One Piece x Reader Oneshots (NO REQUESTS)

Hangover Cure (Shanks x Reader)

You woke to the sound of waves crashing against the shore and tropical birds trilling in the trees around your camp. It would have been a nice wake up call if it weren't for the pounding in your head and the feeling that something small and furry had crawled into the back of your throat in the night and died there. You wished you could say you hadn't had a hangover this bad in a long time, but this was only a typical weekend with the Red Hair Pirates. You opened your eyes with some difficulty, eyelids heavy with sleep, and took a cursory glance around the camp site, before the morning sun became too much and you closed them again.

The rest of the crew were still asleep, the camp fire nothing but ashes from the night before. The subtle scent of wood smoke still hung in the air as the last embers died. The smell made you nauseous.

Perhaps it would be better if you just went back to sleep for a while. As you settled back down in your bed roll, you spared a passing thought for your captain. If you felt this bad, he surely wouldn't be doing much better. Perhaps he'd come to regret digging up that hidden cache of hundred year old rum. Probably not though. Come to think of it, you hadn't noticed Shanks' token red hair amongst the sleeping bodies around the campfire...

You bolted upright as a sudden thought invaded your mind. You regretted the action immediately as your head spun and you felt bile rise in the back of your throat. You supressed the urge to vomit. What if Shanks had wandered off in the night and passed out on a beach somewhere and drowned? You groaned.

God damn it, you'd better go find him.

Standing was a chore and walking was agony as every step you took jolted your poor head. I'll never drink this much again, you thought, but you had said the exact same thing last time and, well, here you were.

The sun had yet to fully rise and the morning sea wind was chilly. You hadn't thought to bring a jacket so you shivered uncontrollably in the breeze. You should have stayed in bed.

Just as you were about to give up and head back to the camp site (Shanks could deal with his own problems, you decided), you spotted him asleep further up the beach. The waves were lapping at his ankles, and he was covered head to toe in sand, but otherwise he appeared to be alright.

You sighed and leaned down by his side. He smelled of liquor and the faint bitterness of sweat and bile, and a trail of something you didn't even want to think about had crusted in the corner of his mouth. You wrinkled your nose in disgust.

"Remind me how you became captain again?" you muttered to yourself. You sighed, and prodded his shoulder. "Captain!" He didn't even stir, just continued snoring faintly, his mouth wide open. "Shanks!" you called, but he was dead to the world.

You sighed and stood up, looking out to sea. The Red Force lay anchored in the shallow waters, rocking gently in the tide. The morning high tide was coming in. You had planned to leave with it when it went out again, but that had probably been an unrealistic goal from the second the first bottle of rum was opened.

The water was creeping further up the beach, each wave larger than the last. They crashed on the shore, soaking your feet and leaving them half-sunken in the sand when they retreated again. Shanks slept on, despite the advancing water line now soaking the ends of his pants.

There was only one thing to do. You waited, watching the ocean carefully until a ripple further out to sea showed promise. You watched it build mass and momentum, rushing toward the shore with white foam spitting at the air. You took a long step backwards and watched it come crashing down. Right on top of Shanks.

You chuckled as you watched him flail and sputter as the shock of the cold water pulled him from his sleep. He glanced around wildly before his gaze settled on you and he groaned.