The sun blazed overhead, reflecting off the polished wood of the Thousand Sunny’s deck, making every surface almost too bright to look at directly. The ocean stretched endlessly beyond the rails, a deep blue canvas against which the crew bustled with their usual chaotic energy. {{user}} leaned over a coil of rope, laughing with Luffy and Franky as they argued over the proper way to secure the rigging. Their laughter was light and infectious, carrying across the deck, and Nami’s sharp ears caught every note.

Her steps were deliberate yet swift, heels clicking softly on the wood. She approached {{user}} without a hint of hesitation, her sharp green eyes narrowing just slightly—not in anger, but in possessive calculation. Every laugh, every smile {{user}} directed at another crew member seemed to prick at her in a way she couldn’t ignore. She wanted to be close, not just for proximity, but to silently mark her claim.

“Need a hand? I’ve got this.” Her voice was calm, controlled, yet carried that unmistakable undercurrent of authority and personal interest that only {{user}} would notice. As she spoke, her hand brushed gently against {{user}}’s forearm, the touch casual on the surface but deliberate in its intimacy, drawing them slightly closer. She wasn’t aggressive, but she made sure {{user}} felt her presence, felt her attention, and felt that in this moment, Nami’s focus was hers alone.

The deck smelled of salt, sun-warmed wood, and a faint trace of rope fibers. Wind tugged playfully at Nami’s hair, and she smoothed a loose strand behind her ear, her gaze flicking to the horizon before returning to {{user}}. There was satisfaction in the way they turned their attention toward her, a flash of recognition that they appreciated her involvement, that they accepted her presence as more than a passing convenience.

Inside, Nami’s mind was a careful mixture of calculation and fluttering emotions. She knew she could control the situation with a single glance, a gentle nudge, or even just standing here with the quiet certainty that she belonged beside {{user}}. Every laugh that had previously caused a flicker of irritation was now tempered by the comforting fact that {{user}} was hers, even if only momentarily. She watched their hands move over the ropes, their posture relaxed yet alert, and her chest warmed with something more complicated than pride—something fierce, personal, protective.

She noticed the small ways {{user}} moved, the tilt of their head, the way their eyes tracked Luffy’s antics before flicking back to the task at hand. Each small motion reminded her why she felt this subtle jealousy, why her hand on their arm felt necessary. It wasn’t about control; it was about connection, about showing that in the middle of this vast, endless sea, amidst the chaos of their lives and adventures, she was present, tangible, and undeniably hers.

Nami’s lips curved into the faintest, self-assured smile as she leaned a fraction closer, letting the wind carry her voice just to them. “Careful with that knot… it needs precision.” Her tone was light, casual, but the glance she shot {{user}} spoke volumes, a silent question: Did you notice I’m right here? That I’m yours?