a/n: another installment of the love you like series, but then again… if it’s only two parts, can i still call it a series?
eustass kid loves you like found treasure. from the moment he stumbles across your smile, he knows that it’s something special. he can hardly believe how lucky he is to have found you, to have claimed your heart before anyone else. kid loves the way his name sounds on your lips, how wondrous it is to be yours as much you are his. but it’s the affection he finds with you — glittering, rich, radiant, irreplaceable — that’s the real prize, and he swears to call it his forever.
killerloves you like a symphony. it builds over time, a slow and magnificent thing. his love is a delicate melody at first — lilting but shy — until your affection comes rushing in, acting as the driving force that leads killer to you. when he finally kisses you, it’s harmonious beyond anything the world has known. every touch, every embrace, and every sweet, sweet kiss makes his heart sing, and he hopes that you’ll follow his lead until the end of time.
saboloves you like fireworks. a love that is so loud and colourful, it echoes across the skies and leaves your heart pounding in its chest — this is how sabo loves you. his love lights the night and leaves you breathless. you’re left starstruck when he pulls you closer and closer, until your foreheads touch and you can see love sparkling in his eyes. sabo looks at you with as much wonder as you look at him; the way you light up in the presence of his love — this is what sabo lives for.
dracule mihawk loves you like a garden. mihawk recognizes the seeds as soon as they fall into his hand — a tenderness that could grow into blooming affection. he loves you with patience and care, for mihawk knows how delicate these things can be. every day, he showers you with sweet words and envelopes you in a touch reserved only for his beloved. each smile that you return unto him, rosy and sweet, only confirms what he already knows; there is no feeling more beautiful than what you’ve planted in his heart.
red-haired shanks loves you like a masterpiece. when you’re around, inspiration strikes shanks like falling stars. his heart is a blank canvas and you have the honor of painting its first colours. streaks of pink, shades of love, and golden kisses — what starts off as random brushstrokes quickly becomes a work of art that history would envy. drunk nights, quiet mornings, and all the colourful memories that come in between; this is a love so brilliant that one could only hope to find something that even resembles it.
the truth slips out when you accept kid’s challenge
1.3k words
a/n: i’m so done working on this so please consider this my poor attempt at building sexual tension (100% sfw tho, so don’t worry!)
“just so you know,” you huff. “you’re wrong.”
kid pushes his goggles up. he stares at you, standing at the edge of his work table with your arms crossed and your expression teeming with venom. displeasure is written all over your face, and you look at him as if you can barely stand to be in the same room as him.
can you believe that kid still thinks you look sexy as hell?
unbeknownst to you, he smirks at his own admission, and the act only irritates you further. you click your tongue.
“you think i’m wrong about a lot of things,” kid puts his tools down and spins his stool around to face you. “so you’re going to have to be a bit more specific, sweetheart.”
you hate it when he uses that nickname and he knows it. it’s sugar-coated, condescending, and worst of all, it makes you blush and feel certain things that you do not want to be feeling.
you clear your throat, “about yesterday. you’re wrong.”
ah. kid remembers how last night’s conversation agitated you, and how you protested, contested, violently rejected his theory. and yet, he’s still convinced that he’s right; the denial is all in your head.
he leans back against his work bench, elbows resting on the counter as he looks you up and down. he’s not even trying to be subtle in the way he studies you. you squirm under his gaze because it always feels like he sees right through you when he looks at you like that. with his scarlet eyes, fiery and compelling, it takes everything in you not to get pulled in.
“so,” kid finally says. there is so much weight in the word and you brace yourself for whatever bullshit he’s going to say next.
“you still don’t think you have a crush on me?”
to say it was a heated argument last night would be an understatement. the memory of kid’s smug face has your blood boiling; the audacityof him to suggest that you feel anything other than sheer annoyance. the way your heart rate doubles when he’s around, how your cheeks heat up and you get all worked up — if that’s not hate then what could it be?
“why would ihave a crush on you?” you scoff.
“oh, man,” he grins. “there are so many reasons why.”
in the split second before kid opens his mouth again, you see exactly where he’s about to go.
“wait, you’re not actually gonna-”
he speaks over you, cutting off any chance for you to protest. “first of all, i’m insanely strong and talented and smart-”
you roll your eyes, but kid pays no mind.
“-not to mention that i am one of the supernovas-”
“big deal, so is killer.”
“-and arguably the most attractive one.”
you snort. some absolute airhead might be absurd enough to interpret kid’s arrogant attitude as an actual, attractive attribute, but not you.
there is nothing attractive about the way he grins devilishly, his stained lips upturned in a way that makes him look even more boyish. the way that his fangs dig into his lips every time he smirks is infuriating at best — not charming — and your heart is definitely not fluttering when he leans in close to say,
“oh? so you aren’t even attracted to me?”
you falter when he meets your gaze, his eyes taunting and coloured with desire.
kid wants you - that much is obvious. he’s wanted you since he first laid eyes on you, and he’s made it clear with all of his flirting, innuendos and suggestive little comments that he’s determined to win you over.
because eustass kid always gets what he wants.
and when he rises to his feet, deliberately approaching you like a lion stalking his prey, he has a feeling that he’s about to get what he wants.
“that’s right,” you say, but it comes out a little quieter and a little less forceful than you would’ve liked.
he smiles. kid can sense the shift in your body language; your breathing falls in line with his own, the tension in your shoulders eases, and your eyes start to betray you. they darken as he pushes his limits and moves even closer to you.
you hold your breath when kid stops in front of you.
“then prove it,” he says.
“kiss me.”
your heart stops. he can’t be serious.
oh, but he is.
“kiss me and prove me wrong,” kid insists. “if you feel zero attraction for me, then it’s no big deal, right?”
kid has to make a conscious effort not to laugh at his own genius. he’s got you cornered — not kissing him only confirms that he’s right and kissing him means that he finally lets a taste of what he’s been chasing all this time.
you’re caught in a checkmate and you know it. the only way out of this is to kiss him, or he’ll never stop teasing you.
but it’ll be fine, right? it’s not like you actually like him. if you think of this as nothing more than a physical interaction that shuts him up permanently, it really is no big deal. you’re both adults; it’ll be fine.
as long as you can get your heart to stop racing.
“fine,” you say as nonchalantly as you can. “i’ll kiss you.”
the gleeful grin that stretches across kid’s face makes you want to slap him. he chuckles — a low sound that resonates deep within his chest.
“perfect.”
it’s like a spell falls unto his workspace and every part of you becomes hyper aware of kid. he’s not even touching you but your skin feels hot and prickly. he smells like iron and salt air, and his eyes flicker with fire.
kid watches you struggle to stay composed when he inches closer and closer to you. your gaze flicker to his lips and something carnal grows inside him at the way you’re looking at him.
when he’s but a breath away from you, he pauses.
the truth is, as much as he’s enjoying the thrill of finally getting what he wants, there is a part of him that knows how real this is. his feelings for you are deeper and truer than what he makes them out to be — maybe even more than he even realizes.
you’re not really sure when you closed your eyes, or how long you waited until he finally kissed you, but when he does, any remaining fight left in you dissipates.
in contrast to his rough personality, his lips are soft — oh-so, so, so soft. and where you expected to get burnt by fire, you are instead met with a warm glow that courses through your veins. you’re unsure if it started from his lips or from his hands that are now gripping your waist, but it doesn’t even matter anymore.
you want more.
more, is what you think as your fingertips tug at his hair and pull him even closer. more, is what he thinks as his hands roam your body and he swallows every sweet moan of yours. more, and more, and more as your lips make up for lost time.
kid nearly keens at the feeling of your nails against his back. how you gasp when he grabs you is intoxicating. he’s hot all over, and hunger grows every time your lips part to invite him in.
but there is one thing he needs to do before he accepts the invitation.
it takes every ounce of self-control for kid to pull away instead of devouring you right then and there, and the way you whimper leaves him weak in the knees. you look at him, breathless with eyes blown wide and lips so beautifully, wonderfully puckered.
“so,” the single syllable is heavy with lust, and kid’s eyes are dark but triumphant.
“you still don’t think you have a crush on me?”
you growl, out of both annoyance and arousal, and kid smirks when you say,
ace somehow ends up cooking? and accidentally confessing?
1.2k words
a/n: not me, coming back to this 10 times because i kept telling myself there wasn’t enough fluff
the kitchen is ace’s favourite spot on the moby dick because he can find all things that he likes most there — food, food, and more food.
he hums as he pulls the fridge open to survey his options, taking a moment to scan the shelves before finally deciding on a pudding. just as he stuffs both cheeks with sugary, creamy custard, you walk into the kitchen.
actually, walking wouldn’t be an accurate description. you waddle in with heavy footsteps, bulging grocery bags piled high in your hands. ace swiftly darts out of the way lest he gets taken down by a sack of potatoes.
you plop the groceries down with a sigh and catch your breath before your eyes land on the wavy-haired commander.
“ace, hi! i didn’t see you there.”
you wear a smile of delighted surprise, and both his heart and lips respond with a smile of their own. even out of breath, brushing your hair out of your face, you are so lovely and sweet that you put ace’s afternoon snack to shame.
he realizes with a start that he’s staring at you longer than what would be socially acceptable. clearing his throat, he scoops another mouthful of pudding and points at the groceries you’re unpacking.
“what’s all that?”
“dinner,” you set down shrimps, potatoes, carrots, and… cream cheese?
ace raises his eyebrow.
you look down at the strange combination of ingredients and laugh at his confusion, “the 4th division picked paella today, but pops made a special request for carrot cake, so that’s what all this is.”
ace nods like this makes absolute sense and he knows exactly why you bought the cream cheese (was it for the paella? or the carrot cake?).
after you finish unpacking, you turn around as if you’ve just remembered something.
“wait, what are you doing in here?”
he raises the pudding cup in his hand.
“snacking,” you both say in unison.
if ace didn’t hadn’t finished the rest of his snack right then and there, he’s almost sure that his face would’ve split from how wide his grin was. spoon in his mouth, he manages (what he hopes is) a still devilishly handsome smile.
for a moment, ace could swear that you’re blushing but you turn away before he can confirm.
“so,” you say. “any chance that you like cooking as much as you like eating?”
he makes a face, “eh. i’m a disaster in the kitchen.”
“but you’re always in here!”
“yup,” he licks his spoon before putting it in the sink, “and it’s because the fridge is my best friend. but me and the stove?”
he sidles next to you, making a show of glaring at the stove before he leans in close. holding a hand to his face, he whispers, “we’re sworn enemies.”
at his poor acting, you burst into laughter and ace grins to himself. what a wonderful feeling to be the reason for your smile.
“well, you could always make new allies,” you slide him a vegetable peeler. “the utensils are very friendly, you know.”
“hmm, i don’t know… i’ve got a busy day of napping ahead of me…”
“nap later! dinner is in 3 hours and i haven’t event started-”
“that’sso much time!”
“not for an entire crew of pirates, it isn’t!”
you give him your best puppy dog eyes, and ace thinks that it must be illegal for someone to hold that much power in a single look.
“c'mon ace. pretty please?”
pretty indeed — very, very pretty.
so here he stands, armed with a carrot in one hand and a peeler in the other.
soon enough, the kitchen is overtaken by the rhythmic sound of your knife against the cutting board and ace’s hands fall suit to match your pace.
he moves the peeler in one swift motion. chop. he spins the carrot. chop.peel.chop.spin.chop.
his brain goes into autopilot, letting his attention travel to the main attraction of the kitchen. truth be told, one of the reasons why ace spends so much time here is because you’realways here.
ace watches as you prepare the veggies with focus. like always, there’s a joy in your concentration and the way you move is akin to watching an artist in their studio. you’re so caught up in your cooking that it seems like you’ve forgotten ace is beside you.
your eyes stay glued to the cutting board — which is an absolute shame.
because if you were looking at ace, you’d catch him staring at you. if you were looking, you’d see the most tender, loving expression that a man could gift anyone. you’d see how he marvels at you like the first explorer to stumble upon the breaking dawn, committing to memory the discovery he’s made — a magical, wondrous picture that one could only hope to find.
the sun rests in that sweet spot just before it sets, casting golden shadows on everything in the kitchen. sunset hues paint you the perfect shade of beauty — loose tendrils kissing your cheeks, sunlight falling along the curves of your face, a joyful smile that crinkles your eyes and lights up his entire day.
if you were looking, you’d know without a doubt that ace is irrevocably, hopelessly, dangerously in love with you.
and you leave him breathless, speechless, when you glance in his direction. a giggle leaves your lips — a beautiful, beautiful thing — and you look up to meet his eyes.
“do you have a vendetta against the peeler too?”
he looks down at the carrot in his hands, whittled down to a size that could only be appropriate for pixies. a delightful look of embarrassment takes over his face and you laugh again.
this time, it’s the kind of laughter that’s infectious and welcoming, and it doesn’t take long for ace to accept the invitation. his own laughter is playful and sweet alongside yours — the way happiness is supposed to sound when you spend time with someone you love.
“i guess you’re right,” he gestures towards the peeler, “i don’t think we can be friends.”
“butwe’refriends,” you pass him another carrot. “and friends help friends make dinner so let’s try again, hm?”
friends. what a detestable word. it stews in his mind, ugly and irritating, until he can’t take it any more and he blurts,
“what if we weren’t?”
you look at him, taken aback.
oh god, now he’s done it.
“what?” you sound hurt. “did i do something?”
shit.he back pedals, “no, nothing like that. that’s not what i meant. you- you didn’t do anything.”
“then…?”
ace takes a deep breath; he’s already dug himself a hole - might as well dive right in.
he ignores his nerves and tries to channel his usual flirty self. he fixes his eyes on that damned vegetable peeler on the counter.
“what if i wasn’t your friend,” he says as nonchalantly as possible. “and i was your boyfriend instead?”
a beat. then—
“well, boyfriends still have to help with dinner.”
his head snaps up. your tone isn’t unkind, and something like hope rises in his chest. that doesn’t sound like the rejection he was expecting. he musters enough courage to make eye contact with you, and he’s so glad that he did.
there’s a teasing smile on your lips, and you look at him with hearts in your eyes, “and for the record, i would like that very much.”
ace has spent a lot of time memorizing every wonderful, beautiful smile of yours but this one is new. this one is shy and golden, and it could be ace’s favourite one yet.
the kitchen is ace’s favourite spot on the moby dick because he can find all the things that he likes most there — meat, ghost peppers, spaghetti, and most of all, you.
a/n:yes, the oath line is inspired by that one lyric in taylor swift’s all too well (10 minute version) bc it is peak songwriting and you cannot fight me on this
monkey d. luffy loves you like an adventure. nothing fun has ever been planned in advance and loving you was the same. every day brings something new and his excitement for the unknown is contagious. you find yourself being pulled into his antics, hand in his as he guides you to places you’ve never dreamt of before. luffy can barely wait to see where love takes him today, and what he looks forward to most is having you there every step of the way.
roronoa zoro loves you like a home. no matter how late, no matter how long you’ve been away, his arms welcome and comfort you like refuge. a sanctuary, a fortress that is strong and unbreakable, built with care and detail to last forever. when you’re tired of the world, his love is there. when you just want to spend the day lying in the sun, he’s there. home is where the heart is, and zoro’s is in your hands. you will always find shelter in his love, reserved for no one else but you.
