Fractures In The Silence

Please do a part two of Queen Of Chaos!! 😭😭 Like with a plot twist of the reader having a secret relationship with a lazy laid back man (Kuzan) 😉 and they're all shock!! Please 🙏🏻🥺

hii! its a good idea but unfortunately, queen of chaos is one shot only >< hope u understand!!

Hii! Can you please write something for Garp? I mean the young Garp, he has my heart.

finally! someone gets it!! dahaha young garp is just 😋🥵

Clash of Fists and Hearts

In their early days as Marines, Garp and Y/n are the chaotic, unstoppable duo no one dares challenge — sparring with fists, flirting with grins, and slowly realizing they’re doomed for each other.

Young Garp × GN!Reader

tags: fluff, sfw, flirty banter, chaotic duo, friends-to-lovers vibes, cheesy

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

word count: 1k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The Marine base was buzzing with noise. Recruits barked drills across the training grounds, seagulls squawked overhead, and somewhere deep in the mess hall, someone dropped a tray with a resounding crash. But none of it compared to the chaos he brought with him.

"You call that a punch?!" Young Garp — brash, grinning, unstoppable — hollered across the field as he blocked a poor recruit’s trembling fist with one hand.

You sighed heavily from where you leaned against the base’s stone wall, arms crossed, watching him with a mixture of amusement and second-hand exhaustion.

"Maybe you should let the poor kid live, Garp," you called lazily. "You’re going to knock him into retirement before he even gets a pension."

Garp turned at your voice, that wild, boyish smile lighting up his face. "Hey! If he can’t survive me, how’s he gonna survive the Grand Line?"

The recruit looked like he might pass out at any second. You rolled your eyes and pushed off the wall, strolling over with a casual swagger that made Garp’s grin twitch wider.

"Maybe start with something a little less life-threatening," you teased, reaching out to ruffle the poor recruit’s hair. "Like paperwork."

Garp shuddered visibly. "Paperwork’s more dangerous than pirates."

You snorted. "Only because you can’t read half the time."

"Oi!" Garp barked a laugh and pointed at you, puffing up like a kid ready to wrestle. "Say that again, Y/n, and I’ll make you spar me instead!"

The challenge gleamed in his eyes. You raised an eyebrow, smirking. "I’m not scared of you, Monkey D. Garp."

The recruits nearest you gasped like you’d just insulted the gods themselves. One even dropped his sword. Garp whistled low, striding forward until he was towering over you, arms crossed over his broad chest.

"You should be." His voice dropped into something almost playful, almost daring.

Your heart skipped before you could scold it. You stood your ground, tilting your head up stubbornly. "Last time we sparred, you ended up eating dirt, remember?"

Garp barked out a laugh that turned every head on the field. "Only 'cause you cheated!" he accused, grinning like a fool. "You kissed me on the cheek, you sly bastard!"

Heat crept into your face. "It was a distraction!"

"A damn good one," he said, tapping his chin thoughtfully, still grinning that reckless grin. "Might’ve fallen a little bit in love with you after that."

You choked. The recruits exploded in scandalized whispers.

Garp leaned closer until you could see the crinkle of mischief around his eyes. "What’s wrong, Y/n? You can punch a Sea King but you can’t take a little flirting?"

You resisted the very strong urge to punch him instead — or kiss him again, you weren’t sure which would be worse.

Later that afternoon, you found yourself trapped with Garp in the base's strategy room, surrounded by piles of boring reports. This time, you were the one who dragged him in.

"If you don't finish this," you warned, slapping a thick folder into his calloused hands, "the commander said he'll make you scrub the training grounds with a toothbrush."

Garp scowled like you'd sentenced him to death. "Y/n... you're cruel. Beautiful, but cruel."

You snorted and kicked your boots up onto the table. "Flattery won't save you."

"It might," he said hopefully. When you didn't respond, he sighed dramatically, sprawling out on the chair like a defeated dog.

You watched him struggle through the first report, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. There was something weirdly endearing about it — this rough, reckless man trying (and failing) to look serious.

Without thinking, you plucked a pen from his ear (how did it even stay there?) and clicked it against his forehead. He looked up, blinking.

"You’re hopeless," you said fondly.

"And you're stuck with me," he shot back with a grin. "Unless you plan to jump ship?"

You shrugged. "Maybe. I hear that some pirates are recruiting."

Garp gasped, scandalized. "You traitor! I'll have to arrest you myself."

He lunged dramatically across the table. You yelped, laughing, trying to dodge — but he caught your wrist in a gentle, warm grip. The room stilled for a beat, laughter fading into something quieter.

"You’re not really going anywhere, right?" Garp said, voice low and suddenly serious.

You stared at him — at the raw, open trust in those reckless eyes. A slow smile curled your lips.

"Not unless you come with me, Monkey."

He beamed so brightly you thought you might go blind.

A Few Weeks Later

Word got around the base like wildfire. Garp and Y/n were a nightmare duo. During drills, they were unbeatable. During downtime, they were unbearable.

Their teasing matches were the stuff of legend. So were the unspoken glances. The way they always ended up side-by-side without realizing. The way they laughed louder together than with anyone else.

One evening, after a brutal round of training, you collapsed next to him under the fading sun. Both of you were dusted with dirt and sweat, chests heaving from exhaustion.

"You’re not half bad," you teased breathlessly, elbowing him.

Garp grinned, flashing those wolfish teeth. "You too. For a weakling."

You nudged him harder. He shoved back playfully, sending you sprawling onto the grass with a yelp. You caught his wrist before he could retreat, dragging him down with you in a chaotic heap.

There was a moment — a heartbeat where the world faded — and it was just the two of you, tangled together, breathing each other’s air.

You could feel the rumble of Garp’s laugh against your shoulder. "Maybe we should just stay like this," he said lazily. "Nice and comfy."

You rolled your eyes, pretending your heart wasn’t hammering. "You're heavy."

"Muscle weighs more than fat, sweetheart."

You slapped his arm lightly. "Keep sweet-talking me like that, and I might just marry you," you joked without thinking.

Garp stilled for a second. Then — "Good," he said, voice low and warm. "You’re mine anyway."

Your cheeks burned hotter than a cannon blast. But you didn’t pull away. And neither did he.

King’s Helmet Mystery

What the hell is under King’s helmet? You're determined to find out. King’s patience? Running thin. Your schemes? Ridiculous. His reactions? Surprisingly flustered.

King X gn! reader | ONE SHOT

tags: fluff, sfw, ooc king, slight v!olence

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

word count: 1k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The day you joined the Beasts Pirates, you swore you’d never fall for anyone on the crew. They were all either terrifying, annoying, or both.

Then you saw King.

And more importantly—you saw his helmet.

It wasn’t love at first sight. No, it was curiosity. Burning, rabid, downright obsessive curiosity.

“Why do you always wear that helmet?” you had asked on day three of being around him.

King didn’t even look at you. “None of your business.”

So obviously, that meant game on.

Phase One: Casual Questions (Totally Not Interrogation)

You began with subtlety.

“Hey, King, don’t you get hot in that thing?” you asked, leaning on a crate next to him.

“I don’t feel it,” he replied flatly.

“Must be sweaty in there though.”

“No.”

“What if you get an itch?”

“I don’t.”

“…What if a bird poops on it?”

He turned his head slightly. “Why would a bird—?”

“Just saying. You’d never know. Could be walking around with mystery poop on your face all day.”

King walked away.

You followed.

Phase Two: Bribery

You slid a pristine box of limited-edition dango on the table.

“I’ll give you all of these if you just lift it. Half an inch. One second.”

“No.”

“I won’t even look!”

“You’ll look.”

“…You’re right, I would.”

King didn’t budge.

So you tried again with spicy sake, rare fruits, a handmade lava-resistant scarf, and even a knitted plush version of him that you personally stitched.

He didn’t even glance at them.

Though you did catch him later discreetly carrying the plush to his room.

Phase Three: Stealth Mission (Failed)

In the dead of night, you tiptoed through the dim corridors of Onigashima’s fortress. You had intel. King always removed his armor to sleep. You just needed a peek.

You pressed your ear against the sliding door of his room. Silent.

Then you slowly slid the door open and—

“Nice try,” King’s voice cut through the dark. You screamed.

He was still wearing the damn helmet in bed.

“I—okay, first off, do you SLEEP with that on?!”

“Yes.”

“…Do you shower with it?”

“Yes.”

You blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

King smirked under the helmet.

Or at least you imagined he did.

He always had that smug aura like he was eternally amused by your suffering.

You sulked for a week.

Phase Four: Drastic Measures

You made a PowerPoint presentation.

No, really.

You dragged King into the briefing room and stood in front of a projected slide that read “TOP 10 REASONS TO SHOW ME YOUR FACE (PLEASE).”

“I made charts,” you announced.

King just stood there, arms crossed, flames dancing on his back.

“Reason One: Friendship. Friends share secrets. Boom.”

“Not friends.”

“Okay, Reason Two: I’ve literally never told anyone your height, weight, wingspan, or bedtime even though I definitely know all of those things and could sell that info to fangirls.”

King tilted his head. “Do you have fangirls?”

You blinked. “We’re not talking about me.”

By Reason Six (“For Science!”) and Reason Nine (“Because I said pretty please”), King stood and left the room.

You considered it a soft win.

Phase Five: The Disguise Plan

You put on a replica of his armor.

“Guess what?” you said, stomping around dramatically. “I’m you now.”

King didn’t even look up from polishing his sword.

You strutted in front of him, wings flapping. “Look at me, I’m so cool. I’m scary. Ooooh, no one knows my face. I’ve got MYSTERIES.”

“You look ridiculous.”

“Thank you.”

He sighed. “You have work to do.”

“Oh? So does King! He needs to show me his face before I LOSE my mind.”

Still nothing.

But Sasaki did walk by and immediately drop his drink at the sight of you.

“Why are there two of them now?!”

King groaned.

You cackled.

Phase Six: Reverse Psychology (and Screaming)

“Y’know what?” you said over dinner one night, loud enough for the whole table to hear. “I don’t even care what King looks like. Probably has a dumb face.”

The whole table froze.

King looked up, one brow probably raised under the helmet.

“Maybe he’s got, like, two noses,” you continued, chomping down on a rice ball. “Or maybe it’s just all teeth. Like a shark. Disgusting.”

“Why are you so obsessed with him then?” Jack muttered.

“I’M NOT.”

You totally were.

“Maybe you’re just in love with him,” Queen teased.

You choked on your drink.

King stood up without a word and left the room.

You internally screamed.

Phase Seven: The Fluffy Flop

After months of trying, you finally gave up. You sat on a cliffside just beyond the fortress, legs dangling, wind whipping through your hair.

“I give up,” you sighed to no one. “Maybe he does have teeth for a face.”

“Doubt it.”

You yelped.

King landed next to you, wings folding.

You scooted a little.

“…Sorry if I annoyed you.”

“You do.”

You sighed.

But he stayed.

You sat in silence, watching the moonlight reflect off the water.

“…It’s not about hiding,” King said suddenly. “It’s about surviving.”

You turned your head, surprised.

“I don’t care what people think. But I care about what they do. Especially if they knew what I am.”

You stared at him.

And then, for once, you said nothing snarky. Just nodded. “Okay.”

The Day the Helmet Came Off

It was during a battle.

You got hit—hard—and thrown across the battlefield, crashing into debris.

Everything spun.

Then—flames.

You blinked up to see King standing over you, face uncovered, the pieces of his helmet cracked and steaming beside him.

“…Whoa,” you whispered.

He was beautiful.

Strong jaw, red markings, piercing golden eyes. Sharp, fierce. Yet soft. Not what you imagined.

“Are you okay?” he asked, kneeling beside you.

You blinked. “You—your face—”

“Don’t say anything.”

You nodded dumbly.

He helped you up, hand lingering on your waist longer than necessary.

You whispered, “Definitely not all teeth.”

King groaned.

.

.

.

He wore the helmet again the next day.

You didn’t push.

But when no one else was around, he lifted it just enough to let you see his eyes.

You grinned. “I knew you liked me.”

King rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

You leaned in and kissed his cheek.

He didn't move away.

Mission accomplished.

And you didn’t even need PowerPoint this time.

Doctor Trafalgar, Love Expert?

Law gives terrible love advice to Penguin while clearly ignoring his own painfully obvious crush on you.

Law X gn! reader | ONE SHOT tags: fluff, sfw, friends-to-lovers typeshi(?) law being timid a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe word count: 1.1k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

If there was one thing Trafalgar Law wasn’t qualified to do, it was give romantic advice.

Sure, he was a brilliant surgeon, a pirate captain, and had a smirk that could make a nun sin, but when it came to feelings—specifically his own—he was a flaming shipwreck in a storm of emotional denial.

And yet, here he was, arms crossed, giving unsolicited love advice to Penguin like he was the therapist from a soap opera.

“Just tell her she’s inefficient,” Law said with a straight face. “It’s a compliment.”

Bepo blinked up at him. “...Captain, I don’t think calling Penguin’s crush inefficient is going to help his chances.”

“You asked for honesty,” Law muttered, flipping through his medical journal like it was more interesting than this disaster in progress. “Efficiency is attractive.”

“To you, maybe!”

You, meanwhile, were watching this entire trainwreck from the galley door with a cup of tea and the kind of secondhand embarrassment that deserved its own trauma counseling.

“Law,” you called. “Did you just say ‘inefficient’ as a flirting tactic?”

He didn’t even look up. “It’s a practical compliment.”

You snorted. “What’s next? ‘Your presence improves my survival odds by 6.4%’?”

“…Depending on the environment, that’s a generous estimate.”

You and Bepo shared a look. A look that screamed, Why is this our captain?

The whole thing had started that morning when Penguin had walked into the common area in a flurry of nerves and confessed, “I think I like someone.”

Law, who’d been reading while pretending not to be listening to music in one earbud (yes, he still used wired ones, don’t ask), barely lifted his gaze. “Then tell them.”

Penguin shuffled. “It’s not that easy.”

“It’s the truth.”

“And what if they don’t like me back?”

Law gave the emotional equivalent of a shrug. “Then adapt. Rejection is survivable.”

Penguin groaned from the couch. “Cap, you can’t treat love like it’s battle tactics.”

“It’s a high-risk operation involving fragile variables and potential bloodshed. Sounds pretty accurate.”

Shachi nodded. “Okay, that’s fair, but also incredibly bleak.”

And that’s when Law was voluntold by everyone that if he was going to act like he knew how love worked, he had to give actual advice.

Hence: Doctor Trafalgar, Love Expert?

“Okay,” you said, taking the empty seat beside him and plucking the journal from his hands. “If you’re so good at giving advice, help me out.”

Law narrowed his eyes. “With what?”

“I think someone likes me,” you said casually, leaning back like you weren’t about to stir up the most delicious chaos. “But I can’t tell if they’re just awkward or trying to be subtle.”

His jaw tightened. “Who is it?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s why I need your expert opinion.”

Law closed the journal and set it down very deliberately.

Everyone in the room went very still. Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi exchanged silent screams with their eyebrows.

“Well,” Law said coolly. “What are the signs?”

“Hmm,” you hummed. “They hover a lot. Make excuses to talk to me. Kind of avoid eye contact but also stare when they think I’m not looking.”

His eye twitched. “Stare?”

“Yeah. And once, they brought me extra rice even though I didn’t ask.”

Silence.

Law stood up. “That’s suspicious.”

“Oh?”

“Sounds like they’re trying too hard.”

“Ohhh?” you said, biting back a smile.

“They’re probably nervous. Emotionally constipated. Bad at expressing feelings.” He said all this like he wasn’t describing himself to an absurdly accurate degree. “Possibly repressed.”

“Should I confront them?”

“No,” he said quickly, a little too quickly. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“It might scare them away.”

“But if they like me…”

“Then wait for them to say something first.”

Bepo coughed. “So… basically just let them suffer in silence?”

“It builds character,” Law said.

You covered your mouth to hide your grin. “You’re such a romantic.”

Law’s ears turned pink. “Shut up.”

Later that day, Shachi cornered you near the engine room with a look of deep judgment.

“You’re torturing him.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

He pointed a wrench at you. “You know he likes you.”

“Do I?”

“You’ve been fake-flirting with a ghost for the last week just to get him to react!”

You smirked. “It’s good cardio.”

Shachi groaned. “He’s gonna combust. I saw him look up love confession rituals on his snail phone last night.”

Your eyes widened. “No.”

“Yes! And he accidentally joined a forum for single dads in North Blue.”

You wheezed. “He’s going through it.”

“So help him out!”

“…Fine.”

The opportunity came the next morning when you walked into the kitchen and found Law staring at a mug of coffee like it had personally betrayed him.

He didn’t look up when you entered, just mumbled, “Morning.”

“Morning,” you said, walking over. “Sleep okay?”

He made a grunt of vague disapproval.

You sat beside him. “Thinking about your crush?”

He choked on his coffee.

“I mean,” you said, oh-so-innocently. “That mystery person you gave advice about.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re very nosy.”

“You’re very obvious.”

He gave you a look. “I don’t have a crush.”

You tilted your head. “Are you sure? Because everyone on this ship seems to think you do.”

“Everyone on this ship is bored.”

“Bored enough to notice how you go quiet when I talk, how you walk into rooms I’m in and pretend it’s for unrelated reasons, or how you stare at my lips when I eat dessert?”

He went dead silent.

You leaned closer. “So. Doctor Trafalgar. Any prescriptions for yourself?”

“…Shut up,” he muttered, face flushed.

You blinked. “Wait. That was a confession.”

He got up.

You grabbed his wrist.

He froze.

“Hey,” you said, suddenly softer. “I like you too, dumbass.”

He blinked.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out a little red candy. “I was going to make you say it first, but you looked like you were about to diagnose yourself with heartbreak.”

He blinked again.

“…You like me?”

“God, yes. Even when you’re being a brick wall with nice tattoos.”

“…I have more than just tattoos,” he muttered.

You grinned. “Yeah, you’ve also got a charming inability to express affection. It’s cute.”

He shook his head. “You’re insufferable.”

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m leaving.”

“You’re still holding my hand.”

Pause.

He looked down.

He was.

“…Tch.”

You laughed and tugged him back down. “Stay.”

“…Fine.”

Later, Penguin came in to find the two of you sitting shoulder to shoulder, quietly sharing a plate of snacks.

“Captain?” Penguin said, tilting his head. “Did you take your own advice?”

Law didn’t look up. “No.”

You grinned. “He took mine.”

Where were you? I didn't know you existed.

Hello, I'll be your new follower. You have wonderful stories.

but I would like to request one please

Gol D. Ann oh Portgas D Anne oh simply Anne the younger blood sister of Ace Portgas and sworn sister of Luffy and Sabo

Unlike her siblings, she followed the path of her adoptive grandfather Garp and became a marine. Against all odds, with the help of Garp, who hid his identity. But she was assigned as a pupil of Admiral Akainu, who trained her severely (unaware that she was the daughter and sister of two pirates). With her great talent, and as Akainu's pupil, the young woman rose rapidly within the Navy, rising to the rank of Rear Admiral of the Fleet.

Nobody knew that the young woman they believed to be loyal to the navy fell into the clutches of love, and none other than a pirate, and not just any pirate, but one who is a friend of her brother, Marco the Phoenix.

After her brother Ace was captured by the Navy, her grandfather forbade her from visiting him in the jungles. He even somehow arranged for her to be assigned a special mission so she wouldn't participate in the execution. Or rather, so she wouldn't intervene, since Garp knew her well.

When Akainu attacked Luffy and Ace stepped in. A small figure wrapped in a large white cloak Was wearing a clown mask Stayed in the middle with a Haki-filled sword between Akainu's sword arm and Ace's back She was able to briefly stop the enormous blow of power, using everything she had and managed to knock Akainu back a couple of steps But sacrificing her swords and mask The boys, upon seeing who it was, froze when they recognized her Ace An Luffy sister Anne didn't say anything, her eyes were on Akainu, she knew he shouldn't let his guard down Although he also seemed somewhat confused As did the other pirates nearby and a certain blond man who was covering his face with his hand Anne, idiot, that's a terrible way to block it, you almost ruined everything. You still haven't learned Haki by looking at his brothers. Approaching and kicking them hard, they landed right in Jimbe's arms. That's your way out, Sea Knight Jimbe. No, wait, Anne, the boys shouted as Jimbe started running again.

Akainu looked at the young woman, disappointed. While Anne wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of her lips, The traitorous Akainu prepared to attack Anne, but before that, Whitebeard attacked him. Anne's hands were still shaking from holding the swords so tightly. She gave up on the rest, feeling dizzy. But before she could fall, Marco held her.

Marco Anne, idiot Anne, calm down, it's fine. Order the retreat. Then you'll discipline me, looking at her lover with a smile.

Please excuse me for bothering you. I'm sure you can make something of that information and create a great story that humiliates Akainu, saves Ace, and makes Anne and Marco fall in love. I can give you a little gift if you want

thank u for the compliments! im glad u like my works, also thank u and no need for gifts but i appreciate it either way! <3 here u go! its not well written but, i hope u like it! 😅

Where the Fire Lives

In the chaos of Marineford, Anne risks everything — her life, her duty, her heart — to save the brothers she swore to protect.

Marco the phoenix x female oc

tags: slight angst, soft, sfw, ooc, near-death experience, platonic bonds, hidden identity, happy ending, oc, bl00d/v!olence

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

word count: 3.3k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The sun was merciless in Marineford as Rear Admiral Anne stood at perfect attention, her fists behind her back, posture drilled into her over years of Akainu's brutal training. Her dark navy coat fluttered slightly in the sea breeze, the crimson sash at her waist marking her as a Rear Admiral. Her name—simply "Anne"—was carved into the records of the Marines as one of its youngest rising stars, a combat prodigy in the mold of Garp the Hero.

Everyone knew she was Garp’s adoptive granddaughter. But no one knew she was the daughter of Gol D. Roger, or the blood sister of Portgas D. Ace. And only a precious few knew that when she vanished from Marineford for a week every few months, she was disappearing into the arms of Marco the Phoenix.

“Rear Admiral Anne,” came a sharp voice behind her.

She didn’t need to turn to know it was Sakazuki—Admiral Akainu.

“Reporting, Admiral,” she answered smoothly.

“You’ve been assigned to eliminate the remnants of the Valkor Pirates in West Blue,” Akainu growled, his boots echoing on the stone dock. “I want their ship sunk. No survivors.”

Anne internally winced, knowing Capone Valkor’s crew was more bark than bite these days. But she nodded. “Understood, Admiral.”

Akainu narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t disappoint me, girl.”

She didn’t flinch. “I never do.”

“Anne!”

She barely dodged the flaming cannonball that tore through the mast behind her.

“Geez, Valkor’s boys are still this reckless?” she muttered, haki flaring around her fists.

In under five minutes, she dispatched the entire crew—most of whom leapt overboard after she shattered the deck with a single haki-charged stomp.

A call came through her Den Den Mushi as she stood triumphantly among the wreckage. “Mission complete. All enemies neutralized.”

“Very good, Rear Admiral~” came the smooth, amused voice of Borsalino—Admiral Kizaru. “Though you might’ve left a few more survivors. Paperwork, you know.”

“I’ll bring you souvenirs next time,” Anne deadpanned.

A week later, Anne was standing under the starlight of Sabaody Archipelago, pretending to look out over the ocean. But she wasn’t waiting for the view. She was waiting for him.

“You’re late,” she said as a blue flame flickered into existence behind her.

Marco emerged in full phoenix mode before shifting into his human form, brushing off his coat with a sheepish grin. “I’m technically a pirate. Time management isn’t our strong suit-yoi”

Anne turned to face him. “You’re lucky you’re handsome.”

“You’re lucky I like Marines with secrets-yoi” Marco shot back.

She smirked. “Careful, Marco. If Akainu ever finds out I’m dating a pirate, he’ll turn me into a lava puddle.”

He kissed her forehead. “He’d have to get through me first-yoi”

They didn’t talk about the danger of their affair. About how, if her identity as Gol D. Roger’s daughter came to light, the world would shatter.

Two months later, Anne was aboard a Marine ship tracking pirate movements in the New World.

“Rear Admiral,” a young Ensign called. “Reports indicate Portgas D. Ace was spotted with Whitebeard’s crew nearby.”

Anne tensed, then forced a casual shrug. “We’ll move in. Be cautious.”

As they neared the island, she took point, moving ahead of her men. The moment she landed, a burst of fire greeted her.

“I was wondering when the Marines would show up,” Ace called from a cliff.

Anne smirked. “You’re not as impressive in person as your bounty poster.”

Ace blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Portgas D. Ace. 550 million berries. Famous for being reckless and wearing the same shorts in every poster.”

Ace gawked. “Anne, it’s me! You’re seriously pretending we don’t know each other?”

She gave him a warning glare. “Keep your voice down, idiot.”

From behind a boulder, Marco peeked out with a choked laugh.

“Wait,” Ace whispered harshly, realizing. “You’re… oh no. You’re the Rear Admiral who Marco’s been sneaking off to see?”

Anne just crossed her arms, utterly unimpressed. “Congratulations. You’ve blown three secrets in ten seconds.”

Whitebeard’s laughter could be heard from the distance. “I like this girl. Smart and terrifying.”

Ace tried to recover, pointing dramatically at her. “She’s not that scary!”

Anne kicked him in the stomach.

He landed on Marco, groaning. “Okay. I take that back.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Anne sat with Marco on the edge of the cliff, feet dangling.

“Someday, all of this is going to fall apart,” she murmured.

Marco nodded. “And when it does?”

She squeezed his hand. “I’ll still choose you.”

He smiled. “You’re the only Marine I’d ever break the world for-yoi”

They watched the stars together, unaware that soon, everything would change.

Rear Admiral Anne stood at the training grounds of Marineford, sweat glistening down her brow as she completed her fifth round of drills. Her haki-enhanced strikes shattered practice dummies with ease. Spectators—young recruits and seasoned captains alike—watched with a mix of awe and wariness.

"She's terrifying," one whispered. "Like Vice-Admiral Garp, but with fewer laughs and more death stares."

Anne sheathed her sword and rolled her shoulders. She had a rendezvous scheduled soon, but appearances needed maintaining.

"Rear Admiral Anne," Vice Admiral Tsuru approached, folding her arms behind her back. "I heard your last mission was executed flawlessly."

Anne gave a crisp salute. "Yes, ma'am. Pirate remnants neutralized. Minimal Marine casualties."

Tsuru's eyes twinkled. "Good. You're making waves, girl. Maybe even too many."

Before Anne could answer, a new voice chimed in.

"Too many waves means you’re swimming upstream. Dangerous for someone your size."

Anne groaned inwardly. "Hello, Aokiji-san."

Admiral Aokiji, casually dressed even in the fortress of order that was Marineford, gave her a lazy nod. "I saw your form earlier. Your haki’s improving. You punch like a cannon now."

"Thanks," she replied dryly. "Maybe one day I’ll hit hard enough to knock the lazy out of you."

"Scary." Aokiji mock shivered.

Tsuru chuckled and dismissed herself. As she left, Garp appeared from a nearby barracks hallway, munching on rice crackers.

"Brat," he barked.

Anne turned. "Grandpa."

Garp waved away a few curious recruits and yanked her into his office.

The moment the door closed, he slammed a fist into the desk, causing it to groan. "You’ve been meeting with that Phoenix boy again, haven’t you!?"

Anne didn't deny it. "Yes. And before you say anything—I’m not stupid. We’re careful."

"Careful won’t stop an imprisonment if someone finds out. You think Sengoku wouldn’t throw you in Impel Down if he knew what you’ve been doing—"

"I know, Grandpa." Her voice cracked, soft but firm. "I know the weight I carry. I chose this life because you believed I could change things from inside. I still believe that. But I won’t stop seeing Marco."

Garp sighed, sitting heavily. "You remind me too much of your brothers sometimes."

Anne smiled faintly. "Isn’t that a compliment?"

Garp just shoved more crackers into his mouth and grumbled. "Don't do something you’ll regret!”

That night, under the shroud of darkness and an overcast sky, Anne rendezvoused with Marco again—this time on a quiet island dock in the New World. After exchanging a few quiet, stolen moments together, Marco's expression shifted from his usual warm smile to something a bit more serious, as if he was weighing his words carefully.

“Weeks without seeing you feels like three years,” Marco murmured as he landed in his hybrid form.

Anne leaned into him. “Says the man who literally caught fire to dodge my last message Den Den.”

He chuckled. “You scare me when you're annoyed. And your last note said, ‘We need to talk.’ That’s usually not romantic-yoi"

“I had to make it sound like a Marine order. Just in case.”

Marco lifted her chin. “You sure you still want this? With everything heating up out there… war might not be far.”

Anne nodded, gaze resolute. “I’m sure. Besides… my heart decided before my rank did.”

They kissed, long and desperate, like time itself might steal the moment. For now, there were no emblems. No ranks. Just warmth.

"Anne," Marco sighed, his brow furrowing. "I need to talk to you about something serious. Teach killed thatch and stole his devil fruit…and Ace—he's going after teach-yoi"

Anne’s face grew serious as she listened, her heart tightening with concern. "He’s after teach?" she repeated softly, her mind racing. "Marco, I’ve got bad feelings for this… this bad feeling that something’s off. I don’t want him to go after Teach without understanding what he’s truly up against."

Marco nodded, but his worry didn't quite vanish from his eyes.

Later, after the night faded into silence and after they shared their warmth in a stolen kiss, Anne left with a heavy heart.

A few weeks passed before Anne crossed paths with Ace again. This time, he was alone, his usual smirk replaced by something harder, a look that spoke of a man who had made a decision. She stopped dead in her tracks as their gazes locked. “Ace,” Anne’s voice cut through the silence between them. “I heard. About Teach. You’ve got to be careful. He’s not someone you can just take down with fire alone.” She looked at her brother, seeing the stubbornness in his eyes, but also the uncertainty that she had been fearing. “Promise me you’ll be cautious.” Ace chuckled, ruffling Anne’s hair. “Of course. You’re still the overprotective little sister, huh?” But then his expression softened. “I’ll be careful, Anne. I’m not looking to get myself killed. But Teach won’t just sit around. I need to end this before it spirals out of control.” Anne nodded, her voice quiet but firm. “I know. Just don’t let that man get the better of you.” She kissed his cheek before pulling away, her eyes scanning the horizon like she could see the storm brewing in the distance. “And I’ll make sure Marco knows how to get in touch with me, in case things go sideways.”

Back at Marineford that evening, Anne stood atop the tower, looking at the sea.

She felt a presence behind her and spoke without turning.

“Kizaru-san. What now?”

The Admiral leaned casually against the railing. “You’re quite the enigma, Anne-chan~”

“Am I?”

“You train like a soldier, vanish like a thief, and fight like a demon...Even Sakazuki’s starting to wonder...about you~”

Anne stayed silent.

Kizaru smiled faintly. “You remind me of Roger’s crew... I fought them once, you know...Your eyes? Same fire~”

Her heart stuttered.

“But~” he continued, “you fight for us... So I won’t ask questions... Not yet~”

He vanished in a glimmer of light, leaving her breathless.

Later that night, Anne found herself in Garp’s office again.

“You’re being watched,” he warned her.

“I know.”

He sighed. “Something’s coming, Anne. You need to decide which side you’re truly on.”

She looked up, eyes glowing with resolve. “I already chose. I just don’t think the world’s ready for that choice yet.”

The jungles of the New World were thick and wild, but Anne moved through them like a ghost, her mind elsewhere.

She should have been at Marineford. She should have been at her brother’s side.

Instead, her grandfather Garp had sent her here, on a special mission. A mission that conveniently kept her far from Ace’s execution. Anne wasn’t stupid. She knew exactly what Garp had done — and why.

He knows I would have tried to stop it.

And he was right.

Because no matter her rank, no matter her duty, she would have torn the world apart to protect Ace and Luffy.

The day of the execution, Anne felt it.

The shift in the air.

The roaring Haki that seemed to tear the sky apart.

The terror.

Without thinking, she dropped everything. Her orders, her mission — none of it mattered. She boarded a small craft and forced it through the raging seas toward Marineford, her heart pounding louder than the crashing waves.

She arrived in the middle of chaos.

The war was already at its peak. Pirates and Marines clashed like titans across the shattered ice and broken ships. Screams filled the air. Blood stained the ground.

Anne didn’t hesitate.

She threw a large white cloak over herself, pulled a battered clown mask over her face, and sprinted toward the execution platform.

She arrived just in time to see Akainu aiming a killing blow at Luffy’s exposed back.

Ace moved instinctively — but Anne moved faster.

With a burst of Haki, she hurled herself between Akainu’s magma fist and Ace. Her sword, coated in everything she had left, clashed against the Admiral's burning attack.

The ground shook beneath them.

Anne gritted her teeth, feeling her arms tremble violently from the impact. Her sword cracked under the overwhelming heat and pressure, and her mask shattered, falling from her face.

The world seemed to freeze.

Ace’s eyes widened in horror.

“Anne?!” Ace gasped, horror and relief blending in his voice.

Anne’s lips curled into a small, defiant smile, even as blood dripped down her chin.

She didn’t speak. She couldn't. All she could do was push with everything she had.

For one, brief, shining second — she knocked Akainu back.

The Admiral stumbled, his magma fist withdrawing for the first time.

Anne staggered, the broken remains of her swords falling from her hands. She barely registered the shocked gasps from the surrounding pirates — or the way a certain blond man was covering his face with a shaking hand.

"Anne, you idiot," Marco muttered under his breath, torn between pride and absolute panic.

Anne wiped the blood from her mouth and turned her head just enough to see Ace and Luffy, still frozen in shock.

"Go," she rasped, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Now."

You ended up kicking both Ace and Luffy square in the stomach, sending them flying into Jimbe's waiting arms.

“Jinbe!” Marco barked. “Get them the hell out of here!”

“No! Anne!” Luffy screamed, reaching out as Jinbe grabbed him and bolted, Ace struggling in his grip.

Anne didn’t turn to look. She couldn’t.

Her focus was still locked onto Akainu, who had recovered from his stumble and was now glaring at her with cold fury.

“You… traitorous brat!” Akainu growled, his fists crackling with magma. “You dare betray justice!?”

Anne gave a tired, mocking smile. "If your 'justice' means killing my brothers," she said hoarsely, "then I'll betray it a thousand times over."

Anne dropped into a shaky stance, barely able to lift her fists. She didn't care about justice anymore.

All she cared about was Ace and Luffy’s safety.

Akainu charged, magma exploding from the ground around him. Anne dodged and weaved, her body moving on instinct, using her smaller size and speed to slip past his heavy, devastating blows.

A magma fist scorched the air inches from her face — she spun under it and slashed his side with a quick, Haki-laced strike, leaving a shallow cut across his coat.

The nearby pirates gawked.

Anne, barely able to stand minutes ago, had injured an Admiral.

Akainu snarled in fury and attacked again, faster and more vicious.

Anne ducked under a molten punch, then headbutted his chin with a burst of Haki so fierce it sent him staggering back two steps.

The Whitebeard Pirates watching in the distance let out a stunned cheer.

"Get him, brat!" someone yelled.

Anne wiped the blood from her forehead, grinning fiercely.

"What's wrong, Akainu?!" she taunted, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Getting beaten by a 'brat' half your size?"

Akainu’s face twisted in rage, steam pouring from his body.

He slammed his fists into the ground, magma exploding upward in a deadly wave.

Anne charged right through it.

Her cloak caught fire. Her boots melted. But she kept going — straight at him.

With a wild, reckless cry, she jumped and drove the hilt of her broken sword into his face, cracking his nose with a brutal crunch.

The battlefield fell silent.

Anne landed in a crouch, panting hard, the remains of her sword still clutched tightly.

Akainu staggered back, one hand flying to his bleeding nose.

The Admiral of Absolute Justice, humiliated — by a girl he once called nothing more than a "soldier."

Anne smirked up at him, cocky despite the blood dripping from her mouth.

But it couldn't last.

The moment passed.

Akainu roared, his entire body exploding with magma and fury, and Anne had no more strength left to dodge.

She raised her battered arms in a last, defiant stance—

Akainu surged forward, rage burning brighter than ever—but before his blow could land, a massive quake shook the battlefield.

Whitebeard.

The old pirate crashed into Akainu with a roar, sending the Admiral flying back with a devastating blow of his bisento.

Anne gasped for breath, her vision swimming. Her legs buckled—

—and Marco caught her before she hit the ground.

"Anne," Marco muttered, his voice thick with emotion. He cradled her against him, his hands glowing faintly with phoenix energy to try and slow her bleeding.

"Marco," she whispered weakly, clinging to his jacket.

"You idiot," he repeated, forehead pressing briefly against hers. "You almost got yourself killed."

Anne gave a faint, bloodied smile. "But… worth it, right?"

Marco swallowed hard. He couldn’t deny it. She had saved Ace. She had saved all of them.

He lifted her easily into his arms. “We’re retreating. Now.”

As the Whitebeard Pirates gathered to pull back, carrying their wounded and fallen, Anne closed her eyes against Marco’s chest, finally letting the exhaustion consume her.

Aftermath

Anne woke up to the sound of the ocean.

She was aboard a ship — not a Marine ship, but one of the Whitebeard Pirates’ vessels.

Her body ached from head to toe. Every muscle screamed in protest. Her hands were wrapped in thick bandages, her ribs tightly bound.

She tried to sit up — and immediately fell back with a groan.

“Don’t even try it.”

Marco’s voice drifted from the side of her bed. She turned her head to see him sitting there, arms crossed, looking more exhausted than she’d ever seen him.

"You broke both your arms, cracked three ribs, burned your hands, and gave yourself a concussion," he said flatly. "And somehow you still thought it was a good idea to stand in front of Akainu."

Anne winced. "Is Ace…?"

Marco’s expression softened.

"He’s safe. Thanks to you. Him and Luffy both."

Anne sagged with relief, tears burning her eyes. She scrubbed at them weakly with the back of her bandaged hand.

Marco reached out and caught her hand gently.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "For saving our family."

Anne squeezed his fingers weakly. "Always."

Meanwhile, back at Marine Headquarters:

Garp sat on the edge of a ruined wall, staring blankly at the sea.

Sengoku stood beside him, arms folded.

"You knew she’d do it," Sengoku said quietly.

Garp let out a loud, boasting laugh. "Of course I did! She's my granddaughter after all!"

He closed his eyes.

“She’s got the blood of monster running through her veins. And the heart of a fool.”

Sengoku didn't argue. He simply laid a hand on Garp’s shoulder and squeezed once, silently.

They had all lost today.

And yet, somehow, Anne had managed to save something precious.

Later, on the Whitebeard ship:

Under the blanket of stars, Anne sat on the deck, wrapped in a thick coat, watching the ocean drift by. Her hands still trembled, but she didn’t mind.

Marco dropped down beside her, handing her a cup of hot tea.

They sat in silence for a long time, the night air cool and salty.

Finally, Anne spoke.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"For what?"

"For worrying you."

Marco snorted quietly. "You're a pirate now, Anne. Worrying me is part of the deal."

She gave him a crooked smile.

Then, softly, Marco reached over and pressed his forehead against hers again.

"You’re family now," he murmured. "And we protect our own."

Anne closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his presence against the cold night.

For the first time since the war had started, she let herself believe—

Maybe everything wasn't lost after all.

Thoughts on Prince from SWORD? Would you write something for him?

hmmm, he a lowk fine shyt w his silly hat so yea, i might write something for him in the future, since i dont have any ideas for him just yet. but if u have lmk!!

shanks x reader with a cat-like or cat based zoan devil fruit?

sounds cool www

Claws, Cuddles, and Catnip Chaos

Shanks will do anything to win over the crew’s mischievous cat-like Devil Fruit user—even if it means competing with Benn and surviving a sneak-attack nap.

shanks x reader | ONE SHOT tags: fluff, sfw, light romance, nap cuddles, clingy antics, catnip a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff a bit cringe, akward, and confusing word count: 991

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

There were exactly three things the Red-Haired Pirates learned about you very quickly:

You were a certified menace in a cat’s body.

You had zero respect for personal space—unless it was Shanks’s.

You absolutely, unapologetically favored Benn Beckman.

"She purrs for you, Benn?! I've fed her, I've scratched her ears, I even gave her that weird fish jerky from Dressrosa!"

Shanks was sulking—again—as you laid sprawled across Benn’s lap like a lazy feline sunbathing, flicking your tail with royal indifference while he casually stroked between your ears.

“She lets me pet her when she’s in a good mood,” Benn replied calmly, taking a drag of his cigar. “Maybe try not throwing her off your shoulder when she lands there mid-meeting.”

“She knocked over seven mugs in ten seconds!”

“I was clearing the table for snacks,” you muttered, not opening your eyes.

“You yeeted a map. Into the ocean.”

You rolled onto your back, belly up, tail flicking toward Benn’s arm. “Benny understands me. Right, Benny?”

Benn chuckled, slow and satisfied. “You’re a little gremlin, but you’re my gremlin.”

Shanks practically burst into flames from jealousy. “That’s MY gremlin!”

"Ownership implies consent," you said, still not moving.

“You SLEPT ON HIS DESK FOR THREE HOURS!”

“I was asserting dominance.”

Shanks’s eye twitched.

Flashback: The “Desk Incident”

You’d sauntered into the war room mid-strategy meeting, tail high, whiskers twitching with curiosity. No one questioned it. You did this all the time.

Except this time, instead of knocking over a globe or licking a compass like a weirdo, you simply walked across the table, plopped down on Benn’s open map, and curled up into a ball.

Then you snored.

For three hours.

Shanks tried to nudge you off gently at first.

You bit him.

When Benn reached over and scratched your chin, you purred like a motorboat and flopped onto your side.

"Traitor," Shanks muttered.

Back to the Present

"Alright, that's it," Shanks declared, standing on a barrel dramatically. "From now on, I'm enacting Operation: Make Cat Fall in Love with Me."

Benn raised an eyebrow. "That’s the name you’re going with?"

"YES," Shanks snapped. "Step one: catnip. Step two: fish. Step three: ultimate snuggles."

"She’ll see right through it," Benn said, but he was smirking.

You stretched and yawned loudly. “I can hear you, you know.”

“I’m not hiding it!” Shanks declared. “I’m wooing you.”

“Woo me and you die.”

“You’re saying that now,” he said, pointing dramatically. “But just wait.”

Operation: Catastrophic Success

Step one was—predictably—catnip.

You were wise to his games this time, narrowing your eyes at the sprig he dangled like a bribe.

“I’m not falling for it again.”

“Come on,” Shanks wheedled. “Just a sniff.”

“Nope.”

Shanks leaned in, holding it under your nose like a shady merchant. “High-quality, imported, no sticks.”

You hissed and batted it out of his hand.

Then you lunged and stuffed it in your shirt.

“…I said I wasn’t falling for it, not that I was above stealing it.”

Shanks blinked. “...Fair.”

Step Two: Fish Diplomacy

Shanks cooked. Personally.

The crew avoided the galley like it was on fire.

When you walked in, the smell of something vaguely edible reached your nose. Shanks stood with a crooked smile, apron inside out, face smudged with flour, and a suspiciously burnt fish in hand.

“For you.”

You sniffed it.

You stared.

“Did… did you use rum instead of oil?”

“I panicked!”

You padded over to Benn and took the jerky he always kept in his coat pocket.

Shanks’s soul left his body.

Step Three: Ultimate Snuggles

It happened completely by accident.

You were curled up on your usual sunspot near the helm, tail twitching softly as the Red Force cut through calm seas. You’d been lounging near Benn earlier, of course, but he’d gone to smoke and you felt… restless.

The sun was warm.

The wind was soft.

Shanks was lying in the hammock like a lounging idiot, one leg up, book on his face, softly snoring.

And for some reason, your legs just walked over. Your ears twitched. Your instincts went haywire.

And before you could even think, you leapt into the hammock like a heat-seeking missile and curled up on his chest.

Shanks woke with a loud OOF.

He froze.

He blinked up through his book… and found you, kneading his chest absentmindedly, eyes already half-lidded, clearly ready for a nap.

“Wha…”

“Shh,” you mumbled. “You’re warm. Good pillow.”

He nearly died on the spot.

She’s on me, he thought. She chose ME. Over Benn.

He let his arm slowly wrap around you like he was defusing a bomb. Then he just laid there, stiff as a board, trying not to breathe too loudly.

When Benn walked by and raised a brow, Shanks grinned like a victorious maniac.

“She came to me,” he mouthed.

Benn just puffed his cigar and said, “Try not to scare her off.”

“She’s purring,” Shanks whispered smugly. “She likes me now.”

“I give it five minutes before she sneezes and claws your face.”

Five Minutes Later

You sneezed violently.

Your claws came out.

“OH GOD MY NIPPLE.”

Later That Night

You sat on the railing, brushing your tail as the moonlight washed over the deck. Shanks sat nearby, nursing his dignity and some scratch marks under his shirt.

“…Still worth it,” he mumbled.

You side-eyed him. “You’re a masochist.”

“I like a challenge.”

You flicked his forehead with your tail. “You’re annoying.”

He grinned. “But you like me.”

“…No comment.”

You hopped off the rail and stretched. Then, casually, you flopped down and laid your head in his lap.

He froze again.

“…Are you trying to kill me with happiness?”

You yawned. “You’re comfy. Better than your fish, that’s for sure.”

He beamed.

“You like me more than Benn?”

“Don’t push it.”

“But—”

You shot him a glare. “I will go scratch his beard and nap in his bunk again.”

Shanks shut up real fast.

“…I’ll take the win.”

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

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

You Punched a Yonko?

In which the reader, quietly trying to study Poneglyphs in peace, accidentally punches a Yonko and ends up entangled with the flirtatious chaos.

PART 2 OF READER WHO CAN READ PONEGLYPH

red hair pirates x fem!reader ౨ৎ💗 ONE SHOT

main characters: shanks, benn, limejuice, hongo

tags: fluff, sfw, harem, soft

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

words count: 1.4k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

You really weren’t trying to punch a Yonko.

In fact, your goal for the day was to peacefully study a centuries-old Poneglyph hidden beneath a sleepy island temple. Instead, you were now standing in front of a red-haired man grinning at you with blood trickling from his nose, surrounded by his crew, who all looked one second away from drawing their weapons.

“…Okay,” you breathed. “In my defense, you startled me.”

“You punched him in the face,” a blond man in sunglasses said, his voice straddling awe and amusement.

“Yeah, but like—accidentally.”

Shanks wiped his nose with the back of his hand, still smiling like you’d just offered him a drink. “DAHAHAHA strong punch though! You train often?”

“I didn’t know you were behind me! I thought you were a thief trying to steal the stone!” you pointed at the half-buried Poneglyph glowing faintly behind you. “You snuck up on me!”

Benn Beckman gave an exaggerated sigh from where he was puffing on his cigar. “He always does that.”

“You should wear a bell,” Hongo added dryly, as he examined your clenched fists. “You nearly broke his nose.”

“I think I’m in love,” Shanks muttered, still grinning at you like an idiot.

You blinked.

“…What?” You deadpan at him.

Lime Juice snorted. “I told you not to lean in so close when people are muttering to themselves. She was clearly in the zone.”

“I was reading an ancient, world-changing text,” you snapped, still frazzled. “I didn’t expect someone to breathe down my neck!”

“To be fair,” Benn chimed in smoothly, “not many people can actually read those things.”

That made you hesitate. Your breath caught in your chest. Most people only guessed at what the stones meant. And those who could decipher them—like the Ohara scholars—were erased for it.

The crew noticed your shift.

Shanks tilted his head. “Hey… you alright?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re being very casual about all this.”

“Well, you punched me.” He rubbed his jaw. “That kinda earns you a place at the table.”

“What table?”

“Our lunch table,” Lime Juice said, gesturing broadly to a blanket on the grass behind the trees. “We were picnicking. Captain wandered off to chase ‘Poneglyph energy.’”

“You tracked me?”

Shanks shrugged. “You glow like a beacon when you read those stones.”

Your jaw dropped. “That’s not—?! That’s not normal!”

“Nope,” Hongo agreed. “Very intriguing.”

“And very pretty,” Shanks added.

You turned on your heel. “I’m leaving.”

“No wait!” Shanks called after you. “Join us for lunch! I promise not to get punched again!”

You paused, hesitating. The idea of eating with the Red-Hair Pirates seemed… suicidal. You’d spent years hiding your ability, keeping a low profile, ducking Marines and bounty hunters alike.

But they didn’t look like they were planning to turn you in.

And the smell of roasted fish was really good.

“…I’m watching all of you,” you muttered, stomping over.

“Great!” Shanks beamed. “You can sit next to me! DAHAHAHA”

“Absolutely not.”

Lunch with the Red-Hair Pirates was insane.

You had to admit: they were nothing like you’d expected.

Shanks, despite being a Yonko, acted more like a chaotic older brother than a fearsome warlord. He kept nudging plates toward you like a golden retriever trying to feed its owner, all while regaling you with stories that involved an alarming number of explosions and nudity.

Benn Beckman, calm and poised, sat at your other side. He didn’t say much, but you noticed how his eyes never left you—watchful, calculating, but not in a threatening way. More like… protective.

“You always travel alone?” he asked quietly.

You nodded. “Easier to hide.”

He hummed. “Doesn’t sound easier to live.”

His words stuck with you longer than you cared to admit.

Lime Juice kept trying to impress you with “tricks,” most of which involved lighting things on fire or juggling knives. When he tried to balance a plate on his head and walk backward up a tree, you genuinely feared for his life.

“I’m very flexible,” he claimed proudly as he slipped and crashed into Shanks’ lap.

“Yeah, flexible like a bag of rocks,” Hongo muttered under his breath, flipping through a medical book beside you. Occasionally, he asked you questions about ancient glyphs and your translation methods, clearly more interested in your brain than your punching skills.

Which, okay, was kind of flattering.

You didn’t know when it happened, but by the end of the meal, you were… laughing.

You were laughing with people you’d met barely an hour ago. People who, by all logic, should’ve either kidnapped you or sold your secret to the highest bidder.

Instead, they argued about who could get you to smile the fastest.

“You like wine?” Benn asked, offering you a rare vintage.

“You like beer?” Shanks grinned, popping open a keg.

“You like really strong mystery juice I made last night?” Lime Juice offered, holding a bubbling bottle that Hongo promptly knocked out of his hands.

“Do you guys always compete like this?” you asked, bewildered.

“Only when it’s worth it,” Shanks winked.

You choked on your drink.

The day slipped by quickly after that.

You showed Hongo how Poneglyphs resonated when you hummed certain tones. He looked at you like you were the eighth wonder of the world and scribbled notes furiously.

You sparred—lightly—with Lime Juice, who was surprisingly nimble when not setting himself on fire.

You chatted with Benn about navigation, philosophy, and—when Shanks wasn’t listening—what kind of wine pairs best with sea-king meat.

And Shanks? Shanks hovered. Endearingly. Annoyingly. Constantly.

“You know, I could protect you,” he offered at one point, lying back on the grass beside you with a grin. “If you joined us. Nobody would ever dare come after you again.”

“Why would I ever trust a Yonko?” you teased, resting your chin on your hand.

Shanks tapped his temple. “Because I’m handsome and charming.”

“Debatable.”

“Because I didn’t press you about your ability.”

You paused.

“…Less debatable.”

He turned his head toward you, more serious this time. “I know what it means. What you can do. I know the world will hunt you for it. And I also know—without a doubt—anyone who tries will have to go through me first.”

You stared at him, heart hammering. “That’s very dramatic.”

“Have you met me?” he grinned.

Before you could reply, Benn’s voice called over, “Captain, stop seducing our guest and help clean up.”

“I am helping,” Shanks called back. “With my charm.”

Benn just groaned and threw a towel at his head.

Night fell.

You sat with Lime Juice and Hongo near the fire while Shanks played a drunken game of darts with a tree (he kept missing) and Benn nursed a glass of something expensive, eyeing his captain like a babysitter on overtime.

Lime Juice offered you his coat when the wind picked up. “You know,” he said, voice quieter now, “you’re kind of amazing.”

You turned. “Me?”

“Yeah. Punching a Yonko. Reading the un-readable. And laughing at my jokes. Triple threat.”

You laughed. “Thanks, I think?”

“Don’t let Shanks hog you too much,” he added. “Some of us want a shot too.”

Hongo hummed behind his book. “I’ll second that.”

You looked between them, blinking. “Wait, what?”

Benn walked over, his cigarette glowing faintly. “They’re not joking.”

Shanks stumbled into the circle, arms wide. “Did I hear flirting?! I object! You’re all banned.”

You stared at the four of them.

“You’re telling me,” you said slowly, “that all of you are flirting with me… at the same time?”

There was a beat.

Then Shanks, Benn, Lime Juice, and Hongo all nodded in sync.

You buried your face in your hands. “This is absurd.”

Shanks grinned. “Absurdly charming.”

“I need a drink,” you muttered.

Benn passed you his glass without a word.

You didn’t leave the next morning.

Or the next.

Or the next after that.

Somewhere between watching Shanks get his foot stuck in a barrel, Lime Juice trying to build you a “romance swing,” Hongo diagnosing him with “chronic dumbassery,” and Benn pulling you aside just to ask how you were holding up, you realized something:

You were happier than you’d been in years.

For the first time, you weren’t hiding.

You weren’t running.

You were laughing. Living. Loved.

And sure, maybe the world still wanted your head.

But you had a Yonko, his second-in-command, a chaotic firecracker, and a broody medic wrapped around your finger.

If the world wanted to come for you?

Let it.

You had your crew now.

!!Hello, good afternoon. Excuse me, I loved the story of the reader who has the ability to read stones. I don't remember his name. But can you make one where he escapes from CP9? The harem would be Lucci Kaku.Kalifa and Jabra But there the reader escapes but before he leaves them a gift I leave it to your imagination Please I would love to see one

glad u loved it! its not much but i hope u like this!!

Secrets in Stone

When CP9 stumbles across a mysterious stranger who can read poneglyphs, their mission turns from capture to chaotic obsession.

CP9 x gn! reader Tags: fluff, flirty, chaos a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff cringe and oc word count: 828

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The day was supposed to be simple.

You perched atop a crumbled temple ruin, legs dangling over the mossy stone, casually brushing dust off an ancient poneglyph slab. The symbols glowed faintly under your touch, and you tilted your head thoughtfully before speaking aloud in a clear, ancient tongue.

A bird cawed somewhere above, startled into flight — but otherwise, the jungle remained eerily quiet.

Unbeknownst to you (well, actually, you had sensed them miles away — you weren’t clueless), five very unwanted visitors were lurking nearby.

“This is it,” Spandam whispered, waving his arms like an overexcited tour guide. “The ruin where the said energy signature came from! Move it, CP9!”

"Tch, keep your voice down, idiot," Lucci muttered, hands stuffed lazily into his pockets, but his eyes sharpened in the direction of your voice.

"Huh? You hear that?" Jabra’s ears twitched as he sniffed the air dramatically. "Someone’s already here!"

"Impossible," Kalifa adjusted her glasses, heels clicking softly as she moved through the brush. "No civilian could've bypassed the government’s perimeter."

"Unless they’re better than you," Kaku quipped with a cheeky grin.

Kalifa glared. "You wanna test that theory, Giraffe-boy?"

They emerged from the dense foliage like a pack of chaotic hyenas, just in time to see you — calm, glowing faintly under the light of the poneglyph — speaking it aloud.

Dead silence.

You finished the last line, tapping the stone gently as if saying goodbye to an old friend. "Huh. That was easier than last time." Then you turned casually, meeting four wide-eyed CP9 agents and one screeching Spandam.

"Wh-WHAT?! Another one who can READ THEM?!" Spandam screeched, practically foaming at the mouth. He turned to his agents. "Capture them immediately!! They're government property now!!!"

You dusted off your hands, unfazed. "…Tch. Was hoping to avoid this." You rolled your neck until it cracked and lazily picked up your weapon of choice — a strange-looking whip, glowing faintly with ancient runes.

.

.

Lucci blurred forward with Soru, fingers twitching with deadly Shigan precision. But you sidestepped smoothly, your own body flickering with a power that looked suspiciously like Soru — but faster, a custom technique you called "Phantom Step."

He grunted in surprise, landing where you were, not where you are.

Kaku came next, flipping into the air with Rankyaku, sending a blade of compressed air slicing toward you.

You spun your whip, the ancient runes shimmering. With a casual flick, the whip shattered the air blade with a crack that shook the ruins.

Kalifa tried to close in with her Awa Awa no Mi powers, bubbles already forming between her fingers, smirking.

"Don’t worry, I’ll make you nice and clean," she purred, blowing a kiss laced with shimmering soap bubbles.

You blew her a kiss back — and in the same motion, snapped your whip to dissolve her bubbles mid-air.

"Sorry, sweetheart," you teased coolly. "I don't do bubble baths on first dates."

Kalifa stammered, cheeks flushing pink.

And then, Jabra — sweet chaotic Jabra — lunged at you in hybrid wolf form, snarling, fangs bared.

"You won't be so cocky once I chew your—"

You ducked under him mid-sentence, used Phantom Step to appear behind him, and flicked his ear with two fingers. "Down, boy."

Jabra yelped, skidding face-first into a wall.

"WHAT ARE YOU FOUR DOING?! CAPTURE THEM!!" Spandam shrieked again.

The CP9 agents stood there, battle-ready… but weirdly hesitant.

Because now that they’d actually seen you — how you moved, how effortlessly you dismantled their attacks, the cool confidence radiating off you — …it was way less about capturing you and way more about "holy shit, they're hot."

"They're… impressive," Lucci muttered under his breath, narrowed eyes lingering on the curve of your mouth when you smirked.

"No kidding," Kaku agreed, grinning wide.

"I wanna wrestle them," Jabra said immediately.

"Pervert," Kalifa and Kaku said in perfect unison.

You stretched lazily, letting your whip dangle at your side. "Look," you said, voice dripping with casual arrogance, "I don’t have time for government clowns. I got bigger stones to read, if you know what I mean."

Jabra visibly wagged his tail.

You decided it was time to leave.

But not without a little gift.

Later that night, when CP9 regrouped at their makeshift camp — bruised, flustered, and thoroughly bewildered — they found something waiting for them in the center of their campfire:

A small, folded piece of parchment.

On it: a crude little doodle of all four CP9 members getting their asses handed to them by a stick-figure version of you, labeled “ME :)”. And underneath, in neat cursive: "Catch me if you can. - (Y/N)"

Spandam combusted from rage. The others?

Lucci stared at the note for a long time, a smirk twitching at the edge of his lips. Kaku burst out laughing, clutching his sides. Kalifa looked like she wanted to be mad, but was mostly trying to hide her blush. Jabra immediately declared he was “in love.”