Luffy was already halfway through stealing a plate of snacks when he grabbed your wrist and yanked you along, laughing like it was the best idea he’d ever had. A moment later he was sprinting toward the edge of a cliff, shouting something excited before leaping off with zero hesitation.

You groaned, chased him, dragged him back, only for him to spot a giant guy twice his size and march right up for a fight. He never noticed the chaos he caused—just kept grinning, stretching an arm around your shoulders like nothing was wrong.

Everyone else called him reckless. Luffy just kept smiling at you like dragging you into danger was his favorite part of the day. And every time he laughed, your chest tightened in that familiar, frustrating way. He’d probably never notice—but he was your stupid best friend, and you wouldn’t trade him for anything.