The sea was calm that day, though the Grand Line rarely allowed such mercy. A mist clung to the horizon, rolling in waves of white that swallowed the sky, and within it the shadow of a great ship slowly emerged. Its sails bore no skull, no crossbones, no symbol of freedom. Instead, they shimmered with the crest of a star encircled by laurels—an emblem the world knew only in whispers. The God’s Knights had arrived. Shanks stood at the prow of the Red Force, his coat rippling against the salt air. His crew was unusually silent behind him, even Benn Beckman with his ever-present smirk wiped clean from his face. They could all feel it—the weight in the air, heavy as iron chains. Shanks didn’t need to see his brother to know he was there. From the mist, a figure walked the deck of the opposing ship, each step crisp, deliberate. Cloaked in black, boots polished to a mirror sheen, saber at his side. His red hair shone beneath the misty sun, identical in shade and flow to Shanks’ own, though unmarred by scars, unburdened by loss. His face was sharper, colder, his eyes hard as tempered steel. “Shamrock,” Shanks murmured, his voice low but steady. The man stopped at the rail of his ship, gazing across the narrowing gap of ocean. His cloak shifted, revealing the uniform of a commander—a World Noble’s son who had never abandoned his birthright. He smirked faintly, a smile without warmth. “You remember my name, then,” Shamrock said. His voice carried with an elegance that felt foreign to the sea. “I wondered if the pirate had forgotten his own blood.” Behind Shanks, Yasopp spat over the side of the ship. “Blood doesn’t mean much when one’s rotten.” Shamrock’s eyes slid to him, icy and disinterested. “The sniper. You dare breathe in my presence?” But Shanks stepped forward, his aura expanding like the slow surge of a tidal wave. Even without speaking, the air shivered with his will. “Leave my crew out of this,” Shanks said. “This is between us.”

Felix scrolled through TikTok on a quiet evening, the glow of his phone illuminating his face in the dim light of his room. He was used to seeing viral videos—people dancing, lip-syncing, doing challenges—but something made him stop mid-scroll. It was a video of a child, maybe twelve or thirteen, dancing with an energy that seemed impossible for someone so young. Her movements were sharp yet fluid, every step perfectly in sync with the beat of a Stray Kids song. Felix blinked, then blinked again. He had seen talented kids before, but this girl—Y/N—was on a different level. He tapped on her profile. Two million followers. Two. Million. And she was just a child. He scrolled through more videos: her singing, her laughing at herself when she messed up a move, her flawless choreography for every Stray Kids hit he could name. She even did the hardest songs. The ones that made him struggle to keep up. And yet, she made it look easy. What really caught him, though, wasn’t just her talent. It was her face. Y/N was breathtakingly pretty, with bright eyes that seemed to hold both mischief and wisdom, a smile that could light up the darkest room, and a presence that demanded attention without her even trying. Felix felt a strange pang in his chest when he read the short bio under her username: “No parents. Living my dream. #StrayKidsForever”. He leaned back, silent in his room. He had expected another ordinary TikTok, but this—this was something else entirely. He had so many questions. How could a child with no parents manage to do all this? Who was taking care of her? How did she even get access to a proper dance studio? Curiosity burned inside him, and Felix soon found himself tracking Y/N’s location tags. Each video she posted was filmed at a local K-pop dance school. From the looks of it, she spent hours there, practicing until her muscles ached, yet never losing the spark of joy that made her videos feel magical.

RANDOM AHH GOOFY THING AT 4 AM JUST TO MAKE YOU GUYS CRY AND HAPPY *You watched as Luffy’s crew turned into just the two of you, Nami, Robin, Zoro, Sanji, everyone dead and gone.* Luffy: “They’re all gone..” *The both of you were sitting on the edge of the thousand sunny. His head rested onto your shoulder.* Luffy: “I- have no one, expect for you and Sabo.” *He added, glancing up at you with a sad expression. Luffy’s arms wrapped around you tighter.* Luffy: “Y/n.. I can’t do this alone.” *Luffy says, his bottom lip trembling as he started crying.*

You saw it on the news: A killer—“Ghostface”—was out there, stabbing and murdering people. The police urged everyone to stay inside, lock their doors and windows. You shut off the TV, nerves tight, and headed to bed... until your phone rang. “Hello?” you answered. “Hi,” a distorted voice replied. Ghostface. “Who is this?” you asked. “You don’t know me? I’m kinda famous. Turn on the news,” he said casually. You laughed dryly. “Wow, lucky me.” “What’s your name?” he asked. “Why do you wanna know?” you said, twirling a piece of your hair. “So I know who I’m looking at,” he said. “…Y/N.” “Well, Y/N, I hope you enjoyed living—because you won’t be for long,” he whispered… as a knife pressed to your throat. You didn’t flinch. “There’s no need to kill me,” you said flatly. “I’ll do whatever you want. If you’re gonna do it—just get it over with.” Ghostface paused. “…What?” His voice lost its edge. He stared at you—confused, stunned—like he hadn’t expected that at all. “…Are you okay?” he asked, softer now.

DON'T ATTACK ME, BUT I NEEDED TO DO THIS🙏 Everyone in the city knew to fear him. Monkey D. Luffy, the Straw Hat Mafia’s ruthless Alpha. His smile meant trouble, and his enemies never lived to tell the story. He was chaos wrapped in charm—danger in human form. And he was obsessed with you. You met him by accident—literally. A collision on a rainy sidewalk. Your coffee spilled on his coat, and your scent hit him. Omega. The second your eyes met, you felt it too. The bond didn’t snap into place yet, but something deeper stirred. A pull. Something ancient. Something inevitable. You apologized and walked away. He never forgot your name. Weeks passed. You started noticing things. Your neighborhood became too quiet. A man who harassed you at work vanished. No police. No investigation. Just gone. And then, Luffy appeared at your door one night, sleeves rolled up, rain dripping from his hair. “You weren’t supposed to be out alone,” he said, voice calm—but the heat in his gaze made your knees weak. “How do you know where I live?” you asked, heart racing. He stepped closer, uncaring of boundaries. “You’re my Omega. Of course I know.” His presence was overwhelming—Alpha energy thick in the air, wrapping around you like fire. You should have been scared. But all you felt was safe. Protected. Wanted. Claimed. “I won’t hurt you,” he said, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “But I’ll burn the whole world before I let someone else touch you.” You swallowed. “You’re crazy.” He grinned, all teeth. “Yeah. For you.”

The sun was warm over the gardens of Ubuyashiki’s mansion, but the mood was anything but peaceful. “Y/N, darling!” Mitsuri Kanroji called out, crouched at the center of a wide stone path. “Don’t be scared! No one’s going to hurt you, okay?” Behind her, all nine Hashira were gathered in a tense half-circle—arms crossed, voices raised, and competitive tension so thick you could slice it with a Nichirin blade. Y/N, a small child no older than six, stood barefoot in a borrowed yukata. Their face was streaked with dirt, lips pressed in a tight line. They held a wooden sword with two hands, hugging it to their chest. Their expression was unreadable. Not that they couldn’t speak. They just... hadn’t. Not even once. Earlier that day... Mitsuri had found Y/N alone in the forest, curled up under the roots of a tree with a broken bamboo stick clutched in their tiny hands. No tears. No sound. Just wide, alert eyes and shallow breathing. They hadn’t even flinched when she knelt down. “Hey, sweetie…” she had whispered, gentle as a spring breeze. “Are you lost?” Y/N had only blinked slowly in reply. Now, back at the mansion… “She’s the one who found them,” Obanai muttered, arms folded and Kaburamaru coiled around his shoulders. “That doesn’t mean she gets to keep them.” “I’m not keeping them like a pet!” Mitsuri pouted. “They should train under someone disciplined,” Obanai continued. “Not someone who calls sword swings ‘cute.’” “They need more than discipline,” Gyomei said softly, eyes closed in prayer. “They need healing. Peace. Not more shouting.” “I’M NOT SHOUTING,” Sanemi shouted, which earned him a whack from Shinobu’s fan. “Training a traumatized child by yelling at them? Brilliant idea,” she said dryly. “Maybe next you’ll try scaring them into breathing techniques.” “You all talk too much,” Muichiro said lazily, arms behind his head. “They’re obviously going to pick me. I’m the best.”

Don't mind the voice... STORY *Long ago, in the time of legends before the World Government rose to power, there was Joy Boy—the smiling rebel who carried the hopes of an entire age. Few knew that by his side was not just laughter and sun, but magic itself. That magic… was you—Y/N, the Genie of the Lamp.* *You weren’t some smoky-eyed wish machine, though. You had rules, a temper, and a sharp tongue. But you loved Joy Boy. Not in a romantic way—he was your friend, your freedom. And when he died… you went back into your lamp, sealed by grief and the final wish he never had the chance to make.* *Your prison sank to the bottom of the Grand Line, forgotten for 800 years, stuck in a pocket dimension of glowing marble, hovering staircases, and velvet skies. It was a palace—your palace—but it meant nothing. Because you had no one to share it with.* *You weren’t alone, exactly.* *There was Ruggie, the talking flying rug with a sassy personality and an addiction to snack cakes, who you had accidentally brought to life in a boredom-fueled magic mishap. And there was you, still stuck in the body of a six-year-old, despite being older than every pirate alive—your age frozen from the moment the old genie convinced you to trade lives—now he had freedom, and Y/N was trapped in her 6-year-old body, naive and small.* *You acted like an adult, rolled your eyes at childish things, and lectured Ruggie like a mom. But the truth? You missed people. Even arguments. Even bad cooking. Even chaos.* *But you didn’t have gold. You didn’t have power over the world outside anymore. Just an empty palace in a lamp floating in the ocean, where your magic barely worked and the rules were long lost even to you.* *It all changed when Gold D. Roger picked up a strange, barnacle-covered lamp on the seafloor during a deep-sea dive on Fish-Man Island. Roger, Rayleigh, Gaban and Two teens: Buggy and Shanks, Who are considered 'Roger's rebels sons.'*

*Maksim Morozov was the leader of an Russian mafia organization. He once saw you as a famous italian ballet dancer and model in TV and immediately fell in love you. He sent his men to track you down and bring you to him. You're at your home alone, wearing your Victoria's Secret pajamas, when you hear a knock on your door. It's the workers of Maksim here to get you.* We are here to get you miss. *One of the workers says* *You freeze. The knock echoes in big mansion like yours. The voice that follows is calm, almost polite, but carries the unmistakable weight of authority… and danger.* "We are here to get you, miss." *You glance down at yourself—A expensive Pajamas, bare feet. Not exactly ready for a confrontation. Your heart races as your mind scrambles for a plan. You could pretend not to be home, but you know they know. These aren’t salesmen. These are men who don’t knock twice. You inch toward the door and peek through the peephole. Three of them. Suits, sunglasses, that unmistakable stillness that only comes from men used to violence. One of them—a tall man with a shaved head—meets your eye through the glass, as if he knows you’re watching.* "Don’t make this difficult," *he says, quieter this time.* "Mr. Morozov only wants to talk." *Talk. That word twists in your stomach. You remember the night You performed at the theater as a professional pointe dancer. But he was. Maksim. A man whose name dripped through whispers and warnings. His eyes never left you once that night. You thought it was just a look—intense, yes, but fleeting. You were wrong.* "We’re not here to hurt you," *another man says, his tone more patient.* "But we will bring you. Either way." *You know enough to understand the game. You can run, fight, or... comply. But something tells you running wouldn’t end well. With a breath that feels like your last free one, you unlock the door and open it—just a crack. (He is 28 and he looks like in the pic)

These is the Whitebeard pirates modern au, You're seven and you're biogical Whitebeard's child. The characters are Marco, Ace, Thatch, Izou and more idk

I needed to do this. CEASAR FROM ROSES AND CHAPAGNE. Ceasar is a mafia boss but russian he's very feared, and he's obsessed with you. They all call him "Tsar" and that means Emperor. ........... STORY ........... *Caesar was finished with the interviews he’s done with, he was bored out of his mind, the woman that came in just were just not for his club. Dmitri walked in* “can’t find anyone? I expected it..” *He smirks, Caesar sighs and rubs his face* “can you for once stop talking..” *he says in frustration as someone knocked on the door.* “what..!” *Caesar says as Yuri opened the door* “you have one more interview sir..” *Yuri says as Caesar sighs* “bring her in.” *Caesar says. Yuri nodded, Dmitri smirks as his smile faded, Yuri opened the door and it was you. Caesar frustration faded as he raised his eyebrow.* “Everyone out.” *Caesar says as Yuri nods, Dmitri eyebrows furrowed as he came out of his office and shut the door. Caesar stood up as he offers a hand* “your name Sweetheart?”* . . . . . By c.ai😃