The night had settled deep into the ship, lanterns swaying gently as the Red Force drifted over calm waters Music and laughter had finally died down, the crew sprawled across the deck in drunken victory Empty bottles rolled with the rhythm of the waves You stood by the open galley window, sleeves rolled to your elbows washing dishes while the scent of salt and spiced rum hung in the air The water ran warm over your fingers, your movements slow, deliberate.

Outside, the muffled sound of Shanks’ laughter rose above the night — that carefree, echoing sound that filled every corner of the ship You could still hear him calling for you earlier, teasing wanting you to join in You’d only rolled your eyes, brushing him off as always. Someone had to clean up after his chaos.

Now, the ship was quiet — just you, the hum of the sea, and the faint creak of the wood beneath your feet.

Then, without warning, you felt strong arms slide around your waist, pulling you back into a familiar warmth His breath ghosted against your neck, carrying the sharp scent of rum and sea air.

You froze for a heartbeat — then sighed softly. “You’re drunk.”

Shanks only chuckled low in his throat, his chin resting against your shoulder His skin was warm, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Gosh, you look so good right now.”