Y/n Is Part Of The Navy, A Daughter Of Roger's Navy, Shirojige Wouldn't Allow It. He Ordered One Of His

maybe i need a whole fic with luffy x reader married now... i'm not charging you, maybe i'm just in love with your writing

a/n: thank u <3 hope u like this~

Wait… Luffy’s WHAT?!

Luffy reunites with his childhood sweetheart, who also happens to be his secret spouse. The crew thought he was joking… until they weren’t laughing anymore.

LUFFY X GN!READER | ONE SHOT

tags: fluff, sfw, ooc, marriage, reader is opposite of luffy

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

word count: 1.3k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The Thousand Sunny drifted through the final tunnel, water glistening against its protective bubble as Fishman Island came into view.

“WOAAAH!” Luffy yelled from the deck, eyes wide. “It’s so shiny!”

“I can’t believe it’s real!” Chopper spun around.

Robin smiled behind a hand. “The architecture here is said to be older than the Grand Line itself.”

“I heard the royal family is pretty generous,” Nami added. “If we play this smart, we could stock up for weeks.”

But Luffy? His mind was somewhere else entirely. Or rather, on someone.

He leaned against the rail, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“I wonder if they’re here…”

“LUFFY, GET BACK HERE, YOU CAN’T JUST–!”

“NAMI!, I SMELL MEEAAT!”

He was already gone. Sprinting like a man possessed through the bustling bubble streets of Fishman Island, eyes wide, tongue out, arms flailing in glee.

“Captain,” Robin said with a small smile, “seems excited.”

“He's always excited,” Zoro muttered, arms crossed. “But this time he’s extra stupid.”

Brook hummed thoughtfully. “Yohohoho, I wonder if the meat will marry him too.”

“Wait, did you say marry?” Usopp blinked. “Oh yeah! Didn’t Luffy say he was married once?”

“…Didn’t we all think he was joking?” Franky asked, brows raised.

“Yeah,” Chopper added with a little snort. “He said something like ‘I already got a wife, and they’re way stronger than all of you!’ and we just laughed.”

The crew exchanged glances.

“…You think he was serious?”

MEANWHILE.

Luffy skidded around the corner, bonking a coral lamp post with his forehead. “Ow–!”

“Still no sense of direction?”

He froze.

That voice.

He knew that voice like the back of his hand — or the taste of meat. Slowly, his wide eyes turned toward the source.

There, standing with arms crossed and an eyebrow raised, was you.

Stoic, calm, one eyebrow raised, and totally unamused as always.

“Y/N!!” Luffy beamed, bolting toward you. “Y/N Y/N Y/N! YOU'RE HERE!!”

Before you could scold him, he’d wrapped you in a tight hug that nearly knocked you back.

“Still a hugger as usual, huh?” you mumbled, eyes softening just a bit.

“Missed you! SHISHISHI,” he grinned into your shoulder.

“You saw me six months ago,” you said, deadpan.

“Yeah!, but that’s like…so long!!”

You sighed, though your hand was already resting on his back, grounding the chaotic ball of sunshine that had stolen your heart all those years ago.

“…You never change.”

FLASHBACK - Windmill Village

“You’re so noisy.”

“C’mon Y/N, let’s go punch that tree again!”

Putting your book down, you sat with your arms folded, watching as young Luffy jumped up and down with excitement, a stick in his hand like it was the strongest sword in the world.

“We’ll get stronger together! Then we’ll go on adventures and eat meat every day!”

You blinked. “That’s your dream?”

“Yup! What’s yours?”

You shrugged. “I don’t have one.”

“Then make one with me!”

You raised an eyebrow. “Make a dream with you?”

He nodded seriously. “We can share. Like best friends. Or… like married people!”

“…That’s not how marriage works.”

“Then I’ll change the rules!”

You stared at him.

“…Fine.”

“Hey, Y/N.”

“What now.”

“If we ever get married, can I still eat meat at the wedding?”

You looked up from your book. “Obviously. I won’t marry someone who doesn’t love meat.”

He blinked, surprised. “So you will marry me?”

You went back to reading. “Didn’t say I wouldn’t.”

His heart exploded like fireworks.

BACK TO PRESENT

“Wait,” Sanji whispered from the side of the plaza, crouched with the rest of the crew behind some candy-colored seaweed. “Is that them?! MELLORINEE~~”

“THEM?!” Usopp whispered. “You know them?!”

“I’ve heard rumors,” Sanji sighed dreamily. “That’s Y/N — calm as the sea before a storm. Feared in the Grand Line and cold-hearted~"

“Yeah, but they’re…” Chopper tilted his head. “Letting Luffy carry them like a backpack right now.”

“Are they… cuddling?” Zoro’s eye twitched. “In public?”

“I’m SUPER! emotionally confused,” Franky muttered.

“Yohohoho,” Brook said softly. “So our captain is… married.”

“And he was serious,” Robin added, intrigued.

Luffy still hadn’t let go. You were currently being dragged around the island as he loudly pointed at every fish-person, street food stall, and bubble coral with endless excitement.

“Look, Y/N, look!! That octopus is playing drums!!”

You nodded. “Mm.”

“And that shark guy has THREE swords!”

You blinked. “Impressive.”

“Oh! That candy shop sells meat-lollipops!! Want one?”

“…Fine.”

He gasped, eyes shining. “You said yes! You never say yes to candy!”

“It’s for you, dumbass.”

He beamed so hard it could’ve powered the Sunny.

LATER, WITH THE CREW

“LUFFY!!”

He turned mid-bite of his meat-lollipop. “Huh?”

“WHAT. IS. GOING. ON?!” Nami shrieked.

You were sitting beside him, sipping seaweed tea calmly. “Can I help you?”

“YEAH, YOU CAN EXPLAIN HOW YOU’RE—MARRIED TO LUFFY?!”

He tilted his head. “I told you guys already.”

“YEAH BUT YOU SAID IT WHILE EATING A SEA KING LEG!!”

Franky pointed dramatically. “That’s not the time for SUPER confessions, bro!”

You raised a hand. “We’ve been married for years. It’s just not something we flaunt.”

“…You married Luffy. As in legal.”

“Technically yes. I still have the officiation snail photo. Luffy drew a mustache on it.”

“HE LOOKED SO FUNNY!! SHISHISHI” Luffy grinned, remembering it fondly.

“WHAT ABOUT YOUR PERSONALITY?! YOU’RE THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE!” Usopp flailed.

You stared at him. “What about it?”

“I dunno!! It’s just… Luffy’s sunshine! You’re like… moonlight. That can kill people.”

Zoro finally snapped. “Okay, no offense, but how do you even deal with him?”

You sighed, placing a hand over Luffy’s head as he practically melted beside you.

“…I’ve dealt with worse than a meat-goblin with a hero complex and zero sense of personal space.”

“That’s me!!” Luffy said proudly.

Robin giggled. “You really are opposites.”

“They’re so cool,” Sanji whispered, nose bleeding. “They’re scary. But like, in a hot way~”

“Are you crushing on our captain’s spouse?!” the crew hissed.

“Can’t help it~”

LATER THAT NIGHT ON THE SUNNY

You sat at the edge of the deck, legs dangling above the water, watching the glowing sea beneath.

Luffy flopped beside you, resting his head in your lap like he always did when the sky was quiet.

“You’re really okay with all this attention?” you asked, fingers brushing his hair.

“Mmhmm. Why wouldn’t I be?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You never cared about showing people.”

“I didn’t think I had to. You're mine. That’s already the best thing ever.”

Your hand paused. Then resumed slowly.

“You’re still dumb.”

He grinned. “Yeah, but I’m your dumb.”

“…Yeah. You are.”

He yawned, curling closer. “Remember the promise we made?”

“Which one? You made a lot.”

“The one about sharing dreams.”

You looked up at the stars. “Yeah. I remember.”

“I still wanna do that. Even if it’s dumb. Even if I die trying.”

You tapped his forehead.

“You won’t die. I’ll kill anyone who tries.”

NEXT MORNING — FISHMAN ISLAND MARKET

“I WANT TO BUY THAT ONE!”

“Luffy, that’s a pearl the size of a cannonball.”

“I WANT IT!!”

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

“Luffy, if I have to carry another crate of your ‘souvenirs’ I will drown you.”

He gasped. “Y/N!! That’s mean!”

“…You like that.”

“I DO!”

“Ew, please stop flirting where I can hear you,” Nami groaned as she walked by.

Zoro muttered, “Every time I think they’ll kill each other, they end up flirting again.”

“Do you think they’ll ever kiss in front of us?” Chopper asked innocently.

Sanji's eye turned into fire. “NO WAY! I'LL KICK YOU! YOU DAMN MONKEY!!!"

“Luffy, stop licking the pearl.”

“You know,” Robin said later that evening, watching you drag Luffy back from trying to arm-wrestle a sea king, “they’re oddly perfect together.”

“Opposites attract,” Franky nodded.

“They’re like fire and ice,” Brook added.

“More like hyper gremlin and emotionless murderbot,” Nami muttered.

“…Still somehow works,” Zoro said.

Sanji sobbed. “WHEN WILL MY TURN COME?!"

.

.

— A FEW DAYS LATER

“Hey, Robin,” Usopp whispered as the ship cruised along the current.

“Yes?”

“…Do you think we should throw them a wedding party?”

She sipped her tea. “I think if you try, you’ll die.”

“Right.”

“Besides,” she added, glancing at the couple watching the sunset at the bow of the ship, Luffy wrapped around you like a sleepy octopus, “I think they already had the only wedding they needed.”

Sugar & Spite

Shared silences, reluctant teamwork, and one very accidental merienda — things are slowly shifting between you and Katakuri, whether you like it or not.

(CH 1/3) (CH 2/3) (CH 3/3)

katakuri x fem!reader a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc tags: sfw, arrange marriage, enemies to lovers typeshi(?), fluff warnings: poorly written, ooc maybe idk words count: 767

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

Married life, for all its dramatics, was remarkably uneventful.

You trained. He trained.

You ate. He ate — alone.

You slept on opposite sides of the suite, a whole couch separating your twin futons like it were a chasm made of disdain and mutual discomfort.

Still, the quiet had begun to change.

Not soften. Just… fill with different things.

You noticed it when you trained together.

At first, Katakuri wouldn’t spar with you — only watched from the sidelines with crossed arms and a face carved from stone.

But one morning, without a word, he stepped into the ring and beckoned.

You raised a brow. “You sure? Wouldn’t want to chip your perfect reputation.”

“Try not to die,” was all he said.

You lunged.

The fight lasted minutes. Sharp. Calculated. Brutal. Neither of you held back — not out of aggression, but something more primal. Something like curiosity. Respect hidden under heavy layers of sarcasm.

He pinned you once.

You flipped him once.

And by the time you both were catching your breath, you realized… this was the first time you’d looked him in the eye without wanting to throw a plate at his face.

It happened again the next day. And the next.

Soon, the guards were placing bets.

Another shift came during a mission.

You were sent together to oversee a transport of rare ingredients for Big Mom’s banquet — the sort of job usually given to siblings who worked well together.

You were not those siblings.

But despite the chilly atmosphere, the operation was smooth. Efficient. Maybe even too efficient, because when the job ended early, you found yourself in a quiet café at the edge of Totto Land.

Sharing tea.

“You always this quiet when not throwing punches?” you asked.

Katakuri sipped. “You always this nosy when not polishing your weapon?”

You snorted. “Fair.”

Silence. Then:

“…You’re not bad in the field.”

You blinked.

“…You too,” you replied cautiously, like the words were delicate glass.

Then, dryly: “Though you’re kind of a pain.”

His mouth twitched.

Was that a smile?

You blinked and looked away.

Nah. Must’ve been the wind.

It happened the next afternoon.

You came back to the estate early, your footsteps light, mind still buzzing from the strange calm that had started forming between you two. You hadn’t seen Katakuri since morning. Probably training. Or brooding.

You turned the corner of the west hall and—

Crunch.

You froze.

There he was.

Not in battle stance. Not dressed for war.

Just… sitting under the shade of a sugar apple tree in the inner garden, cross-legged on a blanket, a tall pile of donuts beside him.

Mouth uncovered.

Eyes closed.

Chewing slowly, almost in bliss, like he was savoring the flavor with his whole soul.

You blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Then, without thinking, your boot tapped a rock.

His head snapped toward you.

Time stopped.

You met his eyes. His real ones. Clear, sharp — and full of horror.

He reached for his scarf too late.

“You—” he started, standing up so quickly the plate of donuts nearly flipped. “You weren’t supposed to—”

“What, see you enjoying your afternoon snacks?” you said slowly.

His face hardened. “Don’t mock me.”

You crossed your arms. “Why would I mock you?”

“You’re going to tell the others. Or laugh. Or—”

You tilted your head. “You’re kinda handsome.”

He froze.

“What?”

“I said,” you repeated, unfazed, “you’re kinda handsome.”

“You—”

“Don’t get cocky. I said kinda.”

He gaped at you like you’d grown a second head. You, in turn, gave him a blank stare as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Then added, just to twist the knife: “Your mouth is a little big, though.”

“You—!!”

You smirked, turning to walk away.

“Wait.”

His voice was quieter now. Not angry. Confused. Almost… vulnerable.

You turned back.

He looked at you like you were a puzzle with missing pieces. Like he didn’t understand why you weren’t disgusted. Why you weren’t laughing.

“You’re not gonna say anything?”

You shrugged. “Not my business. But hey—”

You tossed a donut from his plate into the air, caught it, and took a bite.

“—thanks for the snack.”

He stared.

You winked.

And then left him there, standing under the tree, mouth still slightly agape, eyes tracking the place where you’d stood.

That night, for the first time, you found a small box of freshly made donuts placed carefully on your side of the suite.

No note.

Just a silent offering.

You smiled faintly and popped one into your mouth.

Maybe this marriage wouldn’t be so cold after all.

I love shanks so much😭😭

Are you able to write a story where reader is a captain of another crew? Their crew isn’t super famous but aren’t weak either. Their crew is staying at some island and a tavern there when the Red-Haired pirates show up and think that they might try to fight, but reader dgaf and decides to flirt with shanks and stuff. Don’t know if your readers are Gn or female, but could the reader be described as “as beautiful as the ocean” please? I thought that would be cute!

Thank you!

🌊

thats interesting! its not much but hope u like this~~

Trouble Walks In, and So Do You

shanks x reader | ONE SHOT

tags: fluff, ocs, flirting, chaotic crews

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: 1.2k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The tavern on Bellmouth Island had never known peace.

It was tucked into the port side of the island like a cozy scar—weathered, stubborn, and full of bad decisions marinated in rum. But even Bellmouth’s most seasoned barkeep hadn’t seen anything quite like The Siren’s Fang crew.

“Hey, Cap! Tall guy passed out again!” barked Kiji, the squad’s medic, gesturing to a pile of limbs slumped over a barstool.

“Is he breathing this time?” you asked lazily, twirling a glass of rum in your hand. You sat at the tavern’s center table, leg slung over the arm of your chair, adorned in sleek leather and gold-trimmed cloth, eyes half-lidded with amusement.

“Barely,” muttered Azel, your cook-slash-unofficial-grim-reaper, poking the unconscious man with a ladle. “He mistook my hot sauce for syrup. Natural selection.”

“His fault,” you sighed.

You were Captain [Y/N], the woman many whispered about as beautiful as the ocean—mysterious, wild, and just as likely to drown you as smile at you. The Siren’s Fang wasn’t a household name like the Straw Hats or the Emperors, but in the Grand Line’s undercurrent, your reputation had teeth. Rumors swirled of your crew taking down a fleet from Big Mom’s remnants and sinking a marine battleship like it was a toy boat in a bathtub.

Still, fame didn’t interest you. Fun did.

And Bellmouth was fun—cheap booze, rowdy locals, and just enough lawlessness to feel like home.

That was until the door slammed open.

Wind howled through the tavern. Bottles rattled. Even the drunks perked up.

The Red-Haired Pirates had arrived.

You didn’t need to look. You felt it. That magnetic, crackling air of too-powerful people walking into a space too small to contain them.

Shanks led the way, one hand on the hilt of his sword, the other resting on his hip as he scanned the tavern with lazy mirth. His crew spilled in behind him—Benn Beckman, Lucky Roux, Yasopp, the works.

Ten seconds passed. Then—

“Welp. Guess we’re fighting,” muttered Neri, your tactician, flipping her dagger.

“Can’t we go one week without a legendary crew showing up?” grumbled Hyun, your shipwright, who’d just managed to tape a window back together.

“Don't break my chairs,” called the barkeep, already ducking behind the bar.

You, meanwhile, took a sip of rum.

And then, slowly, gracefully, rose to your feet.

"Are we fighting?" asked Benn, eyes narrowing slightly.

Shanks tilted his head in your direction, gaze locking onto yours.

You didn’t draw your sword.

You smiled.

“No,” you said, voice like velvet. “But I do have something else in mind.”

The room collectively blinked.

You strolled toward them with the ease of a queen and the chaos of a siren in full swing. “You must be Red-Haired Shanks,” you purred, eyes scanning him with undisguised appreciation. “You're taller than I expected. That’s... hot.”

A pause.

Then—someone from your crew let out a wheeze of disbelief. Probably Toma. He’d bet two crates of rum you’d deck Shanks on sight.

Shanks arched a brow, lips twitching. “Not the usual greeting I get from a rival pirate captain.”

“I’m not your rival,” you said, stopping only a breath away from him. You craned your head up, voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “Unless you want me to be. Enemies to lovers? That your thing?”

Lucky Roux choked on his drink.

Shanks actually laughed, the rich, boisterous sound of someone genuinely caught off guard.

“Captain,” Benn said dryly, “I think we’re being hit on.”

“DAHAHA I know, right?” Shanks grinned. “This is way more fun than usual.”

Your crew was now in a full-on state of stunned chaos.

“I—she just flirted with a Yonko. Casually. Like she was ordering a drink,” Kiji mumbled.

“She’s going to get us killed,” muttered Neri.

“No,” corrected Hyun, “she’s going to get laid.”

“Pfft—HA!”

Meanwhile, Shanks tilted his head. “So what’s your name, Ocean Eyes?”

You gave him your full title, adding, “Captain of The Siren’s Fang. And yes, I live up to the name.”

“Mm.” He leaned in just slightly. “Should I be worried you’re trying to lure me onto the rocks?”

“I’m trying to lure you onto something, that’s for sure.”

Yasopp nearly fell off his stool.

Benn facepalmed. Lucky Roux laughed so hard he snorted beer through his nose.

“Join us for a drink?” you offered innocently. “Or are you too scared I’ll make you fall in love with me?”

Shanks held your gaze for one beat. Two. Then smiled.

“I’ve done dumber things.”

And just like that, the Red-Haired Pirates sat down with the Siren’s Fang.

Tension left the room like steam off hot rum. Chairs screeched. Drinks clinked. Somewhere, your sniper was trying to discreetly message your ship’s chronicler: CAPTAIN IS FLIRTING WITH SHANKS, SEND HELP.

“...And then the marine tries to arrest me, right? While I’m naked. In the bath!” Shanks crowed, halfway through a bottle of rum, hair falling into his eyes.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, clutching your side. “Please tell me you fought him like that.”

“I slipped! Broke his nose falling out of the tub!”

You and your crew howled.

A few tables down, Benn and Neri were having a quiet intellectual standoff that involved a lot of maps and dry sarcasm. Yasopp and Hyun were arguing over gun specs. Toma was getting arm-wrestled into oblivion by Lucky Roux. It was, in short, a tavern apocalypse.

“You’re fun,” Shanks murmured, voice low, only for you.

You tilted your head. “You expected me to be scary.”

“I expected you to swing first and ask questions never.”

“Ah. That’s just on Wednesdays.”

He chuckled. “You’re dangerous.”

“You like that,” you teased.

“I do,” he admitted. “But be honest. Is this all just to distract me while your crew steals our booze?”

You sipped your drink with a wink. “What do you think?”

From across the room, a yell: “WE’VE TAKEN THE BEER STORAGE!”

“DAMN IT, KOKO!”

Shanks stared.

You said nothing.

He grinned. “Marry me?”

“Buy me a boat first.”

“You already have a ship.”

“Yeah, but I want a red one.”

As the night wore on, chaos bloomed into something almost tender. The two crews, pirates feared across the seas, were now doing karaoke with a broken lute and a guy named Phil.

You leaned against the tavern doorway, watching the madness. The moonlight brushed your skin like seafoam, your hair tousled by the salt-laced wind.

Shanks joined you silently.

“You’re really not what I expected,” he said.

“Disappointed?”

He shook his head. “Enchanted.”

You turned your head to him, eyes soft now. “You’re pretty smooth for a pirate.”

“I’m usually drunker.”

You laughed, then reached up, brushing a lock of hair from his face. “You know, Red, if I weren’t a captain…”

“Yeah?”

“I’d ask you to run away with me.”

He caught your wrist gently, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“If I weren’t a Yonko,” he murmured, “I’d say yes.”

For a moment, it felt like the sea held its breath.

Then someone inside yelled, “THE CAPTAIN AND SHANKS ARE MAKING EYES AT EACH OTHER AGAIN!”

“TAKE PICTURES!”

“START THE WEDDING SONG!”

You and Shanks groaned in unison.

“Back to the madness?” he offered.

“Only if you dance with me.”

“Deal.”

And so the two of you dove back into the tavern storm, laughing, flirting, half-dancing, half-sparring with words, like the sea and sky in a constant, chaotic waltz.

No declarations. No promises.

Just two captains in the eye of a storm they both enjoyed far too much.

CLINGY MUCH? | ONE SHOT

Shanks x GN!Reader

Zoro x GN!Reader

Mihawk x GN!Reader

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

tags: sfw, fluff, soft, ooc(?)

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

SHANKS

You were many things aboard the Red Force—calm, sharp-tongued, and painfully unbothered by Shanks’ endless antics.

You were also completely unaware of the fact that the most feared (and flirted-with) captain in the New World couldn’t seem to stop touching you.

Not in a creepy way. Not even in a romantic way… at least, not that you noticed.

He’d toss an arm around your shoulders like it was a habit. Rest his hand on your waist when laughing. Tug you into his side when something “dangerous” happened, like a slightly aggressive breeze or a seagull flying too low.

You just chalked it up to him being Shanks.

Until, one bright morning, the crew decided enough was enough.

It started with Benn Beckman sighing dramatically as he walked onto the deck.

“Do you two need a room or something?”

You blinked from where you stood, arms crossed. “We’re not even doing anything.”

Benn pointed. “His hand has been on your lower back for ten minutes.”

Shanks blinked down at his own hand like it betrayed him. “Huh. Didn’t even notice.”

You raised a brow. “Are you okay? Do you have tactile issues?”

Lucky Roux snorted as he passed by with a turkey leg. “Yeah, it’s called ‘falling for someone and not knowing what to do with your hands.’”

Shanks turned red. You remained… utterly unaffected.

“Touch-starved pirate disease,” Lime Juice muttered, jotting fake notes like a doctor. “Tragic. Symptoms include: prolonged physical contact, excessive grinning, and spontaneous cuddling in public.”

Hongo popped his head out of the crow’s nest. “I saw him brush your hair behind your ear during the storm last week.”

“That was because it got in their face,” Shanks defended.

You nodded. “He didn’t want me to get stabbed by my own bangs. Very heroic.”

“You’re wearing a braid,” Yasopp called from the helm.

A long pause.

“…Okay, I’m not good with excuses,” Shanks muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. His hand bumped yours in the process.

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing. “Captain.”

“Yes?”

“You’re touching me again.”

“...I genuinely didn’t notice DAHAHAHA.”

The crew erupted into laughter.

You blinked slowly and glanced down at your joined hands, then back up at him. “You’ve been holding my hand for a minute now. You good?”

“Maybe.”

You stared.

He stared.

“…You’re kinda warm,” he added, grinning.

“I’m wearing gloves.”

“Exactly. Impressive.”

You didn’t smile, but your voice was flat with dry humor. “You wanna marry me, too? Get it over with?”

Shanks choked. “Whoa—what?”

“You’re already touching me like I’m your lover. Might as well commit.”

The crew howled.

“I’m starting to like them more than you, Cap,” Benn said, lighting a cigar.

“They’ve got more bite,” Lime Juice grinned.

Lucky Roux offered you a celebratory turkey leg like a sword. “You just proposed better than he ever could.”

You calmly took it, giving a single nod. “Thanks. I accept my own proposal.”

Shanks was still frozen. “Wait, are we actually engaged now?”

You took a slow bite of the turkey leg, deadpan. “Keep touching me like that, and you’ll owe me alimony.”

ZORO

You were minding your own business—arms crossed, eyes half-lidded, back leaned slightly against the Sunny’s railing—when a familiar weight thunked into your side.

Again.

You didn’t flinch, didn’t glance, didn’t even blink. Just spoke.

“Zoro.”

“What.”

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what.”

“Treating me like a living chair.”

He grunted. “You’re stable. And not annoying.”

“That’s a compliment?” you asked, still deadpan.

“Take it or leave it.”

The crew had noticed. Of course they had. This was the sixth day in a row Zoro had casually latched onto you like a sleepy barnacle.

“Oi, mosshead!” Sanji snapped, appearing from the galley with smoke swirling and a righteous fury in his eyes. “Get off them, you clingy cucumber!”

Zoro cracked open an eye. “Make me.”

“Oh, I will!” Sanji stomped over dramatically. “Y/N-chwaann shouldn’t have to carry your freeloading swordsman body weight! If anyone deserves to be close to them, it’s me!”

You raised an eyebrow. “You literally tripped into my lap yesterday trying to ‘tie your shoe.’ You were barefoot.”

“It was a metaphor!” Sanji cried. “For falling head over heels!”

Zoro scoffed. “That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Says the mossy limpet glued to their side like a touchy fungus!”

Zoro didn’t move. “Jealousy’s not a good look, curly.”

“You—!!”

“Guys,” Nami sighed, “can’t we go one day without turning affection into a shouting match?”

Brook leaned on his cane, chuckling. “Yohohoho! Young love… or something!”

Usopp squinted. “Wait. Has Zoro always been this clingy with Y/N?”

Robin smiled mysteriously. “Since thriller bark, at least.”

Franky nodded solemnly. “Saw him fall asleep on their shoulder mid-battle once. SUPER unconscious.”

“I thought he was dead,” Chopper added, horrified. “Turns out he was just really comfy.”

Zoro’s grip on your shoulder tightened very slightly, and you finally glanced sideways at him.

“Do you know you’re this touchy?” you asked.

He looked like he wanted to evaporate into the deck. “I… just don’t mind you being close.”

You blinked slowly. “Is that samurai code for ‘I like you’?”

Sanji audibly gagged. “Oi! Don’t flirt in front of me!”

“We’re not flirting,” you said.

Zoro mumbled, “Might be.”

Sanji died inside.

“Y/N-chwann” he said gravely, dropping to one knee. “I beg of you—pick me instead! I would never lean on you like a sweaty tree log!”

Zoro growled. “Because you’d faint from being close.”

“AT LEAST I’D DIE HANDSOME!”

You looked between the two of them and sighed.

“I just want to drink my tea without being fought over,” you muttered, walking off—Zoro immediately following, like a shadow with swords.

“You’re still touching me,” you noted.

“Didn’t say I’d stop,” he replied casually.

You stopped walking, turned, and looked him square in the eye.

“You’re aware this is very couple-coded, right?”

He blinked, then grunted. “Guess we should make it official then.”

You blinked right back. “That was fast.”

“Why waste time.”

You smirked just a little. “Romantic.”

He shrugged. “You’re warm. And you don’t talk too much.”

“That’s your idea of a proposal?”

“Worked, didn’t it?”

From behind you, Sanji dramatically screamed into the ocean.

MIHAWK

Kuraigana Island was a wasteland of stone, wind, and uncomfortable silences. You didn’t mind. You were the type to thrive in eerie places — quiet, observant, and allergic to nonsense.

Which is probably why Mihawk didn’t bother with small talk.

Or... so you thought.

Lately, the world’s greatest swordsman had developed a habit of materializing wherever you were. You’d be cleaning a blade — and there he was, pouring tea. You’d sit on the crumbling stone wall for some air — and there he’d be, suddenly trimming the overgrown vines right next to you.

At first, you thought it was coincidence.

Until today.

“...You know you don’t have to sharpen every one of my knives,” you said flatly, watching him work silently at the bench beside you.

“I didn’t,” Mihawk replied, still honing the blade. “Only the dull ones.”

You blinked. “That was my butter knife.”

“Then it was very dull.”

From the far side of the ruins, Zoro grunted as he finished a set of squats. “He refilled their canteen twice this morning.”

“Once,” Mihawk corrected, still not looking up.

“Twice,” Zoro insisted. “Once after breakfast. Then again after they just looked at the sink.”

Perona floated down with a snort. “He also folded their coat. While they were still wearing it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Wait. Is that why my sleeves were shorter for a second?”

“You had a wrinkle.”

“I always have a wrinkle.”

Mihawk looked up with that unreadable expression. “And now you don’t.”

Zoro huffed. “What even is this? He acts like a butler. But like, a scary one.”

Mihawk narrowed his eyes at him. “I’m not a butler.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Perona muttered, arms crossed. “You fixed the strap on their satchel too.”

Mihawk didn’t respond to that.

Perona raised a brow. “You gonna deny it?”

“No,” Mihawk said coolly, “because it was crooked.”

Zoro leaned against a stone pillar, towel around his neck. “He also moved your seat at the dining table.”

“That was my seat,” you said.

Mihawk finally gave you a long, side glance. “You’ve sat on the left for the past four mornings. I simply ensured it remained consistent.”

You deadpanned. “You rearranged the furniture.”

“Briefly.”

Zoro stared. “And when they tripped over that vine—”

“I cut the vine before they fell,” Mihawk snapped with a tone just shy of defensive.

“Bro. You lunged across the courtyard.”

Mihawk sipped his wine calmly. “It was in the way.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And when you pulled me by the hood into the shade the other day?”

“You were overheating.”

“I wasn’t sweating.”

“You were blinking slowly.”

You stared. “That’s just how I blink.”

There was a long pause.

Then Perona gasped. “Wait, wait — you also fixed the strap on their scabbard!”

“I adjusted it. The weight distribution was uneven.”

Zoro clapped once, grinning. “So you are clingy.”

Mihawk’s eyes narrowed, the glint in them sharp and dangerous. “I am not.”

You leaned your chin on your hand, amused. “Then what would you call this?”

He paused. “Awareness.”

Perona lost it. “You mean hyper-awareness. Of one (1) person.”

Mihawk ignored her. “It’s strategic. I simply ensure you're at your most efficient.”

“That’s not efficiency,” Zoro said, wiping his forehead. “That’s doting.”

Mihawk arched a brow. “You think a swordsman cannot be observant?”

“You folded their laundry in order of fabric weight.”

“They prefer it that way.”

You blinked. “I never said that.”

He side-eyed you, expression cool. “You didn’t need to.”

You blinked again.

Zoro grunted. “You see? He’s acting like we’re all weird for noticing.”

Perona jabbed a finger toward him. “He's totally doing the ‘if I act calm, no one will notice I'm obsessed’ thing.”

Mihawk finally gave a soft, tired sigh — the kind that said you people are exhausting.

Then, turning to you, he asked, “Would you like tea?”

“I haven’t said I was thirsty.”

He didn’t blink. “You will be.”

You stared. “Are you psychic?”

“No,” he said simply. “You’re predictable.”

You squinted. “...That sounds like flirting.”

Mihawk blinked slowly. “I don’t flirt.”

Perona groaned. “OH MY GOD—”

Mihawk stood up, cloak sweeping behind him, expression unreadable as always. He held out the canteen like he’d already won this conversation.

You took it with narrowed eyes, muttering, “Thanks... I guess.”

He nodded, calm as ever. “You’re welcome.”

Zoro crossed his arms. “Still denying it?”

Mihawk looked at all of them — then at you — and with perfect poise said,

“I’m just efficient.”

And with that, he turned and walked away.

You stared after him, took a sip from the canteen, and sighed.

“…Efficiently annoying.”

you are great

hehe~ thank uu sm! u flatter me~

Hi! Can you please do a reader that has a beauty at the same level as Hancock, and like some big names in pirates and marines are in to her. ( It's like a harem) And by the way she's a straw hats. That's all, thank you 😋

ohh! this is a nice idea! i hope u like this!

Queen of Chaos?

At the Grand Pirate Festival, your legendary beauty turns the entire world — pirates, warlords, and marines alike — into a chaotic, simping mess.

var! one piece x reader | ONE SHOT

tags: fluff, oocs, sfw, harem, chaotic

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: 1.7k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The Grand Pirate Festival, held once a decade on the neutral grounds of Fullalead Island, was in full swing — a dizzying mess of fireworks, endless banquets, and drunk pirates staggering from booth to booth.

The Straw Hat crew strolled through the chaos, you right at their center, laughing at Usopp's drunken juggling and dodging Sanji's hearts floating around his head. Your beauty — infamous across the seas — was enough to stop even the wildest pirates in their tracks.

Tonight was no different. If anything, the chaos was worse. Because everyone was here.

And everyone was looking at you.

“Oi, Y/N, stick close, yeah?” Zoro muttered, eyes sweeping the crowds warily, hand lightly resting on his sword hilt. Even though he was notoriously laid-back, there was something in his gaze that said I’ll end you to anyone who dared look at you for too long.

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “Relax, Zo~. They’re just looking. Nothing to worry about.”

“You act like she's not the most gorgeous thing on the island,” Sanji swooned, literally spinning around you in a circle like a lovesick fool. “My sweet Y/N-chwaan! Let me be your guard, your knight, your eternal—”

You gave him a small, amused smile but said nothing. Zoro, however, wasn’t having it. He shoved Sanji aside, muttering something about “too much sugar in your system.”

“Back off, curly-brow,” Zoro grunted, tugging you closer by the wrist almost possessively.

You just laughed, amused by their antics.

But then the real chaos started.

“Oi, Luffy! DAHAHAHA”

A loud, cheerful voice called out. You turned — and saw a man waving a sake bottle.

Shanks.

The Red-Hair Pirates were approaching.

And Shanks' eyes, bright and mischievous, were fixed directly on you.

“Well, well, well,” he grinned lazily, stepping close enough you could smell the sake on his breath. “You didn’t tell me you had someone this stunning on your crew, Luffy.”

He bent down slightly, his gaze sweeping over you with clear admiration.

“You free later, sweetheart? I think the stars would look better with you under 'em.”

“Hey, that's not fair, captain, you’re hogging her already!” Lime Juice complained, elbowing past, his grin just as shameless. “Let me have a shot!”

“Feh,” Benn Beckman exhaled smoke, giving you a long, appreciative look. Even the normally stoic first mate cracked a half-smile at you. “Gotta admit, even I’m tempted to ditch the booze for a dance.”

You blinked, caught between laughing and being slightly overwhelmed.

Then it got worse.

From the opposite end of the plaza, a booming voice interrupted.

“MAMAMA~MA! WHO IS THAT BEAUTIFUL GIRL?!”

You could hear Big Mom’s voice booming from across the plaza, followed by the thunderous approach of her children. Perospero was the first to make his way over, his usual air of arrogance only intensified by his infatuation.

“Charmed, darling~! You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he purred, reaching out to offer you an impossibly large tray of sweets. “Care for some delicacies?”

“I’m good,” you said politely, although you couldn’t help but chuckle as he continued to follow you like a lost puppy.

Katakuri, who stood behind him, was much less vocal but clearly just as entranced. His gaze never left you, and even his calm demeanor was cracking. He awkwardly cleared his throat, still not able to tear his eyes away from you.

You caught his gaze and smiled playfully. “You’re not bad-looking either,” you teased, giving him a wink.

His face turned red for a brief second, before he turned sharply and walked away in a hurry, leaving a very confused Perospero behind.

You gave a tiny, apologetic smile, scratching your cheek. You didn’t mean to be a magnet for attention.

But it wasn’t over yet.

The Warlords were here too.

Mihawk, Doflamingo, Crocodile, and…

Boa Hancock.

You felt the intensity immediately.

Hancock’s stare burned holes through your head.

"Who dares…" she hissed, crossing her arms, glaring at you like you'd personally offended her. "Who dares to outshine me?! Do you know who I am?!"

You tilted your head, smiling lazily at her — completely amused.

You had no intention of competing with her.

But it was hilarious how serious she took it.

Hancock bristled visibly.

Meanwhile, Mihawk approached, his cape billowing dramatically behind him. He simply stood in front of you, staring, hawk-like eyes unreadable.

“You,” he said at last, voice deep, almost admiring.

“You have a dangerous aura, There’s something about you."

You tilted your head, giving him a soft, mysterious smile. “Maybe that’s just my natural charm.”

Doflamingo was far less subtle. his hands on his pockets as usual, eyes scanning your figure with a look that could only be described as both calculating and interested.

He threw an arm casually around your shoulders, laughing, ignoring Sanji’s shriek of rage from somewhere behind you.

“Fufufufu~… How about ditching the kiddie table and coming with me, babe? I’ll show you a real good time.”

He got a faceful of Zoro’s sword hilt and a furious Nami slapping his hand off you before you could even respond.

Crocodile stood back, eyeing you thoughtfully from under his cigar smoke, offering you a slow, thin smile like he was plotting something dangerous.

“Not interested in brats, huh?” he said smoothly. “Good. You deserve someone…seasoned.”

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from bursting out laughing.

The Whitebeard Pirates weren’t to be left out, and soon, the unmistakable figure of Whitebeard himself appeared at the edge of the festival. His massive frame was a sight to behold, and behind him, his crew was just as loud and rowdy as ever.

“woah~ look at this beauty-yoi” Marco said, a playful glint in his eyes. “You’ve certainly got everyone’s attention tonight, haven’t you?”

You smiled, giving him a knowing look. “I guess I can’t help it.”

Ace, ever the charmer, spotted you almost immediately and made a beeline for you. “Well, well, looks like my brother's crew have a beauty among them,” he said, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “You’ve got everyone at this festival wrapped around your little finger.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Seems like it. And I’m only getting started.”

“I can see why everyone’s after you, but they’d better step aside. I’ve already got dibs,” Ace continued, clearly enjoying himself.

Whitebeard himself gave a hearty laugh, slapping Ace on the back with enough force to send him stumbling forward.

And then there were the Beasts Pirates — or, more accurately, King and Queen, both leering from a distance.

“Pretty thing like that… should be on our side,” Queen slobbered, nudging King.

King just grunted, his red eyes glinting — but the stare he gave you was intense enough to count as flirting.

Heart Pirates weren’t any better.

“Trafalgar Law” tried to act cool, leaning against a wall, arms crossed.

But when you smiled at him, he actually choked on his own words and looked away, cheeks turning faintly pink.

Bepo padded up helpfully.

"Captain thinks you're very pretty!" he said loudly.

Law smacked him on the head, mortified.

"Shut up, Bepo!"

You covered your mouth to hide your giggles.

Even Eustass Kid, the angry, metal-covered mess, stomped over and glared down at you.

“Tch. Pretty people are annoying,” he grumbled.

But then he shoved a flower (a very crushed, mangled flower) into your hand and stomped away, muttering under his breath.

You stared at it, utterly bewildered.

Luffy howled with laughter.

And of course, your own crew was a disaster.

Sanji, in his usual fervor, was flipping out, his eyes barely visible behind his hearts. “Y/N-chwaaan! Please tell me I’m the only one worthy of your love!” he wailed dramatically, ignoring the fact that everyone was staring at you with hunger in their eyes.

Zoro just stood there, arms crossed, glaring at anyone who dared to approach you. His hand was on the hilt of his sword, ready to defend you at a moment’s notice. “You’re not getting anywhere near her,” he muttered under his breath.

Usopp was bouncing around, chest puffed out as if to say “I’ll protect Y/N from all these fools.” He was quick to start claiming that he, as the “Great Sniper Usopp,” was the only one worthy of guarding your heart.

Luffy — bless him — just laughed and slung an arm around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"She’s our nakama! You can't have her!" he declared proudly.

Nami, on the other hand, had already started haggling for a better deal on all the gifts you were getting. “Wow, you must be so useful,” she said to Mihawk, smiling as she held up a massive diamond necklace you’d just been handed. “Do you have more where this came from?”

Brook tried, too — asking you for your panties in his usual way — but you only patted his head like a grandpa, much to his disappointment.

The Marines were no better.

Smoker had a cigar nearly falling out of his mouth, jaw slack as he stared at you.

Kuzan gave you a lazy half-wave, actually bothering to open one eye and give a faint, approving “ararara~… a pretty girl...with bazookas.”

Kizaru practically teleported next to you, grinning like a devil.

“Whew~ you’re quite dazzling, aren’t you?~”

Koby, bright red from the ears down, could barely stammer out a hello without squeaking.

And from the shadows, a few SWORD agents watched you intently, whispering hurriedly to each other like gossipy schoolkids.

By the time night fell, you were absolutely buried in gifts: flowers, jewels, sweets, swords (from Mihawk?!), a flaming guitar solo (from one of the Red-Hair pirates), and a drunken marriage proposal (from Queen, who got punched by King before he finished the sentence).

You sat on a bench at the festival's edge, exhausted but laughing, surrounded by a mountain of unwanted trinkets.

Luffy flopped down beside you, grinning.

“Everyone’s weird. but you’re just Y/N, right? SHISHISHI”

You smiled at him — a real, warm smile.

“Right,” you said.

“Just Y/N.”

Across the festival, you caught Hancock staring at you still — seething, furious, clutching her fists.

You gave her a lazy wink.

She shrieked and turned to stone three random pirates by accident.

You just laughed and stretched your arms over your head, feeling the salty sea breeze wash over you.

It was chaotic. It was ridiculous. It was perfect.

Exactly the kind of night you wouldn’t trade for anything.

© ᵈᵒˡˡʸʷᵒⁿˢ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᶦᵛᶦᵈᵉʳˢ <³

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.

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!!

Got married by accident… Thanks, Vegapunk?

You and Luffy accidentally get married by a hyper-intelligent vending machine on Egghead Island. The crew takes it way too seriously, but Luffy is surprisingly into it.

LUFFY X GN!READER | ONE SHOT tags: fluff, sfw, acc!dental marriage, ooc a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe word count: 706

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

Egghead Island sparkled like something out of a futuristic dream. Or a nightmare. Depending on who you asked.

Laser drones zipped overhead, holographic sharks swam through the air, and the vending machines charged a 40% service fee to flirt with you.

You were already over it.

“What the hell is this?” you asked, staring at the sleek, metal screen of a suspicious-looking marriage kiosk that had popped out of a wall.

"CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR NUPTIAL INTEREST!" it blared.

You winced. “Nope. Not interested.”

Behind you, Luffy was already poking the glowing buttons like a toddler with a remote. “Oooh! What’s this do?”

“Don’t press that.”

He pressed it.

A beam of golden light scanned the both of you. "MATCH ACCEPTED," it beeped. “YOU ARE NOW LEGALLY MARRIED UNDER VEGAPUNK CODE 6.66 SUB-SECTION WE BALL.”

You blinked. “…What.”

Luffy blinked. “Cool.”

He grabbed your hand with that signature, easy grin. “We’re married now! Sweet!”

“LUFFY—”

Twenty seconds later, the rest of the crew found out.

Chopper: “You guys WHAT!?”

Sanji: (sobbing) “WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME, Y/N-CWAAAAN!?”

Robin: (smiling behind a book) “How lovely. I hope it was a beautiful ceremony.”

Zoro: “Of course you two would get hitched by a vending machine.”

Franky: “THIS IS SUPER!! WE GOTTA THROW A RECEPTION!!”

Jinbei: (serene) “I’ll call this divine destiny.”

Usopp: “Waitwaitwait—do we all have to get married now?? Is it contagious?!”

Nami, arms crossed, was the only one who looked vaguely sensible. “We’re not on a honeymoon, you idiots. We’re on a mission. Can’t believe you got fake-married on an island run by six genius maniacs.”

“It’s not fake,” Luffy said proudly, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

“It’s legally binding,” the vending machine added.

“LUFFY,” you groaned, facepalming. “We are not actually married—”

“But you held my hand,” he said with a pout.

“I was trying to stop you from pressing the stupid buttons!”

“But you didn’t let go shishishi” he added.

You were going to kill him. Or maybe yourself. Or maybe the vending machine.

Over the next few days, the crew refused to let it go.

Nami “accidentally” started assigning you and Luffy shared quarters.

Franky built a honeymoon hover-chair for two that followed you around and played romantic music at inopportune moments.

Brook wrote a song called “Wedded Bliss on a Warped Island” and played it constantly.

Zoro made gagging noises every time you entered a room.

Even Vegapunk Stella got involved.

“Fascinating bond signature,” he mused, looking at the machine’s readings. “Unusual compatibility levels. Perhaps a cosmic entanglement. Or just dumb luck.”

You were ready to drown in holographic seagull juice.

Luffy didn’t help.

He insisted on calling you "my spouse."

He’d hold your hand while walking down the lab halls like it was the most casual thing ever.

He used you as a pillow during naps—okay, not new behavior—but now he’d nuzzle your shoulder and murmur, “This is what married people do.”

You tried to zap him with a soft stun from your energy-based power.

He laughed and asked for more.

He started sharing his food.

You shared back.

He offered you half his meat skewer.

You offered him half your fruit cube.

You even started sitting next to him at dinner on purpose.

...You were doomed.

One night, while stuck in a laser barrier room together (thanks to Luffy pressing another suspicious button), things got quiet.

“Hey, Y/N,” Luffy said, lying next to you on the cold sci-fi floor.

“Yeah?”

“Do you wanna be married for real someday?”

You paused.

“With… you?”

“Yeah.”

You turned to face him. “You don’t even know what marriage is.”

He smiled, soft and crooked. “I know it means I get to be with you all the time.”

You blinked. Your powers, which usually sparked when you were annoyed or overwhelmed, glimmered gently around your fingertips like starlight instead.

You didn’t respond. Just nudged his leg with yours.

He took that as a yes.

The next day, the machine short-circuited itself trying to process “divorce.”

You pretended to be annoyed.

But when Luffy yelled, “Don’t worry, I didn’t want a divorce anyway!!” and tackled you into a hug, your powers sparked again—glowing soft blues and pinks this time.

And you let him hold you.

Stuck on You

Some prankster superglues Marco’s hand to yours. You both pretend to hate it… but secretly enjoy staying glued together.

Marco x gn! reader | ONE SHOT

Tags: fluff, flirting, chaos, sfw

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: 3.3k

MINORS DNI!!

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

It all started with a prank.

A very bad prank.

One minute you were standing on deck, minding your own business, chatting with Marco about nothing in particular — and the next minute, someone (you had your suspicions) superglued your hand to his.

Literally.

Palm-to-palm.

Fingers intertwined.

"You have got to be kidding me-yoi," Marco muttered, staring down at your very stuck hands with the emotional range of a man who had survived actual wars but could not survive this level of annoyance.

You tugged.

Marco tugged.

Your hands stayed locked together like some sort of romantic death grip.

"…Well," you said, very eloquently.

"Well," Marco echoed, voice utterly dry.

From somewhere behind a barrel, muffled snickering erupted. You both turned in time to see a few crewmates (Ace, you would bet your next paycheck) sprinting away at full speed, laughing their asses off.

Marco sighed heavily. "Should've seen that coming, yoi."

You blinked up at him, wide-eyed. "You think they superglued us together… on purpose?"

Marco gave you a long look, deadpan as hell. "…No-yoi. It was a coincidence that someone left industrial-strength glue exactly where we were standing."

You snorted, trying to suppress a laugh. "Fair enough, Mr. Smartass."

He smirked, tugging lightly at your conjoined hands again. No dice. You were fused like some godawful romantic statue.

"Guess we’re stuck-yoi."

You both stared at your hands, at each other, at your hands again.

Slowly, you realized the entire deck was staring.

Crewmates leaned against rails, poked their heads out of doors, peered from crow’s nests. Watching. Waiting.

You could almost hear the bets forming.

You hissed under your breath, "Don't make a scene. Act natural."

Marco smiled, the slow lazy kind that made your heart do stupid cartwheels.

"You think we’re good at ‘natural' -yoi?"

You elbowed him (gently, because, you know, superglue). "Walk. Casual. Now."

He obligingly started walking, swinging your joined hands obnoxiously like you were newlyweds on a stroll. You tripped trying to keep up with his stupid long strides, and Marco had the audacity to chuckle under his breath.

"Oh, you're enjoying this," you accused, half-laughing, half-glaring.

Marco tilted his head innocently. "Why wouldn’t I enjoy being glued to such charming company-yoi?"

You blinked.

Heat flared up your neck.

Was that… flirting?! From Marco?!

You decided to play it cool. "Obviously, I'm the lucky one. Being stuck with the infamous cool guy of the crew."

He arched an eyebrow. "Cool guy?"

You nodded sagely. "Yeah. All mysterious and strong and… broody. You know. Classic heartthrob material."

Marco actually laughed, full-throated and amused.

"You've been spending too much time with Ace, yoi," he said, but his thumb was rubbing slow circles into your knuckles — absent-minded, soft — and he made no move to pull away.

You pretended not to notice.

The ship doctor declared the situation "temporarily incurable" unless you wanted to rip off some skin.

You did not want that.

So you and Marco were officially handcuffed together for the next few hours, possibly longer.

The announcement spread through the ship like wildfire. Everywhere you went, people tried to hide their snickering — and failed spectacularly.

At lunch, you had to sit next to Marco. (Technically, on Marco, because the bench was too narrow and you kept bumping into him.)

Passing plates was a disaster.

You dropped a spoon into Marco’s lap at one point, and he just gave you a look so dry it could set fires.

You grinned sweetly. "Oops."

"You’re doing this on purpose."

"Maybe," you sang, swinging your legs.

Marco grunted — but the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

After lunch, things got worse.

You tried to help Marco with paperwork.

Emphasis on tried.

"Hold still, yoi," he muttered, trying to shuffle through documents with one hand while your hand clumsily trailed after his.

"This is your fault," you whispered dramatically.

"You touched me first."

"You glued yourself to me!"

"You leaned into the glue puddle-yoi."

"You—!" you sputtered.

The tension snapped — you both cracked up, laughing so hard the pen rolled off the desk.

Sometime around sunset, you found yourself sitting on the figurehead of the ship, watching the ocean shimmer gold. Marco sat next to you, your hands still hopelessly, ridiculously intertwined.

The atmosphere shifted — soft, quieter.

A breeze tugged at your hair.

Marco turned his head lazily, regarding you out of the corner of his eye.

"You know," he said casually, "if you wanted to hold my hand… you could’ve just asked-yoi"

You almost fell off the ship.

"I did not plan this!" you yelped, cheeks burning hotter than a volcano.

Marco chuckled — that low, warm sound you could feel in your ribs.

"I know," he said, a little softer. "But still."

You glanced down at your hands — how perfectly they fit together, the way his thumb lazily traced circles over your skin without even thinking.

"…It’s not so bad," you admitted, voice small.

Marco smiled.

Not the lazy, cocky smirk he gave everyone else — a real, soft smile that made your heart flutter traitorously.

"Nah-yoi," he agreed, squeezing your hand. "Not bad at all."

When the glue finally wore off (courtesy of some miracle solvent the ship doctor whipped up late at night), you both sat there for a second.

Free.

Hands separated.

No excuse anymore.

Marco looked at you.

You looked at Marco.

Long pause.

"…We’re allowed to hold hands without glue, you know," you blurted, immediately wanting to jump overboard from sheer embarrassment.

Marco laughed — really laughed — and before you could hide your face, he caught your hand again, lacing your fingers together easy as breathing.

"No more excuses-yoi," he said, lips brushing your temple in a featherlight kiss.

You clung tighter.

Maybe being stuck together wasn’t such a bad thing after all.