Imagine Doing Cute Couples' Shit With Shanks

via stovenrogers on twitter

“Odin is the highest and the oldest of all the gods. 

He gave an eye for wisdom. He hung from the world-tree, Yggdrasil for nine nights. He has many names. He travels from place to place in disguise, to see the world as people see it. 

He has two ravens, whom he calls Huginn and Muninn which mean “thought” and “memory”. They whisper into his ears. 

When he sits on his high throne at Hlidskjalf, he observes. Nothing can be hidden from him. 

He brought war into the world and if you survive in battle, it is with Odin’s grace. If you fall bravely in war the Valkyries, beautiful battlemaidens will collect your soul and bring you to where Odin waits for you in Valhalla, there you will drink and fight and feast and battle, with Odin as your leader.”

“They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered.”

— F. Scott Fitzgerald

Imagine meeting your soul mate Shanks

Shanks: *staring at his soulmate mark on his arm while drinking alone at the bar on the other side of the room*

Rockstar: what's the boss doing?

Benn: *glances at Shanks* he's staring at his soul mate mark

Rockstar: he has one!

Benn: yes, keep it down, he usually hides it. He doesn't want them getting hurt or killed because of him. He usually stares at it when he's drunk and wants to be alone, dunno why though.

Shanks: *stares at it because he's dreaming of you and mourning a future he feels he'll never have with you *

Later that evening

Benn: *walking through town when he sees you and spots your soul mate mark* no fucking way

You: *walks past him on your way home*

Benn: *follows you home and waits a while to make sure you aren't leaving before heading back to the bar*

At the bar

Benn: *smacks Shanks* get up and come with me

Shanks: *squints at Benn in irrigation* what's up

Benn: *pulls him out of his seat and out the door* I have a gift for you

Shanks: a gift? Aren't you a gift enough?

Benn: *rolls his eyes* glad to see you aren't loosing your touch boss, but you might want to save it for later, you may need it.

Outside of your house

Benn: stand still

Shanks: what why?

Benn: *starts straightening Shanks up to make him look presentable and rolling up his sleeve*

Shanks: what? Hey, don't do that, someone might see.

Benn: *takes Shanks by the shoulders and pointedly looks him in the eyes* you're just going to have to trust me on this, and for fucks sake stand up straight *rings your door bell and abandons shanks there*

Shanks: hey what are you doing?

You: *opens your door in your PJs holding a mug of hot chocolate* can I help you?

Shanks: *rubs the back of his head* haha, you see my friend shoved me up here and told me to trust him, so I don't really know what I'm doing here.

You: *you drop your mug and your jaw when you see his mark*

Shanks: are you okay?

You: *shows him your mark*

Shanks: oh my... We're-

You: it would seem so

Shanks: ... What now?

You: I don't know.

Benn: *yells from across the street* set up a date!

Shanks: *now really flustered* a date!

You: how about tomorrow we have lunch at the blue moon cafe in town square?

Shanks: huh

Benn: he'll be there! Come here you *grabs Shanks's shirt collar and drags him away*

Soooo…

Can we just

Talk

About

THIS

The only types of baths he gets fr

I love your writings and I'd love to see more Julius, could I get a sfw alphabet with him?

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + NOT PROOFREAD

NOTES: He’s so cute and angelic and beautiful and handsome and pretty and gorgeous and majestic and elegant and ravishing and lovely and stunning and charming and

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He’s the kind of guy who exudes a subtle, but unmistakable, affection when you're out and about. While he’s not one to engage in overly passionate displays of affection that make everyone else uncomfortable—like that couple you occasionally spot practically glued together and making out like it’s the end of the world—he has his own way of showing how much he cares. Picture that one guy you once saw casually strolling down the street, hand in hand with his partner, both of them laughing and clearly enjoying each other’s company. There's an easygoing joy about them, a visible connection that makes you think, "I wish I had that." That’s the kind of lover he is in public. He’s all about those little gestures that speak volumes—a squeeze of the hand, a playful nudge, a shared smile that tells a whole story.

When it’s just the two of you, though, he transforms into someone much more demonstrative. In private, his affection is boundless, almost overwhelming in its intensity. It's as if he has been saving up all his love for these quiet moments together. He can't seem to keep his hands off you, not that you’re complaining. He’s always seeking that physical connection, whether it's a gentle hand resting on your hip, his arm draped around your shoulders, or simply holding your hand. It's like he's drawn to you, unable to resist the pull.

For him, it’s almost like a necessity—a way to constantly reassure himself that you’re right there with him. The physical contact isn't just for show; it's a genuine expression of his feelings. When he's got his hands on you, he's happiest, feeling complete and content. Whether you’re curled up on the couch watching a movie or lying in bed whispering to each other, he’s always reaching out, making sure there’s no space between you.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

As a best friend? Oh, he’s absolutely the type of best friend everyone should have at least once in their lives. Julius Novachrono is wise, strong, caring, and genuinely good-hearted. He possesses so many admirable qualities that having him in your life would be a game changer in so many ways. Your depression? Gone. Your anxiety? Practically non-existent. Most of your problems? Vanished. Having him as your best friend is not just a flex—it’s a life-altering experience. As your best friend, Julius would invite you on all sorts of magical adventures. His enthusiasm for exploring new magic is incredibly infectious. You’d find yourself looking forward to each new expedition, eager to uncover the secrets of magic and history with him. His vast knowledge would turn even the simplest conversations into fascinating discussions, leaving you both enlightened and inspired!

But it’s not just his wisdom and sense of adventure that make him an exceptional friend—Julius is also incredibly supportive. He’s always there to lift you up, whether you’re in need of encouragement or just a little bit of company. His constructive feedback and positive reinforcement would help you grow both as an individual and as a magic user, and his unwavering belief in your abilities would bolster your confidence, pushing you to achieve things you never thought possible. Overall, having Julius Novachrono as your best friend would be a positive experience!

As for how the friendship would start, it’s likely that he saw you using your magic and thought, “Woah, cool magic!” And then he approached you and you both just became besties from there.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Are you kidding? He loves cuddling!

Please hold him close and don't let go until he's practically out of breath. If there's one thing he loves more than wrapping you up in his arms, it's being enveloped in yours. He relishes those moments when he can rest his head on your lap, your shoulder, or anywhere on you. The feeling of your arms around him is his ultimate comfort, his sanctuary. He’s more than happy to set aside his responsibilities, forgetting all about the pile of papers waiting for him, just to be near you. And you can tell he genuinely doesn't mind, because to him, nothing compares to the warmth of your embrace. He completely surrenders to it, losing himself in the softness of your touch and the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. It's almost as if the world outside fades away when he's with you. His usual worries and duties become distant echoes, drowned out by the sheer pleasure of being held by you. Those moments are his escape, his bliss. If someone were to see him like this, completely at ease and utterly content in your arms, they might be astonished. They’d probably find it hard to believe that this relaxed, affectionate man is the Wizard King himself.

He doesn’t have a preferred cuddling position; he just goes for whatever he feels like. As long as you’re close to him in some way, he’s content.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Honestly, settling down isn’t something that occupies much space in his mind—at least not until he meets you. Before you came into his life, he was fairly indifferent about the whole idea. It wasn't something he actively opposed, but it wasn't something he spent time thinking about either. It was more of a "meh" concept for him, something he'd consider vaguely in the distant future, if at all. However, I can definitely see him embracing the role of a family man if the topic were to come up. If you were to broach the subject, he would genuinely give it some thought. He’s not the type to dismiss it out of hand, especially if it’s important to you. He’d weigh the idea carefully, reflecting on what it would mean for both of you and your future together. So when it comes to whether he wants to settle down or not, the answer is nuanced. It’s a maybe, a so-so, a “let’s see where life takes us” kind of thing. His feelings are flexible, and they’re shaped largely by the bond he shares with you. If settling down with you means building a future filled with love and companionship, then it’s definitely something he would consider.

Julius is decent at cooking. Could be better, but he’s still decent. Not much to say for this part.

He’s a decent cleaner too.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He would handle the breakup with the utmost respect, maintaining his polite and considerate nature throughout the entire process. Even if you were to have a breakdown or blow up at him, he wouldn’t be upset in the slightest. He would fully understand your emotions and reactions, offering his empathy and support even as he’s ending the relationship. He knows how tough these moments can be and would never hold your feelings against you.

After the conversation concludes and you both come to terms with the end of the relationship, he will make it clear that he’s still there for you. He’d tell you that you’re always welcome to reach out to him if you need help or support, regardless of your new status as ex-partners. His kindness doesn’t stop with the breakup; he genuinely cares about your well-being and wants to ensure you’re okay even after you’ve gone your separate ways.

Overall, he’ll never harbor any anger or resentment toward you. Instead, he’ll continue to offer his support, showing you that his respect and care for you extend beyond the romantic relationship. It’s a testament to his character and the genuine regard he holds for you as a person. Even in the face of ending things, he remains a steadfast source of compassion and understanding. <3

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Julius is someone who approaches commitment with the utmost seriousness and thoughtfulness. He views commitment as a sacred bond, not just a promise. When he commits, he does so with his whole heart, fully devoted to and deeply invested in making the relationship work. He’s extremely dedicated, and he hopes you’ll bring the same level of dedication to the table. He also places a high value on trust and mutual respect, seeing these as the bedrock of any strong partnership. Without trust, he believes a relationship simply can't thrive. And so, he makes it a priority to foster an environment where you and him can feel secure and valued. He’s committed to treating you with the highest regard and hopes for the same in return, so please don’t let him down.

When it comes to the timeline for marriage, Julius approaches this decision with patience. He’s acutely aware of the significance of such a life-altering commitment and understands the importance of not rushing into it. He would want to be absolutely certain that both he and you are truly ready for this next step. He believes in letting the relationship develop naturally, allowing it to progress at its own pace—valuing the process of getting to know each other deeply and thoroughly before contemplating marriage. He’s not one to jump into things without being sure, so he’d ensure that the foundation of your relationship is solid and well-established.

However, once Julius feels confident in the relationship and is certain about the strength of your bond, he will embrace the idea of marriage wholeheartedly. With that being said, it’d likely take about 4-5 years of growing together and building a strong partnership before he decides it’s time to make things official.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

THE MOST GENTLE A MAN CAN BE. ❤️❤️❤️

Physically, he treats you like you’re made of the finest, most delicate glass. The kind of glass that, if you so much as breathe on it wrong, might shatter into a million pieces. He’s never firm with you, except in situations where your safety is at stake. In those rare moments, he might show a bit of firmness, but only out of sheer necessity to protect you. But once the danger passes? Back to treating you like the most precious thing in the world. He wouldn't dream of hitting you, pinching you, or even accidentally stepping on your foot. And if he ever does accidentally bump into you or causes you the slightest discomfort, you can be sure he’ll be apologizing profusely, practically on his knees. To sum it up, he’s a complete softie with you, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Emotionally, he treats you with the same level of care and consideration. He treats your feelings with the utmost care, as if they’re the most fragile thing he’s ever encountered. Please, bring all your problems to him. Whether it’s something minor like tripping on a rock or something more serious like feeling completely drained and unmotivated, he’s got your back. He’s there for every little worry, every concern, and every conflict. He'll listen, offer advice, or just be a shoulder to cry on—whatever you need. You name it, he’s there, always ready to help. No matter what’s plaguing your mind, he’s your number one supporter, utterly devoted to being as gentle and understanding as possible when it comes to your emotions.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He loves hugs as much as he loves cuddles, which I just discussed—meaning he absolutely does love them.

Honestly? He’s more of a hand-holding guy. It’s not that his hugs are rare; he just sometimes forgets that hugs are even a thing because he’s always holding your hand. And for him, that’s more than enough. There’s something about the simple act of holding your hand that he finds deeply satisfying. It’s his go-to gesture for showing affection and staying connected with you.

BUTTTTTTT, when he does remember to hug you, those hugs are something special. They’re gentle, warm, and comforting. He’s not the type to squeeze you until you’re gasping for air. Sure, he loves you a lot, but he’s not trying to turn you purple or anything. His hugs are all about making you feel safe and cherished, not squished and breathless. So, if you’re wondering whether his hugs are tight or gentle, they’re definitely on the gentle side. He knows how to give you that perfect, tender embrace that says “I love you” without making you feel like you’re in a wrestling match.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He would take his time to ensure that his feelings for you were genuine and deep before uttering those three magic words. So when he finally says, “I love you," it's a profound and meaningful moment, underscoring his commitment to the relationship.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He is prone to jealousy, but it’s a rare occurrence. He’s not the kind of guy who gets jealous just because another man is talking to you, walking alongside you, or sharing a laugh. That kind of thing doesn’t bother him at all. However, if he sees someone openly flirting with you, that’s when his jealousy kicks in. But even then, he usually keeps it under wraps. He doesn’t want to make a scene or make anyone uncomfortable. Instead, he waits for the right time when you’re alone together to bring it up—preferring to discuss his feelings privately.

When you’re alone and he voices his jealousy, he’s never rude or accusatory. He remains polite and respectful, hoping you’ll reassure him that your heart belongs to him alone. He trusts you, but he also wants to feel secure in your relationship. It’s important to him to talk things out rather than letting jealousy fester into anger or resentment.

To sum it up, he’s a man who believes in communication. When he’s feeling jealous, he’d rather have a calm, honest conversation with you than let it turn into something negative. He values your relationship too much to let jealousy get in the way!

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses are gentle—everything about him is gentle. When he kisses you, it’s like you can feel yourself melting from the tenderness and love in those moments. Most of the time, his kisses are soft pecks, but even these brief touches are packed with affection and care. Each kiss, no matter how quick, carries a weight of love that you can feel. And then, there are those rare moments when he gives you a deep, intense, and passionate kiss. That's when things start to heat up a bit. He becomes more handsy, drawing you closer, his touch growing more insistent and fervent. But that’s another topic for never, lol.

He loves to kiss you anywhere, as long as he can feel your skin against his lips. That's all he needs to be content. However, he wouldn't deny that kissing your hand feels the most intimate to him. It's his way of showing you a profound sign of respect and reverence, which makes it even more special for him. Every kiss, whether it’s on your forehead, cheek, or lips, carries his affection, but there’s something uniquely meaningful about those hand kisses.

He absolutely adores it when you pepper his face with kisses. His face practically begs for it. Every part of his face is fair game—cheeks, nose, forehead, you name it. He can't help but feel a delightful tingle shoot through him each time your lips touch his skin. With you so close, showering him with kisses, he can’t help but feel like a teenager with a big fat crush. It’s like he’s caught in a whirlwind of excitement and giddiness every time you lean in to kiss him. And let’s be real, he’s definitely making heart eyes at you whenever you do. To him, your kisses are like magic. So go ahead, shower his face in kisses—he'll be absolutely smitten every single time.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He’s an absolute angel, like an angel sent not just from the heavens but by God himself. His sweetness and caring nature shine through in every interaction, and his sunny disposition is enough to make a child's day brighter. It almost makes you want to see him as a father. He's incredibly patient and always nice, even when a child is a bit of a handful. And, of course, he’s the type who would secretly sneak in just one piece of candy for a kid, adding a touch of magic to their day. I can definitely picture him being adored by many children, his playful and kind nature making him a favorite among them.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He loves to lay in bed with you for a few extra minutes before starting his day, savoring the time to cuddle and bask in the warmth of your embrace. Those quiet moments together are something he cherishes deeply, a perfect way to start his day before he dives into his Wizard King duties. If you’re a coffee person, he makes a mental note to prepare your coffee first thing in the morning. It’s a small gesture, but it’s his way of showing he cares about your little comforts. He’s all about making sure your day starts off right, whether that means a few extra cuddles or a perfectly brewed cup of coffee. That's just how he is, always thinking of the little things that make you happy.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

I have a very strong feeling that when sleeping with him, he always has to have an arm either around or on you—it’s like a subconscious need to keep you close. There’s not much else to say about how he is during the nights; he just sleeps like any other normal person, except for this habit. Oh, and he kinda snores loudly too. It's not exactly a quiet night, but somehow it’s endearing. And when he sleeps, he sleeps like a baby—completely at peace, relaxed, and sometimes even with a faint smile on his face. So, besides the gentle snores and the need to hold you close, he’s pretty much like anyone else when he’s catching some Z's. 💤

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

From the beginning, he'd be open about the general aspects of his life, such as his role as the Wizard King, his responsibilities, and his immense love for magic and understanding the world. These are the things that define him and what he’s passionate about, so he’d share them early on. However, when it comes to more personal and intimate details about his life, thoughts, and feelings, those will be shared gradually as your relationship with him deepens. There's nothing too unusual here; it’s all about letting things unfold at a natural, comfortable pace.

Julius isn’t the type to divulge everything all at once. He’d reveal aspects of his personal history, his fears, and his hopes gradually, allowing you to take in each piece of his story bit by bit. As the relationship grows, he’ll become increasingly open about more sensitive and personal topics. He understands that vulnerability is a vital part of intimacy, and he would want to share his true self with you, but only at an appropriate pace—a pace where he’s sure that you and him are comfortable. He’s aware that rushing this process can be overwhelming, so he takes it slow.

To sum it up, Julius would reveal things about himself gradually, allowing the relationship to develop naturally. It goes at a normal, appropriate pace—one that makes both you and him feel comfortable and connected!

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

The closest you’ve seen him to being angry is when he gets serious, which usually happens when there’s a threat or something urgent demanding his attention. But other than those moments, he’s never angry—especially not with you. He’d never dare raise his voice at you.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers absolutely everything about you. It’s like he has a mental encyclopedia dedicated solely to you, where every fact and memory is meticulously stored away. He knows every little detail about you like he knows his way around magic—if not, better. He’s not the type to forget even the smallest detail about you. Whether it’s your favorite color, the name of your childhood pet, or the name of your plushie from when you were only a kid, he has it all locked away in his memory.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

This may sound basic, but his favorite moments in the relationship are simply every moment he spends with you—especially the ones where you’re just being together, sharing the same space. He finds immense comfort and joy in having you nearby, within his sights, knowing he can talk to you whenever he wants. Whether it’s to ramble about some fascinating new magic discovery or to vent about all the paperwork Marx is making him do, your presence is his sanctuary. It’s these simple, everyday moments he treasures most—the companionship, the shared smiles, and the effortless way you both fit into each other’s lives.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Julius is inherently protective, driven by his role as the Wizard King and his genuine care for the Clover Kingdom and its people. This protective nature isn’t just about physical safety—it extends to your emotional and mental well-being as well. He would go to great lengths to ensure that you feel secure, supported, and cherished at all times. He’s acutely aware of the dangers and challenges that exist in the world, and he takes his role as a protector seriously. However, he’s not the possessive type of protective. You never feel smothered or restricted by his concern; rather, you feel genuinely safe and at ease knowing he’s always looking out for you. His protection is about creating a space where you can thrive, feel loved, and be yourself without fear. Whether it’s standing guard against external threats or simply being there to listen and support you through life’s ups and downs, Julius ensures you always feel secure and cared for!

He protects you in every and any way he can. Just trust me when I say that he’d go far and beyond to ensure your safety—whether it’s emotional, mental, or physical.

He doesn’t need much protection, but he won’t stop you if you want to protect him. He’ll gladly let you shield him in any way you can, as long as it doesn’t harm you in the process. Your desire to protect him is something he deeply appreciates, and he finds it incredibly touching. However, when it comes to physical danger, he might draw the line. The last thing he wants is for his beloved to get injured while trying to protect him. He’s grateful for your courage and love, but he’d much rather be the one to take any hits in battle. It’s his way of ensuring your safety, which is his top priority. But outside of physical confrontations, he’s more than happy to let you protect him in any way you wish. Whether it’s offering emotional support, helping him navigate stressful situations, or simply being there for him, he values and welcomes your protection. Just remember, he wants you to stay safe and sound, too.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He’s the epitome of effort and devotion. Julius is definitely not the type to forget anniversaries, skimp on gifts, or neglect everyday tasks that show how much he cares. He pours his heart and soul into making you happy, going above and beyond to ensure that every moment you spend together is filled with joy and love. Whether it’s planning a surprise anniversary dinner, selecting the perfect gift that he knows will light up your face, or simply taking care of the little things that make your day brighter, he’s always thinking of ways to show his love and appreciation for you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

None. He’s perfect.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s not too concerned about his appearance. When passing by a mirror or anything reflective, he’ll quickly glance at it to make sure he doesn’t have anything on his face. It’s more of a quick check to ensure he’s not inadvertently walking around with something like a piece of food stuck at the corner of his mouth or something—just to ensure everything looks presentable. But beyond that, he's not one to obsess over his appearance or spend hours in front of the mirror. He’s comfortable in his own skin.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Absolutely. Julius would indeed feel incomplete without you. If he found the one (you), he'd be deeply attached. If something were to happen to you, he wouldn’t be able to simply move on. You would consume his thoughts incessantly, leaving an irreplaceable void in his heart. Losing you would be like him losing a part of himself.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Loves stargazing and baking with you!

There's something incredibly serene and tranquil about those quiet, nightly moments spent under the vast expanse of the night sky. It's in those moments that he finds solace and peace, especially when he's sharing them with you. He delights in spending hours identifying constellations, tracing the paths of shooting stars, and pondering the mysteries of the celestial bodies scattered across the heavens. And of course, he can’t help but ramble on about all of this to you. It’s like his own personal astronomy lecture, but with the added bonus of your company.

He also enjoys baking with you because it’s just so much fun! Especially when you’re trying out a new recipe or tackling something a bit more challenging. He’s the type of guy who’ll playfully smear a bit of dough on your face just for the fun of it, and then can’t help but giggle at the sight. Before you know it, what started as innocent baking quickly turns into a full-blown food fight in the kitchen!!! Flour flying, frosting splattering—it’s chaos, but it’s the most enjoyable kind of chaos. He’s not afraid to get a little messy and let loose, especially when it means making such fun memories with you.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Julius wouldn’t be drawn to someone who is inherently evil. He seeks someone with a warm and good-hearted nature, someone who embodies empathy and treats others with respect and kindness. Even if someone may come across as naturally mean or tough on the surface, as long as they possess a kind heart deep down, Julius would appreciate that. He believes in the power of redemption and the potential for people to change for the better. However, he has no tolerance for those who are callous or lack empathy towards others.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

I think I answered this question already in section N, lol. But I have a very strong feeling that he sleeps in these:

Showing here my feelings towards him *pets his bald head*

Mirkwood family cuddling in bed time! With Elithien watching over her boys. 

ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ

❝​🇮​ ​🇰​​🇳​​🇴​​🇼​ ​🇹​​🇭​​🇦​​🇹​ ​🇮​​🇹​ ​🇲​​🇮​​🇬​​🇭​​🇹​ ​🇸​​🇴​​🇺​​🇳​​🇩​ ​🇲​​🇴​​🇷​​🇪​ ​🇹​​🇭​​🇦​​🇳​ ​🇦​ ​🇱​​🇮​​🇹​​🇹​​🇱​​🇪​ ​🇨​​🇷​​🇦​​🇿​​🇾​, ​🇧​​🇺​​🇹​ ​🇮​ ​🇧​​🇪​​🇱​​🇮​​🇪​​🇻​​🇪​ ​🇮​ ​🇰​​🇳​​🇪​​🇼​ ​🇮​ ​🇱​​🇴​​🇻​​🇪​​🇩​ ​🇾​​🇴​​🇺​ ​🇧​​🇪​​🇫​​🇴​​🇷​​🇪​ ​🇮​ ​🇲​​🇪​​🇹​ ​🇾​​🇴​​🇺​ ​🇮​ ​🇹​​🇭​​🇮​​🇳​​🇰​ ​🇮​ ​🇩​​🇷​​🇪​​🇦​​🇲​​🇪​​🇩​ ​🇾​​🇴​​🇺​ ​🇮​​🇳​​🇹​​🇴​ ​🇱​​🇮​​🇫​​🇪​ ​🇮​ ​🇰​​🇳​​🇪​​🇼​ ​🇮​ ​🇱​​🇴​​🇻​​🇪​​🇩​ ​🇾​​🇴​​🇺​ ​🇧​​🇪​​🇫​​🇴​​🇷​​🇪​ ​🇮​ ​🇲​​🇪​​🇹​ ​🇾​​🇴​​🇺​ ​🇮​ ​🇭​​🇦​​🇻​​🇪​ ​🇧​​🇪​​🇪​​🇳​ ​🇼​​🇦​​🇮​​🇹​​🇮​​🇳​​🇬​ ​🇦​​🇱​​🇱​ ​🇲​​🇾​ ​🇱​​🇮​​🇫​​🇪​.❝ ͠​🇸​​🇦​​🇻​​🇦​​🇬​​🇪​ ​🇬​​🇦​​🇷​​🇩​​🇪​​🇳​

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Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader (Pre-Relationship) Genre: Slow burn, fluff, pre-love tension Word Count: ~1,200

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You only noticed it once Nami brought it up.

“You realize Zoro always puts himself in front of you during fights, right?” she said casually, barely looking up from her notebook.

You frowned. “Isn’t that just…what swordsmen do?”

Nami snorted. “No. He doesn’t do that for everyone. Just you.”

You had opened your mouth to argue, but your mind was already replaying moments from the past few weeks: Zoro stepping in front of you before an enemy lunged, catching a blade mid-swing. Blocking a flying piece of debris with the flat of his sword without even looking your way.

You had brushed it off. Coincidence. He was always intense about combat.

But then the island happened.

It was meant to be a simple supply run. A sunny, sleepy little port town. You were strolling back from the market, arms full of tropical fruit, when a voice behind you hissed: “Hand it over.”

You barely turned before someone rushed at you—blade raised high.

You did not even have time to flinch.

But Zoro was already moving—faster than the swing, faster than thought. His sword cut through the attacker’s strike before it could fall. One clean, practiced motion. Your would-be attacker dropped to the ground, unconscious.

Then Zoro turned to you.

“You okay?” His voice was tight, eyes scanning you head to toe.

You blinked. “I—I think so.”

There was no blood. No scratch. But Zoro’s jaw was clenched like he had failed at something anyway.

“Could’ve hit you,” he muttered.

You shook your head. “But he didn’t—”

“I let him get close.”

He said it low, more to himself than to you. That same dark expression—like the idea of someone even trying to hurt you was personal.

Later, you were hauling a crate of watermelons back to the Sunny. Your arms ached, but you were stubborn. You had it.

Until it was just… gone.

You blinked, turning to find Zoro walking ahead of you, the crate now slung easily over one shoulder.

He did not say a word. He did not look at you.

Just kept walking like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“…Thanks,” you said, jogging to catch up.

He shrugged. “Looked heavy.”

That was all.

But the pattern only got worse.

You were in the library one morning, curled up in a chair with a book. Outside, the rhythmic shhhk-shhhk of a sword slicing air drifted in. You got up, peeked out the window.

There he was.

Training, shirtless, sweat glistening on his skin as he moved with deadly grace—right outside the window. You tilted your head. That was not even his usual training spot.

Coincidence.

Maybe.

The next day, you were sunbathing on the upper deck. The sunlight was warm, lulling you half to sleep, until a shadow crossed over you. You squinted.

Zoro.

Doing pushups five feet away. Barely glancing at you. Not saying anything.

He kept going for an hour.

Just…there.

Breathing heavy. Silent. Focused. But never quite leaving your orbit.

That evening, Sanji leaned across the dinner table with a grin and said, “You’re basically her guard dog, mosshead.”

Zoro scoffed. “Don’t start with me.”

But he did not argue further. He did not roll his eyes or bark something defensive like he usually would.

Instead, he fell quiet.

And that night, as the ship creaked under the weight of the sea and everyone else slept, Zoro stared up at the dark ceiling of his hammock, arms folded behind his head.

He told himself he was just being cautious. He was strong. That was what strong people did—they protected the weaker crew members.

But your face kept flickering through his mind. That damn blade. The way your nose scrunched when you laughed. The quiet way you had said thank you, like it meant something.

He shifted onto his side with a grumble.

“Guard dog,” he muttered under his breath.

But the next morning, he was already outside the library window before you got there.

Training.

Just in case...

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Pairing: Monkey D. Luffy x Reader (Pre-Relationship) Genre: Fluff, slow burn, oblivious-to-suddenly-slammed-with-feelings Word Count: ~1,300 ______________________________________________________________

“Come see this!”

You barely had time to set your drink down before Luffy grabbed your hand and took off running across the deck, dragging you behind him like an excited kid with a secret.

“I just saw the biggest crab on the shore!” he beamed over his shoulder. “Its eyes were like—this big!”

You laughed, stumbling to keep up. “Luffy, I’m still chewing—!”

“Chew faster!” he called.

That was Luffy. Every moment, every laugh, every weird discovery—he wanted to share it with you. He never said why. Just acted like you were supposed to be there. Like it made sense. Like he could not imagine it any other way.

When the crew stopped at the next island for supplies, he grabbed your hand again.

“Let’s get snacks!”

“I thought Nami told you to get rope.”

“Yeah, but snacks first.”

He bought ten different fruits, devoured six on the spot, handed two to Chopper, gave one to Usopp, then stared at the last fruit in his hand.

And without even a beat, he handed it to you.

You blinked. “What about you?”

“You like those,” he said simply, licking juice from his fingers.

That was all.

Like it was just a given. Like it made sense in his brain. Like you were—his somehow.

It took you longer to notice that Luffy always sat next to you. Not across. Not near. Next to.

At dinner. On the deck. At the bar in town. If there was an open seat beside you, it was his. Even if he came in last, even if it meant awkwardly squeezing in or dragging a chair across the floor, that was where he landed.

You had once joked about it to Nami.

“I guess I’m Luffy’s emotional support human.”

But Nami had just raised an eyebrow and said, “You think he’s like this with everyone?”

You laughed, but something inside your chest fluttered. Uneasy. Warm.

Then came that night on the island.

It was a casual little tavern—nothing wild. The crew was spread out, music in the air, drinks flowing. You were leaning against the bar, laughing with a guy from the local fishing crew who had a lopsided smile and a good sense of humor.

And when you glanced toward the table where the others sat, Luffy was watching you.

Not smiling. Not laughing. Just…quiet.

You made your way back eventually, dropping into the seat beside him with your usual ease. “What, no food left for me?”

He blinked, like you’d knocked him out of a thought. “Huh? Oh—yeah. Here.”

He pushed a plate toward you, then fell quiet again.

You nudged his shoulder. “What’s with you?”

He stared at the wood grain of the table. “Do you like that guy?”

You blinked. “Who?”

“The guy you were talking to.”

You chuckled. “Oh, no. He was just funny. Told a story about getting bit by his own fishing hook.”

Luffy nodded slowly, but he was clearly still in some headspace.

You did not push it. But he did not say much for the rest of the night.

Back on the Sunny, Luffy lay on the figurehead, arms crossed behind his head, eyes on the stars.

Something was off. Weird. Uneasy.

He liked being around you. That made sense. You were fun. You made him laugh. You always split food with him. You let him nap on your shoulder sometimes, and you smelled nice, and your voice was soft when you woke him up—

He sat up suddenly.

He always sat next to you.

Always reached for your hand first. Always wanted you to see the cool things. Always gave you the last bite. Always saved the good seat for you.

He rubbed a hand down his face.

“…Why do I care who you laugh with?”

It came out in a whisper. A real question.

The realization didn’t slam into him like a battle or a punch. It just… settled. Quiet and obvious and real.

He was in love with you.

Oh.

The next morning, you stepped out onto the deck to find Luffy already there, legs swinging off the railing.

He grinned when he saw you, as bright and boyish as ever.

“Hey! Wanna have breakfast with me?”

You blinked. “You already ate.”

“I’ll eat again.”

You snorted. “You always do.”

You walked over, and without even needing to ask, he patted the spot beside him.

Right next to him.

Where you always sat.

Where you... belonged...

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Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Reader (Pre-Relationship) Genre: Fluff, tension, oblivious realization Word Count: ~1,400

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The rain came out of nowhere.

One minute, you were lounging on the deck, enjoying the warm breeze, and the next, a downpour sent the crew scattering indoors like startled cats. You made a break for the galley—sliding in just as thunder cracked overhead.

Sanji glanced up from the stove, already smiling.

“Looks like you brought the storm with you,” he said, flipping something in the pan without looking. “Good thing I kept a seat warm.”

You laughed as you pulled up a stool. A mug was already waiting there.

Chamomile.

Your favorite on rainy days.

You had mentioned it once—months ago—after a cold, wet mission left you sniffling and grumpy. He had not forgotten.

You cupped the mug in both hands and said, “Didn’t know you had psychic powers.”

“Only when it comes to you, mon étoile.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile, and he turned back to the stove. Heart-shaped steam rose from the pan.

Literally.

Sanji cooked for everyone, of course. Every meal, every day. It was love, it was pride, it was art.

But yours were different.

Little things.

A garnish shaped like a starfish because you said it reminded you of your childhood. A citrus glaze because you once joked about missing a specific island fruit. A perfectly diced corner of onions because you hated the texture whole.

He never made a show of it.

He just knew.

You sipped your tea, watching the rain race down the windows.

“Do you ever stop moving?” you asked softly.

Sanji looked up.

You gestured around. “You’re always doing something. Cooking. Cleaning. Serving. Flirting.”

He grinned at the last one. “You forgot being devastatingly handsome.”

You laughed. “Right. That too.”

But he paused for a beat, eyes narrowing slightly.

“…I like staying busy.”

“Even when no one’s asking you to?”

“I guess I like having a reason to look after people,” he said, plating something with practiced grace. “It’s easier than talking about it.”

He set the plate in front of you—a warm, colorful dish that smelled like nostalgia and citrus and something unnameable that made your chest flutter.

You raised an eyebrow. “What is this?”

“Just something I thought you’d like.”

You looked down and—of course—there it was.

A tiny little orange peel shaped like a heart, resting on the side like a secret only meant for you.

Later, Nami strolled into the galley mid-rainstorm, dripping wet and grumbling.

“Sanji, please tell me you made something hot—”

She froze.

She looked at your plate.

Then at you.

Then at Sanji.

And then she smirked.

“You don’t act like that with us,” she said, towel in hand.

Sanji blinked. “Act like what?”

Nami pointed her towel at your dish. “That. The garnish. The candle. The literal ambience. What is this, a date?”

You nearly choked on your tea. “Nami!”

But she was already laughing, waving you off. “I’m just saying. He’s usually all googly-eyed and dramatic, but this? This is different.”

Sanji opened his mouth. Closed it. Frowned slightly.

“…I just like making things they’ll enjoy,” he said, quietly.

Nami arched a brow. “You sure that’s all it is?”

She left him with that.

Left both of you with that.

That night, the rain continued.

Sanji stood alone in the galley, hands in his pockets, staring out the window as the clouds rolled across the moon. He thought about Nami’s words. He thought about your laugh. The way you looked when you drank tea. The way you had smiled down at that plate like it made you feel safe.

He replayed the dozens—hundreds—of small things he had done without thinking.

He knew your favorite fruits. Your favorite colors. He could tell when your shoulders were tense from stress. He noticed when you were quiet too long and always managed to pass you your favorite mug before you even asked for it.

He did not do that for the others.

Not like this.

He leaned against the counter, exhaling slowly.

“…Different,” he murmured.

He did not deny it.

The next morning, the sun was back. The deck was dry. The ship smelled like the sea and fresh citrus.

You stepped out, stretching your arms over your head—and froze.

There was a small tray waiting by your seat. A breakfast just for you.

A folded napkin. A steaming cup of tea. And another little garnish, this time in the shape of a flower.

You blinked, warmth curling in your chest.

From the galley window, Sanji watched you notice it.

And for the first time, he smiled not because he was trying to charm you.

But because he just loved the way you smiled back...

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Pairing: Usopp x Reader (Pre-Relationship) Genre: Fluff, mutual pining, light comedy Word Count: ~1,400

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You looked up from the bits of broken wood on the deck, brow raised. “Half a mango?”

Usopp nodded sagely, one knee propped up like a heroic statue. “The juice distracted it long enough for me to strike. Right in the eye. Boom! It cried out across the heavens!”

You laughed, brushing sawdust from your hands. “Wow. Sounds like you saved the entire sky.”

He tried to act nonchalant, but the way his ears turned red betrayed him.

“Y-yeah, well… it was nothing.”

But your laugh echoed in his head for the rest of the day.

You started helping him fix a busted section of railing after an especially rowdy sea king scuffle. He handed you nails. You passed him planks. Somewhere in the middle, your hands brushed.

Not even a full second of contact.

But Usopp’s soul left his body.

He froze mid-movement, eyes flicking to your hand and then quickly back to the wood. His heartbeat tripped over itself like it had never learned rhythm.

“Y-You’re good at hammering,” he said.

You looked up with a smile. “You think so?”

Why did your smile do that? Why is my chest warm? Am I dying?!

That night, he told Chopper in the infirmary with the gravity of someone announcing a terminal condition.

“It was nothing. Just her hand. Brushed mine. Totally normal. My heart didn’t do a fluttery thing. Nope. Perfectly fine. Totally unaffected.”

Chopper blinked. “Usopp, your nose is bleeding.”

“SHH.”

A few days later, you found a tiny handmade crab figurine on your pillow. Wobbly legs. Big googly eyes. Clearly sculpted out of something like melted candle wax and hope.

There was a note attached:

“For luck!! – Captain Usopp”

You grinned.

The next time you saw him, you had it tucked into your pocket.

He pretended not to stare at it. But his eyes kept flicking down to where the crab peeked out.

“You, uh… kept it?” he asked, scratching the back of his head.

“Of course I did. He’s good luck, right?”

Usopp nodded too fast. “Right! Super rare crab spirit. Repels bad dreams and seagulls. I read that somewhere. Definitely real.”

Your hand brushed his again when you tucked it back into your pocket.

Usopp made a noise like a squeaky kettle and practically moonwalked off the deck.

It was worse when you sat with him while he worked on a new slingshot prototype. Just the two of you, sunlight dappled through the sails, his tools scattered between you.

You picked up a rubber band, tilting your head. “What’s this one for?”

“Oh—that’s for the sky-splitting sonic burst function,” he said, then faltered. “Wait. I mean—it might be. It’s top secret. Probably. Still testing.”

You laughed again, that easy kind of laugh that always made him feel lighter somehow.

“You’re fun to build with,” you said.

He did not hear the ocean for a full five seconds after that.

The final straw was the map.

He had been doodling late at night—a fake island, covered in winding trails and strange beasts. In the corner, he scribbled a little stick figure version of himself. And beside him, another.

You.

Labeled “Sidekick!” with a star next to it.

He laughed to himself, soft and sheepish. Just a joke.

But the longer he looked at it, the more real it started to feel. The more right it felt.

The idea of you—beside him. On adventures. In stories. In dreams.

In everything.

Usopp blinked at the paper.

“…Oh.”

The next morning, you were helping Nami chart something in the observation room when Usopp peeked in, fidgeting with a new trinket in hand—some kind of polished shell creature on a string.

“For you!” he blurted, tossing it your way like a bomb and nearly missing.

You caught it mid-air. “Another lucky charm?”

“Uh, yeah! That one keeps your feet from falling asleep. And your heart. Maybe. I think.”

You gave him a bright, curious smile. “Thanks, Usopp. You’re always giving me the coolest stuff.”

He turned red to his ears. “Yeah, well… I give a lot of stuff to everyone.”

Nami glanced up from her maps and raised an eyebrow. “No, you do not.”

Usopp flinched. “I—I don’t?”

“You don’t give me weird shell creatures,” she said, smirking.

Usopp gave you a helpless shrug. Can’t a guy panic in peace??

You just laughed again.

He melted.

Again.

That night, he tucked the sidekick map under his pillow.

And for the first time in a long time, his dreams were not filled with made-up monsters or epic battles.

They were filled with you...

Sitting beside him...

Right where you belonged...

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Pairing: Shanks x Reader (Pre-Relationship) Genre: Fluff, subtle tension, slice-of-life aboard the Red Hair Pirates Word Count: ~1,500

The deck of the Red Hair Pirates was alive with laughter.

A successful haul, good weather, and plenty of rum meant the crew was in high spirits. You sat near the edge of the gathering, warm drink in hand, watching the orange sky bleed into twilight.

Shanks was in the center of it all, as always—radiating charm, laughing loud, one arm thrown over Benn’s shoulder as he spun another story, likely exaggerated.

But his eyes kept flicking sideways.

To you.

Not obvious. Not intrusive. Just enough to check—Did you hear that part? Did it make you laugh?

When you smiled, he smiled wider.

You only noticed the seat-saving habit after the third or fourth time.

Someone else would head toward the empty spot next to him, and—without fail—Shanks would casually drop something there. A coat. His scabbard. A mug. A hand.

“Taken,” he would say, without looking up.

Eventually, you stopped hesitating. You would just settle beside him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Because it was.

The crew was weaving through a tight port town a few days later, all noise and bustle and market chaos. You were trying to keep up, head turning to take in stalls of glittering goods, when you felt it—

A hand, warm and steady, against the small of your back.

Guiding.

No words. No big deal.

Shanks kept walking like he had not just casually laid claim to your existence in public. Like he had not sent your brain short-circuiting.

You glanced at him.

He was pointing out some ridiculous hat one of his crewmates had just bought, completely unaware that your heart had decided to do somersaults.

That night, you sipped wine under the stars, legs dangling over the edge of the deck. Shanks joined you, letting his boots thud softly beside yours.

He handed you a new drink without being asked.

“Trade,” he said.

“Mine’s not even empty.”

“Still,” he shrugged, “felt right.”

You raised your glass. “To pirates with good instincts.”

He smiled, clinked his glass gently to yours, and said, “To us.”

You blinked. “Us?”

“Yeah,” he said, then paused. “I mean—the crew. Obviously. Us as in… everyone.”

But his words had already left his mouth.

To us.

It kept happening.

“When we get to the next island—” “We should fix that railing before the storm—” “If we go north next time, we’ll hit better trade routes.”

We. Always we.

Like his plans just assumed you would be there. Like his future did not make sense without you in it.

He never seemed to notice.

But you did.

And so did Makino.

You were sharing a quiet moment in the galley, watching the rain hit the windows while Makino stirred tea. She gave you a look—gentle, but amused.

“You know he acts different when you’re around,” she said casually.

You raised an eyebrow. “Does he?”

She smiled knowingly, sliding a cup across to you. “He pours your drink first. Always. He does not do that for anyone.”

You tried to play it off. “Maybe I just sit closest.”

“Mm,” she said. “Sure.”

When she told him later—cornered him in that way only old friends could—he chuckled.

“Do I?” he said, leaning back in his chair.

Cool. Effortless. Unbothered.

Makino just raised an eyebrow. “You don’t even notice, huh?”

“…Guess not.”

She left him with that.

But Shanks sat there long after the lanterns dimmed, swirling untouched rum in his glass, staring out at the sea.

Thinking about the way he always looked for you in a room. The way he stepped closer in a crowd without realizing. The way “we” had slipped from his mouth like it had always belonged there.

“…Huh,” he said aloud, almost to himself.

And then, quietly—

“…Damn.”

The next morning, you climbed up to the crow’s nest for some air.

And found a fresh mug of tea already waiting there.

Still warm.

With a little note tucked beneath it, in a familiar, uneven scrawl:

“Thought you might come up. —Shanks”

You chuckled, holding the cup in both hands.

Down below, on the main deck, he looked up once.

Right at you.

And for once, he did not look away...

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Pairing: Buggy x Reader (Pre-Relationship) Genre: Comedy, fluff, mutual pining, dramatic clown behavior Word Count: ~1,500

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“You’re my favorite. Obviously.”

Buggy slung an arm around your shoulders with all the grace of someone trying very hard to look casual. It would have worked—if he had not announced it loud enough for the entire crew to hear.

Again.

From across the deck, Cabaji raised a brow. Mohji sighed.

“You always say that,” someone muttered.

Buggy waved them off with his free hand, gripping you tighter with the other. “Yeah, but this time I mean it. Don’t tell the others, though,” he said in a loud stage whisper, “you’re my right hand.”

You blinked up at him. “Buggy, your actual right hand is floating three feet behind you.”

“I KNOW WHAT I SAID.”

It happened all the time. If someone tried to pull you away—say, for actual work—Buggy immediately staged a crisis.

“What do you mean you’re going with them?” he snapped one afternoon, arms flailing as you stepped toward a crew meeting. “You’re gonna ditch me for those losers? I’m WAY more fun! I’ve got charisma! Flair! A fabulous hat!”

“You also have a cannon aimed at the kitchen again.”

“Do not change the subject!”

The worst was during performances. Buggy loved an audience. Worshipped attention. But whenever you were nearby?

He shared the spotlight.

“Get up here, (Y/N)!” he shouted mid-act, dragging you center stage by the wrist. “Do the bit with the juggling fish guts!”

You stumbled into the limelight, grinning in spite of yourself. “Buggy, I’ve never done this in my life.”

“Yeah, but the crew loves you,” he said, a little too fast. “Not me. The crew. I’m just doing what they want. Obviously.”

You blinked.

“Obviously,” you echoed, half-smiling.

He looked away, face flushed, and waved his hand dramatically. “Focus, people! Back to me!”

Then there was the night you fell asleep on him.

It was accidental, obviously. You had just finished a long supply run, flopped onto the nearest bench in the captain’s quarters, and leaned your head against his shoulder with a quiet sigh.

Buggy froze.

Like, completely.

Did not move a single muscle for the next two hours.

He did not even detach anything. He just sat there, stiff as a mannequin, eyes wide, face bright red.

The crew peeked in and saw the scene.

No one said a word. They just closed the door and slowly backed away.

He did not bring it up. Not the next day. Not the next week.

But he thought about it constantly.

Like a glitch in his brain he could not fix.

That warmth. Your breath on his shoulder. The trust. The way your hair had tickled his coat—

“AGH!” he shouted, tossing a barrel across the deck in frustration. “Why is this haunting me?!”

Mohji, sweeping nearby, did not even flinch. “Still thinking about that nap thing?”

“NO!!”

You, of course, noticed none of this.

Or rather—you noticed the Buggy-ness of it all: the tantrums, the declarations, the dramatic stunts. But you figured that was just how he was with everyone.

Until one night, you casually asked, “Do you throw everyone into the spotlight, or am I just special?”

Buggy choked on his drink.

You tilted your head, teasing. “Come on, Captain. You drag me into your antics all the time.”

“That’s—That’s—That’s—!” he sputtered, pointing dramatically. “Crew morale! I am a caring leader! It is for the people!!”

You smiled, leaning in slightly. “So I’m not special?”

He froze.

Silence.

His face slowly turned crimson.

“Well- …I didn’t say all that.”

Later, you fell asleep in the crow’s nest, curled up in a blanket.

Buggy climbed up to check on you—totally not because he was worried—and paused when he saw you tucked in and breathing soft.

He sighed. Quiet this time.

Sat down beside you.

Did not touch. Did not talk.

Just… stayed.

And that night, he thought:

Maybe you really are my right hand.

But if anyone asked, he would say:

“Shut up!! It’s not like that or anything!!”

______________________________________________________________

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x Reader (Pre-Relationship) Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Slow-Burn, Realization Moment Word Count: ~2,000

______________________________________________________________

You barely saw it coming—the moment Ace became a constant.

It was not dramatic. No fireworks. No grand gesture. Just… a shadow that always lingered a little longer near your shoulder. A voice that always found yours in the noise.

“You good?” he asked after every mission, every skirmish, even if you had not been on the front lines.

Casual tone. Easy grin.

But his eyes scanned your face for any sign of damage. Always.

The first time he handed you his hat, you were half-asleep on the deck, one arm draped over your eyes to block the sun. Without a word, something warm and worn settled across your face—the faded brim of his beloved hat.

You peeked out from under it. “You’ll get sunburned.”

He just shrugged. “You need it more.”

Then sat down nearby, arms folded behind his head like it was no big deal. But every few minutes, you felt his gaze flick over—just checking. Making sure it had not slipped. That you were still comfortable.

Like warmth, without the fire.

In group conversations, you were quiet.

Not shy—just the type who waited for your moment. But one afternoon, someone interrupted you before you could finish your thought.

Ace’s arm casually slung around a barrel, but his voice cut sharp and clear.

“Let them finish.”

Everyone blinked. The guy apologized. You picked up where you left off.

Ace just gave you a little nod, like it was automatic.

Because it was.

He brought you things. Dumb things. Random things.

A flower he said “looked kind of like your hair, if you squint.” A shell shaped like a spiral. A rock that sparkled faintly in the sun.

“Reminded me of you,” he said with a lazy grin and a shrug, like he did not think about it twice.

But he did think about it.

Later. Alone. Lying in his bunk, one arm behind his head, the other draped over his eyes as the ship creaked gently beneath him.

Why does everything remind me of them? Why do I look for something to give them every time we dock? Why is their smile the first thing I picture when I find something beautiful?

He never had answers. Just heat curling low in his chest.

And then came the day you got hurt.

It was not life-threatening. Just a deep gash across your arm from a surprise ambush while scavenging supplies.

But Ace saw red.

He was fire and fury and reckless rage—blasting forward, taking down three of the attackers in seconds, fists lit with flame and jaw tight with fury.

Marco had to hold him back. “They’re down, Ace. Let it go.”

He shook him off, breathing hard, chest rising and falling like a storm just barely held back.

When he finally made it back to you, his hands were shaking as he checked the wound. “Why were you out there alone? You should’ve waited. You should’ve called me—”

You blinked up at him. “Ace. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, look at this!” His voice cracked. He grabbed a cloth, hands too rough, trying to stop the bleeding like he could rewind time.

The others stood a little ways off, unsure whether to help or stay back.

Someone whispered under their breath, “…He’s acting like he’s in love with them or something.”

Ace froze.

Everything inside him stopped.

The cloth slipped from his hand.

His eyes flicked up to yours—wide, stunned, almost confused.

He’s acting like he’s in love with them.

Wait.

Wait...

Waitwaitwait-

Shit..!!!

You watched him go still. Watched his expression shift like tectonic plates—something slow, deep, irreversible.

“Ace?” you asked softly.

He blinked, like he was waking up.

And then he stood abruptly, muttering something about needing air. You watched the orange of his back fade down the corridor, swallowed by sunset.

Later that night, he came back.

Not with words. Not with an apology or confession.

But with a small box.

He handed it to you without a word, ears pink.

You opened it.

A piece of sea glass—perfectly smooth, the color of moonlight. Nestled beside a tiny sketch of you, drawn on a scrap of parchment. Rough, shaky lines. Obviously his.

“You drew this?” you asked, touched.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I dunno. You were asleep on the deck and I got bored.”

You looked at the sea glass. Then at him.

And smiled.

“Ace?”

“Yeah?”

“If you ever realize something… let me know, okay?”

His eyes met yours.

Slowly, a grin tugged at his mouth. “I think I already did.”

______________________________________________________________

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Reader (Pre-Relationship) Genre: Subtle romance, emotional tension, hurt/comfort, slow realization Word Count: ~2,000

No one was allowed in Law’s space.

Not physically. Not emotionally. Not even Bepo got close without permission, and Bepo had known him the longest.

Except… you.

You did not even notice it at first. The way you stood beside him during briefings, how your arms brushed when you handed him charts. The quiet nights on the deck where you ended up sharing a coat when the cold got sharp.

And Law—silent, controlled, aloof Law—never said a word.

Never moved away.

He had a way of explaining things to you that felt like he had actually taken the time to translate his brain.

One evening, after a minor scuffle, he was treating Penguin’s bruised ribs. You came to check in, and Law started explaining the healing process—not in his usual clipped medical terms, but slower, gentler, clearer.

“I’ve asked you that same question,” Shachi grumbled from nearby. “You never explain stuff like that to me.”

Law did not even glance up. “They actually listen.”

But it was more than that. You made him want to talk. Made it easy to unravel the tightly wound pieces of himself, like pulling threads from a knot without it even hurting.

He did not know how you did it.

He just… let you.

He noticed things.

The way your hands fidgeted at your sides when you were nervous. The kind of food you gravitated toward after a rough day. The specific tone your voice took when you were genuinely excited—light and airy, eyes bright like sunrise.

He did not forget any of it.

You once mentioned liking a specific island pastry in passing. When the crew docked there weeks later, Law returned from an errand with a box of them in hand.

“Coincidence,” he said, handing it off without looking you in the eye.

“Law…”

“Coincidence.”

You got hurt once. A bit of a gash. Something another crew medic could’ve easily handled.

But Law was the one who showed up with the medical bag, silent and focused, gloves snapping on.

“I could’ve waited for Jean Bart,” you said, raising a brow.

Law avoided your gaze, inspecting the cut. “I do not trust their technique.”

“But it’s a shallow cut.”

He cleaned it anyway. Wrapped it slowly. Pressed a final strip of gauze on with careful fingers.

You looked at him. “You always take care of me.”

“I am the doctor.”

“That’s not why.”

He did not answer.

Then there was the laughter.

You had been talking to another pirate—a temporary alliance, nothing serious. Something the crew barely cared about.

But Law… noticed the way you laughed. How relaxed you were.

How someone else was the reason for that smile.

His chest tightened. It felt stupid. Irrational.

“That is not jealousy,” he muttered under his breath.

Bepo, beside him, gave a look so loud it may as well have spoken.

Law scowled. “It’s not.”

But he clenched his jaw the rest of the night.

The breaking point came with a question.

Simple. Offhanded. A crew member joking at dinner.

“What would you do if (Y/N) left the crew?”

Law froze.

Fork halfway to his mouth. Eyes suddenly unreadable.

The table went quiet.

You looked over at him, sensing something shift in the air.

He said nothing.

Because the real answer—the only answer—was this:

I would go after you.

I would leave everything.

I would not be okay.

And that terrified him.

Later, alone in the infirmary, he sat with a half-finished chart in his lap, hand motionless over the paper.

His mind replayed the question over and over.

Not what would happen to the crew. Not how it would affect his plans.

Just you.

Your absence. The silence of it. The hole it would leave.

I’m in love with them.

He exhaled, slow and quiet.

Shit...

______________________________________________________________

Pairing: Sabo x Reader (Pre-Relationship) Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Love Realization, Slow Burn Word Count: ~2,000 ______________________________________________________________

With Sabo, it always felt like you belonged at his side—even before he realized how much that meant.

You were part of the Revolutionary Army—smart, capable, steady. A good comrade. A better friend.

At least, that was how he described you.

To himself.

To others.

And yet…

He started saving seats beside him.

It was not on purpose at first—just a spot left open next to him during meals, briefings, downtime. His coat draped across a second chair, or his hat tossed there like a marker.

If someone tried to sit, he’d glance up, confused. “Oh—sorry, that’s for (Y/N).”

He never thought much of it.

You did.

He asked your opinion on everything.

Not just mission plans or logistics. But things like, “Do you think this tie’s too formal for a peace talk?” or “Would this soup be better with ginger or mint?”

You laughed once and said, “Are you always this picky?”

He smiled, tilted his head. “Only when you’re around to help me choose.”

He shared the things that mattered.

Books that made him think. Photos of towns he wanted to rebuild. Quiet pieces of his past—the good ones, the ones untouched by fire and grief.

You saw a different side of him. One that sparkled quietly beneath the weight he carried.

And he saw you as the safe place to set it down.

But he also grew… protective.

One time, you volunteered for a high-risk scouting job. Nothing outrageous. But before you even finished explaining your plan, Sabo cut in.

“I’ll go instead.”

You blinked. “Sabo, I can handle it—”

“I know you can,” he said quickly. Too quickly. “But I’m more familiar with the terrain. It makes sense.”

You exchanged a look with Koala, who raised a brow behind him.

Later that night, she cornered him.

“You know you’re in love with them, right?”

Sabo laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Koala: “Mm. Sure. You nearly yelled at Hack because they almost got a splinter.”

Sabo: “That was different.”

Koala: “Okay.”

It was not different.

He brought you things.

Not in a flashy way—just little gifts. A worn book with your favorite theme. A pouch of dried fruit you liked. A scarf when the mountain air got too cold.

“Found it on the way back,” he’d say, casual, like he had not thought about you the whole trip.

But he had.

One night, after a celebration—small victory, small village—you danced with someone else.

Sabo smiled. Genuinely, at first.

Then you laughed—soft and free, head thrown back—and his chest tightened.

A twist of heat. A flicker of something sharp and unfamiliar.

He turned away before he could watch any longer.

Koala caught him staring at the wall with a far-off look. “You okay?”

He blinked. “Yeah. Just tired.”

He was lying.

The realization came quietly.

You were late coming back from a solo mission. Just by an hour. But that hour stretched out into something tight and heavy in his ribs.

He stood by the gate, arms folded, trying not to pace.

Koala came to stand beside him. “They’ll be fine. You trained them yourself.”

“I know.”

But his voice was thin. Worried. Too worried.

When you finally returned—mud on your boots, smile crooked, only a scratch on your cheek—he let out a breath like someone had released a pressure valve inside him.

“You’re late,” he said.

You grinned. “Miss me?”

He did not answer.

Not out loud.

But later, alone, he sat on the edge of his bunk and whispered to the dark:

“…Yes.”

A few days later, someone asked him a simple question:

“If (Y/N) left the army tomorrow… would you follow?”

He did not even answer.

Just went silent.

Because the answer was yes. And that scared the hell out of him.

______________________________________________________________

CHAT. DID I EAT? AHAHAHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!! I DID SO GOOD, I'M SO PROUD!