╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗
Here is a little helper:
✏︎(y/n)=your name
✏︎(l/n)=your last name
✏︎(h/l)=hair length
✏︎(h/c)=hair color
✏︎(e/c)=eye color
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⋆The words in italics represent thoughts.⋆
♔
✎Requested by CaptainnLuffy
♔
Characteristics of the reader:
✏︎Respectful
✏︎Orderly
✏︎Quiet
╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*══╝
You walk quietly through the steel-lined halls of the Beast Pirates' fortress, the light clink of ibuprofen bottles muffled beneath your careful steps. The dull hum of the ship's systems fills the silence, but your mind is already focused on the door ahead — his door.
King.
Most would hesitate here. Some fear. Others revere. You... simply knock.
Three soft taps. You wait.
The door opens just enough for you to slip in. As always, he ensures no one else sees him. His obsidian wings folded tightly, his flame flickering low — more relaxed than usual.
He doesn't speak, not right away. He never rushes with you.
You cross the room and place the pills beside his bedside water, your fingers brushing the table's edge with practiced familiarity. He watches — not with suspicion, but with that quiet attention he never gives the others. You feel it more than see it.
He's always aware of you. Not like prey. Not like a subordinate. Just... aware.
"Thanks," he says, voice low and rough like gravel warmed by sun. He doesn't look directly at you, but he doesn't have to. You know he means it.
You nod and turn to go — but pause.
Your gaze falls to the pencil lying on the table beside the glass.
Slightly tilted. As always.
You don't think much of it. Just reach out and adjust it — neat, centered, straight. A small, unconscious gesture that's become part of this routine. A touch of order, a quiet habit. One you never skip.
What you don't know is this:
He tilts it on purpose. Every time.
He sets it off-center before you arrive, without fail. Not carelessly — deliberately. Because he likes this part. Watching you fix it. Knowing you will. It's a moment that repeats only with you. A ritual no one else notices, let alone performs.
Because this moment — like the pencil, like the silence, like the stillness he never minds when you're in the room —
belongs to you.
To him.
To both of you.
You don't see the way his flame flickers just a little brighter when you leave. Or how he looks at the now-straightened pencil like it's something sacred.
But if you did — you might understand:
For someone like King, who lets no one close...
this is as close as it gets.
[★]
Another day.
Another round.
King's footsteps echoed through the steel halls — slow, heavy, unbothered. Wings tucked, fire steady, visor fixed forward. The fortress breathed around him, but none dared breathe too loudly.
He didn't speak. He didn't need to.
Eyes lowered. Doors shut. Silence followed.
He wasn't looking for trouble.
He was looking to remind them he was there.
YOU ARE READING
One Piece x Reader - Book I
Fanfiction➯ The art used in the edit is made by Grimhel on DeviantArt One piece belongs to Eiichirō Oda as well as the canon characters of the series √
