with a stupid rumor.

"The witch will curse you if you look her in the eye!" "She flies around naked at midnight!" "She turned Old Man Jeb into a chicken. True story."

The entire port town was drunk on gossip, and Aokiji—bored, freshly unattached to any real responsibility—found himself very interested.

"I dunno," he said lazily, nursing a drink at the local tavern, "sounds kinda hot."

The table of sailors stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "Hot?! She’s dangerous!"

Aokiji just grinned, finishing his drink and standing up. "Dangerous women are the best ones."

He tracked you down that same night.

Eventually, he found himself standing at the edge of a very cliché-looking creepy forest. A broken, hand-painted sign read:

"BEWARE: WITCH LIVES HERE. (also wolves.)"

Aokiji, grinning lazily, shrugged. “Eh. Wolves are fine. I’m here for the witch.”

He wandered in, hands in his pockets, whistling tunelessly. Half an hour later, after being chased by a very angry (and definitely not magical) goat, he finally stumbled upon a crooked little house. Smoke curled from the chimney, and wind chimes made from bones (probably fake… probably) tinkled eerily.

Your crooked little house at the edge of the forest was half-charming, half-terrifying, lit up with candles and what looked suspiciously like floating lights (actually just fireflies, but hey, let the idiots believe).

You were perched on your porch, barefoot, wearing a thin, flowy dress that clung to your body in the humid air, holding a cup of tea and looking entirely too smug.

“You lost, stranger?” you called, voice honey-sweet but laced with trouble.

Aokiji whistled low under his breath. Damn, the rumors didn’t do you justice.

Aokiji approached slowly, hands in his pockets. “Hey. I’m here for the witch."

You looked him up and down like he was a particularly stupid animal. "You the guy with more balls than brains?"

He laughed—a slow, deep rumble. "Depends who you ask."

You raised an eyebrow, sipping your tea. “And what if she curses you?"

Aokiji's grin widened. He leaned his tall frame casually against a tree, watching you with the lazy hunger of a man already planning how fast he could lose the upper hand—and liking it.

“I dunno... kinda sounds like fun," he said, voice low, smooth. "Especially if she's the kind of witch who knows a few...bad tricks.”

And thus began the harassment.

Day 1: He brought you a dead fish. "Thought witches liked weird offerings."

You squinted at it, then at him. "That’s mermaid bait, dumbass."

He shrugged and left it on your porch anyway.

Day 3: He challenged you to a "spell duel" and got his ass kicked by a very territorial goat you "accidentally" sicced on him.

Day 5: You caught him napping under your tree, snoring like a dying lawnmower.

You threw a bucket of water on him. He woke up, grinning, ice instantly forming on his clothes.

"You’re gonna have to try harder to cool me off, sweetheart."

You stomped inside before he could see the stupid smile on your face.

Day 7: You found a neatly folded note on your porch:

"Dear scary witch lady, Teach me magic? Also, your hair looks nice. Yours frostily, Aokiji"

You rolled your eyes so hard you nearly fell over. But you smiled too.

He kept coming back. Sometimes he’d just sit nearby, pretending to "guard" your house from wolves. Other times, he’d lazily help you gather herbs (crushing half of them because he was clumsy as hell). You started leaving out a second cup of tea without thinking about it.

He was stupidly tall, annoyingly charming, and somehow managed to look both lazy and sharp at the same time. He made you laugh when you hadn’t laughed in months.

And gods, when he smirked at you… when he leaned a little too close when handing you a flower… It was getting hard to pretend you didn’t notice.

One evening… You sat by the porch, braiding herbs absently. The sky blazed orange, and Aokiji lounged nearby, watching you with open amusement.

"You ever curse anyone for real?" he asked.

You smirked. "Maybe. You wanna find out?"

He whistled low, pretending to wipe sweat from his brow. "Man… you’re dangerous when you talk like that."

You tossed a dried sprig of lavender at him. He caught it, lazy-fast.

There was a pause.

Then he got up—moved toward you—slow, deliberate.

You looked up, heartbeat thudding. He loomed, tall and close enough that you could smell his skin: cold like fresh rain, sharp and clean.

His hand brushed a stray leaf from your hair—fingers lingering just a second too long.

"Y'know," he murmured, voice low and wrecked, "I think you did curse me."

You tried to laugh it off—but it came out breathless.

"Oh yeah? What’s the curse?"

He smiled—a real one this time, a little crooked, a little too soft.

"I can’t stay away from you."

The tension snapped.

You surged up, grabbing his jacket and dragging him down; he met you halfway, crashing his mouth onto yours.

The kiss was everything you expected from him: messy, greedy, starving. His tongue slid against yours immediately, tasting, teasing, claiming you. You gasped into him—he groaned low in his throat—his hands roaming your sides, cool fingertips skating fire trails along your heated skin.

You bit his lip playfully; he retaliated by lifting you effortlessly onto the porch railing, pressing between your thighs.

"You’re lucky," you panted against his mouth.

"Yeah?" he chuckled, kissing down your jaw, voice thick with want.

"Not everyone survives kissing a witch."

He grinned against your throat, cold breath making you shiver.

"Guess I’m built different."

And then he kissed you again—deeper, hungrier—like he was determined to drown in you.

You decided you’d let him.

You barely had time to catch your breath before Aokiji’s mouth was on you again—only this time, lower.

His lips trailed messy, open-mouthed kisses down your jawline, slow and deliberate, sending shivers wracking your entire body. When he reached your neck, he paused, smirking against your pulse like he could feel it racing for him.

"You always this jumpy," he teased in a low growl, "or is it just me?"

You opened your mouth to sass back—but then he bit your neck, just enough to make you gasp, and you forgot how words worked.

His tongue followed immediately after, soothing the sting, cold and warm all at once. You arched into him instinctively, and he groaned deep in his chest, like the feel of you was driving him insane.

"Aokiji—" you tried to say, but it came out a whimper.

"Mm," he murmured against your skin, "I like how you say my name. Say it again."

Instead, you tugged at his messy hair, earning a delighted chuckle from him. He pressed you harder against the porch railing, one hand sliding under your thighs to keep you perched there like you belonged to him.

And then he got even bolder.

His mouth moved lower, ghosting along your collarbone, teeth scraping lightly before he kissed the delicate skin with maddening gentleness.

Your hands clutched at the fabric of his jacket, trying to anchor yourself. You could feel his breath—cool and teasing—against the thin fabric of your dress, making your whole body burn.

"You’re trembling," he whispered, smug. "Cold?" he asked, voice dripping pure sin, "or somethin' else?"

"Y-you're cheating," you managed to choke out, laughing breathlessly.

Aokiji just grinned wickedly against your collarbone.

Suddenly, you felt it—a cold, delicate grip around your wrists.

You looked down to see thin rings of ice curling around them, not painful, but firm—anchoring you gently against the railing behind you.

Your breath hitched. Your heart slammed against your ribs.

"Aokiji…" you whispered, wide-eyed.

He looked up at you, lazy and devastatingly cocky.

"Relax," he purred, mouth brushing your ear. "You can melt 'em anytime… if you ask real nice."

You swallowed hard, feeling the cold of the ice and the burning heat of his mouth on your skin, the impossible contrast driving you absolutely insane.

He kissed your shoulder—slow, reverent—then trailed back up to your neck, biting a little harder this time, earning a shaky, desperate moan from your lips.

"You sound so pretty," he rasped, like he was barely holding himself back.

You tugged at the ice instinctively, but it only made the sensation sharper—being half-pinned, half-teased, at his mercy.

"You want me to stop?" he asked, lips ghosting over yours, voice infuriatingly smug.

You glared at him, cheeks flushed and heart racing. "Don't you fucking dare."

Aokiji laughed—a real, dark, hungry laugh—and then captured your mouth again in a kiss so deep, so filthy, you forgot what planet you were on.

You kissed him back just as desperately, your hips grinding against his without even thinking.

The ice melted instantly under your heat, but you didn’t even notice—you were too busy tugging him closer, swallowing each other whole.

When you finally broke apart, gasping, he rested his forehead against yours, smirking like the cocky bastard he was.

"You’re trouble," he whispered, voice wrecked and affectionate.

You smiled, tugging his collar.

"So ruin me already, Ice Man."

And from the wicked glint in his half-lidded eyes, you knew he fully intended to.

O̲̅N̲̅E̲̅P̲̅I̲̅E̲̅C̲̅E̲̅ M̲̅A̲̅S̲̅T̲̅E̲̅R̲̅L̲̅I̲̅S̲̅T̲̅

ℛ𝓊𝓁ℯ𝓈

𝘉𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘧𝘶𝘭, 𝘉𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘤 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘯-𝘯𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦. 

𝘕𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘙𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘮, 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘢, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘢, 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘮, 𝘦𝘵𝘤., 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 

𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴' 𝘋𝘕𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵, (𝘐𝘧 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 — 𝘢𝘥𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦!)

𝘕𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 , 𝘙𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘭. 

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦!, 𝘐’𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘷𝘪𝘣𝘦𝘴, 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝘧𝘶𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘺.

ℛℯ𝓆𝓊ℯ𝓈𝓉 ℰ𝓉𝒾𝓆𝓊ℯ𝓉𝓉ℯ

𝘊𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘧 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨! (𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘶𝘱𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘪𝘰 𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵!) 

𝘉𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘈 "𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦" 𝘢𝘯𝘥 "𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶" 𝘨𝘰 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘺.

𝘉𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦, 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 (𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘷𝘪𝘣𝘦, 𝘦𝘵𝘤.), 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘵! 

𝘕𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘐𝘧 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘦𝘵, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵! 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦. 

𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵, 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸, 𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘴 — 𝘯𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴!

 𝘈𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦! 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘳𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘥. 

𝘐𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦: 𝘐'𝘮 𝘢 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤! 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘐’𝘮 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴.

Quick a/n: 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬. 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘐 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦. 𝘈𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘐 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘶𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦, 𝘐 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨.

also special mention to the creator of these dividers<33

FLUFF ANGST ko-fi

S̲̅T̲̅R̲̅A̲̅W̲̅H̲̅A̲̅T̲̅ P̲̅I̲̅R̲̅A̲̅T̲̅E̲̅S̲̅

˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 GIANT DUCK INCIDENT - luffy x gn!reader | fluff | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Say something - strawhat x psychic!femreader | fluff | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 The Lost Reader - strawhat x gn!reader | fluff | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 CLINGY MUCH? - Zoro x gn!reader | fluff | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Got married by Accident… Thanks, Vegapunk? - luffy x gn!reader | fluff | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Wait… Luffy’s WHAT?! - luffy x gn! reader | fluff | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Double Trouble - luffy x gn! reader | fluff | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 What Remains - strawhats x platonic gn! reader | angst | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Smoke Break - sanji x reader | fluff | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 One Month With You - strawhat x reader | angst | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 The Ones Who Stayed Silent - sanji x reader | angst | O.S

R̲̅E̲̅D̲̅H̲̅A̲̅I̲̅R̲̅ P̲̅I̲̅R̲̅A̲̅T̲̅E̲̅S̲̅

˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 You punched a Yonko? - red hair pirates x fem!reader | fluff | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Fractures in the silence - shanks x reader | light angst | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 CLINGY MUCH? - shanks x reader | fluff | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Flustered Fury - beck x reader | fluff | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 𝐑𝐞𝐝𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫, 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 - shanks x reader | fluff/slight angst | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Smoke Break - beck x reader | fluff | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Six Months of Secrets, Five Minutes of Hell - shanks x reader | fluff | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 One Month With You - red hair pirates x reader | angst | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 The Ones Who Stayed Silent - shanks x reader | angst | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Trouble Walks In, and So Do You - shanks x reader | fluff | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Six Months of Secrets, Five Minutes of Hell - shanks x reader | fluff | O.S

W̲̅A̲̅R̲̅L̲̅O̲̅R̲̅D̲̅S̲̅

˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Perfect pair - mihawk x reader | fluff, v!ol3nce | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Strings in Crimson - doflamingo x reader | fluff, v!ol3nce | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 CLINGY MUCH? - mihawk x reader | fluff | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Smoke Break - crocodile x reader | fluff/slight nsfw | O.S

W̲̅H̲̅I̲̅T̲̅E̲̅B̲̅E̲̅A̲̅R̲̅D̲̅ P̲̅I̲̅R̲̅A̲̅T̲̅E̲̅S̲̅

˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸Sea Kings, Smart Mouths, and Stolen Hearts - whitebeard x gn! reader | fluff | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Clueless hearts and full plates - ace x reader | fluff | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Where the Fire Lives - marco x oc | fluff/slight angst | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 I won't leave you - ace x sister! reader | slight angst | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Teach Tried It, I Survived It - Marco x reader | fluff/slight angst | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸Fractured Allegiance - marco x reader | slight angst | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Stuck on You - marco x reader | fluff | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 One Month With You - whitebeard pirates x reader | angst | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 The Ones Who Stayed Silent - ace x reader | angst | O.S

H̲̅E̲̅A̲̅R̲̅T̲̅ P̲̅I̲̅R̲̅A̲̅T̲̅E̲̅S̲̅

˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Doctor Trafalgar, Love Expert? - law x gn! reader | fluff | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Confined Hearts - law x gn! reader | fluff | O.S

B̲̅I̲̅G̲̅ M̲̅O̲̅M̲̅ P̲̅I̲̅R̲̅A̲̅T̲̅E̲̅S̲̅

˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Sugar & Spite - katakuri x reader | fluff | series, 3 chapters

B̲̅E̲̅A̲̅S̲̅T̲̅S̲̅ P̲̅I̲̅R̲̅A̲̅T̲̅E̲̅S̲̅

˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Hot Springs, Hot Tempers - king x gn! reader | fluff | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 King’s Helmet Mystery - king x gn! reader | fluff | O.S

K̲̅I̲̅D̲̅ P̲̅I̲̅R̲̅A̲̅T̲̅E̲̅S̲̅

M̲̅A̲̅R̲̅I̲̅N̲̅E̲̅S̲̅

˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Clash of Fists and Hearts - young garp × gn! reader | fluff | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Smoke Break - smoker x reader | fluff/slight nsfw | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Frostbite and Witchcraft - aokiji x reader | fluff/slight nsfw | O.S ˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Captain for a Day - smoker x reader | fluff | O.S

C̲̅P̲̅9̲̅

˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸 Secrets in Stone - CP9 x reader | fluff | O.S

Hello, hello, hello, beautiful, gorgeous, divine

I love your story Marco nooo I love all your stories you are fantastic

I love you, please beg for something. Can you create a Marco the Phoenix story for y/n? Where y/n saves Thatch's life by stopping Teach's attack? Thatch was injured, but not seriously, losing the yami yami nomi. However, y/n was seriously injured protecting her nakama. Marco and Ace, his brother, are very worried. More so Marco 😏 Since the young woman wasn't waking up, When she regained consciousness, she played a joke on Marco for being so worried, Pretending not to recognize them 🤣 Later, Y/n spoke to Whitebeard, discussing the traitor and how dangerous he would become in the future. When she returned to Marco, she lay down next to him, thanking him for taking care of her all that time, and that even though she couldn't answer him, she always heard him calling her. Please, I implore you.

lmaoao this is funny i like it! dahaha u can support me through ko-fi, but please know that tips are never expected but always deeply appreciated! also I hope this is to ur liking!

Teach Tried It, I Survived It

After stopping Teach’s betrayal and nearly dying, you wake up in Marco’s arms—and decide that pranking him with fake amnesia is exactly what he deserves before finally falling into the comfort of home and love.

Marco the phoenix x reader tags: slight angst, sfw, ooc, bl00d/v!olence, happy ending, betrayal, 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: 2k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The sun blazed high over the open sea, casting golden light across the deck of the Moby Dick. The battle was well underway — a scrappy band of pirates had made the monumental mistake of challenging the Whitebeard Pirates. Bad for them. Good for everyone else who needed a bit of exercise.

You ducked under a wild swing from some random enemy pirate, spun on your heel, and delivered a solid punch to his gut. He crumpled with a satisfying oof.

"Oi! Y/N!" Thatch shouted from a few feet away, grinning like a maniac, a strange fruit in his hand. "Check this out!"

You sliced another pirate across the side with your blade (nothing fatal, you were feeling merciful today) and jogged over.

"What did you find this time?" you asked, breathing hard, a spark of excitement lighting your eyes.

Ace clambered over a fallen mast to join you. "Yo, Thatch, whatcha got?"

Thatch held the thing out like it was a newborn kitten. The fruit was round and black with swirling violet patterns, almost like the night sky had been trapped inside it.

"I found something interesting," he said proudly.

Ace squinted. "Ohhh... is that a Devil Fruit?"

You leaned closer. "Looks like one. Wonder what it does."

Behind you, a presence stiffened. You glanced over your shoulder.

Teach — good ol' big, laughing Teach — was standing there, his usual grin stretched way too tight. His forehead was shiny with sweat despite the easy fight. When he noticed you looking, he barked out a laugh that didn’t reach his eyes.

"Heh! Devil Fruit, huh? Zehahaha! Who knows? Maybe it's a lame one, like making your farts turn into explosions!"

Ace snorted. "Wouldn't put it past the sea."

You shook your head, laughing, not noticing the way Teach’s hands clenched at his sides.

That night, the Moby Dick was peaceful. The waves lapped lazily against the hull. Most of the crew was sprawled across the deck or below, snoring, laughing, or drinking.

You had just curled up in your hammock when a strange noise cut through the stillness.

Scuffle.

You bolted upright, instincts screaming. Without a second thought, you grabbed your weapon and padded silently toward the sound.

Your heart dropped into your stomach.

There, in the dim lantern light, was Teach — stabbing Thatch through the side.

"Teach?!" you gasped.

Thatch grunted, struggling, but Teach was too strong. His eyes were wild, desperate, like a man possessed.

Without hesitation, you leapt into action.

"THAT'S ENOUGH! TEACH! HOW DARE YOU!?" you roared, slamming into Teach with everything you had.

The two of you crashed into the deck. Your blade flashed; Teach snarled and swung a fist, and you met it with a grimace, blocking the worst of the blow. It was chaos — wood splintered under your feet as you battled, the sounds waking a few of the closer crewmates.

But Teach was slippery. He was fighting like a man who had nothing left to lose, and with one last shove, he pushed you back, making you stumble.

Your foot caught the edge of a broken beam, and before you could react, Teach's fist landed squarely on the side of your head. The world spun instantly, your vision going blurry as the impact sent you crashing to the ground.

“Y/N!” Thatch cried weakly from where he was still slumped, blood dripping from his side.

You blinked hard, trying to regain your senses. A searing pain throbbed in your head, and the edges of your vision blurred even further. You could barely hear anything over the ringing in your ears as your body felt like it was on fire.

Just as you tried to push yourself up, Teach took his chance, grabbing the mysterious fruit from Thatch’s weakening grip. His sinister laugh filled the night air as he turned and bolted into the shadows, vanishing before anyone could stop him.

You couldn’t chase him.

Your body was failing you.

With a grunt, you collapsed to the floor, dizziness consuming you. Your world tilted, everything spinning as blood pooled beneath you. The last thing you heard was the frantic sound of footsteps.

.

.

When you cracked your eyes open, it was to the blinding white of the infirmary ceiling. Everything hurts, your head hurts.

The room was filled with silence, save for the steady beeping of the heart monitor beside the bed. Marco sat slumped forward, elbows on his knees, head bowed in exhausted vigilance. He hadn’t left your side in days — barely eating, barely sleeping. Even Ace, who was normally a ball of chaotic energy, was quieter than a graveyard at midnight, sitting against the wall and anxiously tossing a small ball between his hands.

Then, finally, the miracle happened.

You groaned.

Marco was upright so fast he nearly knocked over the chair. "Y/N?!"

Your eyes fluttered open, squinting against the light. Slowly, you turned your head, taking in the sight of Marco — disheveled, wide-eyed, hopeful — and Ace, who had shot to his feet, mouth hanging open in disbelief.

You blinked a few times. A mischievous thought bubbled up. You couldn't resist. Then you tilted your head in confusion.

"...Who are you?" you rasped, your voice hoarse from disuse.

The world froze.

Marco actually stumbled back a step, his mouth parting in horror. "W-What?"

Ace dropped the ball he'd been tossing — it hit the floor with a pathetic little bounce. "No way," he muttered, eyes wide as saucers.

You frowned, genuine confusion painted across your features. "Where am I? What happened? Are you... my doctors?"

Marco choked on air. "Doctors?! w-well, I am! but..." His voice cracked, his wings briefly puffing out in shock. "Y/N—it's me! It's Marco-yoi!"

You gave him a pitying, bewildered look, like he was some delusional lunatic. "I'm sorry, I... I don't know any 'Marco.'"

Ace ran a hand down his face, whispering to himself, "Oh my god, oh my god, Pops is gonna kill us."

Marco dropped to his knees by the bed, panic etched into every sharp line of his face. "Y/N, please, listen! It's me! You—you always called me 'birdbrain'! Remember? And Ace—he's the loud one! You always yell at him!-yoi"

You gave a tiny, skeptical squint at Ace. "He does look like he yells a lot," you mumbled thoughtfully.

Ace put a hand over his heart, wounded. "Hey!"

"Y/N..." Marco reached for your hand, his own trembling. "Please tell me you're joking."

You pulled your hand away, shrinking back against the pillows dramatically. "S-sir!, I don't even know you! Why are you touching me?!"

Ace looked between you and Marco, starting to sweat buckets. "She really doesn't remember us?! Oh my god—I'm not ready to raise someone! I can barely keep my plants alive!"

Marco paled. "Ace, this isn't about raising—"

"We'll have to teach her everything again!" Ace wailed. "How to walk! How to talk! Oh no—do you even remember how to eat?"

You blinked at him, deadpan. "I don't know... can you show me?"

Ace immediately picked up a banana from a nearby fruit basket and started dramatically demonstrating how to eat it, like some crazed tutorial video.

"First you PEEL it," he said loudly, yanking the peel down and waving it in your face. "Then you put the FOOD PART in your MOUTH—"

"Enough!" Marco barked, his voice cracking with desperation.

He turned back to you, gripping the edge of the mattress. His eyes were so blue and so full of heartbreak that you nearly cracked right there.

"Y/N..." he whispered, voice raw. "Even if you don't remember me... I'll stay with you. I'll protect you until you remember. I swear it."

Your throat tightened.

You stared at him for a long, tense moment.

Then you cracked a wicked smile.

"...Dumbass," you wheezed, voice croaky but full of teasing mischief. "Of course I remember you, pineapple head!"

The silence was so thick you could hear a pin drop.

Ace's banana hit the floor.

Marco stared at you, eyes wide, processing... and then, "WHAT?!"

You burst into a fit of raspy laughter, clutching your sides painfully. "Oh my god, the LOOK on your face—!" you cackled, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

"You little—!" Marco sputtered, half lunging at you and half hugging you at the same time.

"You should've seen yourselves!" you wheezed. "Ace was about to teach me how to chew!"

Ace pointed an accusing finger at you. "You gave me a heart attack, Y/N! I was ready to start teaching you object permanence!"

Marco collapsed onto the side of the bed, groaning into your blanket. "I can't believe you did that-yoi. I was ready to—!" His voice broke again.

You smiled softer now, reaching out and brushing his messy blond hair back from his face. "I'm sorry, Marco... couldn't resist. You were just too easy."

He lifted his head, cheeks flushed slightly, a trembling smile forming. "You're the worst," he said hoarsely, voice thick with relief.

"And you love me for it," you teased.

"...Yeah," he whispered back, no hesitation at all.

You blinked.

Your heart fluttered.

Ace, oblivious as usual, was still dramatically re-enacting how he was going to "re-educate" you with flashcards and alphabet songs in the background. You and Marco stared at each other, soft and quiet amidst the chaos, and for a moment, the world was right again.

You were safe. You were alive. You were home.

.

.

Later, once the fuss had died down (and Ace had finally been dragged off to sleep), you found yourself summoned to Whitebeard’s quarters.

The old man sat on his throne-like chair, the steady pulse of his IV a soft, constant background noise.

"You fought well, little one," Whitebeard said, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. His gaze was heavy, serious. "But you were lucky."

You nodded, bowing your head respectfully.

"Teach..." you began.

Whitebeard’s eyes narrowed.

"He was after that fruit," you said grimly. "It wasn’t random. He knew what it was. And if he went so far as to attack Thatch, his own crewmate..." You shook your head. "He's dangerous. More dangerous than we realized."

Whitebeard grunted, the sound low and displeased.

"A traitor among my sons," he murmured, anger flashing in his gaze. "We will hunt him down."

You hesitated. "He has the Yami Yami no Mi now. I don't know much about it, but I saw enough. That fruit... it's not normal. His power—"

"—Will be immense," Whitebeard finished.

You nodded grimly.

There was a long silence.

"You did well protecting your brother," Whitebeard said at last, his expression softening. "Rest now. Heal. We have a long road ahead."

You bowed again and left, heart heavy but determined.

When you returned to the infirmary, Marco was there, perched like a golden phoenix on the edge of the bed.

He looked up, immediately easing when he saw you.

"Hey, yoi," he said softly.

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you limped over and, without asking, slid onto the bed beside him.

Marco froze, startled — and then melted, wrapping an arm carefully around your shoulders so you didn’t jostle your injuries.

For a while, you just lay there, breathing together.

Finally, you spoke, voice quiet against his chest.

"Thank you."

He tilted his head down, puzzled. "For what-yoi?"

"For staying," you murmured. "For talking to me even when I couldn’t answer. For calling me back."

Marco’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

"You heard me?" he whispered.

"Every word," you said, smiling faintly. "Even when I was somewhere dark... you were there."

Marco closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to yours.

"You scared me so bad," he whispered, voice raw. "I thought I'd lost you-yoi"

"You didn’t," you promised.

He kissed your forehead, the gentlest brush of lips, barely a touch.

"I’m not going anywhere," you said.

Marco smiled — a real one, full of love and hope and lingering fear.

"Good," he said, pulling you closer. "Because I’m not letting you out of my sight-yoi."

You chuckled softly, your heart full despite the pain.

"Guess you're stuck with me," you teased.

"Wouldn’t have it any other way," Marco said against your hair.

And for the first time since everything had gone to hell, you felt truly safe.

The Ones Who Stayed Silent

They thought you didn’t know—but you saw everything, said nothing, and walked away with a shattered heart and silent grace… only to be seen again, happy and healed, with someone who would never make you feel like the only one.

shanks x reader | sanji x reader | ace x reader | ONE SHOT

tags: angst, sfw, ooc, heartbreak, cheating, betrayal

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff a bit cringe, akward, and confusing

word count: 3.9k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

SHANKS

The sea was always loud around the Red Force. Wind in the sails, waves breaking across the bow, laughter from the crew. And yet, in moments like this — with your head tucked beneath Shanks’ chin and his arm wrapped around your waist — it felt like the whole world stilled just to let you breathe.

“You always sneak into my bed when it’s cold,” he teased, voice low and rough with sleep.

You smiled against his chest. “Because your furnace body hoards all the heat.”

“Furnace body,” he repeated with a chuckle, fingers drifting slowly down your spine. “You really know how to charm a man.”

“Mmhm. That’s why you keep me around.”

“Nah,” he murmured, lifting your chin with a curled finger. “I keep you around because you make everything better. Even the cold nights. Especially the bad ones.”

Your heart tightened with warmth. “Shanks…”

He leaned down and kissed you slow. Deep. Familiar.

“Love you, baby,” he whispered, brushing his nose against yours.

You didn’t say anything at first. You just melted into him, eyes fluttering shut.

“I love you, too.”

You didn’t realize the first warning sign had come days earlier — a moment you almost forgot.

You had been leaning over the railing, watching the stars reflect across the ocean when Shanks walked up beside you, his presence easy and radiant as always. You’d barely noticed the woman trailing behind him — one of the newer crew members, tall and silver-haired, her laugh like syrup as it spilled from her throat.

She was laughing at something he said. You didn’t catch the joke.

You gave him a look. Not angry. Just questioning.

He smiled and curled an arm around your shoulder like it meant nothing. “She’s new,” he explained casually. “Still getting used to the crew.”

“She seems to be adjusting just fine,” you replied.

He pulled you closer. “Hey. Don’t go getting jealous on me, baby.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Good.” He kissed your temple. “Because there’s no one else, alright? You know that.”

You nodded, even though a small part of you felt unsure.

He always made things feel safe again.

Three nights later, you brought him a drink in the captain’s quarters after dinner. He was at his desk, boots kicked up, talking with that same woman again — her knee pressed just slightly too close to his. They both looked up when you entered.

“Baby,” Shanks greeted, brightening immediately. “Perfect timing.”

She excused herself politely, offering a warm smile before slipping out the door. Shanks took the drink from your hand and tugged you into his lap without hesitation.

“She’s around a lot lately,” you said quietly.

“She’s an eager crewmate,” he shrugged, nuzzling into your neck. “What, you wanna get rid of her?”

“Don’t joke.”

“Hey.” His voice softened, and he turned your face to meet his. “There’s nothing going on. I promise. You believe me, right?”

“…Yeah.”

His lips brushed yours, slow and certain. “You’re the only one I want, baby. Always.”

You leaned into the kiss, letting the reassurance sink in.

Still, that night, you couldn’t fall asleep right away.

You started noticing more of it after that.

The way her eyes lingered on him when she thought you weren’t looking. The shared laughs during dinner. The time you caught her slipping out of his cabin early in the morning — she claimed she’d been dropping off maps.

You wanted to believe him. You tried.

But the ache in your chest started to bloom quietly. Slowly.

A small doubt that pressed harder with each soft “baby” he whispered — the very word that used to feel like a prayer now sounded like a lie.

Still, you said nothing.

You waited. You watched.

And then… you saw everything.

It was almost midnight when you approached his quarters.

You held a small cloth bundle in your hands — a gift you'd picked up from a small island earlier that week. A pair of rare sea-glass earrings. He’d admired them in passing. You wanted to surprise him.

You opened the door without knocking.

And there she was.

Her fingers tangled in his red hair. His lips trailing down her neck. His voice — low, teasing, affectionate.

“You feel so good, baby…”

You froze.

He didn’t see you.

You didn’t speak.

You just stood there. Long enough to burn the image into your mind. Long enough to feel your throat close, your heartbeat stutter, your entire body go numb.

Then, quietly, you closed the door.

You dropped the earrings into the sea later that night.

You didn’t sleep that night.

You sat on the edge of your bed for hours, staring at the moonlight bleeding through the porthole, your chest hollow, your limbs heavy. There were no tears. No rage.

Just silence.

You kept replaying his words — not the ones he said to her, but the ones he said to you.

“There’s no one else, baby. You’re the only one I want.”

Each lie sounded sweeter than the last.

You didn’t go to him. You didn’t want an apology. You didn’t want to hear his mouth twist the truth into something manageable. Because now you knew — every time he held you, he’d already chosen someone else.

So you wrote.

Your hand trembled at first. But as the words poured out, your chest began to lighten — like you were finally breathing again.

Shanks, I hope this letter finds you — though I know it will, because I’m leaving it on your bed. Right where I used to sleep. Right where she’s probably sleeping now. I saw you. I saw the way you touched her. The way you said “baby” like it still meant something. The same way you said it to me just days ago — when you kissed me good morning, when you laughed in my arms. It used to make me feel special. Now, it just makes me feel stupid. You told me not to worry. That she meant nothing. That I was the only one. You were so good at saying it. So gentle. So convincing. I wanted to believe you — God, I did. Because I loved you more than anything. More than reason. More than pride. But you looked at her the way you used to look at me. And I can’t forget that. So I’m leaving. Not because I want to hurt you. Not even because I hate you. But because I can’t stay and pretend I’m enough for you when you already decided I wasn’t. I hope the sea gives you peace. I hope you find what you’re looking for. And I hope — one day — you realize what you threw away. Because I would’ve given you everything. But now? Now, I’ll give myself the one thing you never could. Freedom. Goodbye, — Y/N

You left before sunrise.

The docks were quiet, the crew asleep, and your bag packed light. No goodbyes. No farewells. You just vanished — like mist over the sea.

Shanks woke with a lazy grin, his arm stretched across the bed to pull you closer—

But there was no one there.

Only the rustle of sheets. The ghost of warmth.

He sat up, rubbing at his eyes. Maybe you were getting breakfast. Or with the crew.

Then he noticed it: a small folded note on the pillow.

His name written in your handwriting.

His heart dropped before he even opened it.

And when he did…

The world collapsed.

He read every line once. Then again. Slower. Disbelieving.

“I saw you.” “You called her ‘baby.’” “You told me I was the only one.”

He was up in seconds, barefoot and shirtless, bursting through his cabin door.

“Y/N?!” His voice echoed down the corridor. “Y/N, wait—!”

No answer.

He stormed toward your room — empty. Searched the deck — nothing. Sprinted to the galley, the crow’s nest, the storage bay. Every familiar hiding spot. Every place you used to sit and smile at him like he was the only thing in your world.

“Have you seen Y/N?” he asked the crew, trying to keep his voice level.

“No, Captain,” came the confused reply. “Did something happen?”

He didn’t answer.

He barged back into the woman's quarter slamming the door behind him.

The woman — the one he’d betrayed you with — was still pulling on her coat lazily, as if nothing had happened.

“Hey, what’s all the noise—?”

“Get out.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I said get the hell out.” His voice was low, ragged, dangerous.

She laughed nervously. “Shanks, don’t be dramatic—”

“Out!” he roared, slamming his fist into the desk. The wood splintered. The room shook.

She scrambled, nearly tripping over herself as she fled.

And just like that, the silence returned.

He sank into the nearest chair, the note trembling in his hand.

You looked at her the way you used to look at me. I would’ve given you everything. Now, I’ll give myself the one thing you never could. Freedom.

Shanks closed his eyes, forehead resting on the crumpled page.

He tried to remember the last time he said he loved you — the last time you laughed in his arms. The last time you looked at him without doubt.

He’d called you baby with the same mouth that whispered it to someone else.

And now he couldn’t even call your name without shame.

The Red Force had never felt so quiet.

And Shanks had never felt so empty.

You found work on a merchant vessel at first. Later, you traveled alone. You didn’t speak of him. You didn’t speak of you. You let time do what it does best — wear grief down to a dull ache.

Until one day, someone else came into your orbit.

Dracule Mihawk was not the kind of man who chased after affection. But he noticed you — the quiet way you watched the world, the grief you wore like armor, the strength you didn’t flaunt.

He didn’t ask for your story. He just stayed long enough for you to offer it.

And when you did, he listened.

He didn’t make you promises. He didn’t call you “baby.” He simply treated you like you mattered.

He touched you with reverence. Looked at you with intention.

Loved you without lies.

And somehow, that was enough.

A Year Later

The festival lights painted the harbor gold, laughter echoing between stalls and taverns as music played softly in the distance. You walked beside Mihawk, his coat draped over your shoulders, your fingers laced with his.

You smiled — a real, easy thing — as he said something dry and clever under his breath, pulling a laugh from you. You leaned into him without thinking.

Then you felt it.

That weight. That familiar gravity.

You turned your head and saw him.

Shanks.

Standing beneath a lantern near the docks, cloaked in shadow but unmistakably there. His red hair tousled by the wind. His body frozen.

His eyes — wide, stunned, hollow — locked on yours like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

You didn’t flinch.

You didn’t look away.

You simply turned slightly toward Mihawk and pressed your lips softly to his cheek, your hand never leaving his. Mihawk didn’t ask. He didn’t have to. His grip on you tightened just slightly, grounding you.

Shanks took a step forward.

But then… he stopped.

His mouth opened like he might speak — but no words came. There was nothing he could say that wouldn’t arrive a year too late.

So you let the silence say it all.

You gave him one last look. Calm. Final. Then you turned and walked away, leaving him rooted to the edge of the world he once ruled.

He had seen a thousand sunsets at sea. Watched a thousand tides roll in. Weathered storms and battles and death itself.

But nothing ever gutted him like seeing you again — whole, radiant, untouchable.

You weren’t sad anymore.

You weren’t his anymore.

You had Mihawk. And Shanks could see it in every step, every touch, every soft smile you gave the other man — the peace he once swore to protect, now in someone else’s hands.

And the worst part?

You didn’t hate him.

You just didn’t care anymore.

And that, somehow, hurt more than any scream or slap ever could.

He stood there long after you disappeared into the crowd. Alone. Cold. Remembering the way your voice used to sound when you whispered, “I love you.”

And for the first time in his life, Shanks had no idea how to get something back.

Because you were gone.

And you weren’t coming back.

SANJI

The sun kissed the shores of a quiet island nestled along the Grand Line, where the Straw Hat crew had docked for rest and resupply. You sat on a small stone wall beside Sanji, a paper cone of roasted chestnuts between you, your legs swinging gently. His hand brushed yours now and again, but he never held it. You never said anything about that.

“Try this one,” he said, lifting a particularly dark, caramelized chestnut to your lips. You laughed and leaned forward to take it, but he tugged it back teasingly. “Say please.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Please, my oh-so-generous chef.”

“That’s more like it,” he grinned, letting you take it before resting his chin in his hand, eyes soft. “How did I get lucky enough to end up with someone like you, huh?”

The words stung.

Because you’d started to notice the way he said the same line to other women when he thought you weren’t listening. When he thought your back was turned. When you were supposedly out with Nami and Robin.

But you smiled. You always did. That’s what love looked like, didn’t it? Smiling even when your chest cracked.

Later that evening, the crew checked into a humble inn on the island’s edge. Nami and Robin wanted to browse the market, and they invited you along, but your head hurt and your heart hurt more, so you declined.

“Don’t wait up, we might stay out late,” Nami warned with a wink.

You waved them off and headed to your shared room with Sanji, telling yourself you’d rest, maybe write in your journal, maybe stop thinking about how the past few weeks felt like soft unraveling.

But Sanji wasn’t there. And the window was open. You stepped closer and overheard his voice—soft, but excited.

“…She’s out shopping. We should hurry before she comes back.”

Your heart dropped.

You froze in place, hand still resting on the windowsill. Another voice answered, female, flirty. You didn’t need to see her to know.

You sat on the bed and waited. You waited because you needed to see his face when he walked through that door. Needed to see what kind of lie he’d come up with. Needed confirmation for the truth you already knew.

It was nearly midnight when the door creaked open. Sanji looked surprised, almost guilty—but he caught himself too quickly.

“Oh—you're still up, my love?” he said smoothly. “Sorry, I thought you went out with the girls.”

You didn’t answer. You just looked at him.

He walked over and sat beside you on the bed, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You okay?”

Still, silence.

He blinked, then tilted his head in concern. “You’re quiet tonight.”

You smiled. That same practiced smile you always wore. “Just tired.”

Sanji kissed your forehead and stood to change into his nightshirt, humming something under his breath. As if nothing had happened.

You left the next morning.

No confrontation. No fight. No angry tears.

Just a note.

Sanji, You used to look at me like I was your world. I should’ve known you just liked seeing your reflection in mine. I don’t even know what to say. I thought I knew you. I thought we had something. I thought you were different. But I know now—don’t I? I heard your words—your promises. You said, “We should hurry, while she’s out.” I never thought you could do this. Not to me. Maybe I’ve always been too trusting. Maybe I’ve been a fool. You lied with the kind of smile that made me question if I imagined it all. But I didn’t. I’m not mad. I’m heartbroken—there’s a difference. And the saddest part is, I would’ve forgiven you if you’d just told me the truth. But you let me rot in love alone. Don’t look for me. This is me leaving. Goodbye, Sanji. — Y/N

He found the note before breakfast. He read it once. Twice. Then again, each time slower. Robin noticed his shaking hand. Zoro asked where you were. Sanji couldn’t speak.

By midday, he was running through the island streets. Every alley. Every stall. He asked locals. Showed them your sketch.

No one had seen you.

You were gone. Completely. Like you’d never been there at all.

One Year Later

Rain lashed the docks of a bustling medical harbor. The Thousand Sunny had taken damage, and they stopped at a renowned doctor’s island to repair and rest.

Sanji didn’t smile as much these days. He still flirted, but half-heartedly, like a ghost of who he once was. Everyone noticed. No one said much.

He stood at the market stalls, bartering for fresh seafood when his heart stopped.

Because he saw you.

Hair a little longer. A warm coat drawn around your shoulders. Eyes brighter than they had any right to be.

You were laughing.

And beside you stood Trafalgar Law, umbrella tilted above you both, hand casually resting on your back as he pointed to a bouquet of herbs.

Sanji dropped the fish.

He couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe.

He watched as you reached for Law’s hand, how he intertwined your fingers like it was second nature, like he had every right to. How you smiled at him like Sanji had only ever dreamed of.

Law said something, and you leaned into him, nodding, face soft with affection.

Sanji turned away.

He made it two steps before the weight in his chest buckled him. He stumbled into an alley and pressed a hand against the wall, gasping.

Tears fell freely.

He didn’t go back to the ship until sunset.

That night, there was another note. Not from you, but written long ago. One he’d found after too much wine.

A passage you’d once written in your journal, now burned into his mind.

“You called me baby like I was the only one. But I wasn’t. I was just the only one who stayed.”

ACE

Smoke curled into the sky like ghosts of promises you once believed. The air on Karavel Island was thick with ash and gunpowder—another battlefield in Ace’s chaotic, flame-laced life. But this was your life, too. You’d followed him here. Again.

“Over here!” Ace called, waving at you through the debris with a wide grin, flames dancing around his arms. “Bet you can’t beat my body count today!”

You rolled your eyes but jogged toward him anyway, heart tugging like it always did. He looked good with soot smudging his cheek and fire lighting up the storm in his eyes. Alive. Dangerous. The kind of man who kissed like the world was ending—and maybe it always was.

“You burn it all down yet?” you teased, reaching his side.

“Nah, was waiting for you,” he said, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Where’s the fun without you?”

And for a second, it was perfect.

Until that second ended.

It was the small things. Always the small things.

The way he took longer and longer to return from missions. The way he stopped writing when he was gone. The way he still called you “baby,” but his eyes didn’t stay on yours for long.

You didn’t want to doubt him. Not Ace. Not the man who held you when you cried, who called you his home.

But then came the night at the underground tavern.

You were helping a wounded civilian upstairs when you heard it—his voice, muffled, laughing. A giggle answered him. A girl’s voice. Slurred. Familiar.

You paused on the stairwell, heart already sinking.

“…Come on,” Ace’s voice teased. “We don’t have much time.”

Your breath caught.

“I shouldn’t,” she whispered back.

“You’re the one who kissed me first,” Ace said, and your world tilted.

Silence.

Then another giggle.

Then the sound of lips meeting.

You didn’t move. Couldn’t. Not even when the world twisted inside you. Not even when the lantern on the wall flickered like it knew the fire inside you had gone out.

You didn’t say anything when he came back to your shared room that night.

He acted normal—like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just touched someone else and then come to lie beside you.

You stared at the ceiling until he fell asleep.

In the morning, you were gone.

Ace, You once told me that fire doesn’t choose what it burns—it just does. I used to think that was poetry. Now I know it was a warning. You burned me, Ace. Not all at once. Just a little every day until I didn’t recognize my own heart anymore. I heard you. I saw you. And I still kissed you goodnight. Do you know what that does to a person? I gave you all of me, and you gave little pieces of yourself to strangers. I don’t hate you. I never could. But I can’t love you for both of us anymore. Don’t come looking for me. This is goodbye. — Y/N

The message was short. But it broke him anyway.

Ace stood in the ruins of the tavern, your letter clutched in his hands, his body shaking in a way fire couldn’t fix. He lit it aflame. Watched it turn to ash like everything else he touched.

He ran. Looked for you in every port. Asked the Revolutionaries. Asked pirates. Asked anyone.

You were gone.

One Year Later

It was raining in Yamabuki Port, but Ace stood still in the downpour, unmoving. The Whitebeard Pirates were resupplying, but he couldn’t focus—not when he saw you through the mist.

You were laughing.

Your coat was soaked, and your hair stuck to your forehead, but you looked so alive. So whole.

And beside you stood Zoro.

The swordsman from the Straw Hat crew — his brother's crew.

He was holding a paper umbrella above your heads, a quiet look in his eyes as he listened to whatever story you were telling. When you stumbled slightly in the mud, he caught your elbow. You smiled at him with a softness Ace had never earned.

Zoro reached up and brushed your hair from your face like it was second nature. You leaned into his touch without hesitation.

Ace felt it all in his gut. Like a blade through fire.

He didn’t approach.

Didn’t call your name.

Didn’t move.

You glanced across the square and your eyes met.

Just for a moment.

There was no hatred in your gaze. No anger.

Only peace.

You looked away.

And Ace knew—he was watching a version of you he’d never get to meet.

That night, Marco found him sitting alone on the deck, soaked to the bone even though the rain had stopped hours ago.

“You saw them, didn’t you-yoi?” Marco asked quietly.

Ace didn’t answer. Just stared at his hands.

“I thought I had time,” he whispered. “I thought… I could fix it.”

Marco said nothing. There was nothing to say.

Because some fires don’t go out.

They just move on without you.