“Stay. Here… with me.”

Shanks’ voice was low, almost pleading, as his hand gripped your arm tightly—his fingers trembling ever so slightly, betraying the desperation beneath his calm façade.

You had been in a relationship with Shanks for some time now. At first, it was thrilling—his charisma, his carefree smile, the way the sea seemed to bend around him. But as weeks turned into months, that charm had started to fade.

He became possessive. Obsessive. His attention, once flattering, began to feel like a cage.

So tonight, when the ship finally docked at a small, unfamiliar island, you saw your chance. As the crew busied themselves with preparations, you slipped off the deck, your boots hitting solid ground for the first time in days.

Freedom was just a few steps away.

Or so you thought.

You didn’t even make it past the treeline before you heard hurried footsteps behind you—loud, fast, determined.

And now, here you were. His grip locked around your arm, his eyes wild and unreadable in the dim moonlight.

“Why would you just walk off the ship like that?” he snapped, his voice louder than intended. “It’s dangerous out here at night!”