Hiiii! I Really Hope You Like This! I Don’t Know The Way Hcs Are Supposed To Be But This Is What I

The avengers age of ultron GAG REEL

hiiii! I really love your account and I'm so glad you're still taking requests, I was thinking of like Law, zoro and ace having a nightmare of reader getting married to another guy and how would they feel after waking up in the morning seeing reader next to them sleeping <3 take your time and I hope you have a great day or night!

DESCRIPTION: They have a nightmare that you marry someone else

WARNINGS: little bit of brief angst/insecurity but it's kept light for the most part

CHARACTERS: Law, Zoro, | Ace, Shanks, Mihawk, Kid, Katakuri | Luffy, Usopp

WORDS: 1,156

A/N: I absolutely loved this request and I hope you like what I came up with for it. Sadly I could only think of scenarios for just Law and Zoro.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

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LAW 

Law finds himself having this dream often, of finally marrying you. Every blissful, happy detail is unchanging and one he never tires of seeing. After years of torturous, painful nightmares plagued by his past trauma to dream of a future he wishes to make a reality is a welcome one. Tonight however his subconscious felt something was off. It wasn’t his usual dream he was so accustomed to. Normally at the beginning of the dream he’d be standing at the front of the aisle, watching your beautiful form coming into view and approach him with an excited, loving smile gracing your face. 

This time however he was standing at the back of the room. He heard your laugh and he turned, his eyes widening in shock to see you already in place and holding hands with who you were marrying, Eustass Kid. Suddenly all sound fell away and he felt like as much as he tried to run towards you, he stayed firmly in place and forced to watch your lips shape the wedding vows. Over and over he tried to activate his powers, to shambles you away and out of the touch of his rival but even that failed him. His distress grow as he watch you and Kid lean in, lips parting to seal the wedding with a kiss. 

With a shout, Law lurched forward, breathing heavily and mind swimming with the disturbing images still fresh in his mind as he woke and took his time in getting his bearings. With slow breaths, he pushed the heel of his hand against his already tightly shut eyes, desperate to force the images away. Beside him he felt a movement and with a sigh he looked to see you waking. Blearily you forced your eyes open enough to see Law was sitting up in the bed. Still half asleep, you couldn’t find the energy to pull yourself up so you reached out, taking his hand into yours and tugged him to lie down with you. 

Relief flooded Law as the realisation that it really was a nightmare and you’d always reach out for him was the reality. Eagerly he lay down against, you settling his head on your chest, a satisfied smile curling his lips when you threaded your fingers into his hair, making sleepy movements against his scalp to comfort him. “Bad dream again?” You asked, voice thick with sleep but you refused to let yourself fall back over until you were sure he was okay. 

“Different one, but still bad.” Law admitted, curling his arms around your body to hold you close. “Dreamt you married Kid of all people.” There was a moment of silence and your fingers stilled in his hair making him think you’d fallen asleep. Finally you let out a sigh and tapped his head, making him turn his head just enough to look at your disapproving stare breaking through the tiredness.

“Law I have better taste than that.” You scowled before resuming your comforting motions in his hair. “Now go back to sleep and dream it right this time.” Law let out a sleepy chuckle and did as he was told. Although now he as he began to drift to sleep, he began to put a plan in motion to give you the real wedding you deserved.

ZORO

This couldn’t be happening. This was his worst thing he’d ever have to witness in his life. No matter how many times he shook his head and rubbed his eyes, the sight was the same. He was standing amongst the rest of the crew who were cheering happily as they all watched you exchange rings and a sealing kiss with Sanji. The horror of what he had to witness didn’t end there. He was rooted in place having to watch your first dance with him, lovingly pressed up against him as you both swayed together, staring at each other with an expression he once got to share with you. 

The image melted away to the familiarity of the dining room and he watched you lean up to kiss Sanji as he placed an extravagant meal in front of you, your hand cupping his face in sickening adoration, the gleaming band of gold on your finger all but blinding him from the repulsive display. His mind was racing as he tried to think how this happened. Weren’t you two happy? Hadn’t you both sworn that you’d always love one another? Didn’t you love him anymore? When did he lose you? What had he done that made you pick the stupid cook? Had he died and gone to Hell? That must have been it. 

“Zoro!” He jolted awake to see you standing by his bed, hand on his chest as you shook him awake. Concern etched your face. You’d just finished your watch and came back to your shared room to see Zoro tossing and turning in his sleep, clearly trapped in a nightmare he couldn’t wake from. Slowly Zoro sat up in the bed as his good eye sharpened. When he realised it was you and thinking on what he’d just seen, he acted instantly. His hand took yours desperately and he lifted it, inspecting your fingers with as much attention as he would when he cared for his swords. “No ring.” He finally said with a relieved sigh, pulling you onto the bed to settle against him. 

Keeping your hand in his grip, he used the other to hold you close against him. You blinked in confusion and sat up to tilt your head at him with a growing frown. While you never wanted to force your relationship with Zoro to go to the next step, you would have been lying to say you hadn’t hoped that a proposal would some day come up. Worry began to gnaw at you. Were you more invested in this than he was? “You’re…relieved I don’t have a ring on my finger? The thought of marrying me is so bad to make you toss and turn in a nightmare?”

“What? No! I’d love that.” Zoro protested, cursing himself for his clumsy words. “It’s only a nightmare when you’re married to that shithead cook!” 

“Oh…” Your eyes widened and you bit your lip, fighting a smile to hide your excitement that Zoro wanted to marry you. Quickly to ease the tension of a very real conversation that you both were probably too tired to have you decided to clear your throat and joke with him. “So how nice was the ring?” You let out a squeal when Zoro suddenly tossed you onto the bed beside him and rolled onto his side with a long yawn breaking from his lips. You pouted playfully to see his eyes were closed again, already falling asleep with his freakish talent. 

“It looked like shit, the one I give you will be one hundred times better. Now get to sleep.”

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TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa

love of my life i believe zoro is a chronic waist grabber ….. he cant put his hands anywhere else. always an arm wrapped around you, pressing your back closer to him, or both hands keeping you planted on his face … idk why, maybe it’s because he can feel your every reaction, who knows …. <3

oh my lordddd

he’s so handsy in general, it’s ridiculous. the second zoro’s got you somewhere even semi-private, he’s groping your chest and cupping you between your legs cause he knows how bad you need this, baby, he can smell it on you.

but for as much as his hands wander, they’ll always end up at your waist. it’s not his fault you make it so easy to grab you around your middle and manhandle you however he likes. big broad hands holding on to you, fingers digging into your soft hips like you’ll run if he lets go and he won’t let his prey get away that easy. it’s just a bonus that he can fuck into you that much harder, deeper, when he’s holding you by your waist and pulling you back to meet every stroke.

and afterwards, when you’re all fucked out and your legs are still shaky, zoro will reach for your waist again to run his hands right over where he’s marked you as his, palms warm and touch reverent. it’s not an apology for the aches and bruises you’ll no doubt have come morning but a reminder that he only gives what he knows you can take.

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...

______________________________________________________________

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

______________________________________________________________

“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!

I would give my left arm (👀) for sleepy mornings with 🍺 for your event prompt!

Congratulations on 1k, we’ve missed you over the summer!! 💕

LMFAO this made me laugh 😭 I hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it! Shanks was probably my first one piece love so I really should write for him more often. Also, you're so sweet, I missed you all so much over the summer too 🥺 i'm so happy to be back!!

Prompt: Sleepy mornings with Shanks

Pairing: Shanks x f!reader

WC: ~900

CW: Established relationship, fluff, lazy sex, unprotected sex, creampie, beckmann mentioned, just some cute smut

18+ MDNI

1K EVENT MASTERLIST

You trace your fingers over your captain’s muscular chest, drawing a line down to his abdomen. His even breaths indicate he’s still fast asleep. You’d only woken up a few moments ago yourself, opting to admire Shanks in his sleep instead of waking him up. He was so beautiful like this, expression completely at ease as the warm morning sun caught in his hair.

He shifts, groaning slightly as he stretches his arm. You smile, halting your movements as he blinks his eyes open. His gaze settles on you, a pleased, sleepy grin breaking out over his face.

“Morning,” His voice is rough with sleep.

“Good morning,” You lean up, kissing his jaw.

His hand reaches down to run through your hair, soothing. “You been watching me sleep? Weirdo.”

You stick your tongue out at him, “Shut up. You’re cute when you sleep.”

“I’m cute now, too.”

“Well….” You fight to keep the grin from your face as he huffs, scooping your body towards his and flipping you both over so that you’re pinned to the mattress under him.

“Jerk.” He mutters, leaning down to kiss you.

You laugh, kissing him back. It’s lazy, a slow meld of lips and tongues. Your hands come up to cup his cheeks, the raised flesh of his three scars a familiar feeling under your thumb.

He smiles against your lips, rolling off of you and tugging you with him so that you’re both on your sides. You slide one thigh over his, hooking your leg and pulling him closer to you. The solid ridge of his arousal presses into your stomach, making you grin.

“Someone’s eager.” You murmur playfully.

“Shut up,” He grumbles in between kisses, “I just woke up, cut me some slack.”

Wandering fingers toy with your waistband, silently waiting for permission. You angle your hips of the bed, giving him the go ahead.

He eagerly tugs your pj pants down, pushing his down right after just enough to pull his hard cock out. He pulls your hips closer to his, sliding his cock between your wet folds.

“Looks like you’re eager for me too,” He teases as your breath catches.

“That’s no surprise. Aren’t you always saying that I’m ‘always so ready for you?’” You’re teasing words are breathless as the tip of his cock nudges against your throbbing clit.

He smiles into a kiss, not bothering to answer. He lines himself up with you, slowly pushing into your tight entrance. His hand comes down to your thigh, pulling it higher over his hip to open you up more for him, easing the connection.

“So tight,” He groans, dropping his head and kissing your shoulder and collarbones.

You tangle a hand into his hair, sighing as he sucks a mark into your collarbone. His hips move lazily, the slow slide of his cock in and out of you pleasantly stimulating without the usual overwhelming feeling.

You bring his head back up, craving the familiar feel of his lips on yours. Your hips rock into his, soft pants mingling with your kisses as you both move.

His calloused hand comes up from your thigh, cupping your cheek and angling your face to deepen the kiss. The mattress creaks softly underneath you, though you’ve certainly put it through far worse.

“You’re so pretty. Fuck, I love you,” He murmurs against your lips.

You giggle, nudging his nose with your own, “I love you too, Shanks.”

The drag of his cock over your g-spot paired with the rub of his pelvis against your clit has you close to cumming, and he can tell.

“Gonna cum f’me soon, pretty baby? Yeah, ‘m close too,” He kisses you harder, cock twitching as if to punctuate his point.

You nod, kissing him back just as eagerly. Another two thrusts have you sighing with pleasure, light shock waves rocking you as your orgasm washes over you. He groans against your lips, hot spurts of cum spilling inside of you shortly after.

“God, what a nice way to wake up,” He sighs, kissing your forehead. You laugh, snuggling into his chest as you wrap your arms around his middle.

You lay like that for a while afterwards, neither of you wanting to move from where you’re still connected. Unfortunately, your cocoon of peace is disrupted by a knocking on the door.

“Wake up! Breakfast is served, and if you’re not there soon it’ll all be gone!” Beckmann shouts through the door.

You groan as his footsteps fade away, pouting up at Shanks. He smiles down at you, kissing your pout away.

He pulls away first, careful as he pulls out. He rolls out of bed, tugging his boxers back on properly as he does so. He reaches a hand down to help you out of bed, helping you readjust your clothing too.

“A quick meal, and then right back to bed,” Shanks vows.

You laugh, shaking your head, “We have things to do. We can’t sleep the day away.” “What’s the point of being captain if I can’t spend all day with my girl in bed, hm? I make the rules.” His tone is indignant.

You snort, tugging him towards the door as he complains. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Captain.”

Irrational Fears (Luffy, Sanji, Zoro)

_____ Pairings: Luffy x Reader; Sanji x Reader; Zoro x Reader Summary: Your fears come to light, but your boyfriend is there to protect you. Warnings: Hurt, comfort, fluff, fears/phobias mentioned at the beginning of each character pairing, Female Reader A/N: Sorry for the lack of uploads, I've been swamped by assessment and exams, I hope you enjoy :) [One Piece Masterlist] _____

- Luffy - (Fear of Spiders)

You were in your room, not a care in the world. You were hiding from the raging sun that lay on the deck, relishing the peace that comes from immersing yourself in a book after weeks of fighting; finally, back on the open sea. The pages passed through your fingers like clockwork, and you were lost in the ease and safety the Sunny provided you.

You turn your body to the side, your book falling with you as you do so, but your heart is suddenly torn from leisure as your eyes catch movement beyond the pages you look to.

There is a Spider on your bedside table.

In a blur of moments, your heart drops, eyes darting from your book to the black creature, mere moments away from crawling onto the bed with you. Instantly, cold sweat rises from within you, and your breath is suddenly lost and within you all at the same time.

Before you can help it, you scream.

You rush in a hurry of scrambled movements away from the spider that had been only a few inches away from your head, and your back hits a wall now meters away. But there's not enough space. You can feel its eyes watching you, you can see its creepy being as it moves, and you feel a sickening pool in your gut at the thought of it having been so close.

You know you should move - the door to escape is just a few steps in front of you - but fear has made your limbs useless. You feel your eyes fill with tears, and you find yourself silenced; the only sound is the pounding of your heart as your phobia sets in. Your hands tremble as the spider moves, and you resist the urge to squeeze your eyes shut; you do not want to lose sight of the wretched creature.

God, why now? Why me?

You are so panicked, your heart jumps when the door to your room is suddenly opened.

"[Y/N]!!!"

Your boyfriend bursts through your now-opened door, eyes wide and frantic and breath light as though he rushed to get to you.

Because, well, he had.

When Luffy had been sitting on his figurehead as he always does, with the cool breeze on his face and the peace of the open sea, the last thing he expected was an unfamiliar scream bringing him into motion. Unfamiliar because Luffy was not used to you being so alarmed; he was not used to hearing the echoes of your voice catch onto fear.

Luffy swears his heart had almost fallen to his feet when he heard your scream, and despite other crewmembers looking up in surprise and concern. They were no match for the speed of your boyfriend as he travelled quickly to the deck and disappeared in a blur of movements to your side.

The entirety of the ten seconds it took for him to get to you, his heart had paced his chest in worry, but now, as he witnesses your tearful eyes and the way you seem to try to hide within the walls, his worry only increases tenfold. This was you, [y/n], one of the strongest women he knew, and he felt a flare of protectiveness as he witnessed a sight he was not used to: you, scared.

"[y/n], what's wrong?" His voice is rushed, soft hands reaching for you, eyes searching yours for the cause of the dread he sees etched within them. His heart pounds.

Was someone here?

Did someone threaten you?

Who does he need to beat up?

What does he need to protect you from?

His eyebrows pull together as he watches you, the love of his life, try to form words. But it is then that he realises your eyes seem distant, not in an emotional way, but you had been staring past him, not meeting his gaze for some time now. And you know you should feel embarrassed, but you do not find it in yourself to hesitate when you raise a shaky hand towards the direction of your bed-side table.

"[y/n]?"

The Spider.

"L-Lu, please, can you g-get rid of it?"

Your voice is soft but trembles under your fear, a few tears slip past your cheeks, and it breaks your boyfriend's heart to see you that way. His eyebrows furrow in confusion when he sees you gesture in the direction of your bed, and he witnesses the creature you were so afraid of. In normal instances, he feels as though he would've laughed, but when he looks to see you, looking at him tearfully, in need of help, all he wants to do is reassure and protect you.

He quickly goes to your bedside, tilting his head at the creature as though waiting for it to protest to its removal before grabbing it swiftly between his hands. "I'll be back!" He quickly runs from the room, leaving you in silence, but returns shortly after with the absence of the creature in his hands. You finally feel yourself take a breath, and a rush of heat travels to your cheeks.

"Thanks, Lu..."

You murmur, unable to meet his eyes, but all you hear is your boyfriend's laugh, and all you feel is his warmth as he travels up to you, wrapping an arm around you tightly. It causes you to look up, and his grin is so bright and proud it rivals the sun.

"It's okay [y/n], you don't have to worry about Spiders when you're with me. I'll protect you!"

- Sanji - (Fear of Heights)

God, how did you get yourself into this situation? Maybe it was the lack of thinking, or the barrage of enemies that rushed you into movement, but now, in the middle of a dense forest, you found yourself stuck atop an abnormally high tree.

You sigh shakily as you look down at the forest floor, instantly regretting your decision to do so; it seems eons away. You feel sickness fill you and sweat promptly rises across your body, along with a flush that reaches your cheeks. You were a Strawhat, for God's sake, and yet you could not seem to move. Your hands burned at the tightness you held the trunk, bark etching itself onto your skin, and courage was a distant being to you.

Panic invades your senses, and your breath comes to you in short and shaky increments. You didn't know where your friends were, and you didn't want to call out, only for them to see you in no real danger, but lost in your head because of your irrational fear. Irrational. But to you, it was perfectly rational; to you, it felt as though you were on the brink of falling to your death.

Your mind scrambles, in a haze of wanting relief from the stress and the fear, but also in knowing you would likely get laughed at if you were ever found. Luckily for you, however, you hear the voice of one man, who you think will save you from turmoil. A voice calling to you, that took on a worried edge, most likely because of the onslaught of enemies that separated you from him.

"[y/n]!! Love, where are you?"

You find your boyfriend's familiar figure, his blond hair travelling far beneath you. Instantly, you feel queasy at the sight of him so far from you, and you force your eyes to face forward once more. But you don't know if you have the voice to reply.

"Love?!"

But you have to.

"S-," your voice is lost for a moment, but the tears that fill your eyes seem to encourage you to shout out to him; your fears are too much to bear. "Sanji!! I'm up here!"

You find solace in the fact that your voice stayed strong, and didn't give way to the tremors that invaded your body.

"Love?" Sanji's eyes instantly dart upwards, relief filling him in an instant at the sight of you unharmed. You were far up the breadth of an extremely tall tree, and Sanji could only imagine that you were rushed up the branches in the pursuit of safety from the enemies that had swarmed you.

Your boyfriend almost laughs out in ease, but his senses seem to pick up on your distress and the way you stand so rigid and unmoving, even when there is no adversary near.

"Love, you can come down now, there's no one here."

You hear the ringing of Sanji's voice in your ears, but again when you look down, you are instantly regretful, eyes looking sharply upwards and trying to contain your cries and embarrassment. You feel the branches creak at your movements, the breeze ruffles your hair slightly, and you hold tighter and unwavering.

"Love?"

Another swift breeze has you clutching onto the trunk of the tree like your life depended on it. More tears slip past your lashline, and you can't hide the way you are so afraid anymore. Sanji's brows come together in concern and worry, his heart beating faster as he realises you are so distressed. The love of his life, afraid.

"Love-"

"I-I can't! It's too high! Sanji- I can't-"

Sanji's heart drops sharply as he hears the trembling of your words falling from your mouth. He can practically feel the pain of the bark etching itself on your skin, can see the way you are so static and unmoving, can see your tears that threaten to break his heart. Never had he seen you so distressed, so scared of something before. Never had he acted so quickly to one's words.

Instantly, Sanji moves, kicking at the air in a rush to get to your side and reassure you.

"Don't worry, love, I'll come get you."

"Sanji..."

Only a second passes and you open your eyes from when you have fought to keep them tightly shut. You feel the pain in your limbs after being so rigid and stubborn, but you have yet to feel the relief that comes with safety. You can scarcely see past your tears, but Sanji's gaze reflects one of worry, as he caresses your face and catches the teardrops that run along them.

"I've got you, love."

Quickly, he gathers you into his arms, and you squeeze your eyes shut once more as you feel his gentle hands prying you into his chest. You only feel your fear start to fade when you feel your boyfriend's arms wrap themselves around you, in a cocoon of his scent and safety and warmth. Sanji doesn't feel his worry fade as he still feels light tremors travel through your skin.

When you are finally both on solid ground, you open your eyes slowly, a deathly grip still on your boyfriend. You meet worried eyes and try to smile sheepishly, fighting embarrassment as you wipe your tears frantically from your face. "S-sorry Sanji, guess that was stupid huh, afraid of heights, what a-" But Sanji quickly cuts you off with a gentle smile and the caress of hair that has fallen to your face.

"Love, it's not stupid, you were afraid, and that's okay. Everyone gets scared sometimes."

You still feel hesitant even under his love-lorn gaze, and the flickers of his eyes as he admires you, and relishes in the feeling of having been able to save you from your dread.

"But-"

"No matter what, I'll protect you, love."

- Zoro - (Fear of Enclosed Spaces)

"Take them away."

You grit your teeth at how the men behind you handle you harshly; their fingers gripping tightly onto the flesh of your arms. You do not turn, but you hear your boyfriend being treated the same, despite a lack of struggle on both of your parts. You don't exactly know how the two of you had gotten into this predicament, but Nami had told you both to surrender if ever captured; there was an easier escape route from the dungeons.

You try to contain your want to wrench free from grasps and show the men behind you what you are truly capable of, but you know (and Zoro knows) that this place was the primary breadth of enemy territory, and in doing so, it would be almost impossible to find a way out. You are both escorted through hallways and down several flights of stairs, the whole time you can feel your boyfriend's eyes trained on how the guards handle you. But finally, the men slow down and you find yourselves in what you are supposed to be the dungeons.

Supposed, because instead of jail cells, what greeted you was rows of metal doors.

You try to ignore the increased thrumming in your heart and try to stay voiceless when the men start to mutter about the cells you and Zoro would be confined to. You had been expecting metal bars and open spaces, not a metal box to be confined to. But before you can say anything, the guards move once more, opening a metal door before shoving both you and your boyfriend into the small space.

"W-wait-"

But the guards slammed the door shut and you were stuck in essentially, a box, where there was just enough space for the two of you to sit, and only just tall enough for the two of you to stand. The only light was the thin lines that seep in from the edges of the door, and the only sound is a humming sound and a soft breeze you knew to be air that was blown into the space.

Air, and yet you seem to forget how to breathe.

Zoro groans as he sits on the floor, but you remain standing, suddenly static on your feet. A harsh dread has kicked in, and as your eyes dart around the dark and enclosed space, sweat rises on your skin and your heartbeat burns against your chest. There is a panic, an indescribable phobia that fills you, as your trembling hands reach the coldness of metal that surrounds you, your eyes darting every which way to try to find an opening in the space around you.

Your boyfriend, unfazed and simply waiting on the crew to notice their absence and save them, is ignorant of the silent fears that your mind has entrapped you in. But he still feels you tense and standing next to him, and he furrows his eyebrows, confused.

"Oi, sit down woman. They're gonna be a while."

But you do not move, you can barely hear or accept his reassurances. Your panic flares wilder as you think of being entrapped in this space for a long period of time. Instantly you move into action, anxiety coursing through your veins. The chains around your wrists clatter noisily as trembling hands travel the metal box, breath coming in more laboured increments and trying to stop the sobs that want to break free. A rush of tears has fallen past your eyes, and all of a sudden Zoro is all too aware of you, the love of his life, in turmoil.

"Oi, wo-, [y/n], what's wrong?"

His voice is urgent, tense as if he doesn't notice a danger you are all too aware of. But now you can't control the way your breathing is beyond you, and your cries fall more freely from your lips.

"Z-Zoro, I can't- we- we have to find a way out. Zoro please, I can't stay here, I can't-"

Zoro's heart drops at the pain that is etched in your voice, at your pleading and your fear that entwines itself with your words. He cannot see much but he feels the frantic of your trembling movements, the way the woman he considered strongest in the world, crumbled beneath the weight of the metal room they were confined to.

"[y/n]..."

"Z-Zoro," your voice is etched with the weight of your tears, and though you think you should be embarrassed that a strong fighter such as you, crumbles in an enclosed space, those thoughts are beyond you. You just need to get out.

"Zoro, please- please I can't-"

Instantly, calloused hands reach for yours, and Zoro's worry increases tenfold as he feels the way you tremble beneath his gentle hold. You fight the fear that invades your senses as you feel your boyfriend pull your muttering form to the ground next to him and into his warm embrace. More tears spill as you feel one of Zoro's arms encircle you as though to shield you from what burdens you. You let out a gasping breath, feeling as though you were drowning in your fears.

"Z-Zoro..."

You bury your head into his chest and close your eyes tight as if to try and pretend that the two of you were just on the Sunny, lying in the comforts of your chambers. Zoro's heart aches against his chest at the feeling of you curling up against him, small and afraid of something he cannot save you from. He grits his teeth harshly as he thinks of the unknown amount of time the two of you may be stuck here for.

Soothing circles are splayed on your skin, a gentle murmur of words in the silence but still you keep your eyes shut and try to match your boyfriend's breathing.

"It's fine, woman. Nothing hurts you, as long as I'm here, remember?"

Zoro's voice is gruff in the ringing silence of the room, and if there was light and if you weren't so afraid, you would notice the blush on his cheeks as he murmurs his words to you. But instead, you feel his words cure the racing of your heart and slow the rate of your tears cascading down your face. You nod into him, relishing his warmth and strength and scent. Zoro merely holds you to him tighter.

You do not know the length of time that passes until Nami and Chopper appear from beyond the metal door, harsh light invading your senses. But all you know is that your boyfriend was quick to silently offer you a hand, never speaking of the fear that had reduced you to tears, but providing a gesture that silently promised he would protect you, from whatever you needed him to protect you from.

My top three feminist exploitations of male-default language. (Insp)

The east blue crew were so cute as kids🥰