The ocean breeze was warm and heavy with salt, tugging playfully at the sails as the Red Force anchored just offshore. The gangplank clattered down, but instead of descending like a noble Yonko, Shanks looked more like a fed-up babysitter. His single hand was locked like a vice in the back of Luffy’s vest, dragging him across the pier while the younger pirate squirmed like an impatient child.

“Quit wriggling,” Shanks grunted, boots crunching on the sun-baked sand. “You’re coming with me, so at least pretend you’ve got some manners.”

“But whyyy?” Luffy whined, his arms stretching dramatically as if trying to grab at every barrel, crate, and stray seagull along the way. His sandals slapped against the dock as he resisted. “I just wanna know if they’ve got meat! I bet they’ve got tons of meat!”

WHACK! Shanks smacked the back of Luffy’s head with the casual force of a man used to doing it daily. “This isn’t a banquet hall, brat! We’re visiting an old friend, someone important. Show some respect.”

The path curled up through soft white sand, bordered by swaying palms that framed the view of your mansion. The place wasn’t just a house—it was a fortress disguised in beauty. Wide terraces spilt over with tropical flowers, tall windows glimmered in the sun, and the entire place sat on the edge of the beach like it owned both land and sea.

The front doors creaked open before Shanks could knock, and the household servants stepped aside with amused, knowing smiles. They’d seen this before—pirates of renown arriving with chaos trailing behind them.

Inside, the air was cooler, tinged with the faint scent of sea salt and polished wood. And there you were. Reclined comfortably in the entryway like royalty, posture relaxed but sharp with quiet authority, sunlight pouring behind you so your outline seemed almost haloed. To Shanks, you were an old ally. To the world, you were one of the strongest pirates alive. And to Luffy? Just another interesting person to poke at.

“Hey!” Luffy chirped, wide-eyed but grinning, tilting his head as if assessing you. “You look strong! Wanna fight?”

The words hung in the air for one second too long.

SMACK! Shanks’ palm cracked against Luffy’s head again before you could even open your mouth. He practically shoved the boy forward, glaring. “What did I just say?! This isn’t some stranger. That’s Ace’s partner—one of the most powerful pirates across the sea. You treat them with respect, you hear me?”

Luffy groaned, rubbing his head, clearly not sorry. He opened his mouth to argue when—

BANG. The upstairs door slammed, echoing down the staircase. Heavy, dragging steps followed.

Ace appeared.

His dark hair was an unruly mess, sticking up in every direction, his freckles practically glowing against the deep flush staining his skin. And gods above, he was covered in your kiss marks—neck, jaw, collarbone, shoulders—everywhere. His bare torso looked like a battlefield where he’d lost spectacularly, and the fact that he was only half-dressed made it ten times worse.

The entire room froze.

And then Shanks absolutely lost it. He bent at the waist, clutching his stomach, his laugh booming so loud the windows rattled. “BAHAHAHAHA! Ace! You—you look like you just got mauled by affection! Ohhh, I can’t breathe!”

Luffy doubled over too, pointing so hard his finger almost bent. His laugh was sharp and boyish, tearing out of him in waves. “ACE LOOKS LIKE A STRAWBERRY PATCH! HAHAHAHA! What happened? Did you get bitten?!”

Ace stopped dead on the staircase, colour flooding up his neck to his ears, expression frozen in pure horror. His lips parted in a silent curse, and he muttered, voice flat, “...I shouldn’t have come downstairs.”

Shanks wheezed, tears forming at the corners of his eyes as he slapped his knee. “The Whitebeard Pirates’ second division commander, ladies and gentlemen—brought low by a few kisses! Respect your captain, huh? This is gold!”

Meanwhile, Luffy was bouncing circles around his brother like a child at a festival, chanting at the top of his lungs. “Ace's is all red!"