Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rebirth

Pain.

It was the last thing Aegis remembered.

A deep, suffocating agony that clung to his bones, wrapping itself around every nerve, every breath, every heartbeat. Breathing felt like punishment. Existing felt like cruelty.

He had wasted years rotting in a hospital bed. Tubes in his arms. Monitors humming around him like mechanical vultures. The sterile sting of antiseptic soaked into his skin. The walls always white. The air always cold.

He watched his body betray him—slowly, surely, ruthlessly. Every day, a little less movement. A little less strength. A little more pain.

Doctors spoke in hushed tones around him, as if dying people couldn’t hear. As if he didn’t understand what “degenerative” and “terminal” meant.

They called it a miracle he had lasted that long. But he knew better. It wasn’t a miracle.

It was torment.

And then, one day—

He died.

There was no dramatic send-off. No tearful goodbyes. No grand orchestral finale. Just a sharp pang in his chest, a flatline echoing in his ears—

And then—

Nothing.

No light.
No tunnel.
No angels.
No hellfire.
Just—

Wind.

Crashing waves.

The cry of gulls.

Aegis woke to the sound of the ocean and the sting of sunlight searing through his eyelids.

His first breath burned—humid and salty, thick with life. The sand clung to his damp skin. The sun poured down like fire. He blinked against the brightness and sat up too fast.

He choked.

His lungs worked. His muscles obeyed. No IVs. No machines. No weakness in his limbs. No numbness in his fingertips.

He stared at his hands in disbelief.

They didn’t tremble.

There were no scars. No needles. No bruises blooming beneath translucent skin.

He could move.

God. He could move .

His heart slammed against his ribs, wild and frantic. He scrambled to his feet, half-expecting to collapse—but he didn’t. He stood.

One step.
Then another.
And another.

And then—
He ran.

Down the shoreline, across the wet sand, with the wind in his face and the surf licking at his heels. His breath came fast. Harsh. Labored.

But not because he was dying.

Because he was living .

Tears blurred his vision as he slowed, staggering to a stop. The ocean stretched out endlessly before him, glimmering under the sun.

This can’t be real.

His chest heaved. His fingers curled into fists.

I died.
I was supposed to die.

And yet—

Here he was.

Alive.

Whole.

Stronger than he had ever felt.

But how?

His pulse spiked again, this time with panic. His eyes darted around the beach, searching for anything—anyone. A sign. A clue. Something to anchor him.

And then—
He saw it.

A wooden post. Weather-worn. Splintered. Something nailed to it, flapping in the wind.

A poster.

He staggered toward it, feet dragging through the sand.

It was a wanted poster. Sun-faded and tattered at the edges, but unmistakable.

"Red-Haired Shanks — 4,048,900,000 Berries."

His heart stopped .

That name—he knew that name.

His gaze snapped to the other posters pinned alongside it.

"Dracule Mihawk — 3,590,000,000 Berries."
"Edward Newgate — 5,046,000,000 Berries."

The names blurred.

The numbers made his stomach turn.

No.
No, no, no.

This couldn’t be real. This wasn’t possible.

One Piece?
That goofy anime with rubber pirates and cartoon logic? He had only watched a few episodes. He knew the basics—Devil Fruits, Luffy’s dream, Blackbeard’s betrayal, Ace and Thatch dying, Whitebeard’s final stand…

But this?

This wasn’t fiction anymore.

This was reality .

He stumbled back, vision spinning.

This is a dream. Just another fever dream. I’ve had those before. This is one of them. It has to be.

He clawed at his arms, nails digging into flesh.

It hurt.
God, it hurt.

His breath came in short gasps as the truth slammed into him like a tidal wave.

He was in One Piece .

He was alive— in One Piece .

Holy shit.

How? Why?

Why him?

He had been no one. Just a dying man in a hospital bed. Barely alive. Barely remembered.

And now…

Now he was here .

Alive. Reborn.

In an anime world he barely understood.

He wasn’t even a fan!

And then—

The worst realization of all hit him, cruel and cold:

He couldn’t swim.

The knowledge struck like a punch to the gut. He didn’t need to test it—he knew .

There was something inside him now. Something humming beneath his skin, like static and storm clouds. Something that hadn’t been there before.

A presence.
A power.

It whispered to him. Familiar, despite being new.

He turned to the sea. Stepped toward the waves. Took a breath.

Then extended a hand.

He didn’t know what he was doing—only that he needed to try.

And the world responded.

An illusion shimmered to life before him—a mirror image of himself, perfect and weightless. It hovered in the air for a heartbeat… then dissolved like mist on the wind.

He stared.

A laugh burst from his lips. Shaky. Borderline hysterical.

A Devil Fruit.

Of course the universe gave him a Devil Fruit.

It dragged him into a world where the sea is death and then cursed him with power.

And he looked… different.

White hair.
Golden eyes.

Changed by the fruit, maybe. Changed by death. Changed by rebirth .

His legs gave out beneath him.

He collapsed onto the sand and screamed.

Not in fear.
Not in grief.
Not even in joy.

He screamed because this was real .

Because he had died .

And now he was free .

Chapter Text

Survival or Lack Thereof

Aegis had two problems.

One: he had no idea how to survive.
Two: he had no idea how to survive.

He liked to pretend those were two separate problems. Somehow, that made him feel less pathetic. Less like a walking disaster and more like… a guy with layers of disaster. Like an onion. A crying, starving, borderline-feral onion.

Back in his old life, he had been a sickly wreck. Fragile. Confined to a hospital bed for most of his years, he had barely done anything for himself. He didn’t know how to do laundry. Didn’t know how to clean. Couldn’t cook for shit.

His diet consisted of bland hospital food, the occasional snack a kind nurse snuck past protocol, and whatever he could swipe from other patients when no one was looking. (But no one needed to know about that.)

Now?

Now, he was stranded in the middle of a goddamn anime with zero survival skills.

Fantastic. What a time to be alive.

The first few days were brutal.

The island he ended up on was small. Poor. Crumbling in places. Definitely not built for tourists—or stranded reincarnators.

He had woken up starving.

Not the casual, ‘I could use a snack’ kind of hungry. The real kind. The hunger that gnawed at his ribs, made his vision blur, and twisted his insides into knots. Desperation.

At first, he tried to be civil.

Tried to earn food like a responsible, upstanding member of society.

He had loved singing in his past life. It was the one thing he had that didn’t fade with illness. His voice. He was good at it. No— great . He’d always dreamed of being a singer.

So he decided, with confidence and misplaced optimism, to make it his job.

Spoiler alert: it went spectacularly wrong.

Turns out, no one wants to hire a random, dirty, half-starved stranger who appears out of nowhere with no background, no ID, and zero applicable skills.

(“You can’t just say you’re a traveling performer and expect people to believe you,” one old woman had scoffed. “Sing something at least, child!”)

But Aegis had promptly choked.

Yeah, he could sing. But he wasn’t about to break into a musical number while looking like a sewer rat— and smelling like one. He had standards , thank you very much.

Sure, he wasn’t rich in his last life. But this new one? It felt like someone had dumped cold water on his head—bucket and all.

So, like any morally flexible isekai protagonist in a life-or-death situation…

He turned to stealing.

And honestly?

He was amazing at it.

His Devil Fruit—whatever the hell it was—made it too easy .

It came naturally, as if his new body had been made for it. The knowledge was just there , humming under his skin, whispering through his bones. It spoke to him.

He called it the Mirage-Mirage no Mi.

A Devil Fruit that let him create illusions—some real, some not, depending on size, time, and maybe his mood.

With a flick of his fingers, he could conjure a fake bag of money. Place it on a merchant’s stall. Watch them gape long enough for him to swipe the real bag.

If he got caught? He made a duplicate of himself running the other way.

Once, he made a perfect copy of someone’s wallet just to return it dramatically—and pocket the real one in the chaos.

It was glorious .

(“So this is what being talented feels like,” he muttered after his third successful theft. “I should’ve become a con artist in my last life.”)

He had rules, though.

Aegis never stole from people who were clearly struggling. If they had ragged clothes, desperate eyes, or a coin pouch that jangled too softly—he left them alone.

He wasn’t a monster.

He could be.
But he chose not to be.
(You’re welcome, society.)

Instead, he targeted the loudmouths. The cocky merchants who cheated their customers. The drunk idiots who flashed their wealth and harassed barmaids. The sleazy bastards who whistled at women in the street.

(“Think of it as redistribution of wealth,” he told himself, stuffing another stolen wallet into his coat. “I am basically a charity. Kekeke.”)

And gods, it felt so good .

For the first time in years, he had energy.

His body moved. His muscles worked. His lungs breathed deep and easy.

His legs ran. His hands were steady. His skin held color.

Every time he got away with a trick, he wanted to laugh until his stomach hurt.

Look at him now—Aegis, former hospital ghost. Now a thriving, physically-capable menace. The glow-up of the century.

Wherever the newspapers were in this world, they better be writing about him.

But he wasn’t stupid.

He had read enough isekai and reincarnation stories to know the golden rule:

Avoid the main characters.

Do not get involved.
Do not become relevant.
Do not trigger the butterfly effect that ends with you getting punched into orbit by a straw hat-wearing rubber man.

(“I swear to god,” he muttered one night, curled up in a garbage-scented alley, “if I so much as see a straw hat, I’m running into the ocean and testing if I can still float. If not—guess I’ll just die again .”)

So he kept his head down.

… Mostly .

Because Aegis was dramatic .

And subtlety wasn’t exactly his strong suit.

Sure, he avoided the big-name pirates, but that didn’t stop him from putting on a show every now and then.

Whenever he made a getaway, he bowed like a stage performer. Blew kisses to his angry pursuers. Vanished into the shadows like a phantom.

If someone caught him mid-heist, he’d gasp theatrically, clutch his chest, and cry out, “You wound me, sir! Do I look like a thief to you?”

Spoiler:
He absolutely did.

And if he ever got cornered?

Illusions were a beautiful, beautiful thing.

(“I am the ghost of this street!” he declared once, raising a shimmering spirit behind him with glowing eyes and flickering limbs. “I curse all who dare chase me!”)

The drunks ran screaming.

He escaped laughing.

So yeah.

Survival?

It was a work in progress.

But Aegis was making it fabulous .

Chapter Text

The Art of Bargaining (And Torturing merchants kekeke)

Aegis was determined .

If he was going to survive in One Piece, he needed money.

And if he was going to get money, he needed to haggle like his life depended on it.

Because—real talk? It kinda did .

The way these greedy merchants were pricing things? Highway robbery.

A single loaf of bread? 500 Berries.
A sad-looking piece of fabric? 3,000 Berries.
An actual outfit?

Aegis nearly fainted when he saw the price tag.

(“20,000 Berries?! Are you dressing me in gold , sir?! You are a Scammer! With a capital S!”)

He had two options.

1. Steal.
   
   
2. Commit psychological warfare.
   
   

Naturally, being the theatrical menace he was…

Aegis chose both.

Haggling 101: Aegis Edition™

Step one: Observe.

He studied them all.

The shopkeepers.
The street vendors.
The shady alleyway guys selling “totally not stolen” goods.

He watched their expressions. Noted who hated being embarrassed. Who flinched at loud voices. Who trembled at the first sign of crying.

And then?

He went to war.

The Stand-Off™

Aegis stood before a merchant, arms crossed, chin lifted, eyes blazing with righteous (fake) fury.

“I REFUSE TO PAY THAT PRICE!”

The merchant flinched.
Several nearby customers turned to stare.

Excellent.

“You must be joking!” Aegis gasped, clutching his chest like he’d just been mortally wounded. “You want me—me! A humble, poor, devastatingly handsome man—to pay TWO THOUSAND BERRIES for THIS measly scrap of fabric?! Are you INSANE?!”

The merchant sputtered. “W-What—”

Aegis lunged, grabbing the man by the collar.

“Sir. Sir. Do you want me to DIE? To FREEZE in the cold? Is this what your mother would’ve wanted?!”

The man looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. Good. That was the goal.

Aegis spun to the growing crowd, pointing a shaking finger at the merchant.

“Everyone, BEHOLD! This man wishes to see me suffer! To strip the clothes from my back! He wants me to SHIVER NAKED in the RAIN!”

Laughter. Gasps. Snickers.

The merchant was sweating bullets.

“F-Fine! 800 Berries! Just shut up and take it!”

Aegis grinned. “A pleasure doing business with you.”

The Fake Tears™

New day. New mark.

Aegis knelt in the middle of the market, trembling like a kicked puppy.
His voice trembled. His hands shook.

He was one sob away from a tragic anime backstory. “Please, sir… just a little discount…?”

The merchant hesitated. “...Kid, are you—”

“I—I just…” Aegis bit his lip. Let his voice crack. “I just wanted to make a warm coat, you see? My mother—”

(He didn’t have a mom in this world, but details, details.)

“—she always said winter is cruel. That I should take care of myself. But—”
His voice dropped to a whisper.
“She’s gone now.”

The merchant stiffened. “...Gone?”

Aegis tilted his head, just right. Let the sunlight catch his golden eyes. Let the tears shimmer.

“It’s fine. I’ll just… shiver, I suppose.”

Silence. The crowd held its breath. Even the birds were probably watching.

The merchant groaned.

“Goddammit. Fine. 500 Berries. Just take it.”

Aegis beamed. “BLESS YOU, SIR!”

He turned the corner and immediately wiped his fake tears away, grinning like the devil.

“And that , ladies and gentlemen, is how you win at capitalism. Anyone can do it. Kekeke.”

Chapter Text

The Art of Sewing (And Internal Screaming)

After a few weeks of stealing fabric, Aegis had amassed a small mountain of it.

Which led him to his next monumental challenge.

Sewing.

...Sewing was a bitch.

He thought it would be easy. It was not.

Within two days, his fingers were wrapped in so many bandages, he looked like he’d just tangled with a porcupine and lost.

“How do people make this look graceful?”
He had screeched one night, kicking over his pile of fabric in pure frustration.

For hours, he hunched over stolen needles and thread, stabbing himself again and again. His vision blurred from both the physical pain and the soul-crushing irritation.

But Aegis was stubborn.

If medieval peasants could make clothes by hand, then he could, too. After all, back then, they had nothing. Nothing but grit and determination.

And after weeks of trial and error—after screaming into his pillow more times than he could count—
He did it.

The first outfit was… mediocre. The seams were uneven. The fit was slightly off.
But it was his.
And that was enough.
For now.

Because one day?

He was going to rip off every designer brand he’d ever seen in his last life.

Louis Vuitton? Mine now.
Gucci? Aegis-ified.
Dolce & Gabbana? Excuse me, that’s Dolce & Aegis now.

Copyright? Who was she? Never met her.

Who the hell was going to sue him? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—

He was going to make clothes so extravagant, so jaw-droppingly gorgeous, that people would beg him for them.

And then? He wouldn’t have to steal anymore.
(Well… not as much.)

Aegis stretched his sore fingers, a grin pulling at his lips.

“Alright, One Piece world.”
He muttered to himself. “Let’s make some high fashion.”

Grand Realization (And Breakdown)

It happened on the twenty-first day.

Three agonizing weeks after he first stabbed himself with a sewing needle so much, his fingers looked like they belonged to a mummy.

Three weeks of blood, sweat, and existential despair over stitches that refused to behave.

Three weeks of pain, suffering, and questioning his life choices.

And then—

A revelation.

Aegis sat cross-legged on the floor of his tiny hideout, eyes bloodshot. His fingers were wrapped in so many bandages that they looked like little mummy hands. His latest attempt at a jacket mocked him from where it hung on the wall—seams uneven, sleeves too short. It looked like absolute garbage.

His hands trembled from exhaustion.
He stared at it for a long moment.
And then—

His brain caught up with itself.

His illusion.

His bloody illusion.

His Devil Fruit, handed to him like a silver platter of unlimited possibilities .

Aegis froze.
Silence.

And then—

"…NOOOOOOOOOOO—!!!"

His scream ripped through the night air, loud enough that some poor bastards outside probably thought a man was being murdered.

(Which, honestly? Not far off. His soul had just died.)

Three weeks.
TWENTY-ONE DAYS.

He had spent three weeks of absolute torture learning how to sew—only to realize he didn’t have to!

He could have just made an illusion of any outfit he wanted.

Any high fashion.
Luxury.
Designer.
Clothes.

ILLUSION.

He didn’t have to sew a damn thing.

Aegis clawed at his face, gripping his hair like a madman. His feet kicked at the floor as he staggered around, overwhelmed by regret.

“STUPID! STUPID! I’M SO STUPID!!”

He collapsed backward, flailing on the floor. The weight of his own stupidity crushed him, consuming him whole.

“WHY?! WHY AM I LIKE THIS?!”

He had wasted precious hours—NO, DAYS—of his life when he could have just snapped his fingers and manifested the peak of high fashion. He had suffered for nothing.
Bandages.
Pain.
Bloodshed.

For nothing. The world was laughing at him. Somewhere, God was pointing and cackling.

But then—

Aegis stopped.
His golden eyes gleamed.

Wait. Wait wait wait.
This was an opportunity.

He shot to his feet, his despair vanishing like a bad dream.
He snapped his fingers.

Immediately, his entire outfit changed.

Tattered clothes? Gone.
In its place—

A masterpiece.

A dark velvet coat, embroidered with golden threads that shimmered in the lamplight. A tailored vest with intricate designs. High boots with heels. Gloves. A cloak that billowed dramatically without even wind . (He was inspired by Snape, alright?)

His reflection in his nearby, stolen mirror (which, to be fair, was filthy as hell) made him stare in awe.

He looked like a goddamn legend.
Like someone who belonged on the stage.

Aegis grinned.

“Yes.”
He whispered, his hands spreading as he admired his illusion.
“YES.”

He was going to outshine everyone.
Be the most visually stunning, extravagantly dressed performer the world had ever seen.

And?

No one could copy him.

His designs? Unreplicable.
His brilliance? Unmatched.

Aegis threw his head back, arms wide, and cackled.

“KEKEKEKEKEKEKEKE!”

Tonight, he had lost his sanity.
But in return?
He had gained the ultimate power move. The world wasn’t ready .

Chapter Text

The Birth of a Legend (or so Aegis claims)

Aegis had given this island three long months of his life.
Three months of endless mediocrity.
Three months of grueling haggling with stubborn merchants, stabbing himself with needles, swindling the sleazy, avoiding the good, and subsisting on what could barely be called food.
Three months of dull skies, endless roads, and people whose personalities were as flat as the land they walked on.
He could no longer stand it.

It was time.

Time for these poor, unfortunate souls to witness true beauty.
Time for them to gaze upon the one and only Aegis.
Time for them to bask in his divine radiance.
Time for them to be blinded by his sheer magnificence.

He could already hear it in his mind: the collective gasp of the crowd, the hushed whispers of awe, the reverence. It would be unforgettable. A performance so divine, so ethereal, it would be talked about for centuries.

The Transformation

It had taken an entire week of preparation.

First? His hair.
The last three to four months had been unforgiving. His hair had grown wild, unkempt, as if it had been left alone on the savannah for a year. It was a tangled mess, something only a feral creature could wear.

Aegis hated it. Seriously. It was bad. He had been weak, sickly, and dying in his past life—but at least he'd been well-groomed. Now? He looked like a gremlin who’d been raised by wolves, beaten by a gust of wind, and left to fend for himself in the wilderness. Unacceptable.

So, he took matters into his own hands.

The cut? Well, let’s just say it was an emotional journey. At first, it was uneven—one side too short, the other too long—but after hours of agonizing, obsessive work, Aegis managed to give it some semblance of order. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a step toward greatness.

Next came the makeup.

Cheap. Smudgy. Questionable at best. But, as with everything, Aegis worked his magic. A few well-placed strokes of eyeliner, a dusting of gold around his eyes, and suddenly—

He looked... divine.

Aegis smiled at his reflection in the cracked, stolen mirror.

Perfection.

(He was still using his illusion, of course. Beauty like his couldn’t be left entirely to chance. He was far too important for that. And his audience? They’d be blinded by it.)

The Grand Entrance

And now? The performance.

Aegis was not one to start small. Oh no. He wouldn’t settle for a humble little introduction. If he was going to debut as the world’s next great performer, he would do it with absolute, unparalleled style.

He chose the center of town, a quaint little spot, but it would do. A makeshift stage was already there, likely for local events, but it was not going to be enough for him.

With a flick of his fingers, he set to work.

His Devil Fruit powers surged through him like a divine gift. He wasn’t here to just perform—no. He was going to transform the entire scene into something magical.

A stage of solid gold.
Curtains that shimmered like stardust.
Lanterns that flickered with the warm glow of miniature suns.

The town had never seen anything like it.

People gathered, drawn by the flicker of lights, the shifting of shadows, the hints of something far more grand than their humble lives. There were whispers, murmurs, eyes wide with confusion and curiosity.

And then—

He stepped into the light.

The world seemed to stop.

Aegis was dressed to kill .

A perfectly tailored black coat, embroidered with intricate golden patterns that seemed to shimmer even in the dullest light.
Boots polished to such a shine, they reflected the crowd’s stunned faces.
A cape— no —a cloak that billowed dramatically, the fabric floating as if it had a mind of its own, despite the lack of wind.

He was regal.
He was godly.
(He was narcissistic, but let’s be real, who could blame him?)

Then came the music.

Aegis wasn’t just going to sing—he was going to sing . He belted out the first note, so loud it resonated in the very air around him, shaking the heavens. His voice soared through the town, rich and golden, a melody of pirates, gods, and impossible dreams.

As he sang, the illusions took form.

Golden ships sailed through the sky.
Fireworks of sapphire and silver exploded around him.
Spectacular, mind-blowing images flickered and danced across the stage, dazzling every eye in the crowd.

Aegis danced, laughed, twirled like a man possessed.

The audience were losing their minds. They cheered. They screamed. Some were even so overwhelmed that they dropped to their knees, unable to comprehend what they were witnessing.

(Aegis had to bite his cheek to keep from cackling. It was all going too well. Too easily.)

By the time he reached the final note, the crowd was completely in hysterics.
And Aegis?
He stood there, arms spread wide, basking in their adoration.

He was God.
(He was not. But they didn’t need to know that.)

The Aftermath

The moment the performance ended, the floodgates opened. Coins, jewelry, whatever people could throw, rained down on the stage. People rushed forward, desperate to get close, to show their appreciation.

Aegis simply stood there, beaming, flipping his hair with as much dramatic flair as possible.

“Ahh,” he sighed, catching a coin midair with a flick of his hand. “To be loved... is a heavy burden.”

(He wasn’t actually burdened. He loved this.)

By the time he left the stage, his pockets were full . Coins jangled with every step.

He had won.
He had conquered.
And the island? It would never forget him.

(Which was fantastic and all—except now he was a very public figure. But that was a problem for future Aegis. It wasn’t like this island was very big, anyway!)

For now?
He was going to spend his money.
Buy a boat (or steal one, but he wasn’t sure if he could pull that off yet).

And then?
Take the next town by storm.

Chapter Text

Two Lives

Aegis lived two lives.

By day, he was a scrappy, ragged mess—scavenging, haggling over the price of two berries like it was life or death, and generally being a miserable little rat of a man. Why? Because inflation existed. And, apparently, it existed everywhere .

By night? He was Aegis the Bard.

Extravagant. Magnificent. A literal deity of performance.

With golden illusions, mind-blowing performances, and enough charisma to make both men and women faint in their seats, he was the most famous person this island had ever seen.

But the best part?
No one knew both Aegises were the same person.

And that? That was perfection. Because if anyone found out their beloved golden performer was also the same scrawny bastard haggling over two measly berries, he'd never be able to show his face in public again. And Aegis wasn't about to let that happen. Not on his watch.

So, for one more glorious month, he stayed on the island.
Stocking up on money.
Buying supplies.
And finally—buying a ship.

Aegis vs. The Sea (Spoiler: He Loses)

Aegis had made a grave mistake.

He didn’t have a navigator.
He didn’t know how to navigate.
He had never sailed a boat in his life.

But how hard could it be?
(Answer: Very. Very hard.)

At first, it wasn’t so bad.

The wind filled the sails, the waves rocked his little boat like a gentle lullaby, and he stood at the helm, hands firmly gripping the wheel, feeling like a true explorer.

"Hah! I got this!" he declared, grinning at the open sea. "I was made for this!"

Two hours later, he realized he had absolutely no idea where the fuck he was going.

Aegis vs. Maps (Spoiler: He Loses. Again.)

So, naturally, he turned to the map he had purchased.

And immediately regretted it.

Because what the actual fuck was this?

A mess of lines, dots, and scribbles that meant absolutely nothing to him.

Where was the blue dot? The one that said "you are here" ?
Where was the little arrow that pointed him in the right direction?
What kind of backward, prehistoric bullshit was this?

Aegis groaned, slamming the map onto the deck.

“What the fuck do these symbols even MEAN?!” he wailed, dragging his hands down his face.

Maybe he should’ve paid more attention in geography class.

But well. Too late for regrets now.

Aegis vs. Sailing (He Sucks.)

Despite his dramatic struggles, he actually managed to sail.
(Well, sort of.)

The boat did move.

It just didn’t always go in the right direction.

Sometimes, the wind changed, and he ended up going sideways.
Other times, he nearly crashed into reefs, swearing as the boat scraped dangerously close.
He had no clue how to read ocean currents.

And on multiple occasions, he found himself physically wrestling the sail, trying to stop himself from spinning in circles like a lost, uncoordinated fool.

It was humbling.
(And Aegis hated it.)

Aegis vs. The Most Important Purchase He Forgot

Days passed.

His food was fine.
His water storage? Good.
His mood? Absolutely foul.

Because the longer he sailed, the more he realized something horrible.

He had forgotten something.

Something very, very important.

And that was—

A Log Pose.

Silence.

Aegis stood at the wheel, staring blankly at the horizon, his mind a black hole. The horrifying truth hit him like a ton of bricks.

His hands slowly gripped his hair.

“Are you—”

Another deep breath.

“—FUCKING KIDDING ME?!”

He screamed. Loudly. At the sky. At the sea. At himself.

"HOW DID I FORGET?!" he howled, pulling at his hair like a madman.

The Log Pose—the one and only thing that actually let you navigate in the Grand Line!

He had been so obsessed with his illusions, his fame, his boat, and everything else that he’d completely forgotten the most basic survival tool.

Which meant—

He was lost.

Completely.
Utterly.
Fucking.
Lost.

Aegis dropped to his knees, head tilted back to the heavens.

"...God."

A pause.

"If you're listening, just tell me—what the hell did I do to deserve this?"

(Well. He did steal a lot. But that wasn’t the point.)

"At least give me a sign or something!"

And then, as if answering his plea—

An island appeared on the horizon.

Aegis froze.

He stared, wide-eyed, as his heart skipped a beat.

His breath hitched.

Tears welled in his eyes.

"Holy shit."

And then, in a completely uncharacteristic display of vulnerability, he dropped to the deck, sobbing dramatically.

"LAND!" he wailed, clutching the edge of his boat like it was the last shred of hope. "BLESSED, BEAUTIFUL, WONDERFUL LAND!"

With renewed energy, he scrambled to adjust his sails, steering towards the salvation that he so desperately needed.

It was a miracle.

He had survived.

He had triumphed.

(He had no fucking clue where he was. But that was a problem for later.)

For now?

He was going to kiss the ground the moment he stepped off this godforsaken boat.

And then?

Figure out where the hell he ended up.

Chapter Text

Land

Aegis was finally free.

After days of being trapped on that floating wooden hellhole, he was about to step onto solid land—something that felt more like a distant dream than a reality.

It was the moment he’d been waiting for. A moment of triumph.

Of victory.

Of unparalleled joy.

He could already imagine it—

Throwing his arms wide, his hair tossing dramatically, maybe even a little twirl to emphasize his greatness, as he finally touched the ground like the regal bastard he was.

And then...

The moment his foot made contact with the dock—

His legs gave out.

Betrayal

Aegis crashed.

Not just a small stumble.

Not a graceful fall.

No.

He collapsed.

Straight onto the dock, flat on his face, arms splayed out like a ragdoll.

Aegis blinked at the weathered wood beneath him.

He processed it.

Then, slowly, his hand curled into a shaking fist.

"I… HATE… SEA LEGS."

His voice was full of betrayal, frustration, and a whole lot of disbelief.

The Sweet, Sweet Humiliation Continues

A strangled gasp made Aegis glance up.

There, standing nearby, were two elderly women, eyes wide with horror.

They looked like they were about to have a heart attack.

Aegis, still lying flat on the dock, gave them a weak, sheepish grin.

"Uh—hey, ladies." He raised a limp hand in greeting. "Don't worry, it's just my ego that's bruised."

They did not look reassured.

One of the women, with surprisingly sharp strength, grabbed his arm.

"Oh, you poor dear!" she fretted, pulling him upright with more force than expected. "You must be exhausted! Have you been stranded at sea?!"

Aegis tried to wave her off. "No, no—"

But before he could finish, the second woman grabbed his other arm, and before he knew it, he was being forcibly escorted down the dock like a man being taken to prison.

"Young man, you need food. And rest! Come with us!"

Aegis barely had time to process what was happening before he was practically dragged along.

Aegis vs. The Elderly (They Win.)

It took several minutes of polite but desperate struggling before Aegis finally managed to wriggle free from their surprisingly strong grasp.

"I APPRECIATE THE CONCERN, REALLY, BUT I'M FINE!" he wheezed, stumbling backward, feeling completely defeated.

The two women exchanged skeptical glances.

Aegis gave them a thumbs-up.

"See? Totally fine."

They still didn’t look convinced.

But after a long pause, they finally relented, though not without one final warning.

"If you collapse again, we're bringing you home with us, young man!"

Aegis laughed nervously and gave a hasty nod, backing away as fast as his shaky legs would allow.

Then, without another word, he ran the hell away.

What is this?

With his dignity in shambles, Aegis made his way through the small but lively town.

Unlike the previous island, this one actually had a bar—and after the absolute nightmare that was sailing, he deserved a drink.

So, like any reasonable man, he walked into the bar, found an empty seat, and slammed down a handful of berries.

"Whatever you got."

The bartender, a gruff-looking man with a scar on his nose, raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it.

A moment later, a glass of dark amber liquid was placed in front of him.

Aegis grabbed it immediately, no questions asked.

Did he care that it was some unknown, suspiciously cheap-looking brand?

No.

Did he care that it smelled like paint thinner?

No.

Did he care that the bartender gave him a weird, almost pitying look as he lifted the glass?

No.

Because alcohol was alcohol—and after weeks of sailing like a dumbass, he was dying for this.

So, without hesitation, he downed the entire glass.

All of it.

In one shot.

And then—

Instant regret.

The Alcohol Tries to Kill Him.

Fire.

Agony.

Regret.

The alcohol burned down his throat like molten lava.

It felt like the Devil himself had pissed into a bottle and sold it as liquor. Why?!

Aegis gasped, choking violently, his lungs screaming as the fire spread through his chest.

His vision blurred, and for a second, he could have sworn his soul left his body.

He grabbed the edge of the bar, barely holding himself upright.

"Holy shit—"

The bartender snorted, clearly entertained by his reaction.

"First time drinkin’ here, huh?"

Aegis turned to him slowly, eyes wide with betrayal.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!" he rasped, clutching the counter like it was his lifeline.

The man simply shrugged.

"Local brew. Strongest drink in town."

Aegis stared at him.

Then back at the glass.

Then back at the bartender.

"...Are you trying to murder me?"

The bartender only smirked.

"You ordered ‘whatever.’"

Aegis groaned, his head slamming onto the bar.

What kind of death trap of an island had he landed on?!

And why did the alcohol taste like it had been fermented in the Devil’s asscrack?!

…He took another sip.

The Devil’s Piss

Aegis stared down at the demonic brew like it had personally offended him.

It probably had.

He lifted the glass slowly, the amber liquid sloshing like molten malice.

His hand trembled. His resolve wavered. His brain screamed “Don’t do it.”

But his pride whispered, “Do it, coward.”

He muttered under his breath, "Is this... the Devil’s piss?"

The bartender, the bastard, laughed. 

"Wouldn’t be surprised," he said, casually wiping a glass like he hadn’t just served distilled damnation in a cup.

Aegis scowled.

Then, with the kind of reckless courage only found in idiots and pirates, he slammed more berries on the counter.

"More."

The bartender paused. Eyed him like he was auditioning for an early grave. Then poured another glass.

Aegis grabbed it.

Breathed in.

And drank.

And immediately regretted every decision he had ever made.

His throat clenched. His chest ignited. His vision tilted.

It was like swallowing a furnace wrapped in barbed wire and regret.

He gasped. 

Coughed. 

Wheezed. 

Whimpered.

But he didn’t stop.

Because Aegis was a stubborn little shit.

And also—

He had a point to prove.

His Questionable Life Choices 

His hands were shaking. 

His eyes were bleeding tears. 

His soul had filed for divorce with this mortal body.

But his dumbass pride? 

Thriving.

He glared at the glass. Took another sip. And another.

Each time, it got a little easier.

Or maybe he was just losing brain cells.

Then—Something shifted.

Wait.

Wait.

Did it… taste better???

No.

No, no, no—this was how it started.

This was how people ended up shirtless in gutters, yelling about freedom and betrayal while throwing hands with a cow.

He stared at the glass in horror.

Had he just built a tolerance? In less than ten minutes?!

"This is how alcoholism starts," he whispered to himself, eyes wide.

His Surroundings

Trying to escape his spiraling thoughts, he looked around.

And froze.

His blood ran cold. 

His stomach sank. 

His spine screamed.

His heart leapt to his throat, went to his stomach, then bounced back to his throat again.

Pirates.

The bar was crawling with them.

They were everywhere.

Aegis blinked. Once. Twice. Nope, still pirates.

Some had jagged scars and cruel grins. 

Some were missing limbs or had eyes like broken glass. 

Some looked like they hadn’t seen soap since the last century.

The worst part?

They all looked drunk. And bored. 

A deadly combination.

He glanced toward the door. Slowly. Casually . Like he hadn’t just realized he was in the middle of a ticking powder keg.

Maybe—if he just stayed calm, finished his drink, and made no sudden moves—

The Stench

Then it hit him.

The smell.

Aegis gagged. Twice. Almost three times.

The air was rank.

A fetid cocktail of sweat, blood, unwashed fabric, regret, and disappointment.

His eyes burned. His nose revolted. His soul—already traumatized—tried to climb out of his mouth. It filed for divorce again.

He turned, praying for fresh air.

Instead, he got visual horror.

Three pirates sat in the corner.

The first had greasy hair matted to his scalp and a half-melted shoe for a hat.

The second had teeth so yellow they glowed in the dim light, like some sort of radioactive fungus.

And the third—

Aegis physically recoiled.

He could see flies. 

Actual flies.

He slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Nope. Nope, I’m not dying here.”

Reality

He turned back to the bar.

Inhale.
Exhale.

He could do this. 

He could just finish his drink and leave.

Nice and easy. 

Like a normal, sane person.

He reached for his glass—

"Hey, pretty boy."

Instant cardiac arrest.

Aegis froze.

Absolutely petrified.

His heart jumped ship. 

His brain went offline. 

His inner voice screamed “ABORT MISSION.”

Chapter Text

Ru-Oh

He turned—slowly, cautiously, like a man unzipping Death’s tent.

The smell hit first.

Then the smile. 

Then the eyes like two rotting raisins soaked in murder.

One of the stinklords from earlier had approached.

He was grinning. Grinning like Aegis was the next meal.

Absolutely not.

“Didn’t expect to see someone like you here,” the pirate said, voice thick and greasy. 

Eyes dragged up and down.

Aegis fought the urge to combust on the spot and gag like an overdramatic cat.

He offered a weak smile. "Yeah, well… surprise?"

His hand twitched.

Devil Fruit? 

Flee? 

Scream? (people are just gonna stare though.)

The pirate stepped closer. "You alone?"

Oh fuck.

Aegis swallowed.

And realized—he was in deep, deep shit.

This wasn’t just a bar.

It was a shark tank.
And he had just cannonballed in, covered in glitter and bleeding confidence.

And worst of all—

He was tipsy.

Just enough to make him brave.
Stupid brave.

His Mouth (He Digs His Own Grave, Again.)

Aegis had many talents.

Singing.

Lying.

Being a general menace to society.

But perhaps his greatest talent—his pièce de résistance —was an utterly reckless, self-sabotaging ability to talk his way into absolute hellholes.

He didn’t mean to do it.

But give him a moment of panic and a few too many drinks, and suddenly, he was casually name-dropping one of the most powerful men on this planet like it was no big deal. (He has no self-preservation.)

Because when that greasy pirate leaned in with that ugly smirk and asked,
“You alone?”

Aegis, without thinking, without blinking, without using a single functioning brain cell, fired back:

“I’m with the boss.”

The pirate blinked.
“Boss?”

Aegis smiled. Big. Cocky. Dangerous.

“Red-Haired Shanks, obviously.”

The silence that followed was so loud it could have punched a hole in the atmosphere.

The Immediate Consequences of His Bullshit 

Everything stopped.

The rattle of dice.

The clink of mugs. 

The drunken laughter.

Gone.

In its place: a heavy, breathless hush. 

Like the bar itself had gone still to hear the sweet sound of Aegis' impending death.

Because he didn’t just name-dropped anyone., Red-Haired Shanks had gone from "chill dude with a hat" to... one of the four emperors of the sea.

Oops.

He could feel the eyes on him.
Every pirate in the room was now staring. Measuring. Judging.

Aegis doubled down.

Of course he did.

"Didn’t expect to run into so many of you here," he said smoothly, twirling his drink like a snob. "Boss told me this island was dead."

A low chuckle. Then:
“You’re with Shanks?”

Aegis snorted. “You deaf? That’s what I just said.”

Bold. 

Stupid. 

Classic Aegis.

Another pirate leaned in, licking his teeth. “Bullshit.”

Aegis’ eye twitched.
"...Excuse me?"

“I call bullshit, pretty boy.” 

 Greasy leaned closer, breath rank enough to kill flowers. 

 “I’ve seen Shanks’ crew. They don’t got soft little nobles like you. Weak ones.”

Oh. 

Oh.

Bitch. He wasn’t a noble—he would take it as a compliment if it weren’t for the fact that nobles had a bad reputation here.

“Weak?” Aegis repeated, affronted.

The pirate shrugged. “You don’t look like you could kill a housefly.”

And that was it. 

That was the moment.

Aegis felt the last of his restraint dissolve like sugar in seawater.

He should’ve walked away.
He should’ve stayed quiet.

Instead—

He smiled.

“Yeah? That’s kind of the point, genius.”
He leaned in, eyes narrowing with faux conspiratorial flair.

 “You really think someone like me could just waltz in here and drop Shanks’ name if it wasn’t true?”

They hesitated. He saw it. A flicker of doubt.

Hook. Line. Now for the sinker.

Aegis straightened, casually rolling his shoulders. “Shanks likes to keep his best cards hidden. And me?” He flipped his hair. "I'm an ace, baby."

Still, the pirate didn’t fully buy it.

He needed more.
He needed something—

And his mouth beat his brain to the punch.

“If I were lying, why the hell am I still breathing?”

Silence.

Eyes narrowed.
Brows furrowed.

And then—

“Then prove it.”

Aegis blinked.

…What.

His Own Stupid Mouth (He Gets Challenged.)

“Prove it?” he repeated, like a man clinging to hope.

The pirate was grinning now. 

Not the nice kind. 

Not the “haha you’re funny” kind.

The kind that meant blood.

“If you’re really with Shanks,” the man said, “show us what you can do.”

Aegis' brain full-on blue-screened. His soul considered packing up and relocating to a safer body for the umpteenth time.

Because what the actual hell was he supposed to do now?!

He was a performer. A bard. 

Not a damn gladiator!

He had a Devil Fruit, sure. Illusions. Smoke and mirrors. Nothing deadly.

Not unless someone had a deathly fear of glitter.

But backing down? That would mean death. 

Actual, messy, pirate death.

So he smiled.

Mocking. Arrogant.

Bullshit level: god-tier.

“Seriously? That’s your test?” A lazy laugh. “What, you want me to flex like a gorilla?”

Some of the pirates snorted.
A few exchanged unsure glances.

Good.
Keep them confused.

“Shanks doesn’t collect muscle-bound idiots. He collects specialists. People with skill.” 

He raised his hand, fingers flicking.

“Then prove you can fight.”

FUCK.

The Fight He Didn’t Want (He Can’t Run Now.)

Aegis held back a groan.

“What, you wanna duel me now?” he said, exasperated. “Please. I’d wipe the floor with you.”

The pirate grinned wider.

“Then you won’t mind a friendly spar. Right now.”

He minded.

He absolutely minded.

He minded SO MUCH.

But he was also cornered, outnumbered, and very possibly already on someone's hit list.

So he did what he did best.

He smiled.

He stood.

And with the confidence of someone who had no plan whatsoever, he said:

“Alright. You want a show? Let’s dance.”

Alcohol, Pirates, and the Consequences of His Own Actions

Aegis made the kind of decision that only a truly unhinged man could make.

A decision born of desperation, ego, and an unhealthy dose of performative flair.

He grabbed his glass.

He slammed it down.

He drank.

The liquid was not alcohol.

No.

It was liquid sin.

It tasted like regret, fire, and the dying screams of better choices.

It scorched his throat like he’d swallowed a volcano mid-eruption.
Tears sprang to his eyes. His lungs spasmed.

But he didn’t cough.
Didn’t wheeze.
Didn’t buckle.

No.

He stood.

And in that instant—he felt it.

The shift.

Every pirate in the room took a collective, instinctive step back.
Like jungle predators sensing that the seemingly harmless rabbit had just grown fangs.

Eyes were on him.

Dozens.

Hundreds, probably.
All wide.
All confused.

All… just a little bit afraid.

Good.

Let them fear.

Because Aegis Wolf had just crossed the point of no return.

He had doubled down, tripled down, and set the entire fucking table on fire.

Now it was time to sell the performance.

And when the pirate lunged—rude, angry, insult halfway out of his mouth—Aegis answered.

Not with fists.

Not with blades.

But with the greatest act of magical bullshit ever committed in pirate history.

He summoned a wand.

But not just any wand.

A Pikachu wand.

The Laws of Physics

It was beautiful.

Yellow. 

Cartoonish. 

Bright red cheeks and plastic eyes that sparkled with factory-produced cheer.

It looked like it belonged in the hands of a six-year-old at a birthday party.

Not in the hands of a bard standing in the middle of a pirate bar, seconds away from violence.

But that wasn’t even the worst part.

He made it weigh 30 tons, but on his hand, it felt like a normal thing.

Because when Aegis swung it—and he did, oh he did—the universe itself protested.

The wand made a sound like reality tearing. Like the air around it couldn’t handle its existence. 

Like God had looked down and gone, "Absolutely not, what the hell is that thing—"

“ YEET! ” Aegis screamed, because yelling something while doing an attack increases its strength. Come on, people, it’s basic knowledge!

And the wand connected.

It hit the pirate dead in the chest with the force of a cosmic sledgehammer wrapped in Pikachu-shaped lies.

The pirate didn’t scream.

He didn’t even blink.

He just—evaporated.

No, that’s not right.

He existed violently for a moment.

Then exploded backward through the bar’s wall.

Not the door.
Not a window.

The entire goddamn wall.

Like he’d been launched from a cannon carved from pure bullshit and spite.

KA-BOOM.

Wood splintered.
Dust clouds bloomed.
A perfectly-shaped man-sized hole now graced the side of the building like modern art.

Outside, in the street, the pirate groaned.

He was alive.

But only just.

Only because physics hadn’t quite figured out how to kill people through embarrassment.

The Silence

Inside the bar…

Nothing.

No sounds.

No movement.

No breath.

Just… utter silence.

Every pirate stood frozen.

Mugs still raised.

Cheeks still stuffed with half-chewed meat.

Eyes wide and full of the soul-shattering realization that they had misjudged this man.

Aegis just blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Then he looked down at his wand like it had betrayed him.

“…Holy shit.” he whispered.

Because he had no idea he could do that.

He was just trying to fake it.

Just trying to sell the lie.

He didn’t mean to destroy someone’s ribcage with a kawaii death stick. 

He felt like he was Harry Potter.

Well…

Harry Potter, but he wasn’t the chosen one, his wand is a child’s toy, and his spell was blunt force trauma.

Incantation: Bluntus Forceus!

His Own Dramatic Instincts

He snapped his fingers.

The wand vanished in a flash of golden glitter.

And then he posed.

Full-on, anime-ass, one-leg-up-on-a-chair, power-ranger-tier pose.

Hands on hips.

Head tilted up.

Hand pointing to himself.

"WITNESS THE POWER OF SAILOR BARD, JACKASSES!"

A gasp rippled through the crowd.

Some dropped their drinks.

One man fainted.

Outside, the injured pirate coughed weakly.

Aegis stomped.

The bar flinched.

“LET IT BE KNOWN, FOOLS!” he roared, finger pointed dramatically skyward. "THOSE WHO DARE CHALLENGE ME SHALL FACE—THE WRATH—OF THE PIKACHU WAND OF DOOM!"

Silence.

Still.

Still silence.

And so, Aegis Wolf, Bard Extraordinaire, Performer Supreme, and Absolute Bullshit Artist, had done the impossible.

He had:

• Drunk poison
  
  
• Summoned a cursed children’s toy
  
  
• Broken the laws of physics
  
  
• Annihilated a man
  
  
• And become, in the span of fifteen minutes, the most feared man in the bar.

He was so screwed.

But in the most dramatic, glorious, and stupidly impressive way possible.

A Horde of Pirates (A.K.A. “I Need to Stop Talking.”)

Aegis was laughing.

Maniacally.

Hysterically.

Like a demented sorcerer who just unleashed a forbidden spell and was now watching the world burn with absolute glee.

His shoulders shook.
His head threw back with abandon.
His laugh rang out like the first warning bell of an incoming apocalypse.

“KEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKE!”

And then—
Of course.

He twirled.

Because he’s Aegis, and dramatic flair wasn’t just in his blood.
It was his blood.

He spun with the grace of a ballerina on opening night, arms wide, fingers flexed, coat flaring behind him like some kind of enchanted cape of doom.

He looked like he was about to break into a magical performance in the middle of a battlefield.

And then—
He ran.

Like a bat out of hell.

He’s Fucked

He barely made it to the door—
barely—
before the roar behind him shook the foundation of the entire building.

"GET THAT BASTARD!"

"HE LAUNCHED MARCO THROUGH A WALL—"

"WAIT, MARCO?!"

"NOT THAT MARCO, YOU DUMBASS!"

"KILL HIM!"

Aegis’ body reacted before his brain did.

His soul left the chat. 

His legs launched him forward. 

His entire being radiated one single, unified emotion:

PANIC.

Because the guy he just obliterated? Yeah. 

Apparently had besties.

A lot of them.

With swords.
And guns.
And probably a shared grudge now.

His Own Big Mouth (Why Is He Like This.)

He could’ve just kept running.

He should’ve kept running.

But no.

No, no, no.

Instead, Aegis did what Aegis always did in moments of high stress and higher stupidity.

He turned around.

Skidding to a dramatic stop in the middle of the square, he threw out one arm like he was in the middle of a Shakespearean soliloquy.

"WAIT!" he roared.

His voice carried like thunder on the high seas.

Every pirate froze mid-stride. Every civilian turned to stare. 

A woman in the distance dropped her shopping basket. A child started crying.

And Aegis?

Aegis threw his other arm up, panting with theatrical flair.

"DO YOU ALL WANT TO DIE?!"

The silence was deafening.
Even the breeze stopped out of respect—or confusion.

One pirate, halfway through drawing his cutlass, faltered.

"...What?"

"Because if you do—" Aegis shouted, his fingers already curling through the air, "then so be it!"

Golden mist flickered at his fingertips.

He lowered his voice, dropping it into something low. Cold. Dangerous.

"I didn’t want to do this."

He stepped forward, and the crowd parted like the Red Sea.
Even the angry pirates hesitated.

"But I have no choice."
His voice trembled with faux solemnity.

He bowed his head, eyes shadowed by his bangs.

"My captain—" he whispered.

And then, with a voice dripping in fabricated guilt.

"Red-Haired Shanks, didn't want me to show this destructive power. He said it’s too dangerous.”

He could see it.
See the flickers of doubt, the sparks of fear in their eyes.

If this idiot was telling the truth—

Then they were about to start a war.

The pirates' bravado cracked.

"…You’re lying." one of them growled. But he didn’t sound sure.
He sounded like a guy who was really hoping Aegis was lying.

Aegis, grinning now, took a graceful step back.

"Then I’ll prove it."

Magical Girl Activated

He clapped his hands together.
And with a dramatic snap of his fingers—

Golden light erupted.

A blinding wave of shimmering particles swept the square.

Aegis began to float—no, levitate—slowly spinning in mid-air like he was caught in the climax of an anime transformation sequence, with music and all.

Everyone was staring, flabbergasted—confused and awed at the same time.

His outfit dissolved into glimmering ribbons, swirling around him as his form shifted.

His skin shimmered like he'd been airbrushed by the gods.

Sparkles. Sparkles everywhere.

He looked like Sailor Moon’s cousin.

And as he posed—perfectly, devastatingly glam—a new weapon materialized.

Not a sword. Not a staff.

But a military-grade machine gun with actual living eyeballs.

The eyes blinked.
One of them winked.
Another stared directly into someone’s soul.

Aegis, now glowing like a celestial being at Comic-Con, held the unholy weapon high.

"Witness!" he declared. "My ultimate move!"

Complete Fucking Chaos (Bullets and Screaming.)

And then—
He fired.

Bullets exploded from the machine gun in a torrential hail of glittering death.

The gun shrieked with joy—literally.

"YEEEEEHAWWW—KILLMODEENGAGED—HAHAHA—"

The square erupted into chaos.

Pirates screamed and dove behind carts. 

Civilians fled, tripping over market stalls and knocking over fruit stands. 

One unfortunate guy tried to hide behind a watermelon and did not survive.

"WHY IS IT LAUGHING?!"

"IT HAS EYES—WHY DOES IT HAVE EYES?!"

"IS IT... IS IT EATING THE SHELL CASINGS?!"

Aegis, laughing louder than the gun, began dancing in circles as he fired, spinning like a deranged ballerina with a weapon forged by Satan himself.

A cabbage cart exploded behind him.

("MY CABBAGES!")

Survival Instincts

And then—

The marines  arrived.

Dozens of them.

Swords out.

Guns drawn.

Faces absolutely not in the mood for whatever the fuck this was.

Aegis blinked.
Looked at them.

Then at the fleeing pirates being chased by some of the marines.

Then at the civilians sobbing in corners.

Then at his still-firing, still-laughing, demonic machine gun.

"...Ah."

A beat.

"Well, shit."

He clapped his hands.

The gun disappeared in a puff of gold.

And with the guards charging full-speed at him, Aegis did the only reasonable thing.

He sprinted in the opposite direction.

"BYEEEEEEEEEEEEE—"

His Own Goddamn Luck

The thundering footsteps of Marines were a goddamn apocalypse .

Boots slammed the cobblestones like war drums. The sounds of shouted orders—"He's heading west!" "Cut him off!" "Shoot if you have to!"—cracked through the air like whip strikes.

Aegis?

Aegis was running for his entire life, coat flapping, boots skidding across stone, breath sawing in and out of his lungs like he was inhaling fire.

"So much for laying low!" he mentally screamed .

So much for not calling attention to himself.

So much for the brilliant plan of, “Hey, let’s lie my way out of this bar fight and summon a magical anime gun with eyes.”

He tripped over a bucket.

Faceplanted.

Recovered.

Sprinted harder.

"THERE HE IS! DON’T LET HIM ESCAPE!"

Aegis didn’t have time to scream externally. Internally, he was already writing his will.

He took a hard right, knocking over a barrel, bolted through a narrow alley with laundry lines smacking him in the face, dodged a goddamn goose, hurdled a crate, and nearly ran face-first into a fruit stand.

“AHHH—SORRY—YOU SELL GREAT BANANAS—”

He didn’t stop. He didn’t think.

He kept running.

Until—

A ship.

A big ship.

Docked inside a dark cove carved into the island’s cliffs like some hidden pirate haven.

It was shadowed, massive, and completely out of place compared to the sunlit chaos behind him.

Aegis’ instincts screamed.

But his survival instincts screamed louder.

Impulse Control (He Has None.)

“Hmm,” he gasped, halfway dying. “Unmarked mystery pirate ship in a cave? Looks safe.”

And then he ran faster.

Then he flew.

Literally launched himself into the air with a blast of golden mist, flipping dramatically over a stack of crates like some kind of deranged ballerina/rogue assassin hybrid .

His boots hit the deck with a heavy thunk . He stumbled, winded, doubled over.

“Safe. I’m safe. I made it.”

And then—

A cough.

A low, gravel-and-bourbon cough.

Aegis froze.

No.

No.

He slowly—so slowly—lifted his head.

And saw—

Them.

Fate

Dozens.

Dozens of pirates.

Big. Burly. Well-armed. Dangerous-looking.

And all of them?

Staring. Directly. At. Him.

One was mid-bite into an apple.

Another had a tankard halfway to his lips.

A third was sharpening a very shiny, very large axe.

And in the center of it all—

The Jolly Roger.

No. No, no, no, no—

Not this ship.

Not this crew.

Not them.

The Red-Haired Pirates.

Chapter Text

The Art of Bullshitting (He's Trying His Best.)

“Okay,” Aegis whispered to himself. “Thankfully, no Shanks. No Shanks. No Shanks. We’re good. I can still fix this. I’m a bard . I lie for fun. I’ve got this.”

He straightened. Smoothed his hair.

Slapped on a dazzling smile like a mask of gold.

"Ahaha…" He coughed into his hand. "Gentlemen! Hello! What a lovely ship you have here!"

Blank stares.

A few squints.

Someone in the back muttered, “...Who the hell…?”

Aegis cleared his throat with a flourish, hand to chest like a royal damn peacock.

"I am but a humble traveling bard!" he declared.

Lie.

"A simple purveyor of song and story!"

Bigger lie.

"And I, uh, was unjustly pursued by the authorities after a terrible misunderstanding involving… pirates! ”

Technically kind of true.

"I meant no harm, but the chaos spiraled, and in my flight I stumbled into your glorious—glorious!—vessel!"

He spread his arms, twirled slightly, and tried to ignore how badly he was sweating.

The pirates did not look impressed.

A few were whispering. A few had their hands on weapons.

Aegis doubled down.

"I mean you no harm, fine sirs! I am but a—wait."

His voice faltered.

His eyes flicked downward.

And then it hit him.

Someone kill him now

Oh.
Oh no.

He was still wearing his magical girl transformation outfit.

The one made of glitter.
And ribbons.
And shimmering thigh-highs.

The one with the poofy skirt and glowing gold tiara and the backlit sparkle aura that made him look like Sailor Moon’s unhinged cousin.

One of the pirates blinked at him.

Another looked away, shaking with barely-contained laughter.

A third just said, “...The fuck?”

Aegis considered diving overboard.

There’s no dignity left

Aegis stood there.

Sparkles gently floated around him.

The wind caught his skirt.

The entire ship was dead silent.

Until one pirate—grizzled, scarred, with muscles the size of barrels—snorted.

Just once.

But it was all it took.

Another one laughed.
Then another.

Then the whole crew lost it.

Cackles. Wheezes.
One guy fell over. Another clutched his ribs.

Someone yelled, “Is that a tiara?!”

Someone else screamed, “OH MY GOD HE’S POSING!”

Aegis closed his eyes.

Exhaled.

Tilted his head back to the sky.

“This is a very long and tragic story,” he said.

One pirate choked on his drink.

Aegis sighed, eyes glassy.

“I hate my life.”

Reality (It’s Laughing at Him.)

"Well then! I shall be off!"

The words burst out of Aegis' mouth far too fast, too eager, too desperate, as if they were the last lifeline he could cling to before this nightmare engulfed him whole.

He had to leave. He had to leave right now .

Before this absurd moment burned itself into the history of his humiliation.

He spun on his heels, his feet slamming against the deck, his hands outstretched, ready to propel himself over the railing.

Mid-flight.

Freedom.

But—

A scruff.

A hand.

Fingers clenched around the back of his collar with a force so sharp, so strong, it could've been the grip of the gods themselves.

Aegis froze in midair, his body locked in an awkward, suspended panic, legs kicking uselessly, arms flailing for something—anything—to grab onto.

He didn't even have the dignity to scream, because he was too caught in the absurdity of it all. He blinked.

Fuck.

Fate is mocking him!

A shadow descended like an avalanche, a presence huge and warm and, in a cruel twist of fate, far too familiar.

Then, a voice.

"Oh look! It’s that lad from the bar!"

Aegis' entire soul left his body.

Shanks.

Fucking Shanks.

The captain of the Red-Haired Pirates. The one man he absolutely did not want to see.

And yet there he was, right behind him, laughing like the universe itself was conspiring to destroy Aegis’ sense of self.

Shanks was holding him up, casually, like some stray cat.

Aegis could feel his body tense, his muscles locked in helpless terror, his heart hammering in his chest like it wanted to escape.

Shanks grinned down at him, his smile stretching ear to ear, absolutely delighted by the sight of the most ridiculous situation he could possibly have walked in on.

"I saw your whole thing—you're hilarious!" Shanks boomed, his laughter rich and carefree, shaking Aegis slightly in the process.

Aegis could do nothing but stare, wide-eyed, his brain struggling to process the reality of what was happening.

This was it.

His Own Stupid Life Choices (Why Is He Like This.)

The internal screaming continued.

What happened to the rule?!

The rule of laying low and staying the hell away from the big names.

The one rule he had so carefully crafted to protect his idiot self from exactly this kind of mess.

He was supposed to be smart, calm, calculating. He was supposed to not get involved with pirates like Shanks .

But here he was.

Hanging in the air, wearing a goddamn glittery anime girl outfit, and staring into the face of Shanks.

This was not the plan.

Weakness

And yet, despite the absolute disaster unfolding before him, Aegis found himself staring.

Shanks was—too hot.

It was unfair .

Aegis, his brain scrambling, could only take in the sheer magnitude of the man’s presence.

He was taller than Aegis had imagined, his broad shoulders filling out his coat in a way that made Aegis feel incredibly small, like he was standing next to an ancient, living mountain (he technically was).

His arm was massive, veins like ropes crisscrossing underneath sun-kissed skin. His chest? Huge. Powerful. The kind of chest that could crush a mountain and still look good doing it.

And then there was the smile—god, the smile. It was the kind of smile that lit up the world, that made everything feel a little more dangerous. He was so devastatingly handsome.

His voice was low, gravelly, and warm, like whiskey and laughter rolled into one smooth, intoxicating drink.

Aegis wanted to die.

Right here.

Right now.

Panic

Okay.

He couldn’t breathe. He needed to escape.

This was it. This was his one shot at freedom. He could still get out of here.

But—then came the laugh.

"Ahaha, Captain Shanks! Fancy meeting you here!"

It was forced. So forced. His voice cracked halfway through, and he couldn’t even pretend it sounded natural.

Shanks’ grin only widened.

"I know, right? What are the odds of meeting one of my crewmates ?" he chuckled jokingly, completely unbothered by the absurdity of the situation.

Aegis internally screamed again.

No, no, don’t you dare say that, you bastard. He heard him say that lie in the bar!

Okay okay, change the subject—

"W-Well, as you can see! I—uh—got lost! And I would hate to be a bother, so if you could just—"

He kicked his legs weakly, like a fish out of water, hoping for some miracle that would free him from this hell.

"—put me down, I’ll be on my way!"

Shanks pretended to think, rubbing his chin like he was making a life-altering decision.

And then—

"Mmm… nah."

Aegis blinked, staring in disbelief.

"...Nah?!" he repeated, just in case he had heard wrong.

"Nah."

Fuck.

The Red-Haired Pirates

The crew was dying.

Absolutely dying.

Shouts of laughter echoed across the deck, the entire crew wheezing, clutching their sides.

"Boss, is he your new pet?" someone called from the back, clearly enjoying the chaos.

"Aye, I think he’s a keeper!" another pirate barked, laughter nearly choking him.

"I like the dress, suits him!" a third yelled, almost rolling off the edge of the ship.

Aegis internally screamed, his body burning with the desperate need to crawl into the nearest hole and never come out.

Shanks, still holding him like some kind of prize, chuckled at the spectacle. He finally set Aegis down on his feet—but refused to let go of his shoulders with his one hand. Gods, he was tall —Aegis felt miniscule next to him!

Aegis immediately tried to bolt, his survival instincts kicking in.

But Shanks yanked him back effortlessly, holding him steady as if Aegis was nothing more than a ragdoll.

"Now, now, don’t run off so soon!" Shanks grinned, his voice all too playful. "We just got to know each other!"

Aegis, fighting the urge to combust right there, tried to recover his sense of dignity.

"I-I really should be leaving, I’ve got a schedule to keep, places to go, songs to sing—"

Shanks tilted his head, giving Aegis a curious look.

"You a bard?"

Aegis hesitated, his mind scrambling.

Shit.

He had walked right into that one.

Before he could backtrack, Shanks’ eyes lit up like he had just found a long-lost treasure.

"Oh, perfect! You can play us a song!"

Aegis' entire body went rigid. He had no words.

The crew erupted into cheers.

Aegis’ soul screamed.

He should’ve left.

He should’ve let the Marines catch him.

He should’ve chosen any other goddamn ship to board.

But no.

He was here.

On Shanks’ ship.

Surrounded by Shanks’ crew.

Wearing a fucking sparkly anime girl dress.

And now?

Now he was expected to perform.

Aegis wanted to die.

Right here.

His Own Damn Ego (It Always Wins.)

Aegis was ready to say no.

Vehemently.

He had already decided, in the deepest corners of his soul, that he would not perform. This was not the time. Not the place. And certainly not with a crew of pirates who seemed to think they could just laugh at him, mock him, and expect him to bow down to their twisted whims.

He was about to dig in his heels, cross his arms, and flat-out refuse to budge. His pride was the only thing that had kept him afloat this long. No one got to mock Aegis and walk away scot-free, even a Yonko crew.

But then—

His gossip radar activated.

It was a gift. A curse. But mostly?

It was fuel.

From the corner of his very sharp, very perceptive ears, he caught the snickers.

The muttered whispers.

Not from the officers, no—but from some of the younger, unknown pirates.

"Bet he's all talk."

"Probably can’t even hold a tune."

"That dress is doing all the work for him."

Aegis stopped.

He bristled.

Like a fucking offended house cat.

His back straightened. His eye twitched. His jaw clenched.

He was a lot of things.

A troublemaker. A liar.. A runner of questionable life choices.

But a bad singer?

A bad performer?!

Oh, hell fucking no.

That was blasphemy.

Insulting.

His pride would not stand for this.

Aegis let out a haughty huff, lifting his chin. "Fine, I’ll perform."

The snickering stopped.

Shanks' grin widened.

With a pleased hum, the redhead gently pushed him forward, ushering him toward the center of the deck.

Aegis barely registered it, still seething with the offense of being underestimated.

Shanks, meanwhile, made himself comfortable—grabbing an entire bottle of that piss alcohol before dropping lazily into a seat.

The crew gathered, settling in.

Excited. Expectant.

Realization

It was only now that Aegis took a proper look at Shanks.

The missing arm.

The left one.

Just like in the anime.

And the straw hat?

Gone.

Which meant...

Luffy already had it.

Aegis' stomach twisted.

Not in fear.

But in realization.

He had no idea what year it was.

No clue where he was in the timeline.

Shanks looked the same as ever—in the anime, even as years had passed, he barely even changed. Well, except the artstyle.

The red-haired man looked like he was still in his mid-20s.

Was Luffy already sailing?

Had he already assembled his crew?

Had Ace already—

…No. Don’t think about that.

He shook his head violently.

Now was not the time for a crisis.

Not now. Not when he had a performance to give.

Future Aegis would deal with that.

Chapter Text

Showoff (Always)

With a deep breath, Aegis exhaled dramatically—and then, with a grand sweep of his arms, he activated his Devil Fruit.

The deck glowed.

Light rushed outward, spreading like rolling waves of gold and silver.

Then—

The ship’s entire center transformed.

A stage.

A massive, beautifully adorned, shimmering stage with flowing curtains and dazzling lights.

At the same time, his awful magical dress girl changed into something more presentable, regal, and better.

The Red-Haired Pirates stared.

Some dropped their bottles.

Others gaped openly.

Even the ones who had mocked him earlier looked like they just got slapped in the face with amazement.

Aegis smirked.

That’s right, bitches. Who’s laughing now?

But the best part?

Shanks.

Shanks was watching him with eyes that fucking shined.

Like a kid seeing magic for the first time.

Like he was utterly enchanted.

Aegis' heart did something weird.

Like a flustered stutter.

FUCK NO. BAD. STOP THAT.

Copyright (It Does Not Exist Here.)

If they wanted a show, they’d get a fucking show.

Aegis clapped his hands together, a classy microphone stand appearing in front of him as he held it.

And began to sing a song from his previous life, as instruments surround him to play by themselves.

Fairytale, but Alexander Rybak.

Copyright? The who?

The first notes danced into the air, soft yet demanding attention.

And then—

He sang.

"Years ago, when I was younger…"

The melody was soulful.

Smooth. Clear. Powerful.

“I kinda like a girl I knew…”

It flowed effortlessly, pulling everyone deeper, deeper, deeper.

The crew went silent.

Even the ones who had been drinking, laughing, chatting—

They all stilled.

Aegis could feel it.

That unspoken spell.

“She was mine and we were sweethearts,

That was then, but then it’s true.”

He got rid of his mic, a skeleton wearing a dress appearing beside him as he smirked, pulling it for a dance when the chorus started.

“I’m in love with a fairytale,

Even though it hurts,

Cause I don’t care if I lose my mind,

I’m already cursed.”

A violin appeared out of thin air. It was a beautiful, perfectly crafted piece.

Rich mahogany wood, deep and elegant.

Its bow shimmered with golden threads.

And as Aegis rested it under his chin, playing the violin solo.

That moment when a performer captures the entire room and refuses to let go.

He felt unstoppable.

His Audience (They’re Fucking Hooked.)

He moved with the song, letting the music consume him.

His body swayed with the rhythm.

His fingers danced effortlessly along the violin’s strings.

His voice soared, wrapping around each note like silk and fire.

He could see it.

The way the pirates leaned forward.

The way they hung onto every sound.

The way even the roughest, meanest-looking ones had softened.

The ones who mocked him?

They looked like they’d just been baptized in musical enlightenment.

And Shanks—

Shanks was grinning.

A slow, pleased, entirely mesmerized grin.

Eyes fixed on him, drinking in every moment.

Something else was simmering there. 

Something Aegis couldn’t place.

Aegis’ heartbeat stumbled again.

STOP THAT. BAD. FOCUS.

The Climax

As the song built up, Aegis brought it home.

His voice rang through the air, sharp and clear.

His bow slid masterfully across the violin.

And just as he hit the last note—

The stage exploded into a thousand golden fireworks.

Not real explosions, of course.

But illusions.

Perfectly timed, perfectly placed, perfectly dazzling.

It was a finale.

Aegis stood there, panting softly.

Then—

The silence shattered.

The Red-Haired Pirates roared.

They clapped. Stomped. Cheered. Whistled.

Someone slammed their fist onto a barrel in wild excitement.

Someone else yelled, "HOLY FUCK, THAT WAS INCREDIBLE!" Yasopp, probably. Yeah. The deadbeat dad.

And Shanks?

Shanks laughed, loud and joyous.

"Holy hell, lad! You didn’t just prove them wrong—you damn near made us fall in love!"

Aegis blinked.

…Excuse me.

Shanks grinned, standing, making his way toward him.

He threw an arm around Aegis, pulling him close.

"Tell me, Bard, do you take requests?"

Aegis?

Aegis was having a crisis.

His brain was short-circuiting.

His heart was doing stupid fucking flips.

And all he could think was:

I am so fucking doomed.

The Most Iconic Pirate Song (He’s About to Own It.)

Aegis snorted, his lips curling into a playful smirk.

"Let me guess, Bink’s Sake?"

Shanks, his red hair as fiery as his grin, barked out a laugh, eyes dancing with that mischievous glint that made everyone feel like they were in on some private joke.

"Of course! What else?"

Of course.

Aegis rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face.

It was a pirate classic, after all.

And while Aegis might be barely One Piece-literate, there were a few things that even someone like him couldn’t escape—catchy songs were one of them.

He didn’t know everything about the world, but damn it, he knew music.

And this song?

This was right up his alley.

He was about to fucking ace it.

Arrr!

Shanks was still grinning at him, that look of pure, unrestrained joy only making Aegis feel like a star just about to take the stage.

And Aegis?

Aegis was in his element.

With a sharp snap of his fingers, the entire stage changed.

The golden decor melted away, replaced by deep, rich reds and bold blacks that screamed pirate aesthetics.

The curtains billowed like sails in the wind, alive with the movement of the sea.

And the floor?

It gleamed like the polished deck of a mighty ship, ready to host a performance worthy of a legend.

And Aegis—

Aegis was ready to own it.

His outfit, too, transformed.

Gone was the extravagant and glittery fashion he usually wore.

Now, he stood in pirate-chic—rich, dark fabrics interwoven with gold accents that gleamed under the lighting.

His coat billowed dramatically whenever he moved.

His boots clacked as he stepped forward, each footfall a declaration of intent.

Then came the grand flourish—his signature, his style.

He raised his hands, and with a flick of his wrist, the instruments floated up around him.

Guitars, violins, drums, flutes—each one shimmering with an ethereal glow, ready to serve their master.

His Devil Fruit magic had created an orchestra of floating instruments that began to play themselves.

It was visually stunning.

It was pure spectacle.

And as the Red-Haired Pirates watched, their mouths hung open, eyes wide with astonishment.

Even Shanks, the man who had seen it all, looked impressed—and that was saying something.

It was time.

Pirate Song

Aegis took a slow, deliberate breath.

And then, with an unapologetically theatrical flourish, he strummed the first note.

The music kicked in, loud and lively, like the sound of an old ship cutting through the waves.

His voice, already rich and powerful, soared into the open air—

“Yo-hohoho Yo-ho-ho-ho 

Yo-hohoho Yo-ho-ho-ho

Yo-hohoho Yo-ho-ho-ho

Yo-hohoho Yo-ho-ho-ho,”

Instantly, the crew was alive.

Shouts erupted.

Boots stamped in rhythm.

Mugs slammed down on tables.

Hands clapped.

The entire ship was with him, a single, unified heartbeat.

And Aegis, well, he owned it.

The Red-Haired Pirates were a rowdy, wild bunch—and they were eating this up.

As soon as Aegis launched into the merry rhythm, the ship transformed into a raucous tavern, filled with laughter, shouts, and the clink of mugs.

Some pirates grabbed their own instruments, eager to join the impromptu orchestra.

Others pounded their boots against the floor, matching the beat.

A few started stomping their feet, making the entire deck shake beneath them.

“Gather up all of the crew

It’s time to ship out Bink’s brew

Sea-wind blows

To where? Who knows?

The waves will be our guide.

O’er across the ocean’s tide,

Rays of sunshine far and wide.

Birds they sing

Of cheerful things

In circles passing by.”

They roared it back at him, their voices as loud as the crashing waves.

The moment was electric, pure magic.

And Aegis?

He was in his element—his body moved with the music, as if the song had taken over every muscle, every bone.

Aegis wasn’t just performing anymore.

He became the song.

He spun, his coat flying behind him like the sails of a ship.

He leapt onto a barrel, balancing effortlessly while his voice rang out, vibrant and commanding.

His violin appeared in his hands again, and this time, he let loose a wild, energetic solo—his fingers dancing across the strings like they were born to do it.

Shanks was laughing, his head tilted back as he downed his bottle in a single gulp.

The Red-Haired Pirates were fully invested now, their cheers matching the rhythm.

They weren’t just watching Aegis perform.

They were living it.

It wasn’t a performance.

It was a celebration.

Aegis had transformed the entire crew into one pulsating entity, all moving to the same tune, all part of the same story.

And it was glorious.

The song built to a fever pitch.

Aegis’ voice rose, unwavering, slicing through the air with the power of a cannonball.

The pirates followed—their voices blending into a single thunderous roar.

The final note echoed through the air, and the deck exploded.

Clapping. Cheering. Stomping.

Someone whistled so loud it could’ve shattered glass.

Someone else threw their hat into the air with wild abandon.

Aegis stood there, panting, his chest heaving, but with the biggest, most satisfied grin on his face.

The ship was alive, vibrating with the energy of the performance.

And Shanks?

Shanks was still grinning, looking at him with that bright, infectious joy that made it clear this wasn’t just about a good performance.

It was about something deeper—something Aegis could barely grasp but couldn’t help but feel.

Crisis

Shanks was laughing, his arm around Aegis’ shoulders as he shook him with enthusiastic affection.

"Holy shit, lad! You are something else!"

Aegis wheeled back in a daze, still catching his breath.

"Well, obviously."

Shanks' grin turned wider, smug in a way that only he could pull off.

"I like you, songbird.”

Aegis' brain short-circuited.

He wasn’t sure why, but hearing those words from Shanks hit him like a fucking punch to the gut.

And oh, fuck.

Songbird?!

Shanks was dangerous.

Not because of his power.

Not because of his crew.

But because he was hot and charming and so goddamn easy to fall for, and Aegis was not ready to deal with that.

And worse?

Shanks knew it.

The bastard’s grin turned even smugger.

Was Shanks a raging homosexual like him?!

Aegis, horrified by the sudden realization that this man was flirting with him (was he playing with him?!), did the only thing he could think of.

He grabbed the nearest drink, downed it in one go, and tried very, very hard not to make an absolute fool of himself.

The Endless Drinks (He’s Fighting for His Life.)

BAM!

A massive mug of beer was slammed into his hands as soon as he finished the previous one.

"DRINK!" one of the pirates roared, his face a mix of exhilaration and drunken delight.

Aegis blinked, eyes wide, staring at the foamy liquid in alarm.

"Oh, I—" he began, but before he could finish—

Another mug was shoved at him.

Then another.

And another.

Shanks, leaning back with a smug grin, waved his own bottle in the air like a flag of victory.

"Come on, lad! You’ve earned a drink!"

The pirates cheered louder, a chorus of boisterous laughter echoing through the ship. The floor shuddered beneath Aegis as they stamped their feet in wild rhythm.

Aegis, trying to keep his grin in place, smiled weakly, hands trembling slightly as he took the first mug.

"Oh, wow, so much alcohol."

He was so fucked.

Now, Aegis had no problem drinking.

But this?

This was a whole different level.

Not when there were so many eyes on him, not when he had to stay sharp for his own damn survival, and definitely not when the Marines were still looking for him after his little machine-gun stunt back on that island.

So, like any brilliant magician would do—

He pretended.

His Devil Fruit powers made it easy. He had illusions at his disposal, and his mastery over them was second to none. With the slightest shift in focus, he turned the whole act into an art form—a sleight of hand smoother than a conman’s best trick.

He tilted the mug back as if drinking deeply, but the liquid never touched his lips.

Instead, it was discreetly dumped down his sleeve into an invisible illusion that dissipated the alcohol instantly, vanishing like mist.

One drink down.

The pirates roared their approval. Aegis smirked, feigning the flush of alcohol, forcing his voice to slur a little for effect.

"Whew! Strong stuff!"

He heard Shanks’ low chuckle from across the room, and Aegis couldn’t help but stiffen. His eyes flickered up, catching the sharp gleam of Shanks’ knowing gaze.

Aegis, internally screaming at the very sight of that grin, tried desperately to keep his composure.

Stuck

Aegis realized, with an unsettling clarity, that he couldn’t leave yet.

The Marines were still combing the island. There were probably patrols everywhere, searching for any trace of his ridiculous stunt. Returning now? Suicide.

And even if he wanted to, he couldn’t get off the ship. Not with the pirates from earlier possibly still lurking around. They had been a problem once—they might be one again.

"Shit."

Aegis sank deeper into his seat, feeling the weight of his situation crushing in on him.

"Guess I’m staying for tonight,”

Shanks, still sitting across from him with that eternal smirk, studied him carefully, eyes sharp and calculating.

"Good."

Aegis narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"That sounded suspicious."

Shanks laughed, that deep, throaty chuckle that sent shivers down Aegis’ spine.

"What? Can’t a man just enjoy good company?"

Aegis, already on edge from the intoxicating mix of alcohol fumes and the dangerous charm rolling off Shanks like waves, clenched his jaw.

"I need to be careful."

He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol-fueled atmosphere, or if Shanks was just naturally intoxicating, but—

He was beginning to realize something.

Despite his best efforts, despite the drama of everything unfolding around him, Aegis had a sinking feeling that tonight—this night—was not going to be the last time he found himself stuck with the Red-Haired Pirates.

And that was terrifying.

Butterfly Effect

Aegis lay there, his body sinking into the soft mattress, staring at the wooden ceiling of Shanks’ cabin, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession, hyperventilating.

He could not stay.

Not longer than a single night.

Absolutely not.

His mind was on overdrive, spiraling down a dark rabbit hole. What if something—anything—changed just because of his mere existence here?!

What if he accidentally said something that altered the course of history? What if a random pirate who was supposed to die tomorrow somehow miraculously survived because they crossed paths with him and took a different route?

What if—and his mind kept racing—what if Shanks woke up tomorrow and decided to go to a completely different island than the one he was meant to visit? What if his presence here—this very night—shifted the entire timeline in a way that no one could foresee?

His heart thudded in his chest.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He buried his face in his hands, groaning, his mind a frantic mess of contradictions.

"This is why I should’ve just stayed in a cave somewhere."

Aegis had never wanted to get involved in any of this.

He should have just kept his head down, ignored the ridiculous pirates in the bar, and never sung a single damn note.

Now?

Now he was lying in the Captain’s quarters of the Red-Haired Pirates, a massive target on his back, tangled in a mess he didn’t know how to escape.

His pulse raced, and it felt like the world was closing in around him. Every possible consequence of his actions seemed to pile on top of him like a boulder that might roll over him at any moment.

He couldn't stay. He couldn’t.

Why does the bed….?

The only reason he was here at all was because of Beckman.

After the chaotic night, when the music and drunken shouts had started to die down, the first mate had walked up to Aegis, his large hand clapping firmly on his shoulder. That single touch had been enough to make Aegis freeze, his protests instantly faltering under Beckman’s quiet, commanding presence.

"You're sleeping in the Boss’ room."

Aegis blinked, the words failing to process in his mind. "Excuse me?"

Beckman hadn’t even spared him a second glance. "Shanks is probably going to pass out on the deck anyway. His room’s empty, so you can use it."

There had been no argument. No choice. Just the certainty of Beckman’s words, which carried the weight of absolute authority.

And just like that, Aegis had found himself dumped here like an abandoned puppy, alone in the most intimidating room of the ship.

The Captain’s quarters.

And now—now he was dealing with an issue far worse than the pressure of being in the middle of a pirate crew.

Shanks’ bed was too comfortable.

He lay there, too tired to move but too unsettled to sleep. The sheets were soft, and the bed—oh god, the bed was perfectly molded to his form. But worse still, the lingering scent of salt, rum, and something distinctly Shanks was so intoxicating, it made his breath catch in his throat.

Aegis froze. The pillow was so close—just inches away from his face. He could smell it.

No.

With great restraint, he turned over, away from the temptation. He was not a creep.

"Nope. Not doing this. Not smelling his damn pillow."

He couldn’t be that person, could he? This was already insane enough.

He was only here for one night. Tomorrow—tomorrow he would be gone.

That was final.

Despite the exhaustion creeping into his bones, despite the heavy weight of his eyelids and the soft warmth of the bed, Aegis could not sleep.

His mind refused to let him rest. Instead, it kept churning through the chaos of the day. The endless replays of his ridiculous actions. The insanity of it all.

First, he had shot a bunch of pirates like a complete psychopath.

Then, he had fled from the Marines, feeling like a criminal on the run.

After that—he crashed onto Shanks’ ship. A bizarre mix of luck and disaster.

Somehow, in the chaos, he had found himself singing a pirate song with the crew like it was the most normal thing in the world.

And now?

Now he was lying in the Captain’s quarters, the bed of the most dangerous pirate on the seas, with no plan for tomorrow. What the hell was he even doing here?

Aegis groaned, his face buried in the blankets, trying to force himself to relax.

"…Yes. Exactly."

Tomorrow.

At sunrise.

He was out of here.

No more pirates. No more songs. No more insanity.

It was the only thing that made sense.

But even as he told himself this, his heart didn’t believe it. The longer he stayed, the more tangled up he became in their world. How could he escape this mess of his own making?

Aegis squeezed his eyes shut, but the thoughts wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t find peace. Not tonight.

Tomorrow. He had to leave. Tomorrow would be the end of all this madness.

For real this time.

Right?

Chapter Text

The Inevitable (These Bastards Did This On Purpose, Didn’t They?!)

It was not for real this time.

Aegis stood at the edge of the ship, staring out at the vast expanse of the open sea, bewildered, his breath caught in his throat.

Where. The hell. Was the island?!

It was just there last night.

Right there. Right fucking there.

He could have sworn it was there. But now?

Gone.

Like it had been erased from existence.

Aegis’ eye twitched in frustration, his fingers curling into fists as his pulse quickened. There was no way this was some sort of coincidence. The island didn't just disappear—not like this.

A laugh broke him out of his spiraling thoughts, sharp and knowing, and he turned just in time to see Yasopp grinning at him, his arms lazily crossed.

"Looks like you'll be staying a little longer!" the sniper said, his tone casual as if he hadn’t just trapped Aegis in the middle of a vast ocean. "Sorry, we forgot you were here."

Aegis slowly, painfully slowly, turned his gaze toward the rest of the crew.

Shanks was grinning.

Beckman was smirking.

And the others? The rest of the crew was snickering.

No. No, the fuck they did not forget.

Aegis’ eyes narrowed as the full weight of the situation came crashing down on him. This wasn’t an accident.

They did this on purpose.

This was a scheme—and he was caught right in the middle of it.

Aegis ran a frantic hand through his hair, pacing across the deck, his thoughts spiraling into chaos.

"Okay, hold the fuck up—" He waved his arms at the sea and then pointed dramatically at the crew. "So, you're telling me. That I, a completely random stranger, got onto your ship last night, crashed into your party, performed for you, passed out in your Captain’s bed—"

Shanks snorted, cutting him off. "That makes it sound worse than it was."

Aegis ignored him, continuing his rant.

"—And you just decided to take me with you?!?!"

"Yup." Shanks shrugged as if that was the most reasonable response in the world.

Aegis’ jaw dropped. "Without even knowing my fucking name?!"

Shanks blinked. Then his grin stretched wider. "Oh shit, we don’t know your name."

"EXACTLY."

The crew laughed.

“What is your name then, songbird?”

“Aegis,” he replied automatically.

“Well, now we know!”

Aegis stared at them, aghast, unable to comprehend how they were so calm, so comfortable with all of this.

"Do you people have NO sense of stranger danger?!"

That only made them laugh harder.

Beckman, the one Aegis had assumed would be the responsible one, just leaned against the railing, smirking, seemingly unfazed by the madness of the situation. "I mean, it’s not like you can do anything to us."

Aegis opened his mouth, then closed it.

Fair point.

Because, yeah.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

They outnumbered him.

They outpowered him.

They had an actual Yonko-level powerhouse on their side.

Meanwhile, Aegis’ best move was to summon a 30-ton Pikachu wand and pray that somehow worked.

…Okay, that was actually a solid move.

But still!

The point was that they should’ve at least asked some damn questions before carrying him off into the middle of the ocean!

"I could be a bad guy, you know!" Aegis tried again, his voice strained. "What if I was an assassin?! Or a spy?! Or—"

"Are you?" Shanks cut in, his grin widening.

Aegis sputtered in disbelief. "Well, no, but that’s not—"

"Then what’s the problem?" Shanks asked, his voice filled with an almost absurd level of nonchalance.

WHAT’S THE PROBLEM?!

Aegis threw his hands up in exasperation. "THE PROBLEM IS THAT I WAS SUPPOSED TO LEAVE AT SUNRISE, AND NOW I’M FUCKING STUCK ON A YONKO’S SHIP!”

Shanks gasped dramatically as if the statement had hit him like a revelation. "Wow, a Yonko? Me? That’s high praise."

Aegis’ brain nearly short-circuited from the sheer absurdity of it all. He clenched his teeth, fighting the overwhelming urge to scream.

Why were they like this?!

Accepting His Fate (Because Clearly, He Has No Choice)

After a full ten more minutes of arguing, Aegis finally realized something crucial.

He was not winning this.

At all.

The Red-Haired Pirates were absolutely shameless, and they were clearly amused at his suffering.

At some point, Lucky Roux had handed him a drink, clearly trying to lighten the situation. Yasopp, the ever-charming sniper, had slung an arm over his shoulder as though they were long-lost friends. And Shanks? Well, Shanks was laughing his ass off, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

The worst part?

Aegis could feel it. He could feel himself starting to loosen up despite all the chaos. Despite his very justified frustration, there was something undeniably magnetic about these pirates. They were fun, carefree, and utterly ridiculous in the best possible way.

And if he wasn’t currently having an existential crisis over potentially fucking up the timeline, he might have actually enjoyed himself.

Shit.

He was definitely stuck here for a while.

He shouldn’t be, because these pirates are important!

The Utter Disrespect (He's Not a Damn Court Jester?!)

Aegis was a goddamn mess.

He sulked. He seethed. He pouted, crossed his arms in the most dramatic fashion, and brooded like a dark cloud had descended upon him, casting an inescapable shadow over his existence.

He was miserable.

And everyone seemed to find it hilarious.

He had found the most shadowy corner of the ship he could manage. Well, it wasn’t really much of a corner. More like the side of a barrel, but that was besides the point. He was trying to find some peace, some semblance of dignity, but the crew was determined to make his misery their amusement.

Every now and then, one of them would walk by, glance at him, and just start laughing. Yasopp had the audacity to flick a peanut at him earlier, snickering as if the world’s greatest prank was playing out right in front of him. "If you keep sulking like that, you’ll grow mushrooms," the sniper teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Aegis grumbled in response, "Maybe I want to," the words coming out of his mouth like venom, but Yasopp only laughed harder, clearly taking pleasure in watching him seethe.

Even Shanks, who should have been literally anywhere else doing captain things, had the nerve to shoot him a shit-eating grin from across the deck, his drink raised in an exaggerated, mocking toast.

"Enjoying the view?"

Aegis hissed at him like a feral little goblin, the frustration bubbling up inside him until he thought he might burst. And still, no one took him seriously.

Basic Seafaring Skills

It wasn’t long before Limejuice, the sailor who had somehow become the one person he could almost tolerate, seemed to get tired of Aegis' incessant sulking.

Without warning, Limejuice snatched him up by the arm, dragging him toward the masts like he was some sort of misplaced cargo.

"Alright, come on, you little drama queen," Limejuice grumbled, clearly having zero patience for Aegis’ theatrics. "If you’re staying on the ship, you’re helping out."

Aegis blinked at him, his eyes widening in utter disbelief. "Excuse me?!"

"You heard me." Limejuice didn’t even break stride.

"You want me to work?! You didn't even get my consent to stay in this stupid shi-"

"Yup." Limejuice’s response was deadpan, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Manual labor?!" Aegis practically squeaked, the horror clear in his voice.

Limejuice only gave him a flat look. "That’s what happens when you’re on a ship, genius."

Aegis spluttered, the words catching in his throat. "I— I am a BARD?! A traveling performer?! A delicate artist—"

"You’re tying the sails."

Aegis' expression morphed into pure disbelief. "I AM NOT BUILT FOR THIS."

Limejuice simply shrugged, a small smirk playing on his lips, and ignored him completely.

Fine, whatever.

How hard could tying a few knots be, anyway?

…Turns out? Really fucking hard.

Aegis, in all his delicate artist glory, somehow managed to tangle up the sails so badly that even Limejuice—an actual experienced sailor—was left standing there with his mouth agape, staring at the mess in utter horror.

The ropes were looped in places they shouldn’t be, knots tied in some form of eldritch, unknowable design, and the sails themselves… well, they were twisted like they had been through some kind of horrifying ritual.

Aegis stood frozen, staring at his handiwork with equal parts disbelief and shame.

Limejuice slowly turned to him, his face a mixture of pain and suspicion, like he wasn’t entirely sure if this was a prank or if Aegis had somehow transcended into a new realm of incompetence.

Aegis didn’t know what to say.

He opened his mouth and stammered. "Oops?"

Limejuice inhaled deeply, like he was mentally preparing for an existential crisis of his own.

"Go help Lucky Roux in the galley."

"Wait, I can fix—"

"Get out."

"—I can just—"

"Out."

Aegis practically scampered away, tail between his legs.

Dishwashing (He’s Never Touched a Sponge in His Life?!)

The moment Aegis stepped foot into the galley, he was greeted by Lucky Roux, who looked entirely too pleased to see him.

"Ah, got kicked off sail duty, huh?" Roux grinned, his eyes sparkling with some unholy amount of amusement.

Aegis scowled at him, not even bothering to hide his frustration. "Not my fault the ropes have a personal vendetta against me."

Lucky Roux only laughed, shaking his head as though this were the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. "Sure, sure. Well, guess that means you’re on dish duty now." Aegis blinked at him, momentarily unable to process the situation. "…Dish duty?" he asked, his voice small with disbelief.

Lucky Roux motioned toward the massive stack of dirty plates, bowls, and mugs piled high in the sink.

Aegis stared at the pile. Long. Hard.

His gaze flicked to the innocent-looking sponge sitting beside the sink. Then to the water already prepared in a tub.

"...You expect me to—?"

"Yup."

Aegis pointed at himself like he was trying to verify if he had heard that correctly. "But—me?"

"That’s what I said." Roux grinned wider, like this was the funniest thing in the world.

"With my hands?!" Aegis was nearly horrified at the thought. He’d never so much as touched a sponge before—what was he supposed to do with that filthy, disgusting thing?!

Lucky Roux, undeterred, cackled at the sheer horror on Aegis’ face. "You want to use your feet instead?"

Aegis stared at him, absolutely disgusted by the suggestion.

"I’ve never touched a sponge in my life." His voice trembled with a mix of dread and disbelief.

Roux, with a devilish grin, chuckled. "Then this is a great first experience for you."

Aegis could feel the rage building inside him. This was a violation of his humanity—he was a performer, not a dishwasher! But what could he do? There was no escape.

Fucking kill him.

Dishwashing 2 (Actually, He’s a Genius?!)

The first few plates were a disaster.

Aegis glared at the sponge, poking it as though it was some strange, foreign creature he was being forced to interact with for the first time. The bubbles from the soap overflowed, some of them splashing onto his clothes. His fingers were already pruny after only a few minutes, and the constant wetness was starting to gnaw at his patience.

"How do people do this for a living?" he muttered, feeling like he was stuck in some cursed version of a mundane hell.

A moment later, as if the universe itself wanted to make his life even more of a spectacle, Aegis dropped a mug from the stack. It was a perfect slow-motion disaster—he reached out, attempting to catch it, but it was too late.

Or so he thought.

At the very last second, the mug stopped mid-fall, suspended in the air by the ethereal grip of his Devil Fruit powers. It floated gently back into his hand, and Aegis let out a sigh of relief.

Lucky Roux, who had been sitting at the counter watching the whole disaster unfold with the kind of amusement that bordered on cruelty, raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his seat. His hands rested behind his head, and the smirk on his face only grew as he watched Aegis stumble through the process.

"Nice save, magician." Roux teased, clearly enjoying every bit of Aegis' struggle.

Aegis shot him an irritated look but didn’t bother responding immediately. Instead, he stared down at the dish in his hand, his expression shifting from annoyance to something else entirely.

Then, it came to him.

A brilliant idea.

A stroke of genius so spectacular, it made him grin so wide that his face hurt. It was a thought that could change the very course of his existence in this forsaken kitchen.

"Wait a minute." He dropped the sponge, his voice suddenly filled with self-assurance. "Why the hell am I doing this manually?"

Lucky Roux glanced over at him, unbothered by the dramatic outburst. "Because it's your job?" he asked, completely unfazed.

Aegis threw his hands up in the air as if he had just discovered the secret to the universe. "I am a man of magic," he declared, his voice rising with dramatic flair. "A performer! A master of illusions!" He thrust his arms out, his cape dramatically swirling behind him as though the entire world was his stage. "Why should I lower myself to such mundane tasks?"

Lucky Roux’s response was a raised eyebrow, a look of utter disinterest. He gestured lazily to the mountain of dirty dishes surrounding them. "So, you’re saying you can do this faster?"

Aegis, with an almost smug grin, met his gaze. "Watch."

He lifted his hands, his fingers twisting in the air with a flourish. The very air around him seemed to bend with his will, his Devil Fruit abilities now fully activated. With a burst of light, multiple glowing, translucent arms sprang into existence, each one reaching out to grab a dish, lifting it, and scrubbing it with unbelievable speed and precision.

The sponge itself floated, carried between the ethereal arms like some magical conductor in the middle of a flawless performance. The dishes were scrubbed, rinsed, and dried in a blur of motion, each one passing through the phantom arms at mechanical efficiency.

By the time Aegis had sat back in his chair, crossed his legs, and tilted his head in satisfaction, the entire pile of dishes was practically washing itself. It was like some kind of bizarre, but deeply impressive, spectacle.

Lucky Roux couldn’t help but let out a low whistle as he observed the chaotic brilliance in front of him. "Huh. Not bad," he remarked, clearly impressed despite himself.

Aegis, grinning ear to ear, threw his head back and laughed, his voice filled with immense pride. "Not bad?! Please, this is art! I am a visionary! A revolutionary in the field of dishwashing!" He waved his hand dramatically, as if the waves of his genius were crashing upon the world for the very first time.

Lucky Roux chuckled, shaking his head in amused disbelief. "Yeah, yeah. Alright, oh mighty visionary, here—eat this while your ‘revolution’ works."

Roux placed a plate of warm, golden-brown pastries in front of him, alongside a refreshingly cold drink. The pastries were perfect—flaky and buttery, each one oozing with the promise of warmth and comfort.

Aegis paused.

His dramatic performance died down in an instant, as his attention was consumed by the plate in front of him. His eyes widened. The pastries were perfectly golden, their scent alone enough to make him forget everything about the dishwashing revolution he had just created.

His stomach gave an almost unholy growl, the sound almost theatrical in its volume.

"...I take back everything I said about being oppressed." He grabbed a pastry, barely allowing it to cool before biting into it. "You, sir, are a saint."

Lucky Roux just chuckled, clearly pleased by the response. "Told you you’d like my cooking."

Aegis closed his eyes as he bit into the pastry—his body practically shuddered in bliss. The flaky outer layer melted in his mouth perfectly, the buttery richness wrapping around his tongue. He could’ve sworn he heard angels singing as he chewed.

He nearly moaned in pleasure, the warmth and softness of the pastry filling him with an overwhelming sense of satisfaction.

While his magical arms continued to work at lightning speed, washing dishes at a record-breaking pace, Aegis leaned back, a look of absolute contentment on his face. He sipped his drink with one hand, flipped through an old newspaper abandoned on the table with the other, and continued to indulge in his newfound passion for food.

Lucky Roux watched this ridiculous display, the amusement still evident in his expression. His lips twitched as he leaned back slightly, a look of bemused disbelief on his face. "You’re really loving this, huh?"

Aegis grinned, absolutely full of ego and indulgence, as though he had discovered the key to happiness in a pastry. "Oh, absolutely."

Hard Labor (Absolutely Not, No Thank You, He’s Built Different)

The next few days were a trial.

Not for Aegis.

For the Red-Haired Pirates.

Because Aegis flat-out refused to do any form of manual labor.

It started innocently enough. Beckman, with his usual stoic demeanor, approached Aegis with a simple request. "Scrub the deck," he said, pointing to the endless stretch of wood that needed cleaning. "You know, like everyone else."

Aegis blinked at him as if Beckman had suggested something truly insane. "With my hands? My knees? Are you out of your mind?" His voice was filled with such disbelief that it could've been mistaken for someone being asked to fight a sea king bare-handed. He stared at Beckman, arms crossed, incredulous. "I am far too delicate for such things. I have the hands of an artist. A performer. A prodigy!"

Beckman didn’t even flinch. He exhaled a long drag from his cigarette and, with a lazy flick, blew the smoke directly into Aegis' face.

Aegis recoiled, gagging and coughing dramatically. "I'M GONNA DIE!" he cried, clutching his throat. "I’VE BEEN POISONED! YOU FOUL, WRETCHED MAN!"

Beckman, completely unfazed, just gave him a flat stare as if Aegis' theatrics were nothing more than a mild inconvenience. "Shut up and go clean something," he said coolly.

Aegis, however, had absolutely no intention of doing any such thing. He crossed his arms and gave Beckman an unflinching stare. "NO."

The two of them stood there, locked in a silent standoff, each daring the other to break.

The standoff lasted precisely ten seconds before Aegis broke into a sly grin, one that practically oozed mischief. "Fine, fine," he said, lifting his hands as if he were about to perform a grand act of magic. "But I’m not scrubbing anything manually."

With a flourish that would have earned him a standing ovation in any theater, Aegis snapped his fingers.

Suddenly, the ship was overrun with illusionary copies of himself. The clones spread out like an army, scrubbing the deck with an almost robotic precision. Meanwhile, the real Aegis stood by with his arms crossed, admiring his handiwork with a smug expression plastered across his face.

Beckman stared at the clones, then back at Aegis. Then back at the clones. He took a slow drag from his cigarette, his eyes narrowing as he processed what he was seeing.

"... You lazy bastard." Beckman muttered under his breath, shaking his head in mild disbelief but also a hint of… fondness? Nope. No way.

Aegis, clearly basking in his own brilliance, flashed him an all-knowing grin. "I prefer the term ‘efficient genius,’" he replied, throwing a casual wink in Beckman’s direction.

Socializing (And Accidentally Becoming a Pirate Stand-Up Comedian)

Aegis had initially intended to stay under the radar. He wasn’t here to make friends or get involved with anyone’s personal dramas. No, he was just passing through, hiding out for a while until his next great performance. That was the plan, anyway.

Then he realized something rather crucial.

He didn’t know half of these people’s names.

Like, at all.

And considering they weren’t extras in an anime, he probably should know who they were. It was only polite. Reluctantly, Aegis began to engage in socializing.

And somehow, this led to him bullshitting stories.

One evening, the crew was gathered in the mess hall, and Aegis—his curiosity piqued and his thirst for attention stirred—decided it was time to entertain them.

"And then!" Aegis exclaimed, throwing his arms wide as if about to reveal the greatest story ever told. "I single handedly fought off an entire Marine battalion! With nothing but a spoon and my unparalleled wit!"

A group of unnamed crew members gathered around, their eyes widening with shock and fascination.

"NO WAY."

"A SPOON?!"

"HOW MANY WERE THERE?!"

Aegis, the master of suspense, took a long sip from his drink, letting the tension build as he allowed them to hang on every word. Then, with a devilish smirk, he gave them his answer.

"Five hundred."

The entire group gasped in shock and disbelief.

"BULLSHIT."

"HE’S LYING."

"NO WAY—"

Aegis put on his most mournful face and held up a hand. "Oh, come on! You have to believe me!" he pouted, adding a dramatic flair. "I was an unstoppable force of destruction! The Marines still talk about the ‘Spoon Demon’ to this day!"

The crew erupted into laughter. Some were holding their stomachs, others were gasping for breath, while a few were nearly falling out of their chairs in amusement.

"You’re so full of shit!" someone yelled between fits of laughter.

"Do it again! Use your Devil Fruit to show us!" another shouted.

Aegis couldn’t resist. With a mischievous grin, he activated his devil fruit and, like a true performer, conjured a spectacular reenactment of his totally real (completely fabricated) battle against five hundred Marines.

He dodged imaginary bullets, swung an illusory spoon with godly technique, and even added slow-motion effects to emphasize the dramatic moments, like he was from the matrix. The entire scene unfolded in a dazzling display of action and ridiculousness.

By the time the “battle” was over, Yasopp, the crew’s sniper genius, was wiping away tears from laughing so hard. His sides ached from the hilarity of it all.

"Holy shit, you’re hilarious." Yasopp clapped Aegis on the back, a wide grin splitting his face.

Aegis, feeling like the undisputed king of comedic genius, grinned back. But before he could say anything further—

"You’re like a clown!" Yasopp remarked, still chuckling.

Aegis froze.

The atmosphere shifted instantly. His smile faltered, replaced with something darker—a mix of embarrassment and horror. "No. No, I’m not," Aegis protested, his voice taking on a sharper edge.

Yasopp, oblivious to the sudden shift, snickered. "You totally are. The way you exaggerate things? The dumb reenactments? The dramatic posing?"

"NO, I’M NOT." Aegis recoiled as if Yasopp had slapped him. "Take that back."

Yasopp’s grin only widened. "Nah, it’s a compliment! You’re funny!"

Aegis, utterly mortified, stumbled back a step, hands raised in defense. "I’M NOT A CLOWN." He felt the weight of the entire crew’s eyes on him, and in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to fling himself into the ocean and disappear.

But of course, the crew burst into laughter, and the joke was set in stone.

From that moment on, it became a running joke that Aegis was now the Red-Haired Pirates’ official clown.

Shanks, ever the instigator, found the entire situation hilarious.

Aegis, however, was now questioning all of his life choices.

Chapter Text

The Never-Ending Hostage Situation (Also Known As: Why Haven’t They Docked Yet?!)

It had been a month.

Aegis realized this three nights ago when he was lying in the crow’s nest, staring at the stars with an intense, growing sense of existential dread.

A month since he had been dragged onto this ship. A month since his plans to leave had gone completely off the rails. A month since they'd last docked anywhere.

And it wasn't normal, right?

Sure, the Red-Haired Pirates were a notoriously laid-back crew, but even laid-back pirates needed supplies. Even the most free-spirited of crews had to replenish their stores, restock their food, and maybe, just maybe, stretch their legs on dry land for once.

And yet—they just kept sailing.

No sign of land. No dock in sight. No apparent destination.

For a month.

Aegis had been distracted at first—chatting with the crew, joking around, putting on grand performances. He was having fun, right? This was what he did best. But now? Now he realized something horrifying.

They weren't letting him leave.

It wasn't overt. It wasn’t like they were locking him up or holding him at gunpoint. That would be easier to deal with. Aegis could fight that, escape, run away (somehow).

Instead, they were casually, passive-aggressively ensuring he had nowhere to go.

At first, he thought maybe they were avoiding Marines (but why? They were a Yonko crew), maybe some other crew had been chasing them (again why? They were a Yonko crew). Maybe they had a good reason for being in the middle of nowhere.

But no. There were no signs of pursuit. No urgency. No desperate need to flee. They were just... sailing.

For a month.

And that’s when Aegis realized: this wasn’t a coincidence.

It was intentional.

They didn’t want him to leave.

Wait… was this their way of telling him to join the crew?!

The Most Suspicious "Uh-Huh" in the World

"I AM NOT JOINING YOUR CREW!" Aegis stood on the main deck, arms crossed, chin raised defiantly like a child throwing a tantrum. He was done. He couldn’t take it anymore.

Shanks, relaxed as always in his chair, with a drink lazily in his hand, glanced up at Aegis with an expression of mild interest. He took a slow sip, the glass clinking lightly.

"Uh-huh."

Aegis’s eyes narrowed, squinting suspiciously. He felt a weird little prickle of annoyance. "Uh-huh?" he repeated, drawing out the phrase, his voice laced with doubt. "What kind of response is that?"

Shanks didn’t even look at him, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. "I mean it," Aegis snapped, flinging his arms wide as if to encompass the entire ship. "It’s been a month—a whole damn month—and you guys still haven’t docked anywhere."

Shanks hummed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, as though the passage of time hadn’t even registered. "Huh. Has it been that long?" His tone was so nonchalant, it made Aegis’ heart thump harder.

"YES. YES, IT HAS!" Aegis threw his hands up, his frustration boiling over. "At first, I thought it was just a coincidence! But now, I see the truth!" He took a dramatic step forward. "You’re delaying docking because you don’t want me to leave."

Shanks looked up at him, his grin widening. A little too wide.

"You’re delaying docking because you don’t want me to leave," Aegis repeated, his voice growing sharper. "You guys just happen to be taking the longest route possible, drifting across the sea like we have nowhere to be?! You forgot I was on board?! BULLSHIT. You remembered. You knew."

Shanks rubbed his chin, a gesture that, for some reason, only deepened Aegis’ suspicion. His grin grew even more knowing. "Uh-huh."

"WHAT—" Aegis stopped mid-sentence. Wait. That "uh-huh" was too casual. Too easy. Too suspicious.

Shanks, with his usual cool demeanor, rubbed his chin again. His gaze didn’t waver from Aegis as he took another lazy sip from his glass.

Aegis narrowed his eyes at the older pirate, slowly piecing it together. "What was that?"

Shanks blinked, his innocent expression utterly at odds with the situation. "What was what?"

Aegis felt the growing unease in his gut. "That uh-huh."

Shanks blinked again, slow and deliberate, as if Aegis were the one acting strange. "Uh-huh?"

"THAT. STOP THAT." Aegis pointed an accusing finger, his voice rising in pitch, his face growing redder by the second. "YOU'RE UP TO SOMETHING."

Shanks tilted his head, a mockingly innocent expression plastered on his face. "Me? Up to something?" His voice was too sweet, too playful. "Now, why would I do that?"

Aegis’ heart began to pound. The pieces were all coming together. Too easily. Too smoothly. The "uh-huh" . The nonchalant grin. The subtle, almost imperceptible way Shanks was pushing back against him.

"I—I don’t know!" Aegis floundered, waving his arms in a mix of frustration and confusion. "But I don’t trust you!"

Shanks chuckled, leaning back comfortably in his chair. "Aw, come on," he said in that infuriatingly calm voice. "We’ve been sailing together for a whole month. Haven’t we bonded, songbird?"

Aegis felt the final shred of his sanity snap. "I AM YOUR HOSTAGE." His voice was near a shout now, the frustration and realization pushing him to the edge.

Shanks snorted, clearly amused. "That’s a strong word."

Aegis felt his brain momentarily short-circuit. "THAT’S THE ONLY WORD."

Shanks, ever the master of steering the conversation, let out a small hum of thought before lazily muttering, "Well, if you’re not joining, I guess we’ll just have to dock somewhere soon, huh?"

Aegis froze. His eyes widened, and he suddenly felt the distinct sensation of unease clawing at his throat. No. No, that was way too easy.

That wasn’t surrender.

That was something else.

Shanks was smiling, like he knew something Aegis didn’t.

Aegis felt a chill run down his spine, his instincts screaming at him that he was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle. His voice was low, cautious. "You’re plotting something."

Shanks, grinning wider than ever, met his gaze without blinking. "Oh? What makes you say that?"

Aegis stared at him, fully aware now that every inch of this encounter was calculated.

Shanks' grin was practically contagious, but Aegis wasn't laughing. Not this time. The crew, observing from the background, snickered and chuckled, as though they had just witnessed a private joke unfold between the two.

And then it hit him.

He was so fucked.

Acceptance (And Petty Revenge Pranks)

It took two months for Aegis to finally admit that he was never escaping.

At first, he had clung to the belief that he was biding his time, that somehow, someday, he would slip past the crew and return to freedom. But now? Now, he could see the inevitable truth unfolding before him. He had tried everything to escape, and each time, he had failed spectacularly.

Feigning seasickness? Shanks just laughed and called it "adorable."

Sabotaging their food supply? Lucky Roux saw through him immediately and cooked extra just to spite him.

Jumping overboard? Yasopp fished him out effortlessly before he even hit the water. (and he regretted it oh so much)

Hell, he even tried to bribe a passing News Coo to send a distress signal. The bird stole his money and shat on him instead.

By the time the second month rolled around, he had reluctantly accepted his fate. He was never leaving.

Shanks, with his devilish grin, had trapped him here. It wasn’t outright kidnapping—no, that would be too easy. No, Shanks was too clever for that. Instead, he had slowly and methodically woven Aegis into their lives without a second thought.

At first, Aegis had resisted—he had to. He had to hold on to that last bit of defiance, the idea that he could escape if he just kept pushing. But now, he realized with bitter clarity:

Shanks wanted him on the crew.

No one had asked him yet, but the implication was everywhere. They weren’t docking anywhere. Not a single stop in two months. And no one had shown any sign of urgency, not even a hint of a plan to get off the water. They were content. Too content.

The crew had fully integrated him into their routine—tossing him chores, dragging him into conversations, making space for him at meals, and most frustrating of all:

He was having fun.

It was completely unacceptable.

But Aegis was not about to go down without a fight. So, he did what any self-respecting, dramatic, over-the-top, impossibly stubborn person would do: he channeled his frustration into pranking the ever-loving hell out of them.

He started small, with petty annoyances. Little illusions here and there, designed to irritate but never to cause real harm. It was only the beginning.

Prank Victim #1: Beckman and His Cursed Cigarettes

Beckman, with his cool, collected demeanor, was the perfect target. The man was always smoking, so naturally, Aegis had to mess with his cigarettes first.

One morning, Beckman reached into his coat, pulled out a cigarette—and stared at it, confused.

It was a stick of tightly-rolled seaweed.

He blinked at it, then glanced at Aegis, who was standing nearby with an innocent smile plastered on his face.

Aegis smirked, waiting for the explosion of anger. But Beckman, unbothered, lit the seaweed anyway.

He took a long drag, exhaled, and then—

"Not bad."

Aegis’s jaw dropped. What. The. Hell.

Beckman: 1
Aegis: 0

Plan B: Make the cigarettes scream.

With a few well-placed illusions, every time Beckman lit a cigarette, it would wail in agony.

Beckman just exhaled, unfazed, as though he didn’t even hear it.

Finally, after a few minutes of this, Beckman muttered, “Still quieter than Shanks.”

Aegis gaped. That was it. He had no words. The man was immune to his pranks.

Beckman: 2
Aegis: 0

Prank Victim #2: Yasopp’s Vanishing Bullets

Next on the list: Yasopp, the world’s best sniper. Aegis had an immense respect for Yasopp’s skill—but that didn’t mean he was untouchable.

Using his Mirage Fruit powers, Aegis set up an illusion where Yasopp’s bullets vanished mid-air after being fired. Yasopp, unaware, took aim at a floating target in the sea, pulling the trigger—

Nothing.

Frowning, he reloaded, checked his gun, and tried again.

Still nothing.

Confused, he examined his rifle, his ammo, the weather. “What the hell?” he muttered, clearly getting frustrated.

Aegis, hidden behind a barrel, was struggling to keep a straight face. He watched Yasopp spend hours obsessively cleaning his rifle, swearing, blaming the wind, and trying to figure out why his shots weren’t landing.

Finally, Aegis released the illusion. Yasopp pulled the trigger—

BANG!

Direct hit.

Yasopp let out a sigh of relief, nearly collapsing with exhaustion. Meanwhile, Aegis was in the background, wheezing with laughter.

Yasopp: 0
Aegis: 1

Prank Victim #3: Limejuice and the Flying Mop

When Limejuice called Aegis a lazy diva, he had made a grave mistake.

Aegis used his powers to enchant a mop, turning it into a relentless, flying creature that pursued Limejuice around the deck. The man screamed as the mop attacked his ankles, his bucket shield raised in desperation.

The crew watched in tears, laughing uncontrollably as the seasoned warrior fought for his life against a cleaning implement.

Limejuice swung his bucket, gritting his teeth, but the mop refused to stop. He finally collapsed in a heap, exhausted from the chase.

Limejuice: 0
Aegis: laughing too hard to breathe

Final Prank Victim: Shanks (Because Of Course He Was)

And then there was Shanks. The one person Aegis had been waiting to prank.

He spent days carefully crafting the perfect illusion. One morning, when Shanks stepped out onto the deck, the entire crew was in chaos.

Well, most of them. The officers certainly weren’t panicking—he was sure they knew, because he had been pranking them relentlessly for the past few days.

In the distance, a massive fleet appeared—a Marine fleet, to be precise.

And at the helm?

Fleet Admiral Sengoku.

Shanks stared at it, his grin never faltering. “Huh,” he muttered, before turning to Beckman. “Think I should put my fight shirt on?”

Beckman smirked.

And then, to everyone’s shock, Shanks waved at the fleet.

Aegis’s illusion shattered. The “fleet” vanished into thin air, and the crew stared at Shanks.

Shanks grinned and shrugged. "You got me. That was good."

Aegis, still stunned, demanded, "You just— you just waved at an Admiral?!"

Shanks chuckled, “What, was I supposed to run?”

Aegis snorted, and the tension broke because Aegis started laughing loud—a teensy bit hysterical.

Shanks: 1

Aegis: utterly defeated

Land, at Last!

By the middle of the third month, Beckman finally—finally—told Shanks they had to dock somewhere.

It had taken far too long.

They had stretched their supplies to the absolute limit. How, Aegis had no idea. He had watched them go through alcohol like it was water, and yet the barrels never seemed to run dry. The crew had their nights of excessive partying, laughing until the early hours, always singing, always drinking. But every time Aegis tried to sneak a peek behind the scenes to figure out the source, he was met with nothing but empty barrels and vague, cryptic answers.

Where did all the booze come from?

And how had they lasted almost three months at sea, eating only the occasional fish and the mysterious supplies that magically appeared at the perfect time?

The thought nagged at him, but for now, the more pressing concern was the fact that they were finally docking.

About damn time.

Touching Land... Gracefully (Not Really)

Aegis had been practically vibrating with excitement when he saw the docks appear on the horizon. He was ready . Ready to leave the ship, to feel the ground beneath his boots again, to stretch his legs and breathe air that wasn’t tinged with salt.

He practically floated across the deck, his stride full of flair, arms wide, chest puffed out, ready to step onto solid ground as if he were some kind of god descending to Earth. There were no words for how magnificent he was going to look. He would glide across the gangplank, the sun shining behind him as if it were a natural spotlight, his feet touching the earth as gracefully as a ballet dancer.

Except that—

The moment his boots met the dock, his sea legs—those treacherous, traitorous things—betrayed him.

His vision tilted wildly, as though the world was suddenly spinning faster than he could keep up with. He took one step forward, and the next thing he knew, the ground rushed up to meet him.

There was no grandeur. No poise. Just pure, unadulterated humiliation as Aegis—the proud, famed bard—nearly face-planted in front of the entire crew.

And as his body began its downward trajectory, a strong arm shot out, catching him around the waist.

Aegis' momentum was halted with startling effectiveness, and he was brought back upright, his world righted before he could make a complete fool of himself.

The arm around his waist was warm, steady, and the scent of rum—because of course, it was—was unmistakable.

"Careful there," Shanks chuckled, his grip still firm around Aegis’ waist. "You alright, songbird?"

Aegis' face combusted.

Not from the fall—no, that was bad enough—but from the closeness. From how Shanks still had his hand around him, pulling him into that unnervingly intimate proximity. There was warmth radiating from his body, and Aegis couldn’t breathe properly for a moment. His heart sped up, and the smirk Shanks wore only made things worse. The smugness, the arrogance—everything about it made Aegis' stomach twist in a way he didn't want to acknowledge.

Aegis twisted out of his hold immediately, swatting at his clothes as if the last five seconds hadn't just happened.

"I AM PERFECTLY FINE," he snapped, looking anywhere but at Shanks, though his voice trembled slightly from the effort to calm himself.

Shanks just grinned wider.

"You sure? I could carry you, if you’d like."

Aegis immediately recoiled. "ABSOLUTELY NOT."

“Ehhhh???

Supervision & The Art of Robbery Haggling

Despite his brief moment of potential disaster, Aegis had other plans now that they were finally on land. The truth was, he could’ve bolted—he knew he could’ve. But the way the crew looked at him, like they expected him to make a run for it, made him hesitate. He could escape, but he was not suicidal. He was certain the moment he tried, it would just backfire spectacularly.

So instead, he latched onto Beckman. The first mate raised an eyebrow but didn’t push him off. There was something about Beckman’s steady, no-nonsense presence that made Aegis feel both protected and incredibly amused.

"Where are we going, my dearest chaperone?" Aegis asked, his voice syrupy sweet as he clung to Beckman’s arm like a cat looking for attention.

Beckman sighed, exhaling a cloud of smoke as he led the way into the busy marketplace. "Supplies," he said simply.

"Splendid," Aegis declared, already scanning the stalls with a look of a man about to commit legal theft. "Allow me to be of great assistance."

Step Aside, Beckman. Aegis is About to Commit Legal Theft.

Beckman had a simple plan in mind. Get what they needed, pay the price, and leave. Aegis, however, had other ideas. The moment they stepped into the marketplace, he took over, his theatrical flair on full display. He dragged Beckman from stall to stall, chattering away faster than anyone could process.

Aegis was relentless. He wasn’t just haggling; he was performing .

Victim #1: The Fruit Vendor

The first stall they approached was a fruit vendor, an old man with skin weathered by years of sun. The vendor smiled warmly as they approached.

"Fresh fruit, best in town! Five hundred berries per apple."

Aegis' jaw dropped. His hand flew to his chest as if he were personally offended. "Five hundred?!" he gasped, his voice exaggerated in horror, making sure every word was laden with dramatic emphasis. "Five hundred for a single apple? Do you wish to see a man perish from malnutrition?"

The vendor blinked in confusion, but Aegis didn’t give him time to respond.

"Is this how you treat humble travelers? How will I ever afford a full meal? Will you let me wither away, skin and bones, unworthy of nourishment?" Aegis wailed, clutching his stomach as if he might faint at any moment.

The vendor, clearly flustered, began to stutter. "I—what? No—"

Aegis spun on his heel, turning to Beckman with a look of pure agony. "Do you hear this? He wishes to watch me starve! I fear for my very life."

Beckman, exhaling a puff of smoke, watched with amusement. He didn’t even try to stop Aegis.

"Okay, okay! Three hundred!" The vendor exclaimed, clearly trying to get Aegis to stop his theatrical display.

Aegis frowned and folded his arms. "Two hundred."

"Two-fifty?"

Aegis dramatically paused for effect, tapping his chin like a negotiator weighing his options.

"Two hundred... and a free banana," he said with a flourish, a grin spreading across his face.

The vendor sighed in defeat. "Fine."

Aegis beamed, triumphantly tossing the banana to Beckman as the man started preparing three barrels of apples.

Victim #2: The Butcher

Next up was a butcher with arms like thick barrels, shouting about the best cuts of meat in the region.

"Meat for sale! Best cuts in the region! Two thousand berries per kilogram!"

Aegis staggered back as though struck by a bolt of lightning. "Two thousand?!" he gasped. "Do you think I am a noble? A king? A celestial dragon?!"

The butcher, bewildered by the dramatic outburst, opened his mouth but didn’t quite know what to say.

Aegis dramatically placed a hand on Beckman’s arm. "Dearest companion, I fear I may not survive this robbery."

Beckman, who had been thoroughly entertained by Aegis’ antics, simply shrugged. "Tragic."

"One thousand five hundred!" The butcher offered after a long pause.

Aegis stared the man down, then held up one finger. "One thousand. And throw in some sausages."

The butcher sighed, defeated. "Done."

Aegis smirked as they walked away, victorious once again, Beckman effortlessly carrying more shit.

Beckman’s Verdict

By the time Aegis had dragged Beckman through half the marketplace, securing absurdly good deals left and right (and committing highway robbery), the first mate finally spoke up, clearly amused and maybe a little exasperated.

"You do this often?"

Aegis, popping an apple into his mouth and tossing it in the air before catching it with ease, grinned widely. "My dear Beckman, I am a bard, a performer. And the world, my stage."

Beckman exhaled slowly, shaking his head with a smile. "You’re a menace."

Aegis beamed back. "Why, thank you."

And for the first time in months, as he watched the crew laugh and enjoy their spoils of victory, Aegis finally admitted something to himself.

He was having fun.

Chapter Text

Aegis, the Swindler (and the Flustered Fool)

By the time they arrived at the bustling, well-known restaurant, Aegis was feeling particularly smug.

And why wouldn’t he?

He had single-handedly— with minimal Beckman supervision , mind you—saved the crew a ridiculous amount of money. It wasn’t just haggling. It was an art form. He had reduced prices with an effortless charm and charisma, twisting every word, weaving every sentence with such dramatic flair that even the most stubborn vendors couldn’t help but cave. He could practically hear the coins jingling in his pockets as the crew, with wide eyes, watched him work. It was beautiful .

As they walked through the restaurant’s door, Aegis puffed out his chest just a little more, basking in his own brilliance.

Beckman, who had been coolly observing the entire exchange, leaned lazily against the restaurant’s counter, a smirk playing on his lips. He exhaled a cloud of smoke as he turned to Shanks. “Saved us a good chunk of money today,” he said, nodding toward Aegis. “His haggling’s a damn art form.”

Aegis stood straighter, chin held high, shoulders back, chest puffed out.

He knew he was amazing— but hearing it from Beckman? That was validation. He couldn’t help but glow at the compliment. Beckman didn’t dish them out often, and when he did, it was always reserved for those he truly respected. Aegis had to fight the urge to break into a smug grin. He wouldn’t overdo it.

Then—then—Shanks turned to him.

The grin that stretched across Shanks’ face was like the damn sun coming up. Bright, overwhelming, and utterly disarming.

“Well, well,” the captain said, clearly amused, “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a real asset here.”

Aegis’ smugness evaporated instantly, and a cold wave of pure embarrassment surged through him. His face flushed bright red as his stomach did a somersault. He sputtered, his confidence crashing into a brick wall.

“I—” he stammered, his usual bravado failing him in the face of Shanks’ glowing praise. “—I don’t want your damn compliments!”

But it was too late. Shanks’ grin only grew wider, stretching like a cat who had caught the mouse.

He didn’t say anything else. Didn’t tease him. Didn’t even chuckle. He just looked at Aegis, with that twinkle of amusement in his eyes, like he was thoroughly enjoying the way Aegis was unraveling right before him.

Aegis’ skin burned. His stomach churned. No. No no no. This was not happening.

Worse than Shanks’ look was the rest of the crew . Because they were watching. All of them.

Yasopp was smirking, his arms crossed casually as if this was the best entertainment he’d had all day.

Lucky Roux was chuckling under his breath, a grin splitting his face.

Limejuice, as usual, had that damned grin plastered across his face.

Even Beckman, normally so composed, was watching Aegis like he was the funniest thing he’d seen all day. His lips twitched, barely concealing his amusement as he leaned against the counter, looking like a man who had just witnessed a masterful performance.

"OH, FOR FUCK’S SAKE."

Aegis needed to escape this humiliation . His mind was racing for an exit strategy. But the only way out was...

Aegis vs. The Poor, Unfortunate Restaurant Manager

Aegis had zero hesitation.

This was no time for subtlety or half-measures. If he was going to salvage even a sliver of dignity, he needed to act now .

Without a second thought, Aegis swung around with dramatic flair, his coat billowing behind him like a gust of wind, and marched straight up to the counter where the restaurant manager—an older man with a bushy mustache and an exhausted look in his eyes—was standing.

The manager blinked in confusion as Aegis slammed a hand down on the counter with the force of a thunderclap.

“I would like to discuss your prices,” Aegis declared, voice sharp, commanding.

The manager frowned, clearly caught off guard. "What do you mean?" he asked, brows knitting together.

“I mean,” Aegis said, adopting his most scandalized tone, the kind of tone that could bring kingdoms to their knees , “that I have seen the prices on your menu, and, quite frankly, I am appalled.”

The crew snickers behind him.

The manager’s brows furrowed even more. “Appalled?”

“Yes. Appalled,” Aegis repeated, his hand dramatically clutching his chest as if he were personally wounded by the very existence of such prices. “Your food is overpriced . And for what? To serve us , the very men who have brought prestige and renown to your establishment simply by gracing it with our presence?”

The manager blinked, thoroughly confused. “What?”

Aegis leaned forward, shifting closer to the man, his voice now dripping with mock sincerity. “Do you know who these men are?” He gestured broadly toward the Red-Haired Pirates, who were all watching from a distance, some snickering, others merely entertained. “These are some of the most feared and respected men on the seas. This restaurant—your restaurant—is now a known stop for one of the Emperor’s fleets.”

The manager’s face paled slightly as the implications of Aegis’ words sunk in.

Aegis pressed on, voice taking a mournful tone. “And yet… and yet you would dare charge such outrageous prices, knowing full well that we, weary sailors, have been at sea for nearly three months without so much as a decent meal?”

The manager opened his mouth, clearly at a loss for words. He stared at Aegis, struggling to come up with a suitable response.

Shanks, leaning against the counter, his chin resting on his hand, watched with pure amusement, his eyes twinkling as he observed the artful manipulation in action.

“You drive a hard bargain,” the manager finally admitted, his voice tinged with a reluctant respect.

Aegis flashed a slow, victorious smile. "As I should."

The Final Offer

Fifteen minutes. That was all it took.

Fifteen minutes of relentless negotiation, of theatrics, of spinning the story of how the Red-Haired Pirates were a force of nature —and Aegis had secured an absolute steal.

A full course meal for the entire crew, half the price. And the manager, clearly defeated and eager to end the conversation, had even thrown in a free round of drinks.

As the crew settled into their seats around the table, plates piled high with food and mugs full of frothy drink, Shanks, still grinning like a cat who’d swallowed the canary, clapped a hand on Aegis’ shoulder.

“Looks like we really can’t afford to let you go,” Shanks said, his voice light and teasing, but with an edge of truth to it.

Aegis glared at him, but the flush of embarrassment had long faded. He was far too pleased with himself to truly feel annoyed.

“Hmph.” He turned up his nose, his voice dripping with feigned indifference. “You’d all starve without me.”

Shanks chuckled, the sound rich and warm, as he leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

And as Aegis dug into his delicious (half-priced) meal, savoring each bite with satisfaction, he allowed himself—just for a moment—to feel something he hadn’t truly felt in a long time.

Belonging.

Aegis, the Shameless Cheat (and the Yonko’s Silent Watch)

They head off to a bar after eating, which was not surprising.

The bar was lively, packed with sailors and pirates alike, drowning themselves in booze and loud laughter. And it was big, very much so.

Aegis stood just outside the door, his heart beating a little too fast.

It was irrational, he knew.

What the hell was he scared of?

He was with Shanks and his crew, a Yonko’s fleet.

Even the stupidest, most suicidal pirate wouldn’t try to pull something with them.

And yet—

Memories of his last time in a bar itched at the back of his mind. The smell of spilled alcohol, sweat, and blood. The feeling of being cornered, of hands that weren’t his own reaching for him—

No.

Not this time.

Not with them.

He inhaled sharply.

Then, he squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and sauntered inside as if he owned the damn place.

The crew, after sitting comfortably at their own large table, watched in amusement.

Beckman smirked, taking a slow drag from his cigarette.

"Looks like he’s finally shaking it off," Yasopp muttered.

"Shaking it off?" Lucky Roux grinned, taking a large bite of meat. "He looks like he’s about to rob the whole bar blind."

"Let him have his fun," Shanks murmured, swirling his drink lazily, a smile on his face.

The Card Game from Hell (for Everyone Else, Not Aegis)

Aegis beelined straight to a card game in the corner, where a group of rough-looking pirates were gambling.

Oh, perfect.

He grinned brightly, flopping onto an empty chair with practiced ease.

"Mind if I join?" He flashed them his most disarming smile, pulling out a neat stack of berries.

The pirates eyed him warily at first, but the sight of money seemed to override their suspicion.

One of them, a scarred, burly man, grunted. "Long as you got beri to bet, you’re in."

"Oh, don’t worry." Aegis placed his stack down dramatically. "I came prepared."

They dealt him in.

And Aegis proceeded to rob them blind.

Aegis, the Shameless Cheat

He cheated.

Without remorse.

Without hesitation.

They’d never know.

Because his Devil Fruit made it impossible.

A card shifted in his hand seamlessly, unnoticed. A glance at an opponent’s hand was disguised by an illusion of him looking away. The dice rolled in his favor, guided by imperceptible mirages.

And the best part?

He made it look natural.

Like he was just lucky.

Like fate itself was on his side.

He won.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Until he had won ten times in a row.

He cackled internally, watching as the other pirates' faces twisted into barely-contained frustration.

Money piled up in front of him.

And their resentment grew.

The Silent Watch of the Red-Haired Pirates

Aegis was having the time of his life.

But what he didn’t notice—

Was that the more he won, the more the pirates at the table wanted to kill him.

There were subtle signs:

A clenched jaw. A hand twitching toward a weapon. A glance at their equally furious companions.

But the moment any of them so much as considered hurting him—

They felt it.

Bloodlust.

Thick. Suffocating.

A silent, chilling promise of violence.

It came from the Red-Haired Pirates' table.

And it was not subtle.

Yasopp, mid-drink, let his fingers graze his rifle.

Lucky Roux, still eating, watched with sharp eyes, his easy-going demeanor masking a dangerous awareness.

Beckman exhaled a slow drag of smoke, his gaze cool as he tracked every movement in Aegis’ direction.

And then, there was Shanks.

Leaning back in his chair.

Elbow on the table, chin resting against his hand.

Smiling.

But not just smiling.

It was a smile that said, Try it. I dare you.

The pirates at the card table were furious.

But they weren’t stupid.

They felt the weight of the warning.

They knew who Aegis was with.

And so, no matter how many times he won—no matter how much money he stole from them in plain sight—

They did nothing.

And Aegis, utterly oblivious to the silent protection surrounding him, just grinned as he pulled another pile of beri toward him.

"Ah~ another win! I really must be lucky tonight!" He beamed, stuffing money into his coat.

He had no idea that the only reason he was still breathing—

Was because his not-yet captain was watching.

The Poker Table of Poor Life Choices

Aegis had bled the last table dry.

The first group of pirates glared at him like he’d just set their ship on fire, stolen their women, and pissed in their rum barrels after drinking alcohol. (those types of piss stank)

And yet, Aegis only grinned, tossing his newly acquired stack of beri into the air before catching it with a flourish.

"Well, that was fun!" he announced cheerfully, rising from his seat with a dramatic stretch. He patted one of the pirates on the back, making the poor bastard flinch like he’d been stabbed. "Better luck next time, yeah?~"

Then, without another glance, he strolled away like they were nothing but side characters in his grand adventure.

The Red-Haired Pirates' table, who had been watching all this unfold, were visibly entertained.

"He's gonna do it again, isn’t he?" Yasopp chuckled, swirling his drink.

Beckman exhaled smoke, smirking. "Oh, absolutely."

Shanks—still lounging comfortably—lifted his glass. "He's got guts, I'll give him that."

And indeed, Aegis beelined straight toward another group of pirates.

A different card game.

Poker.

Oh, he was going to rob these poor bastards blind.

Poker (Or, Aegis' Next Set of Victims)

Aegis took a seat, smiling like a devil in disguise.

They let him in.

And Aegis played.

He was good at poker.

Brilliant, actually.

He knew how to read faces, to control his expressions, to manipulate the mood of the table.

He was an expert at bluffing.

But more importantly—

He cheated.

Again.

Shamelessly.

And he won.

Again.

And again.

And again.

The pirates' faces twisted further with every loss.

Each time, they held back their fury, no doubt knowing that starting a fight with a Red-Haired Pirates “recruit” was a death sentence.

But there was only so much a man’s pride could take.

And then, it happened.

"YOU FUCKER!"

The table shook violently as a massive, heavy-set pirate slammed his hand down, rattling the cards and chips.

The force of it sent half-empty tankards spilling, adding to the sticky mess of beer and booze on the table.

Aegis had just reached out for his winnings when—

A huge, meaty hand grabbed him by the collar, yanking him up so hard his feet left the floor.

"YOU FUCKER! I KNOW YOU’RE CHEATING, YOU LYING FUCK!"

Aegis barely registered what was happening.

One second, he was victorious.

The next, he was dangling off the ground like a damn ragdoll.

His first thought was:

EW.

This guy’s breath REEKED.

It was like someone had fermented rotten fish in a sun-drenched dumpster and called it cologne.

His second thought was:

Shit.

He was in trouble.

Aegis, the Bullshitter

Aegis immediately raised his hands in defense, flashing his most charming, most disarming smile.

"Whoa there, big guy! Let's all just—just calm down, yeah?" He laughed nervously, patting the guy’s thick forearm.

It felt like hitting a wall of bricks.

Shit.

God, Aegis felt like pissing his pants. 

The pirate’s grip tightened, lifting Aegis higher.

"Calm down?!" The guy bellowed. "YOU’VE BEEN STEALING OUR MONEY, YOU LITTLE SHIT!"

Aegis winced. "Stealing? Oh, nonono, you wound me! I would never! I'm just very, very lucky!"

The pirate’s vein popped.

He was seconds away from smashing Aegis' face into the table.

Okay. Fuck this.

Aegis' fingers twitched, the air around them shimmering as he prepared to use his Devil Fruit.

He was going to make this bastard’s hand let go, push him back with an illusionary force strong enough to send him flying.

He was not about to get his face smashed in because of some sore loser.

But before he could—

A voice, smooth and sharp like a blade, cut through the bar’s noise.

"If you still want to keep that hand….”

Aegis shivered.

" You better let go. "

The Shift in the Room

The pirate froze.

The entire bar went silent.

The smell of alcohol, sweat, and stale tobacco suddenly felt heavier.

Aegis felt it—

The shift.

The air thickened, pressing down on the room like an unseen weight. Strangely enough, it didn’t feel suffocating. Well, it wasn’t targeted to him, but…

The pirate’s face drained of color.

His grip loosened immediately, and Aegis hit the floor with a light thud.

Aegis rubbed his neck, glaring. "Oh, now you let go?"

The massive man barely registered his words.

His entire body was stiff, like a prey animal that had just realized it was being hunted.

Aegis followed his gaze—

And found himself staring at Shanks.

Shanks, The Smiling Devil

The Red-Haired Yonko had risen from his seat, approaching slowly.

His usual easygoing aura was still there—

But his presence had changed.

He wasn’t lounging anymore.

Wasn’t grinning like a drunken idiot.

No—

Now, he was smiling.

But it was not just a smile.

It was dangerous.

It was the kind of smile that preceded a storm, the kind that whispered:

"You have three seconds to make the right decision, or you'll never make another decision again."

The pirate, the big, strong, fearless man, shrank back.

Shanks tilted his head slightly, lifting his only hand, flexing his fingers like he was debating whether to draw his sword.

"Now," he continued, his voice still calm, still light, but with an edge that cut deeper than a blade.

"Why don’t you remind me—"

His fingers tap on his sword.

" Who the hell gave you permission to lay a hand on one of mine? "

Aegis' breath caught.

One of mine.

Oh.

Nope. He was not part of Shanks’ crew (yet goes unsaid), how dare this bastard casually say that?!

Well fuck

The pirate—sweating bullets—immediately backed away, stammering apologies as he scrambled out of the bar, practically tripping over himself in his haste.

The rest of the pirates at the table followed suit, unwilling to test their luck.

Aegis, still processing, glanced up at Shanks.

His captain was already turning away, like nothing had happened.

Like he hadn’t just scared a man into running for his life.

Shanks grinned, clapping Aegis on the shoulder as he walked past him.

"Come on, Songbird," he mused, smug and amused. "You still got more money to steal, don’t you?"

Aegis sputtered.

"IT’S NOT STEALING, IT’S STRATEGIC WINNING!"

The Red-Haired Pirates burst into laughter.

Chapter Text

Aegis' Noble Attempt at Distraction

Aegis scowled at them all, arms crossed tightly over his chest as the laughter continued to echo around the room. It felt like the entire crew was in on some private joke, and, naturally, Aegis was the punchline. It wasn’t his fault that he’d ended up in this situation. It wasn’t his fault that his ridiculous antics had turned into entertainment for the night. But that didn’t make it any less frustrating.

The crew—those damn heathens—were absolutely reveling in it, their laughter and jokes ringing in his ears, as if they had never heard a more absurd thing in their lives. Their grins were smug, their voices filled with that brand of glee that only comes from having someone to tease. Aegis’ eye twitched, and he fought the urge to punch something. Damn it, he thought, clenching his fists. 

Fine. If they’re going to laugh at me, I’ll make sure they’re too drunk to remember any of this.

With a huff, Aegis marched toward the bar counter, the movement filled with purposeful swagger. He slammed down a fat stack of his hard-earned—well, cheated —winnings. It was time to turn the tables.

"Drinks are on me, you heathens!" he declared, voice booming with all the dramatic flair he could muster. He didn’t care how much it cost. If the crew was going to laugh at him, they were going to pay for it in the only way they knew how: by drinking until they couldn’t remember their own names, let alone what had just happened.

The entire bar exploded in cheers.

"OI, CAPTAIN, I LIKE THIS ONE!" someone bellowed, and another voice joined in, shouting, "I’LL DRINK TO THAT!"

"HOLD UP—WHY ARE WE CALLING HIM ‘SONGBIRD’ WHEN HE’S CLEARLY A GOLDEN GOOSE?!"

"SHUT UP AND TAKE HIS MONEY!"

Aegis stood back, watching with a half-smirk, arms crossed as he allowed the chaos to unfold. Within seconds, booze was flowing, mugs clashing together in a jubilant frenzy, and the Red-Haired Pirates were once again in their natural habitat: chaotic, drunken revelry. The laughter, the sloshing of ale, the wild, carefree atmosphere—it was exactly what Aegis had wanted. It was the perfect distraction, the perfect countermeasure to the embarrassing situation he’d found himself in.

He let himself relax for just a moment, leaning back against the counter. His eyes wandered over the scene, watching the crew lose themselves in their drunken stupor. The warmth of victory and alcohol began to settle into his veins, soothing the frustration he’d been carrying. For a brief moment, Aegis let himself believe that he had won—not just in money, but in this clever little manipulation of the situation.

He had won. He had bribed them into submission.

Or so he thought.

Shanks, the Walking Disaster

Just as Aegis was about to take a pleased sip of his own drink, feeling the first real victory in a while, he felt it. That familiar weight. That foreboding sense of doom, the one that made his stomach churn with an instinctive dread.

And before he could even react—

An arm. Strong, solid, and annoyingly warm—was suddenly thrown over his shoulders.

Aegis' entire body locked up, frozen by the sheer force of it. That warmth , that weight pressing against him. It was as if the world had shifted and everything was now centered around the arm that had draped itself so comfortably around him.

Shanks, completely unbothered by Aegis' obvious discomfort, pulled him in closer, his grip firm, casual, and utterly unfair. It was as though the man had no concept of personal space.

"Oi, Songbird, you trying to buy our love?" Shanks teased, his voice deep and rich with amusement, the kind that only someone who was perpetually at ease with themselves could muster.

Aegis could feel Shanks' breath against his ear, warm and dangerously close, and that— that —was enough to send a wave of heat rushing to his cheeks. He tried to will the blush away, tried to stop the blood from pooling in his face, but it was futile. His skin betrayed him, betraying every attempt at keeping his composure.

Shanks smelled annoyingly good. His breath, laced with rum, held that musky pirate charm that made even the bartender glance over like she wanted to climb him like a tree. And it wasn’t helping that his voice had that deep, husky rumble—like liquid velvet in Aegis’ ears.

No. No. Aegis mentally cursed himself. This is just the alcohol. Just the heat of the bar. Nothing else.

That was the excuse he was clinging to, and he was sticking with it. There was no way he was going to let Shanks— this man—affect him. No way.

Aegis, the King of Bullshit, Tries to Escape

Aegis wasn’t about to let himself get flustered. No. He was far too clever for that. So, with a dramatic scoff, he lifted his chin and turned his head slightly, making a show of it.

"Please," he sniffed, his voice dripping with disdain. "As if I’d waste money on you lot out of the goodness of my heart."

Shanks grinned, his hold on Aegis tightening slightly, and Aegis could feel the smug satisfaction practically oozing from him. As though he already knew the game Aegis was playing.

Lucky Roux, sitting nearby and enjoying the spectacle, took a deep swig of his drink, eyeing Aegis with a knowing smirk. "Awww, you sure? You’re blushing like you’re tryin’ to woo our captain here."

Aegis whipped his head around, glaring with the force of a thousand suns. "Am not," he growled, teeth gritted.

"Are too," Lucky teased, his smirk growing wider.

"Shut your mouth, meatball," Aegis spat, his words sharp and cutting.

The whole crew burst into laughter, the sound like music to their ears.

Shanks, still comfortably leaning into Aegis, continued to watch him with that glint in his eye, enjoying every single moment of it. Aegis, flustered and thoroughly embarrassed, glared at him.

"Yasopp," Shanks called out, his tone mocking and smug. "You ever see a Songbird turn red before?"

Aegis whipped around, scandalized. "I AM NOT—"

"CAN CONFIRM, CAPTAIN, HE'S BRIGHTER THAN A DAMN SUNSET!" Yasopp crowed, his laughter ringing out through the room.

"SCREW YOU!" Aegis yelled, trying his best to regain some semblance of dignity.

The crew doubled over in laughter, and Aegis knew that he was so done for. He was never living this down.

Aegis vs. Yasopp: The Battle of Bullshit

And then, just as the laughter began to die down, Aegis had an epiphany. An idea .

He abruptly turned on Yasopp, eyes narrowed, and his lips twisted into a sly smile. "You know what?" he said, as if suddenly having the world's most important realization. "Let’s talk about something important."

Yasopp raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? What’s that?"

Aegis slammed a hand onto the table, louder than necessary, for dramatic effect. "Why the hell do you wear a bandana and have dreads? That’s like wearing a hat under a hood—what are you hiding?"

The crew gasped collectively.

Yasopp snorted, unamused. "Oh, like you’re one to talk! You dye your hair silver—why? Trying to cosplay as an old man?"

Aegis gasped, offended. "Excuse you, I look fantastic ! And it’s my natural hair color!”

"You look like a fancy pigeon."

"Well, at least I have style, you Bandana Bastard! Is your fashion style an elaborate act for overcompensation? Or is it depression?”

The banter escalated quickly. "Oh, now we’re throwing insults? Fine! You—"

And just like that, the two were locked in an over-the-top, completely nonsensical argument—just what Aegis had been hoping for. The attention was no longer on his goddamn blush. Now, it was all about the ridiculous bickering between him and Yasopp.

Shanks, still comfortably leaning into Aegis, simply grinned, his smugness obvious. He wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly what Aegis was doing. But he let it happen anyway because, well— it was fun .

Aegis was fun. The way he got riled up, the way he fought back—it was all part of the game. And besides, Shanks rather liked the way his Songbird looked when he was all riled up.

Aegis Finally Puts His Foot Down

By the time the fourth month rolled around, Aegis had had enough.

Enough of the constant, endless traveling with no sign of stopping. The waves were beautiful, the sunsets breathtaking, and the world was constantly shifting around him, but he was tired . He was done with feeling like an outsider in a crew that, in every practical sense, had already accepted him. The constant motion of the Red-Haired Pirates’ ship had become a blur of days, weeks, months, and yet, it never slowed, never stopped. The world was full of horizons, but Aegis felt like he was stuck in limbo—never able to claim one as his own.

Enough of being surrounded by Red-Haired Pirates, who laughed with him, fought alongside him, and shared his bed in drunken revelries—but never once asked him to officially become one of them. Aegis knew better than most what it meant to be a part of something, to be accepted. But this... this felt like he was constantly on the outside looking in.

And then, there was Shanks.

Enough of Shanks' smug, knowing grins every time Aegis so much as hinted at wanting answers. Shanks was a master of leaving things unsaid , of letting the unspoken weight hang between them, as if the answer were something obvious. Every time Aegis tried to push it—tried to understand, to feel like he belonged—Shanks’ lazy smile and the knowing gleam in his eyes were the only responses he received. It was maddening.

Aegis had had enough.

He could feel it. The way the crew already considered him one of their own. The way they’d included him in everything—the celebrations, the battles, the drinking games, even the dirty jokes they’d tell when they thought no one was listening. His own cot on the ship, his own seat at their table, his own inside jokes with the crew. Hell, even Yasopp and Beckman had stopped pretending he wasn’t family.

But no one, not even Shanks himself, had made it official.

And Aegis was tired of waiting. If he was going to be part of this crew, if he was going to be part of something , he needed the damn title. He needed it. It was time to stop being a half-member of the Red-Haired Pirates and become one for real.

So, one day, Aegis did what any self-respecting, dramatic, show-stealing bastard would do.

He demanded an audience with the Captain.

The Grand Summoning of Shanks

“I REQUIRE AN AUDIENCE WITH YOU, CAPTAIN,” Aegis announced with all the theatricality of a king demanding an audience with his subject. His voice rang out, filling the entire room, as though it belonged to the most powerful person in the world.

Shanks, who had been halfway through drinking, froze. His hand faltered, and a spray of rum shot from his mouth as he coughed and sputtered in surprise.

The crew paused mid-conversation. The room fell silent, every eye slowly turning toward Aegis, who stood dead center in the room, arms crossed, looking impossibly serious despite the absolute nonsense that had just left his mouth. His stance was bold, his posture regal, and there was a kind of fire in his eyes that not even the most seasoned pirate could ignore.

Shanks slowly set down his mug, his lips twitching into an amused smirk. “An audience?” he repeated, his voice low with barely contained laughter.

“Yes,” Aegis said, giving nothing away. His gaze never wavered, never faltered. He was a man with purpose now.

Beckman, ever the practical one, sighed, rubbing his temples in a way that suggested he was already tired of whatever nonsense was about to unfold. "Just sit down and talk to him like a normal person," Yasopp snorted, leaning back in his chair, clearly entertained by the absurdity of it all.

“I am not a normal person,” Aegis declared proudly, as though it were the most obvious fact in the world.

The crew groaned in unison, some shaking their heads, others snickering. But Shanks, Shanks of all people, was looking entirely too entertained by Aegis' declaration.

With an exaggerated sigh, Shanks leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs out casually, making himself at ease, as though this was all part of the game. He made a show of stretching before he finally gave in and leaned toward Aegis.

“Alright, Songbird,” he said, his grin widening. “You’ve got my attention.”

Aegis narrowed his eyes, his resolve unshakable. “No. You must sit properly.”

The entire crew burst into laughter. Even Shanks’ most stoic men were caught off guard by the audacity of Aegis’ demand. But Shanks, never one to back down from a challenge, simply chuckled and shrugged.

“What, like a king on a throne?” Shanks teased.

“Yes,” Aegis answered seriously, his chin lifted slightly. “Exactly like a king.”

Shanks snorted, shaking his head with a fond smile, but—for Aegis’ satisfaction—he humored him. The captain of the Red-Haired Pirates sat up straighter, resting his elbow on the armrest of his chair, his chin cupped in his hand, suddenly looking every bit the part of a pirate king entertaining a subject.

“Better?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Aegis tilted his chin up just a fraction more. “Much.”

Then, with a deep breath and the kind of gravitas that would make any actor proud, Aegis stepped forward. His arms spread wide, his presence filling the room as though he was about to give the performance of a lifetime.

The Grand Declaration of Aegis' Dream

“Shanks,” Aegis began, his voice steady and unwavering, his eyes locked firmly onto the pirate captain’s. The room grew still, the atmosphere heavy with expectation. His voice was no longer the teasing, theatrical tone everyone had grown used to. It was serious. It was real.

“If—and only if—you officially ask me to join your crew,” Aegis continued, his gaze never leaving Shanks’, “I will accept. But on one condition.”

Shanks’ lips curved into something softer than his usual smirk, a flicker of curiosity dancing in his eyes. “And what’s that, Songbird?”

Aegis didn’t hesitate. He stood taller, his arms wide as if he were embracing the world itself.

“I will become the greatest singer and entertainer in the world,” he declared, his voice loud, proud, and full of passion.

The words hung in the air for a long moment. The crew stilled, caught off guard by the sheer conviction in Aegis’ tone. Even Shanks blinked, clearly processing the weight of what Aegis had just said. This wasn’t some half-hearted wish or an idle boast. This was a promise—a dream .

The silence stretched on as Aegis stood proudly, his posture commanding every bit of attention in the room.

“I want to be known everywhere.” His voice rose, filled with passion, with certainty. “I want to sing in front of thousands—no, millions—of people. I want my name to be spoken across every sea. I want my voice to be carried by the winds of the Grand Line itself. I want people to hear me and remember me.”

Aegis stepped closer, his eyes blazing with the fire of his ambition. “I want to perform for emperors and kings. For pirates and civilians. For anyone who will listen.”

He smiled then, bright and sharp, his confidence unwavering, his dream now as tangible as the ship beneath their feet.

“And if you, Shanks, want me on your crew,” Aegis finished, “then you’ll have to support me. All the way to the top.”

The room was silent.

And then—

A chuckle, deep and rich, resonated through the room. The sound seemed to come from the very core of Shanks himself, as if he’d been waiting for this moment.

Shanks tilted his head slightly, watching Aegis with undisguised admiration. “You already know what you want,” he murmured, as though the decision had already been made.

Aegis grinned. “Of course I do.”

Shanks held his gaze for a long moment. There was something there that made Aegis shiver—it was simmering. Then, finally—

His lips curled into a smirk that was as familiar as it was dangerous.

“Aegis,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of something final.

The crew held their breath.

“Join my crew.”

Aegis laughed then, sharp and triumphant, his heart swelling with a mix of excitement and relief. “On my terms?”

Shanks smirked. “On your terms.”

Aegis beamed, “Then it’s a deal.”

And just like that, Aegis was no longer just a guest on the Red-Haired Pirates' ship. He was one of them, in every way that mattered.

Theatrics, Self-Arguing, and a Very Amused Crew

The moment Aegis accepted the offer, he didn’t just smile or nod in satisfaction. Oh no—he cackled.

Not just a regular laugh.

No, this was the laugh.

A loud, full-bodied laugh that echoed through the room like he had just conquered the world itself. His head tilted back, his hand flew over his chest as if to dramatically clutch his heart, and his voice rang out like a victorious conqueror.

“KEKEKEKEKEKE—OF COURSE, THIS WAS INEVITABLE!” Aegis shouted to the heavens, as though he had just reached the peak of all things, standing atop the highest mountain where legends were made.

With a flourish, he twirled away from Shanks, spinning on his heel with all the elegance of someone who had just won the biggest prize in the world. His arms flung out wide as he danced, every movement exaggerated with the flair of a performer who could not help but put on a show for his audience.

“I, Aegis, have finally ascended to my rightful place among the legends—!” he proclaimed, his voice booming, his chest puffed out as though he were wearing the crown of an emperor.

The crew, completely unfazed, simply sat back, enjoying the spectacle.

“He’s really feelin’ himself, huh?” Lucky Roux chuckled, shoving another piece of meat into his mouth as he watched Aegis twirl around the room like a drunk ballerina.

“Just let him have his moment,” Yasopp smirked, crossing his arms, eyes gleaming with a mix of fond amusement and amusement at Aegis' very public display of self-adulation.

The crew didn’t bat an eye at his antics. They had seen this kind of over-the-top performance from Aegis before. It was as much a part of him as his Mirage Fruit powers.

But then—just as the crew thought the dramatic display had come to an end, Aegis slowed his dance. He planted his hands on his hips, his face going still, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. The grin on his lips faltered, just a little.

“Hmm…” he murmured, his posture shifting from gleeful confidence to something far more contemplative. His feet shuffled as he began to pace in a small circle, his expression becoming more serious.

And then, much to the crew’s collective confusion, he began muttering to himself. His voice, once loud and commanding, now dropped to a near-whisper as he walked back and forth, entirely oblivious to the crew still watching him. His lips moved in rapid succession, as though he was in the middle of a heated debate with himself.

Aegis vs. Aegis: The Inner Debate

“Okay, okay, let’s break this down logically—” Aegis muttered to himself, his brow furrowing as he walked in a tight, restless circle.

“I really shouldn’t be here. This is a bad idea. A horrible idea.”

He shook his head, muttering faster, more urgently now.

“I mean, look at them! These are important, plot-relevant characters! This isn’t just some random crew, this is the Red-Haired Pirates ! A YONKO crew!” he continued, gesturing wildly toward the space around him, as though the very walls were conspiring against him.

He pointed an accusing finger at the empty air, as if arguing with a voice only he could hear. “And I’m just some bard-pirate-illusionist with major trust issues, a dramatic flair, and a tendency to piss off emperors!”

Aegis’s finger swung from one side of the room to the other, as though he were defending himself against some invisible assailant. His expression shifted from the usual smugness to something resembling frustration.

“And you—yes, YOU, Aegis—you know what happens when people get attached to important characters!” he added with a dramatic scowl.

His voice dropped to a low, almost ominous tone.

“You get plot relevance.”

Aegis stared into the void, his eyes glazed as if he had just come to a horrifying realization. For a moment, he simply stood there, contemplating the terrifying consequences of becoming significant in the grand story of things.

“Do you know how many arcs I have unresolved?” he whispered to himself, voice shaking with a mix of dread and horror. “Fifteen! FIFTEEN arcs, just hanging there like an old, dirty laundry waiting to be aired out for the world to see !”

He paused, staring at nothing, the weight of the absurdity of his thoughts finally dawning on him. For a moment, his face softened. “Wait. Fifteen unresolved arcs?" He blinked. "That’s... that's incredible . I’m basically the next main character, aren’t I? The potential is limitless! But… but— why me ?” He slammed his hand against his chest dramatically. “Why must I bear this burden of storylines so vast, so complex? Oh, the weight of destiny upon my slender shoulders!"

Then, with a groan, he dragged both hands down his face, as if trying to scrub away the madness that had gripped his mind.

“Dammit, I should’ve run when I had the chance!” he muttered under his breath.

The crew, meanwhile, was watching all of this unfold like it was the best show they’d ever witnessed.

The Crew’s Fond Observations

They couldn’t hear what Aegis was muttering, of course—his voice was too quiet for that. But the sheer visual spectacle of it was enough to keep their attention. His face shifted through a range of expressions—smug arrogance, deep suspicion, and finally, complete and utter horror—as if he had stumbled upon some terrible truth about his own fate.

Yasopp, ever the observer, sipped his drink and grinned. “What do you think he’s talking about?”

“Probably psyching himself out again,” Limejuice snorted, shaking his head with amusement. “Y’know how dramatic he is. He’s always going off the deep end like this.”

“I’m tellin’ ya, he’s somethin’ else,” Lucky Roux chuckled, leaning back as he watched Aegis’ theatrical inner turmoil.

But then, unexpectedly, Beckman, who had been silently observing the scene, let out a thoughtful hum. He looked at Aegis, who was still pacing and muttering to himself, and then turned to the crew.

“Luffy,” Beckman suddenly mused, his voice calm and contemplative.

The crew turned to him, mildly surprised at the sudden mention of their captain’s name.

“Luffy?” Bonk Punch raised an eyebrow, not quite following.

Beckman nodded, his gaze never leaving Aegis. “When Luffy first declared he was going to be the freest pirate in the world, it was the same kind of energy,” he explained. “That unwavering belief in what he wants. The way he stood there and declared it so boldly, with no hesitation.”

A few of the crew members hummed in agreement, nodding at the comparison. They had been there when Luffy had made his declaration, that raw, unfiltered promise that no one could doubt.

It wasn’t exactly the same. Luffy was blunt, straightforward, fearless in a way that only Luffy could be. He didn’t doubt himself or second-guess his choices.

Aegis, on the other hand?

Aegis was flamboyant, full of contradictions. He declared his grand dreams like a king making a decree. But then, in the blink of an eye, he would spiral into self-doubt, muttering about the consequences of having actually chosen this life. He was everything Luffy was not.

But still—

Beckman’s words rang true. There was something about Aegis’ emotional roller coaster that was incredibly endearing. He may have spent the next five minutes questioning his own sanity, but when it came down to it?

Aegis had chosen this life.

And that was all that mattered.

He still acted like a kid though, despite being a grown ass man.

Shanks' Soft Smile

Meanwhile, Shanks, ever the calm center in the midst of chaos, sat back comfortably, watching Aegis' performance with a smile on his face. It wasn’t the usual smirk, nor was it a grin laced with mischief. No, this was something softer, warmer. A quiet smile that reached his eyes.

He watched Aegis as the young man continued to argue with himself, gesturing wildly, his entire body shaking with the intensity of his inner conflict.

Because, despite all of Aegis’ dramatics, despite his insistence that he didn’t belong, despite his loud complaints about how he had somehow been dragged into this life—

Aegis had never once tried to leave.

Not once in the four months that had passed.

And now, despite all his inner turmoil, all his theatrical self-doubt—

Aegis had chosen them.

He had chosen the Red-Haired Pirates.

Shanks chuckled softly to himself, shaking his head. He took a sip from his drink, the corners of his mouth still lifted in that gentle smile.

“Welcome aboard, Songbird,” Shanks said quietly, a warm, sincere welcome that no one else could hear but him.

Aegis was one of them.

Chapter Text

Welcome to the Crew (Totally Not Just Another Drinking Night, Aegis!)

The Red-Haired Pirates had a reputation—a reputation that stretched across the Grand Line like wildfire. They were known for three things: their strength, their loyalty, and their ability to party like there was no tomorrow, with enough alcohol to make even the hardest drinkers reconsider their life choices.

So, when Aegis—officially now a member of the Red-Haired Pirates—was finally welcomed with open arms, the crew did what they did best. They threw a celebration .

A grand celebration.

For him.

The entire crew gathered around, the deck of the ship alive with laughter and the clinking of glasses. Mountains of booze were stacked like the crew had just been gifted a fortune in rum, sake, and all the other spirits they could possibly need.

Aegis, standing at the center of it all, looked unimpressed—no, scratch that, he looked outraged .

“This is just a regular drinking party, you lying sacks of shit!” he accused, pointing his finger dramatically at every single one of them. His voice echoed across the deck like a judge delivering a harsh sentence.

Shanks, ever the picture of casual cool, took a sip from his sake cup with an easy grin. “No, no, this one’s for you,” he replied, swirling the contents in his cup with a flair that screamed, I'm not lying, you're just being dramatic .

“Liar!” Aegis screeched, his voice an exaggerated pitch of incredulity. His finger shot straight at Shanks, wagging like a judge reprimanding a misbehaving child. “You’re a filthy liar, and I won’t be fooled!”

Shanks laughed, completely unbothered by the full brunt of Aegis’ theatrics. The crew, however, was more than entertained.

“I swear, this one’s special,” Shanks insisted with a playful smirk. “We’re celebrating your official welcome!”

“Bullshit!” Aegis clutched his chest, his face a perfect picture of mock offense. “This is just an excuse for you degenerates to drink yourselves into the next life—don’t think I haven’t noticed! Do you guys even have a liver?!”

He threw his arms wide, gesturing at the mountains of booze with the kind of fervor only Aegis could muster.

Lucky Roux, who had already started on a whole bottle of something, wiped his mouth and glanced up at Aegis. “Does it really matter, though?”

“YES, IT MATTERS!” Aegis shouted back, his voice incredulous.

It did not matter. Not even a little bit.

Because five minutes later, Aegis was laughing along with the rest of the crew, taking swigs from his own cup. He had been peer-pressured —there was no denying that—but at this point, he had surrendered to the inevitable.

Aegis, the Clingy Drunk (And Shanks, the Opportunist)

It started with one cup. Just one.

Then another.

Then a third. And before he knew it, Aegis had downed a whole damn bottle .

And soon? Aegis was gone.

Completely, totally, utterly drunk.

His usual sharp wit and dramatic flair were still there, but now?

Now, he was giggling. A lot.

He was clinging to anyone who walked by.

The crew had all seen this before—Aegis had a tendency to turn into a mushy, affectionate mess when drunk. But still—this time was special .

“You’re all so NICE!” Aegis practically wailed, his voice a mixture of exaggerated emotion and drunken slur. He threw his arms around Yasopp, Beckman, Limejuice—hell, anyone within reach—and hugged them like they were his long-lost siblings.

Yasopp, laughing at the spectacle, patted Aegis’ back as the bard latched onto him like a koala. “He’s cute like this,” he chuckled.

“I am NOT cute!” Aegis snapped, his voice suddenly sharp as a dagger, but the very next moment, he was snuggling into Yasopp’s shoulder with the kind of affection that was usually reserved for pets .

The crew collectively held back their laughter. This? This was gold .

But the real entertainment?

The real joy?

That belonged to one man.

Shanks.

Shanks, the Shameless Bastard

As Aegis, drunk and laughing, slumped against Shanks, the captain wasted no time in wrapping his arm around Aegis’ waist.

It was smooth. Casual. Effortless.

Like he belonged there.

Aegis, too far gone to protest, didn’t even flinch. In fact, he snuggled closer, practically melting against Shanks.

Shanks hid his smirk.

This was too perfect.

If Aegis were sober, there was no way in hell he would let Shanks touch him like this. Aegis was too proud , too sharp, too much of a drama king to allow himself to be in such a vulnerable position.

But right now?

Right now, Aegis was all but draped across Shanks’ chest, his head tucked under his chin.

Shanks casually traced circles on Aegis’ back, savoring the warmth of the younger pirate as Aegis—completely unguarded—sank into him.

The crew? Oh, they noticed. Every single one of them.

But for once, they held their tongues.

Why? Because watching their usually playful, mischievous captain—who never took anything too seriously—sitting there with that quiet, contented smile on his face was priceless .

“I should sing!” Aegis suddenly declared, his voice slurred, his eyes wide with dramatic excitement.

Shanks raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I—I’m really good, you know,” Aegis sniffed, pouting dramatically. “The best!”

The crew cheered, eager for the next bit of entertainment.

“SING! SING! SING!”

Aegis wobbled to his feet, swaying as he began to make his way to the center of the deck, nearly knocking over three bottles before Beckman—quick as lightning—caught them.

Then—

Aegis climbed on top of a table, the crowd falling into an expectant hush.

Aegis Introduces Rock Music to the One Piece World

And then—

It wasn’t what anyone expected.

Because Aegis wasn’t about to sing some traditional sea shanty. No.

He was going full rock .

The kind of music that shook your soul. Loud. Fast. Unapologetically wild.

Aegis belted out the song with all the passion and fire of someone who had been saving this moment for years. His illusions flared, surrounding him with glowing lights, sparks of golden energy crackling in the air as if to complement the sheer force of his voice.

It was raw. It was pure .

The crew stared.

Not because it was bad—no. Far from it.

But because they had never heard anything like it before.

Yasopp, fully entranced, leaned forward, wide-eyed. “Holy shit, this is amazing.”

“What kind of music is this?!” Limejuice asked, grinning wide, caught up in the energy of it all.

Aegis, still singing his heart out, pointed at them dramatically, as if he had just answered their unspoken question.

But the truth was?

He had no idea how to explain rock music to them. So instead, he just kept singing, kept throwing himself into the song, pouring every last ounce of energy he had into it.

By the end of the song, the deck exploded into cheers, the crew howling in appreciation.

The Aftermath: More Clinging, More Shanks, and a Very Happy Aegis

The second Aegis hopped off the table, he stumbled—

And immediately latched onto Shanks again.

Shanks barely caught him, laughing as Aegis grumbled into his chest.

“I need another drink,” Aegis mumbled, his words barely intelligible.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Shanks teased, tightening his hold around Aegis’ waist, relishing in the closeness.

Aegis pouted, his lower lip sticking out comically. “Lemme go.”

“Nope,” Shanks replied, a grin tugging at his lips as he held the man against him.

Aegis huffed, but instead of fighting it, he just let himself sink into the warmth of Shanks’ arms.

Shanks, feeling victorious, smirked, keeping his arm securely around Aegis.

The crew exchanged knowing smirks but said nothing. They all saw what was going on.

Tonight?

Tonight was Aegis’ night.

And honestly?

He deserved it.

Truth or Dare: Aegis Introduces Chaos

The party had already been wild, but the moment Aegis demanded they play a new game, the chaos escalated to another level.

Still draped over Shanks, his face flushed from alcohol, Aegis suddenly perked up.

"Let's play a game!" he slurred, lifting his head from where it was resting against Shanks' shoulder.

The crew perked up, interested.

"What kind of game?" Yasopp asked, leaning forward.

Aegis grinned, his words slightly wobbly. "It's called... Truth or Dare."

The pirates exchanged confused glances.

"Never heard of it," Lucky Roux said, chewing on a piece of meat.

Aegis gasped, horrified. "WHAT?! You—you poor, uncultured neanderthals—!!"

Shanks chuckled, his grip tightening subtly around Aegis' waist as the bard dramatically clutched his chest.

"Alright, alright," Shanks said, clearly amused. "How do you play?"

Aegis pointed a finger in the air, determined. "You either choose Truth or Dare—if you choose Truth, you have to answer honestly. If you pick Dare, you have to do whatever you're dared to!"

The crew grinned at the implications.

"Sounds dangerous," Beckman said, taking a swig of sake.

Aegis smirked. "Oh, it is. Especially with a bunch of drunk pirates."

A pause.

Then—

"HELL YEAH, LET’S DO IT!"

The Game Begins

They formed a circle in the middle of the bar, drinks in hand, faces flushed from alcohol and excitement.

Aegis, still half-draped over Shanks, clapped his hands together.

“Alright! Who wants to go first?”

“I will,” Yasopp said with a grin, leaning forward. “I pick Dare.”

Aegis perked up. “Okay! Uhhh…” He tapped his chin dramatically.

Then—his face lit up.

“I dare you to shoot at that bottle over there—blindfolded, without Haki.”

The crew burst into laughter.

“Oi, oi, that’s dangerous,” Beckman snorted.

Yasopp just grinned. “Hah! Easy.”

He pulled out his gun, grabbed a cloth from the table, and blindfolded himself.

The crew watched in anticipation.

Yasopp pointed his gun, tilted his head slightly, adjusted…

And then—

BANG!

The bullet whizzed through the air—

—and shattered the bottle perfectly.

The crew cheered.

“Of course he got it!” Limejuice laughed.

“Did you seriously think I’d miss?” Yasopp smirked, pulling off the blindfold.

Aegis clapped, impressed. "You're lucky. Next time, I’ll make it harder!"

Yasopp grinned. "Oh, I’d like to see you try."

Shanks’ Turn

"Alright, my turn," Shanks said, looking thoroughly entertained.

"Truth or Dare?" Yasopp asked, smirking at him.

"Dare," Shanks said without hesitation.

Yasopp's eyes gleamed.

“I dare you to walk… with just your one hand.”

The crew howled with laughter.

Even Aegis, despite his alcohol-induced daze, wheezed.

Shanks just smirked.

"Alright," he said easily.

Then, without missing a beat, he placed his hand on the ground, kicked his legs up, and started walking on his palm—well, more like hopping really.

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

Aegis cackled, clutching onto Shanks' coat for support as he laughed too hard.

Shanks took three full steps before flipping back onto his feet like it was nothing.

The bar burst into cheers.

"Show-off," Aegis muttered, still half-giggling against Shanks.

Shanks just grinned down at him, clearly pleased.

Beckman’s Turn

"Beckman, your turn!" Limejuice said, grinning.

Beckman exhaled deeply, swirling his drink. "Fine. Truth."

Aegis perked up.

"What’s the wildest night you’ve ever had with someone?"

The entire crew burst into cheers and whistles.

Beckman just took a long, slow sip of his drink.

Then, exhaling, he smirked.

“…There was this one time, on an island near Water 7…”

The crew leaned in.

“Two women. One man. A bed that broke halfway through. And two husbands that gave chase,”

The crew howled.

Aegis, eyes wide, just clapped his hands over his ears. “TOO MUCH INFORMATION!”

Shanks laughed, tightening his hold around Aegis as if to keep him from escaping.

“You asked,” Beckman chuckled.

Aegis grumbled, burying his face in Shanks’ chest.

The Game Continues

The crew was roaring with laughter, and the atmosphere was thick with a mix of booze and playful rivalry. Everyone’s face was lit up, either flushed from the alcohol or from the sheer absurdity of the game. Aegis, perched in Shanks' lap (again), grinned wildly. He was loving every moment of this.

"Alright, alright!" Aegis clapped his hands together again, somehow managing to stay upright despite being half-draped on Shanks. “It’s Rockstar’s turn!”

Rockstar, who had been quietly enjoying his drink, blinked in surprise, realizing he’d been volunteered. He raised an eyebrow. 

Limejuice asked, “Truth or Dare?”

Without hesitation, Rockstar leaned back and said, “Dare.”

Limejuice smirked. “Oh, you’re in for it now, Rockstar. I dare you…” He crossed his arms. “To serenade the entire crew with your most romantic song.”

The crew gasped, excited at the idea.

Rockstar sighed, clearly not thrilled with the task but willing to play along. He adjusted his guitar and strummed a couple of random notes, before launching into the most over-the-top, dramatic serenade they’d ever heard. He sang a deeply exaggerated ballad about his “undying love for the sea and a certain mysterious mermaid,” and it was wildly inappropriate, filled with so much cheese and too much information.

By the end, everyone was either laughing, cringing, or covering their faces in disbelief. Rockstar finished with an exaggerated bow, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye.

“You’re a menace,” Beckman choked out between laughs. “That was… unforgettable.”

Aegis clapped with an exaggerated flourish. “Bravo! I think we should get him a medal.”

Hongo’s Turn

Hongo, who had been trying his best to avoid attention, eventually sighed in defeat when he was asked by Aegis. “Alright. I’ll take a dare.”

Aegis, grinning wickedly, looked at him with a gleam in his eye. “I dare you to wear nothing but your socks for the next round of the game. You have to walk around the room like you own the place.”

Hongo’s eyes widened in horror. “W-Wait! What—?”

The crew was already howling with laughter. "DO IT!" Shanks yelled, clearly enjoying the chaos.

“I—no! No way!” Hongo stammered, trying to avoid being the next victim.

Aegis pouted, “Come on! The whole point is to make everyone suffer in the name of fun!” He batted his lashes dramatically. “Think of it as... liberating.”

Hongo sighed. “I hate you.”

But, with the peer pressure mounting, Hongo begrudgingly slipped off everything but his socks, grumbling under his breath.

“YES!” Aegis cheered. “Now, strut your stuff!”

Hongo, face crimson, walked awkwardly around the room, half-heartedly trying to look like he wasn’t absolutely mortified, though it was clear that he was also thinking it was funny. The crew couldn’t stop laughing and wolf-whistling as he nervously shuffled, his arms awkwardly covering his private bits in an attempt to preserve his modesty.

No such lock.

“Dude,” Yasopp managed through laughter, “I think you’re too good at this.

The Next Round

As the rounds continued, the dares got more ridiculous. Aegis, clearly taking advantage of the game, was in his element. His wild and nonsensical dares kept the crew on their toes. It didn’t help that he was drunk. Shanks, meanwhile, was having a lot of fun hearing about his creative dares.

It was funny too that everyone still kept choosing dare even when they knew Aegis would make them do something mortifying.

“Alright, Yasopp,” Aegis called, narrowing his eyes playfully, “I dare you to go up to Beckman, give him a big ol’ kiss on the cheek, and tell him you love him in the most romantic way possible.”

Yasopp sputtered, turning beet red. “What the hell?! Are you serious?”

Beckman just leaned back in his seat, grinning devilishly. “I think he’s serious, Yasopp.”

The crew erupted with laughter as Yasopp reluctantly got to his feet, muttering under his breath about how he was going to get Aegis back for this one. He walked over to Beckman, gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and in the most deadpan, dramatic voice he could muster, he said, “I love you like I love the open sea... vast, endless, and full of uncharted adventures.”

The entire room lost it. Beckman, of course, was not fazed, but the rest of the crew was on the floor laughing.

“Oh my God, I can’t breathe!” Shanks gasped between fits of laughter. “Songbird, you’ve officially broken him! This is the best day of my life!”

Yasopp glared at a cackling Aegis, his face still bright red. “I’m getting you back for this.”

Aegis’ Turn

"Alright, Aegis," Yasopp grinned wickedly.

Aegis squinted. "Hmmm?"

"Truth or Dare?"

Aegis grinned. "Dare, obviously!"

Yasopp's smirk grew wider.

"I dare you to kiss someone on the lips ."

The entire crew "Oooooooh’d" in unison.

Aegis froze.

Shanks, still holding him, just smirked.

Aegis tried to pull away.

Tried to lurch towards Hongo instead.

Shanks didn’t let go of him, giving him no other choice.

Aegis, grumbling, turned to glare at him.

“…You’re not gonna let me go, are you?”

Shanks' grin widened.

“Not a chance.”

Aegis huffed.

Then, with the most dramatic reluctance, he turned his head—

—and pecked Shanks on the lips.

The crew lost their shit.

Shanks just chuckled, deeply amused, and… there was something else there.

Aegis, glaring at everyone, dramatically wiped his lips as if he had just suffered the greatest injustice of his life, but he was blushing red.

And his heart was beating very fast.

"Disgusting, vile, filthy, repulsive—"

Shanks leaned in. “Oh? Wanna do it again?”

Aegis shoved his face away.

The crew laughed until they cried.

The game continued late into the night, with more dares, more ridiculous truths, and an absurd amount of drinking.

By the time it was over, Aegis was laughing himself hoarse, still leaning against Shanks, completely at ease.

He’d never admit it, but—

This had been one of the best nights of his life.

Aegis Is a Menace, and Shanks Is Suffering

The night had finally quieted down.

The Red Force was scattered with snoring bodies, the aftermath of a night filled with wild revelry. Empty bottles rolled across the deck like discarded memories of the chaotic celebration that had just ended. A few unlucky crewmembers were still passed out where they sat, some using barrels as makeshift pillows, others slumped against the ship’s railings. The deck was alive with an energy that only a night of heavy drinking could bring, yet for now, the storm had passed, and the ship lay still.

And then, there was Aegis—still completely dead to the world, but in a position that made Shanks’ life just a little bit more complicated.

Aegis was clinging to Shanks like a damn barnacle. His arms were wrapped tightly around the captain’s torso, his face buried in Shanks’ chest with a contented little sigh, as if this was the most natural place in the world for him to be. Shanks couldn’t help but sigh, shaking his head fondly as he looked down at the sleeping menace in his arms.

“You’re a real menace, you know that?” Shanks muttered, his voice low and laced with an amused affection that he wasn’t sure Aegis would ever hear.

But Aegis didn’t respond—he was too busy being unconscious, his soft breath a rhythmic pattern against Shanks’ chest.

With an exasperated yet fond huff, Shanks adjusted his grip, lifting Aegis with ease. Despite being a grown man, Aegis was weightless in Shanks' arms, his body curling instinctively against the warmth of his chest. It was as though this, too, was something Aegis had done a thousand times before, even if neither of them had ever quite found themselves in this position.

Shanks tried to ignore the way his stomach tightened at the closeness, the warmth that seemed to spread from where Aegis pressed against him, and instead made his way through the ship with his usual, easy gait, stepping carefully over Yasopp, who was snoring loudly in the corner, and moving toward the stairs that led below deck.

“You’re cute,” Shanks muttered under his breath, though his voice was fond, a soft chuckle escaping him as he stepped over the chaotic mess left behind by the crew’s drunken festivities.

Into the Captain’s Quarters

Normally, Shanks would have just dumped Aegis in his own room—his quarters had long since become a semi-permanent part of the ship, a space that even though Aegis had even when he wasn’t officially his crewmate till yesterday, had become an unspoken second home. It wasn’t a huge deal. He would’ve done it in a heartbeat, without a second thought.

But tonight? For some reason, Shanks found himself walking into his own quarters, the door creaking softly behind him as he entered. The air was different in here, quieter, thicker with something unspoken. The soft light of the lanterns flickered, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. It felt… different. The silence was heavier than it should have been, the air electric in a way Shanks couldn’t quite place.

He carefully lowered Aegis onto the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. Aegis, however, didn’t seem to care where he was. The moment his back hit the mattress, he let out a soft, pleased noise, his body stretching lazily like a cat that had found the most comfortable spot in the world.

Shanks chuckled quietly, kneeling beside him. “Comfy?” His voice was low, teasing, but it held a warmth in it that he couldn’t quite mask.

Aegis didn’t answer immediately, his eyes closed as he mumbled something unintelligible, his body shifting slightly. His silver hair spilled across the pillow like liquid moonlight, framing his face in a way that looked almost ethereal.

Shanks’ breath hitched. He didn’t realize it, but he had been holding it, waiting for Aegis to stir.

Damn it.

Gods, he wanted to keep him.

Not in the same way he kinda had him now, as a crewmate.

He wanted to keep him.

Shanks lifted his hand, hovering just over Aegis’ jawline. His fingers ghosted above his skin, tracing the soft curve of his face—just barely brushing against the edge of his chin, as if he could hold onto this moment, this closeness, without crossing any boundaries.

So beautiful.

So utterly beautiful, even when he was stubborn, dramatic as shit, obnoxious. He was so beautiful that Shanks’ heart ached .

But before he could pull away—

Aegis moved.

Without warning, Aegis latched onto him.

Shanks’ breath caught in his throat, his body freezing as Aegis’ fingers wrapped around his wrist. They weren’t tight with desperation. No, it wasn’t panic. It was firm, deliberate—a soft yet confident grip that held him in place. It wasn’t meant to control, but to keep him there, close.

And then, Aegis spoke—his voice still thick with alcohol, but his words clear enough to make Shanks’ heart skip a beat.

“Stay.”

Shanks felt the world tilt beneath him.

Aegis was looking at him.

Really looking at him.

Those golden eyes—usually sharp, calculating—were hazy, but still full of something unreadable. Something that made Shanks’ chest feel far too tight, his heart suddenly pounding in his ears.

Shanks had fought battles against the strongest pirates in the world. He had faced down death itself and laughed in the face of danger. He was the captain of one of the most powerful crews in the world, feared and respected.

And yet—at this moment?

He had never felt more fucking weak.

Red-Haired Shanks, reduced to nothing but a pile of goo in front of a man much weaker than him.

“…Alright,” Shanks muttered, his voice rougher than intended, low and quiet. It wasn’t the answer he thought he would give. It wasn’t the response he had been expecting from himself. But here he was, caught in the gaze of a man who, despite all his antics, had somehow gotten under his skin.

Aegis smiled—a small, sleepy smile, one that was too innocent, too trusting—and then, in one smooth motion, tugged him down, pulling him into the bed.

Aegis Is a Menace, Part 2

Shanks had no idea how he ended up lying beside Aegis.

He was on a bed.

Alone.

With Aegis.

And Aegis was so close that Shanks could feel the soft rise and fall of his breath against his chest, the faint warmth of his skin like a quiet hum of electricity.

Shanks was losing his mind.

And just when he thought it couldn’t get worse—

Aegis snuggled closer.

Shanks tensed immediately.

In an instant, the illusionary outfit Aegis had been maintaining all night faded—an impressive feat, given how drunk he had been, yet somehow, still managing to maintain his Devil Fruit powers until now.

But now—

Now, Aegis was left in something much, much worse.

Thin, nearly sheer pajamas.

Shanks barely held back a groan, his fist clenched at his side, his mind racing. This wasn’t good.

Not good at all.

This was dangerous.

Shanks had spent years perfecting his self-control. Years. He’d trained, fought, bled for the kind of strength it took to keep a calm head in the face of danger.

But this?

This was pushing it.

His cock twitched in his pants.

He wanted nothing more than to have those long legs wrapped around his hips—he wanted to touch that slim waist, caress his chest.

He wanted to grab those wrists in one hand, pin it above his head, and ravish him like he hadn’t eaten in days.

Fuck.

Shanks was absolutely fucked.

He could feel the soft brush of Aegis’ breath against his collarbone, the way his legs curled just slightly against his own. Aegis was practically pressed against him, and the warmth, the closeness—it was overwhelming.

Shanks was convinced this man was going to kill him.

And he was going to die happy.

Seas, he was willing to do anything .

Aegis let out a soft sigh, completely at ease, his fingers still loosely curled around Shanks’ wrist, as if everything was perfectly normal.

Shanks took a slow, steady breath, trying to regain his composure. He couldn’t move.

Wouldn’t move.

Because if he did—if he let himself give in, even a little—

He wouldn’t be able to stop.

“…Goodnight, Aegis,” Shanks murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, the words coming from somewhere deep in his chest.

Aegis’ only response was a soft, unintelligible murmur as he nuzzled further into Shanks’ side, his body completely relaxed, at peace.

Shanks let out a low, helpless laugh, his eyes slipping shut in resignation.

And with a final, defeated sigh—

He closed his eyes, and let himself fall asleep, knowing full well that tomorrow, he would still be a man utterly, completely, and hopelessly lost.

Chapter Text

Morning Regrets and a Very Handsome Problem

Aegis woke up to the worst headache of his life.

The moment his consciousness surfaced from the haze of sleep, a sharp, brutal throb slammed into his skull, as though a drum had been set up inside his brain, and someone was beating it mercilessly. His vision swam for a few moments, and his throat felt raw, the remnants of last night’s excessive drinking and impromptu rock concert clinging to his vocal cords. A groan escaped his lips before he could even fully gather his bearings.

It was the kind of pain that seemed to ripple through his entire being, a throbbing reminder of every glass, every note, every laugh that had carried him through the night’s reckless revelry.

With immense suffering, Aegis turned his head, eyes squeezed shut against the searing pressure in his skull. As he did, his gaze landed on something—someone—that sent a cold jolt of awareness through his body.

Medicine. A glass of water.

And then it hit him.

Shanks.

The realization exploded in his mind like a firework, and suddenly everything from last night started to flood back.

Right.

Shanks had brought him to bed. Shanks had carried him, tended to him, and most painfully—Shanks had slept beside him. And probably woke up earlier than him to get him some medicine and water, before sleeping beside him again.

Aegis’ heart skipped, and before he could stop himself, he shot upright in bed—too quickly, too recklessly. The throbbing in his skull doubled in intensity, a sharp pain that nearly made his vision explode into a flash of white.

He gasped, his hand instinctively reaching for the glass of water and the medicine on the nightstand, and in his hazy stupor, he swallowed the pills, thankful that past-Shanks had thought ahead. His throat burned as he gulped down the water, but the liquid offered no comfort for the pounding storm inside his head.

It took a few long moments, but the pain finally dulled just enough for him to function. Aegis cautiously turned his head, his heart hammering in his chest, and there he was.

Shanks.

Lying right beside him.

The sight of him, still deep in sleep, caught Aegis off guard. For a moment, he just stared—his breath catching in his throat. The gentle rise and fall of Shanks’ chest seemed to echo through the quiet room, each movement so calm, so steady. Aegis found himself mesmerized by the sight, his mind suddenly a blur of thoughts he wasn’t ready to process.

Shanks was… ridiculously handsome.

It was unfair.

There was no other word for it. It shouldn’t be legal for someone to look that good, especially in a moment as vulnerable as this one. His red hair, usually so meticulously styled, was a messy tangle from sleep, strands falling lazily across his forehead and into his face. He looked almost... innocent. The usual smirk, the devil-may-care expression that Aegis was so used to seeing, was completely absent. Instead, there was something softer—something quieter—about him. A peacefulness that Aegis couldn’t even remember seeing before.

And, of course, that was when Aegis’ heart stuttered, his face warming almost instantly.

This was not what he had signed up for.

Shit.

Aegis quickly flopped back down onto his stomach, burying his face into the pillow with a groan. The soft fabric was a welcome reprieve, offering a cool surface to press against his burning skin, but it did little to quiet the chaos racing through his mind.

What the hell was he doing?

How the hell had he even gotten the courage to ask Shanks to sleep beside him last night?

(Oh, right. Alcohol. The perfect answer to all his life’s biggest mistakes.)

The memories of the night before were a blur—fragments of laughter, music, and a loose, heady feeling that led to a moment of desperation where he had reached out, asked for something… more. And now, here he was, lying in a bed that wasn’t his own, with the very man he had tried—tried—so hard to avoid, to keep at a distance.

So much for trying, when he ended up in the man’s bed.

After being all over him last night.

Aegis peeked out from beneath the pillow, his golden eyes flicking to Shanks once more, though this time he tried to focus on anything but his face. But it was useless. His gaze inevitably found its way back to the man who seemed to occupy every inch of his thoughts.

Ugh.

It wasn’t just an attraction.

It was so much worse than that.

Aegis felt something twist uncomfortably in his chest. Something raw. Something… real.

He liked him.

There it was. The thought that had been buried under layers of humor, distance, and ridiculous antics. He liked Shanks. In a way that wasn’t just physical attraction or idle flirtation. This was deeper. More dangerous. More… permanent.

He bit down on his lip, his grip on the pillow tightening as he tried to ignore the pounding in his chest. The way Shanks’ steady breathing seemed to match the erratic beat of his own heart. The subtle shifts in the bed, the quiet way Shanks slept that felt like he was right there beside him, with him, in a way that shouldn’t have felt as intimate as it did.

But the worst part wasn’t that he liked him.

No. The worst part was that Shanks had no idea.

Hopefully.

He didn’t know that Aegis was drowning in his feelings, struggling to maintain the walls he had so carefully built, only for them to collapse every time Shanks so much as looked at him.

He had started to like the bastard just a few months after sailing with him.

Shanks had no idea what he was doing to him.

And that, Aegis thought with a bitter sigh, was exactly the problem.

Not just that Shanks was dangerous—because hell, everyone knew that about him. The man was a Yonko for a reason. But Shanks wasn’t dangerous because of his power, or because of his reputation, or because of the people he had defeated.

Shanks was dangerous because of how easy it was to fall for him.

How easily he could break Aegis down with a smile, with a kind word, with a quiet gesture like this—sleeping beside him, being there when Aegis had never asked for it, but still, somehow, desperately needed it.

Aegis let out a shaky breath, his eyes locked onto Shanks again, and it was like his chest was caving in. He had to get out of this mess. He had to find a way to keep his distance, to avoid getting any deeper into something that could wreck him.

But as Shanks shifted slightly in his sleep, his arm moving just a bit too close to Aegis, the man felt his resolve slip just a little further.

How was he supposed to walk away from this?

How could he resist something that felt so... right?

The answer, Aegis realized with a pang of frustration, was simple.

He couldn’t.

Temptation in the Morning Light

Aegis knew he was being reckless.

But could anyone really blame him?

It was just that… Shanks was there. Lying beside him, utterly peaceful, utterly unaware of the storm that Aegis was trying—and failing—to keep at bay inside himself. The soft morning light filtered through the open window, casting everything in a gentle, golden hue that made everything feel dreamlike, almost unreal. And Shanks, in that light, was even more stunning than usual. His strong jawline, dusted with that ever-present stubble, looked so sharp yet so touchable. So… human. His lips were slightly parted, his chest rising and falling in a deep, steady rhythm. He looked so utterly relaxed, so different from the fierce and untouchable Yonko everyone feared.

Aegis couldn't help it. His fingers twitched, almost instinctively, drawn to the warmth of Shanks’ skin. It wasn’t a conscious decision. It just... happened.

Curiosity—maybe something darker, something far more dangerous—tugged at him, urging his hand to move. And it did. Slowly. Too slowly, like it was some kind of forbidden act, but Aegis couldn't stop himself. His fingertips ghosted across Shanks’ jaw, so gently, like he was afraid even the lightest touch might shatter something fragile between them. The roughness of Shanks’ stubble against his fingertips made his breath catch, and Aegis swallowed hard, feeling the pulse in his throat suddenly jump to life.

This is a bad idea.

The thought was distant, too far away to matter as his hand continued its slow journey. The warmth of Shanks’ skin seared through his fingertips, and his heart began to pound against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat he couldn’t silence. Still, Aegis didn’t stop.

He let his fingers wander, tracing the sharp edge of Shanks' nose, feeling the heat of his skin, the subtle ridges of his features. He was barely aware of how uneven his own breathing was, his chest tightening with every movement. But the pull was undeniable—every part of him was drawn to this, to the man lying there, so vulnerable, so close. He couldn’t resist.

His fingers wandered more.

Towards Shanks’ scar on his left eye.

The three jagged marks that cut through his skin stood out like a map. He didn’t know exactly how he got it, he didn’t watch the anime that much. Nor read the manga.

His touch lingered there, tracing the scar, and Aegis felt a strange mix of awe and reverence. It was a moment too personal, too intimate, to be shared. Yet here he was, his fingers running along the evidence of Shanks’ past, like he was claiming it for himself.

Then—his hand moved lower.

Down Shanks' throat.

He felt the steady pulse beneath the skin, the rhythm of his heartbeat matching the unsteady tempo in Aegis’ chest. The warmth of Shanks’ skin against his fingers was almost hypnotic. It made Aegis feel as if he was in a trance, every inch of him focused on the path his hand was taking.

And then—lower.

Aegis’ fingers brushed against Shanks’ chest, and he could feel the heat radiating off the man, even in the quiet stillness of the morning. The shift in Shanks’ breathing—just the slightest hitch—made Aegis’ pulse spike. His breath caught in his throat. His heart was hammering so loud in his ears, he almost didn’t hear the next sound.

SNATCH.

Aegis yelped, startled by the sudden warmth and firmness of a hand closing around his wrist. His heart leaped into his throat as he tried to pull his hand away, but the grip on him was unyielding, steady.

Aegis met the sharp, teasing red eyes of Shanks, who was now looking at him with half-lidded eyes. He wasn’t asleep anymore. And that smile.

That damn smile.

It was a smile that was playful, yes, but there was something else behind it. Something dangerous. Something that made Aegis' stomach flip in a way he couldn’t quite understand.

"Careful," Shanks murmured, his voice deep and rough from sleep. The sound of it vibrated in Aegis’ chest, sending a shiver down his spine. His grip on Aegis’ wrist was firm, but there was a tenderness to it that made Aegis’ skin feel like it was on fire.

“You might start something.”

The words hit Aegis like a freight train. They were slow, deliberate, and the weight behind them was undeniable. Aegis froze, his breath catching in his throat as his mind scrambled to comprehend what had just been said.

His face erupted in heat.

Shit.

Shanks—he was… flirting. But not just playfully. No, there was something more to it. Something loaded, something that Aegis couldn’t quite grasp, but felt —deep in his bones.

Aegis’ breath hitched as his mind went completely blank for a split second, the world falling away, leaving only him and Shanks. The words hung between them like a challenge, an unspoken promise of something that could be so much more, or so much worse.

And then, before he could stop himself, before his thoughts could catch up with his actions, Aegis heard his own voice, steady and quiet, but without hesitation:

“What if I want to?”

The words slipped out, barely a whisper, but they carried so much more weight than he intended. They were a dare. A challenge. A question.

And just like that, the air between them changed.

Shanks’ eyes darkened, his gaze flickering over Aegis’ face, his lips, his throat, the path his hand had taken down his chest. Aegis felt the shift, the magnetic pull between them tightening like a string stretched taut.

Shanks smirked, that dangerous, devil-may-care smile twisting into something even more predatory.

“A dangerous thing to say, sweetheart,” he drawled, his voice low and thick, his thumb now brushing slow circles on Aegis’ wrist, sending little jolts of heat through him.

The room suddenly felt much too small, the air too thick, the tension between them palpable, like something about to snap. Aegis couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t move.

A Dangerous Game

Aegis could feel the pulse in his throat, thumping relentlessly as if trying to escape. His heart was erratic, a frantic drumbeat beneath his ribs. His breath came in quick, shallow bursts, each one more labored than the last.

Shanks was too close.

His presence was overwhelming, the heat of him pressing in on all sides, and Aegis couldn’t escape it. He could feel the heavy weight of Shanks' hand still wrapped around his wrist, the thumb idly stroking his skin in a way that should have been casual—but wasn’t. Aegis could feel the raw tension in his own body, his nerves crawling under his skin as he tried, and failed, to calm the storm raging inside him.

And then— then —he realized the trap he had just stepped into.

What the fuck had he just done?

He didn’t mean to say that.

Or—maybe he did.

But now Shanks was looking at him like that. His eyes sharp, calculating, full of that knowing, dangerous smirk that sent a jolt of heat straight to Aegis' core. Aegis could feel his face burning under Shanks' gaze, the color flooding his skin in waves that had nothing to do with the warmth of the room.

His cock twitched embarrassingly, and he was sure he was gonna get a raging boner if this tension didn’t ease up.

So, Aegis did what any self-respecting coward would do in the face of such a display: He deflected.

“ S-Sweetheart? ” he stammered, his voice higher than usual, brittle and unsteady as his golden eyes darted away. Don’t look at him, he told himself. Don’t. Look. At him. His gaze was frantic, too flustered to meet Shanks’ eyes.

But he couldn’t help it. He still looked.

His face was on fire, every inch of it aflame with embarrassment.

“What happened to Songbird?”

The second the words left his mouth, he knew— knew —he had made a mistake.

The shift in Shanks' expression was instantaneous.

For a brief moment, that smirk faltered.

Not in amusement.

But in something else entirely.

Aegis’ stomach dropped.

Then—there was a soft, almost imperceptible curse that slipped from Shanks’ lips.

Aegis barely had time to register it before—

Before Shanks was yanking him downward, pulling him with effortless force.

“Wha—!?”

A sharp, startled yelp escaped Aegis’ throat as his body was suddenly crushed against Shanks’ chest. The world spun for a moment, his thoughts scattered in a thousand directions, before everything stopped.

Warm.

He’s so warm.

Aegis froze, every muscle in his body locking up, the air knocked out of his lungs.

The solid, broad expanse of Shanks’ chest was beneath him, firm and unyielding, and Aegis could feel it all. The steady, slow rise and fall of Shanks’ breathing beneath him, the thudding beat of his heart echoing against Aegis’ ribcage.

And the arm. The arm that had easily wrapped around his waist, holding him there as if he were no more than a captive in Shanks' grasp.

Fuck.

Aegis' face erupted in heat, his brain scrambling for a coherent thought, but he couldn’t find one. Nothing. His mouth was dry, his head spinning, and his body... his body felt like it had forgotten how to move.

“Sh-Shanks—”

Shanks’ voice rumbled, low and soft, like the promise of something dangerous.

“Y'know, Songbird,” he murmured, his breath hot against Aegis’ ear, sending a shiver straight down Aegis' spine, “You keep looking at me like that…”

Aegis swallowed thickly, his pulse ringing in his ears. His body was trembling, but not with fear. No, it was something else entirely. Something hot, something foreign.

“Like—like what?” Aegis mumbled, trying— desperately trying —to sound unaffected, but his voice cracked on the last word, betraying him completely.

Shanks let out a slow, satisfied chuckle, his breath ghosting against Aegis’ ear in a way that made the entire situation feel even more intimate .

“Like you want me to ruin you.”

Aegis short-circuited.

His entire brain flatlined.

His golden eyes widened to the point of pain, his mouth opening and closing uselessly, like some fish gasping for air. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. His chest was tight, his heart hammering in his throat.

Did he—did he just—?

His fingers curled involuntarily into the sheets beneath them, his entire body clenching, his skin tingling with the aftershock of Shanks' words. The sensation was electric, jarring, like an unspoken promise hanging in the air between them.

Shanks’ smirk, still there, still that dangerous glint in his eyes, deepened. He was watching Aegis with open amusement, clearly savoring the way Aegis was struggling to process what had just happened.

And then, as if to push Aegis further into the depths of his confusion, Shanks leaned in just enough for Aegis to feel the barest brush of his nose against his temple.

Enough for heat to coil deep in Aegis’ stomach, pooling in the most inconvenient of places.

Too much.

Not enough.

Aegis made a small, strangled sound at the back of his throat, his face burning so hot it hurt .

“I—I—”

Abort. Abort. Abort.

Shanks hummed in amusement, the sound thick with satisfaction. “That blush of yours is really somethin’, sweetheart. It’s making me wanna do things.”

Aegis yelped. He was completely, utterly undone. His body locked up, every muscle going rigid as his eyes shot open wide. He wasn’t sure if it was the words or the damn heat of Shanks’ body pressing against him, but his skin felt like it was on fire.

“THINGS???” he screeched, wriggling in Shanks’ grip, panic flooding his every thought as he tried to pull away, desperate to escape this hell he had somehow created.

Shanks just laughed, that low, rich sound that only made Aegis’ heart race harder, before loosening his hold just enough for Aegis to scramble up—only to regret it immediately.

Because in his panicked, desperate haste, Aegis pushed himself up too fast. The remnants of his hangover still had a hold on him, and his balance— his balance —was not his friend.

So, naturally—

He slipped.

Right back onto Shanks.

And this time—

It was worse.

Because now, instead of merely being pressed against him, he was straddling him.

Aegis’ soul left his body.

His thighs were on either side of Shanks’ waist, his body now trapped in the most intimate position possible. Shanks’ large, warm hand immediately gripped his hip to steady him, his touch firm and possessive.

Their faces were— too close .

Aegis forgot how to breathe. He was aware of nothing except for the heat radiating off Shanks’ body, the pressure of his hands, the feeling of being held, pinned in place. His golden eyes were blown wide, panic and something else swirling in his gaze.

And Shanks?

That damn bastard?

He was grinning.

And it wasn’t just a teasing grin. No, this was different.

It was hungry.

It was dangerous.

“You really are playing a dangerous game, Songbird,” Shanks murmured, his voice lower, rougher, the words vibrating against Aegis' skin.

Aegis shuddered, his breath hitching in his throat.

And despite the warning, despite the sharp thrill of panic twisting in his stomach, Aegis found himself unable to move. His body felt frozen, caught in Shanks’ grip, his hands fisting the sheets beneath them in a desperate attempt to hold onto something— anything .

His hips.

Firm. Warm. Holding him in place.

Aegis swallowed thickly.

Aegis, You Absolute Fool

There was a moment of silence.

A thick, heavy stillness that stretched between them, a palpable tension that hummed in the air, crackling with anticipation. For a split second, neither of them moved—neither of them dared to breathe.

Shanks’ eyes were half-lidded, his gaze heavy and dark, watching Aegis like a predator sizing up its prey. His grip on Aegis’ hips tightened, just a fraction, but it was enough. Enough to send a jolt of electricity straight through Aegis' spine.

Aegis, frozen in place, felt his breath become erratic, his chest rising and falling with a speed that matched the pounding of his heart. His face was on fire, a flush so intense he was sure it was visible from space.

And then—something overtook him.

Courage?

Or was it stupidity?

(Probably stupidity.)

Because before he could talk himself out of it, before he could form any coherent thought beyond get the hell out of here, his body acted on its own. It moved without his permission, against every warning that blared in his head, every rational thought that screamed at him to stop.

He rolled his hips.

It was barely anything—a small, slow shift—but it was enough.

Enough for Aegis to feel it.

To feel the way Shanks’ cock hidden behind layers of his clothing to poke his ass.

The way Shanks’ fingers twitched on his hips, tightening just a fraction more. The way Shanks’ breath caught in his throat, a slight hitch that Aegis could practically feel against his own skin.

And then— the sound.

A low, throaty groan.

Shanks groaned.

Aegis’ brain short-circuited.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

That was... that was hot.

That was so unbelievably hot.

The second that sound hit his ears, the heat in his body flared up, spreading from his core to the tips of his fingers, igniting every inch of his skin. His golden eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. His face felt like it was on fire, the heat a physical weight pressing down on him.

What the fuck was he doing?

What did he just do?

His hands flew to Shanks’ face, slapping over his mouth in a futile attempt to block out the noise he had just made. As if somehow, if he covered his face, he could undo the absolute madness he had just pulled.

Shanks was still looking at him, his expression unreadable for just a moment. His hand grabbed Aegis’, pulling it away from his face, before that familiar, devilish smirk stretched across his lips. But there was something else in his eyes now—something darker.

Lust.

And Aegis? Aegis, in his spiraling panic, did what he always did when he couldn’t deal with something. He argued with himself.

("WHAT THE FUCK, ME?!")

("WHAT? IT'S NOT LIKE WE DIED.")

("ARE YOU STUPID? DID YOU HEAR THAT SOUND?!"

("Yes. And??")

("AND IT WAS HOT, YOU ABSOLUTE IDIOT.")

("...I mean. Yeah.")

("THEN WHY DID WE DO IT?!")

("I DON'T KNOW. IT FELT RIGHT?!")

("ARE WE REALLY DOING THIS? HERE? NOW?")

("WELL, IT'S TOO LATE, BUDDY.")

Aegis let out a tiny, strangled whimper behind his hands, his entire body tense as he died inside. He could feel every nerve in his body screaming for him to stop, to get up and run the hell away from the man who was still holding him so effortlessly, with that infuriatingly smug expression on his face.

Shanks, of course, was watching him with hooded eyes, clearly amused, clearly enjoying the internal meltdown Aegis was having. And then, as if the universe had a sense of humor, he chuckled—a low, warm, deep laugh that seemed to vibrate through Aegis’ very bones.

It was the kind of laugh that sent a shiver racing down his spine.

“Regretting that already, sweetheart?” Shanks purred, his voice thick with amusement.

Aegis let out a high-pitched noise—something between a squeak and a strangled exclamation—that was definitely not human, before his brain finally— finally —kicked back into gear. And oh, god, panic set in like a tidal wave.

Oh my god.

This is Shanks.

SHANKS.

Emperor Shanks. Stupidly handsome Shanks. Infuriatingly cocky Shanks.

Anime Shanks. (he was real now though)

And—and there were definitely better-looking men out there, right?!

("Name one.")

("Uh—")

("Yeah. Thought so.")

("SHUT UP.")

Aegis scrambled for any kind of argument, any kind of reason to escape the situation he had just dug himself into.

("Mihawk is pretty, right??")

("Do you see Mihawk under you right now?")

("NO, BUT—")

("Point made.")

("STOP. TALKING.")

Meanwhile, Shanks was still looking at him with that infuriatingly pleased look on his face, like he knew he had Aegis right where he wanted him. Aegis, in a desperate attempt to recover, did the only thing that made sense to him in the moment: He huffed.

“You—” He pointed at Shanks, flustered but determined to regain some semblance of dignity. “—you are NOT the best-looking man in the world.”

Shanks raised an eyebrow, a slow, mocking smile spreading across his face as he leaned in just slightly, clearly enjoying the panic in Aegis’ voice.

“Oh? That so?”

“Y-Yeah!” Aegis blurted, his words tumbling out in a panic-fueled blur. “There are definitely—definitely better-looking men out there!”

Shanks’ smirk widened, turning dangerously predatory as his eyes gleamed with mischief.

And then— then —his hand rested on his hip again, squeezing,

Firmly.

Aegis gasped, the air knocked out of his lungs as the grip tightened in a way that sent a jolt straight to his groin.

“Oh? And yet,” Shanks purred, his voice low and teasing, every word dripping with a playful, dangerous edge, “you’re still in my lap.”

Aegis made a choked sound, his entire soul leaving his body as the reality of the situation hit him like a freight train. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t move. The world tilted, and his body felt like it was going to short-circuit at any moment.

Shanks was having way too much fun with this.

Aegis Is Going to Die Here Today

Okay. Okay.

New plan.

Abort mission. Escape. Flee. RUN .

Aegis’ brain was officially in full emergency mode.

The heat suffocating him, the way Shanks’ eyes—those dangerously seductive eyes—were watching him like a hawk, the teasing curve of his lips, that stupidly handsome face looking way too pleased with himself.

Nope.

He needed to get off of him. Immediately .

Before he did something even dumber than what he already did.

Because let’s be honest: Aegis had zero self-preservation when it came to this man.

Zero.

He was an absolute fool, and every moment that passed only proved that.

So, he tried.

He pushed against Shanks’ chest, trying to lift himself up and away from the ever-encroaching disaster of this entire situation. His hands were shaking with desperation, his mind a jumbled mess of go , move , get out of this now .

But—disaster struck again.

Because, in his frantic haste to escape, he moved wrong.

Very, very wrong.

His hips— goddamn his hips—shifted in just the right way, the motion subtle but enough.

And he felt it again.

The way Shanks’ grip tightened on his waist, fingers sinking deeper into the flesh like a vise, the way his breath hitched in his throat.

And then—then.

Shanks groaned.

A deep, throaty, sinful sound that seemed to vibrate through Aegis’ very core—much louder this time.

Low and rough, like he was barely holding himself together. Like Aegis was doing things to him.

Aegis’ entire world shattered.

His body locked up. His face was on fire. His breath got caught somewhere between his chest and his throat.

OH.

OH NO.

His brain—his already malfunctioning brain—completely short-circuited. Exploded. Disintegrated into a cloud of nothingness.

Everything came crashing down on him because holy shit. That. Was. Hot .

And when he finally—finally—forced himself to look at Shanks, actually see him,

Aegis almost passed out.

Because Shanks was blushing.

The ever-smug, ever-cocky, goddamn infuriatingly attractive Red-Haired Shanks.

He was blushing.

There was a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks, his lips parted ever so slightly as if he was struggling to breathe, his entire posture—usually so damn confident—showing cracks.

And it wasn’t just the alcohol.

No. Aegis had done that.

Him.

And that realization—the fact that he, Aegis , had this effect on the man who was practically a legend in his own right—

Oh, fuck.

Aegis was going to die.

Right here. In this bed. From pure, unfiltered embarrassment .

("THIS IS BAD.")

("THIS IS REALLY BAD.")

("WHY IS HE LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT?!")

("WHY DID HE GROAN LIKE THAT?!")

("WHY IS HE SO HOT?!")

("WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?!")

Internally, he was screeching.

Externally?

Externally, he was still frozen in place. Perched— perched —on Shanks’ lap like a helpless fool. His face was so red it might as well be a damn tomato.

Shanks, watching him with that dark, amused expression, couldn’t resist. He gave Aegis’ hips another small, experimental squeeze.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

His voice was low. Teasing.

And it made Aegis fucking whine.

Whined. Like some lovesick idiot.

That— that was when Aegis realized he had to escape. Or he would not survive this.

So, with every ounce of willpower he had left, Aegis made one final attempt to get away.

He pushed up again, with every fiber of his being pushing against the impossible weight of Shanks’ hold—

But Shanks? Oh, no.

Shanks didn’t let go.

No, the bastard gripped his waist tighter, fingers pressing deeper into Aegis’ sides as if he were marking him. He pulled .

Aegis yelped, his body jerking as he was yanked right back down.

And suddenly—

He was even closer .

Chest to chest.

Shanks’ face was so close, Aegis could feel the heat radiating off of him, could see the barely-contained smirk curling on his lips, could hear the slight hitch in his breath.

Aegis’ brain stopped. Completely.

Oh.

Oh no.

No, no, no, no, no...

His heart was slamming in his chest. His breathing was shallow and frantic. His entire body felt like it was caught in the tightest, hottest vice.

Shanks was looking at him now, his eyes lidded, the heat simmering in them, the tension between them thick enough to strangle.

Shanks was not playing fair.

Aegis had already been teetering on the edge of combusting, his mind spiraling in a chaotic loop of panic, humiliation, and... something else. Something deeply embarrassing. He was already a mess—his heart hammering, his thoughts scattered—and now—now, Shanks was doing this to him.

He wasn’t just touching him anymore.

No. He was guiding him. Moving him.

Without breaking his unwavering gaze, Shanks’ lone hand slid down Aegis’ side, settling against his waist. Fingers curled possessively around the curve of his hip, holding him in place.

And then—he pulled.

He pushed .

Dragged Aegis back down, forcing their bodies closer, the friction between them setting Aegis’ skin on fire.

Shanks’ cock—was big, he could feel it even through the layers of clothes between them. It was pressing perfectly onto his ass—and his equally hard cock.

Aegis’ breath hitched. His body tensed, instinctively pulling away—then recoiling back toward the heat Shanks was creating. His stomach twisted with that hot, coil-like sensation, and he couldn’t stop it. He bit his lower lip in a pathetic attempt to stifle the noise that threatened to escape.

But the sensation was too much.

Fuck .

A small, strangled moan slipped past his lips before he could catch himself, his fingers clutching onto Shanks' shirt in a desperate, frantic bid to stay anchored to reality.

“Sh–Shanks… fuck..”

Shanks, damn him, was breathing heavier beneath him. The restraint that had once been so solid and strong was slipping, thread by thread, as his grip on Aegis’ hips tightened even more. The pressure was intoxicating—compelling Aegis to stay there, held in place by a force he had no control over.

And then—Shanks moved again.

Aegis’ body jolted as Shanks began to pull and push at his hips, the pace quickening just enough for Aegis to feel the rawness of his control unraveling. His heart pounded in his chest, blood rushing in his ears, the world narrowing down to nothing but the pulse of heat that swam between them.

The sensation grew stronger.

It felt so good.

So fucking good—

Aegis couldn’t look at him.

If he kept looking—if he kept seeing that dark, hungry gleam in Shanks’ eyes, if he kept feeling his every calculated movement, he was going to—

A sudden, sharp zap of pressure crashed against his skin.

Aegis gasped, his entire body jerking in response to the rush of power that flooded the room. It wasn’t overwhelming. No, it wasn’t meant to knock him out or dominate him into submission.

It was precise. Controlled.

It was Conqueror’s Haki .

Oh my God, he just used something so powerful like that.

Shanks was using it to force him to look at him.

Aegis’ golden eyes snapped to his, wide and stunned, his breath catching painfully in his throat. Every ounce of tension that had been building in his body unraveled at the sheer, undeniable weight of Shanks’ presence.

He shivered—not in fear, but in something darker.

Something primal.

The heat in Shanks’ gaze was undeniable now, suffocating him in its intensity. His lips curled into that infuriating, predatory smirk, but it was his eyes that held Aegis captive. They were dark, filled with hunger—a hunger Aegis could feel deep in his bones. Like Shanks had just found something he wanted. Something he was going to claim.

“Keep you eyes on me, sweetheart,” the man purred.

Aegis swallowed, his throat dry, his blush deepening, hotter than ever. His fingers twitched where they rested on Shanks’ chest, his body trembling with the unrelenting heat that radiated between them. He couldn’t look away. He didn’t want to.

Oh, fuck.

He was so turned on right now.

His cock was so hard.

Shanks knew .

He could feel it—the way Aegis’ body reacted to every touch, every movement, every breath that Shanks took. The way his body seemed to betray him with each frantic pulse, each attempt to pull away only to be drawn back in by Shanks’ intoxicating presence.

Aegis was so far gone, he didn’t know if he could ever escape this feeling. He was tangled in Shanks' web now, and Shanks was enjoying every moment of it.

Chapter Text

Aegis Is in Way Too Much Trouble

He didn’t even see it coming.

One second, Aegis was on top.

The next—

The world spun.

His body was jerked, disoriented, thrown off balance in an instant. He gasped, his breath cut short as his back collided with the bed. The shock of impact reverberated through his body, his muscles stiffening from the sudden change. His pulse thudded in his ears, drowning out everything else for a brief moment.

How—?

Aegis blinked up at the ceiling, confused, disoriented. It took him a split second—just a moment—for everything to click into place.

Shanks had flipped them.

Effortlessly.

Aegis’ eyes shot wide open, and his heart skipped a beat as he tried to process the sheer smoothness of the movement. One moment, he was in control, perched above Shanks, and now—now, Shanks was balanced perfectly on his knees, his lone arm pressed to the bed for support, and he was hovering above Aegis with a natural ease. There was no effort, no struggle. He was in control . And Aegis? He was pinned beneath him—completely at his mercy.

And oh fuck, he was between his legs .

Aegis’ breath hitched, his body frozen for a split second as the reality of the situation sank in.

He could feel the weight of Shanks on him, the sheer solidity of his body, even if he wasn’t touching him completely. Just the warmth radiating from him was enough to make Aegis’ head spin. It wasn’t the physical weight alone that had him trapped, but the presence of Shanks above him—the intensity of it.

Shanks was so close.

So goddamn close.

Aegis could barely breathe beneath the weight of that gaze alone. His heart hammered in his chest, his pulse thrumming against his skin. He could feel the heat of Shanks' body, even the brush of his breath against his face, as if they were connected by nothing but the raw electricity in the air between them.

But that wasn’t all.

It was the way Shanks was looking at him.

That gaze.

It was dark. Intense. Unyielding. Unbroken.

It was a look that seemed to strip Aegis bare. Every flicker of reaction, every stutter in his breathing, every panicked twitch of his fingers—Shanks was watching it all. He was memorizing him. Drinking in every minute detail of Aegis’ discomfort, every flicker of hesitation, every bit of flustered panic that swept over his expression.

It was suffocating.

And then—

Shanks smirked.

It wasn’t the usual cocky grin. Not the playful, teasing curve of his lips that Aegis had gotten used to. No, this one was different.

This one was dangerous.

Aegis’ stomach flipped as that smirk curled further, the knowing gleam in Shanks’ eyes sending a chill through his spine, a shiver of anticipation that he couldn’t control. It made his chest tighten, his fingers curling into the sheets as if he could hold onto the fabric for dear life and anchor himself to something, anything that might stop him from losing control.

And then—

Shanks moved.

He brought his hand up, the long fingers sliding effortlessly across the space between them. His movements were slow, deliberate.

One button.

Another.

Aegis' breath caught in his throat.

The realization hit him like a freight train. Shanks was unbuttoning his shirt.

With one hand.

Like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Aegis’ gaze locked onto Shanks’ fingers, unable to look away. His mouth went dry, his body frozen in place. Each button that was undone felt like a new, visceral reminder of just how much Shanks was in control—how vulnerable Aegis was. The way his thumb brushed over the fabric, moving with torturous slowness, sent sparks of heat down Aegis’ spine, igniting a fresh wave of desire that he didn’t want to acknowledge.

The worst part?

Shanks never broke eye contact. His gaze never wavered. That intense, unwavering stare stayed locked on Aegis, watching him, studying him, as if every reaction was a treasure to be savored.

Aegis swallowed thickly, trying to get air into his lungs, but it was like the atmosphere had thickened, suffocating him in its heaviness. His mind screamed at him to do something . To move. To stop him. To say anything .

But his body wouldn’t cooperate. It was like it had betrayed him. All he could do was lie there, helpless, his chest rising and falling unevenly with each breath.

Shanks chuckled, the sound low and rich, like honey dripping from his lips. It was deep, full of amusement—a sound that made Aegis’ skin prickle with anticipation.

“Oh? Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?”

Aegis hated him.

“Shut up..”

He scowled, but it lacked its usual sharpness and dramatic flare.

He hated how that stupid pet name sent a thrill down his spine, how it made his heart beat faster, how it made everything inside him coil with need.

He hated how his body was betraying him in the worst possible way.

He hated how warm he felt, how his skin prickled with anticipation .

He hated that he couldn’t move. He hated that he didn’t want to move.

Another button came undone.

Fuck.

Aegis could feel the air shift. Each second that passed, each button Shanks took off with that precise, practiced movement, was another crack in his composure, another chink in the armor that had kept him distant, that had kept him from falling completely into Shanks’ orbit.

Shanks was winning.

And Aegis? Aegis was losing. And he had no idea how to stop it.

Aegis Is in Too Deep

Shanks moved slowly.

Painfully, teasingly slow.

Each movement was deliberate, a slow burn that made Aegis’ heart pound in his chest, each second dragging on longer than the last. Shanks’ fingers slid over the fabric of his shirt, pushing the material off his shoulders with agonizing slowness. The loose fabric slipped down his arms.

It hit the mattress with a whisper.

Aegis froze.

His body went rigid, his breath halting in his throat, every nerve alive and screaming as the world seemed to narrow down to this single, defining moment.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

He had seen hints of Shanks' chest before—fleeting glimpses under the collar of his shirt, the teasing flash of skin when Shanks stretched, his muscles shifting beneath the fabric. But this?

This was different.

This was the first time Aegis was seeing it all—every inch of Shanks laid bare in front of him, unashamed and unapologetic.

The broad expanse of Shanks’ shoulders—wide, powerful, a strength that had carried him through countless battles. His chest, marred with scars, each one a story of survival, of loss, of triumphs and battles fought in the heat of war. Each mark seemed to hold the weight of a thousand untold tales, and Aegis? He wanted to know every single one of them.

His abs—tight, defined, each muscle carved with precision, honed from years of combat and struggle. There was no softness, no give to his form—just strength. Strength and power, visible in every inch of his body, from the ridges of his ribs to the solid curve of his waist.

And his skin.

God, his skin.

It was kissed by the sun, golden and warm, stretched taut over the firm muscles beneath. Aegis couldn’t tear his eyes away, couldn’t stop staring at him, even though he knew he should.

It was unfair .

Utterly, infuriatingly unfair how someone could look like this. How someone could possess so much raw beauty and strength, just waiting to be consumed by the gaze of anyone foolish enough to look.

Aegis was that fool.

And he didn’t care.

Not when Shanks was right there, so close—close enough that he could feel the heat of his body radiating against him.

And then—

His hand moved.

Aegis didn’t mean to—he didn’t intend to. But his body betrayed him, reacting before his mind could catch up. His fingers lifted, the motion almost instinctual, like they had a mind of their own. He didn’t realize what he was doing until it was too late, until—

Contact.

His fingers brushed against Shanks’ stomach, the barest touch, a graze of skin on skin.

The reaction was instantaneous.

The muscle beneath Shanks' skin tensed immediately, the solid firmness of his abs reacting to Aegis’ touch, flexing beneath his fingers. Aegis sucked in a sharp breath at the sensation, the heat of Shanks’ body sending a tremor down his spine.

Oh god .

It was electric .

Warm, smooth skin beneath his fingertips, solid muscle that shifted as Shanks’ body responded. Aegis barely touched him—just a whisper of contact—but it felt like he had set the entire world on fire.

Shanks let out a slow, exhaled breath, the sound low and filled with something Aegis couldn’t quite place. His stomach clenched at the sound, the faintest shift in Shanks’ body beneath him. It wasn’t much, just the way Shanks’ abs contracted slightly in response to his touch. But it was enough.

“Go on,” Shanks teased, “It's all yours, sweetheart,”

Damn bastard.

Aegis dragged his fingers higher, tracing the curve of each muscle, feeling the dips, the ridges, the hard planes of Shanks’ chest. He couldn’t stop himself. His body was moving on its own now, pulled in by the magnetic force of Shanks’ presence, unable to resist the temptation of feeling him, touching him, exploring him.

Shanks didn’t stop him.

No—he was watching him.

And not just watching.

Devouring.

Aegis could feel it. The weight of Shanks' gaze pressing down on him, heavy and unrelenting. It was like Shanks was studying every twitch of his muscles, every flicker of hesitation in his expression, every shift in his breathing. He wasn’t just looking at him—he was seeing him , all of him.

And Aegis? He couldn’t look away.

His thumb brushed over a small scar near Shanks’ ribs, the faint indent of the mark beneath his skin. It was small, almost hidden, but it was there— alive —and Aegis felt his breath catch in his throat as the realization hit him. This was part of Shanks. Part of his story.

Shanks' breath hitched.

Aegis’ eyes snapped up, his heart stuttering in his chest.

And then he saw it.

Shanks was looking at him.

His eyes, half-lidded, dark and heavy with something thick and unreadable, glowed with an intensity that made Aegis' blood run cold. The slow, lazy smirk that curled on Shanks' lips only deepened the charge in the air, thickening the tension that was already unbearable.

"Having fun?" Shanks' voice was low, almost a growl, dripping with amusement and something darker—something Aegis couldn’t name but could feel .

Aegis’ stomach flipped.

The words rattled in his chest, pulling him deeper into the storm that was Shanks, and he instinctively pulled his fingers away from the scar on Shanks’ body, his hand jerking back as if burned.

But it was too late.

Before Aegis could even fully react, Shanks’ hand shot out, quick as lightning. He caught Aegis’ wrist with a firm, unrelenting grip, holding it in place.

Aegis’ breath hitched in his throat.

Aegis knew that look.

That predatory gleam in Shanks' eyes, the possessive way his fingers gripped his wrist.

He was in way too deep.

“Keep that up, and I'll be devouring you,” the red haired murmured, before slowly letting go of his wrists. 

Aegis didn't dare move from his position.

Aegis Was Losing His Damn Mind

Shanks moved slowly.

Too slowly.

Each movement was drawn out, deliberate, as though he was savoring the moment, each second stretching longer than the last.

Aegis felt every beat of his pulse pounding through his body, his blood rushing in his ears like a storm, louder than any sound around them.

His breath came in shallow gasps, as if he was suffocating in the air itself.

Aegis watched, wide-eyed and breathless, as Shanks’ lone hand lifted.

It moved deliberately, purposefully, trailing dangerously close to his chest.

Fingertips grazed over the fabric of Aegis’ shirt, barely there, just enough to tease.

Aegis sucked in a sharp breath.

His body reacted before he could stop it.

The touch was light—so light—but it felt like fire, like lightning striking his skin.

It was unbearable, burning through him, sending jolts of heat to every nerve in his body.

He bit his lip, trying to stifle the involuntary sound that threatened to escape him.

He couldn’t—he wouldn’t—give Shanks the satisfaction.

But Shanks was watching him.

Always watching.

His eyes were dark, intense, gleaming with something Aegis couldn’t name but could feel.

It was like Shanks could see right through him, to the very core of him, like he knew exactly what this was doing to him.

And that smirk—the one that played at the corners of Shanks’ lips, smug and knowing—it only grew.

A single finger brushed over a particularly sensitive spot on Aegis’ chest, just under the collarbone.

Aegis shuddered.

He didn’t mean to.

But he did.

His body betrayed him, moving without his permission, reacting to the simple, damnable touch that was driving him out of his mind.

Shanks hummed, low and approving.

The sound curled around Aegis like smoke, winding its way through his mind, leaving him dizzy and craving more.

“That’s it,” Shanks murmured, his voice thick with amusement. “Sensitive here, huh?”

The bastard was teasing him.

Aegis couldn’t stop himself from glaring at him, refusing to answer.

He huffed, looking away, but his lips were parted, his chest heaving, betraying how much he was struggling to keep control.

Shanks just chuckled, deep and amused, his hand never stopping its movement.

And then—

Shanks’ hand moved lower.

Aegis’ heart stopped.

Without warning, Shanks slipped his hand under the hem of Aegis’ shirt, his fingers brushing over warm, bare skin.

The contact was electric, like the world around them was suddenly charged with static.

Aegis inhaled sharply, his breath hitching in his throat as heat bloomed in his chest, spreading through his veins.

He couldn’t focus, couldn’t think. His entire body was on fire.

Shanks’ palm was rough, calloused from years of wielding swords, but his touch was slow, deliberate.

It was careful, almost as though he was memorizing every inch of Aegis’ skin, tracing it with infinite patience.

Aegis’ breath caught again, his body freezing, as though he was incapable of moving under Shanks’ touch.

His pulse raced, the rhythm erratic, like his heart was threatening to burst out of his chest.

The fabric of his shirt shifted, inch by inch, lifted by Shanks’ steady hand.

Aegis’ skin was exposed to the cool air, and every inch that was revealed made the heat between them worse.

He didn’t stop him.

Couldn’t stop him.

Something had changed. He’d lost the ability to speak, to make a joke, to pull away with a quip or a snide remark.

The tension in the room was too thick now, the air so heavy with desire and uncertainty that it felt like it was choking him.

His heartbeat was loud, deafening in his ears, the only sound in a silence that had stretched too long.

For the first time, Aegis was quiet.

And Shanks noticed.

His eyes darkened, and that smug, knowing look on his face spread into something more dangerous.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against Aegis’ ear as he spoke, voice low and thick with amusement.

“Quiet now, sweetheart?”

Aegis swallowed hard, the sound too loud in the silence between them.

Shanks was so close now, his body practically pressed against his.

His breath was warm against Aegis' skin, making the already unbearable heat spike even higher.

Aegis felt lightheaded, dizzy, every fiber of his being pulled taut, like a string about to snap.

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe.

It was all too much.

Oh, no.

Aegis was in too deep.

And the worst part?

He wanted to be.

His mind was spiraling, every thought consumed by the man above him, the man whose fingers were still dancing over his skin, whose voice still hummed with the promise of something more, something dangerous.

He couldn’t escape. He didn’t want to.

Shanks noticed the way Aegis’ eyes flickered, the way his lips parted just slightly, and the smirk on his face deepened.

Aegis was losing his damn mind, and Shanks knew it.

“Don’t worry,” Shanks whispered, his voice a low growl. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And Aegis realized, with a sinking feeling in his gut, that neither was he.

This was real.

Aegis knew that. He felt it deep in his chest, pulsing with each beat of his heart.

It wasn’t just teasing anymore. No fleeting brush of fingers across his skin, no lingering glances filled with heat and unspoken desire.

This was something different. Something more.

Something dangerous.

And, damn it, it was something he shouldn’t want.

But he did.

He’d wanted it for so long, longer than he was willing to admit, and he could feel it now.

The weight of the moment pressed down on him, sinking him into a place where escape felt like a distant, unreachable shore.

His breath caught. His heart hammered in his chest.

The tension between them was unbearable, a thick knot twisting in his stomach, a combination of longing and fear.

But he didn’t hesitate. He never did.

Aegis moved.

He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Shanks’ broad shoulders, his fingers curling into his hair.

The heat of his skin under his palms was almost too much, but he didn’t pull away.

He pulled Shanks closer, his chest pressing into the older man’s with an urgency that surprised even him.

And then—

He pulled him down.

Their lips collided.

It was a shock of heat and sensation, firm and decisive, not hesitant or uncertain.

The kiss was real, raw, a collision of hunger and need.

Shanks let out a surprised sound, a sharp inhale against Aegis’ lips as the world shifted.

His balance wavered slightly, but he didn’t pull back. He didn’t stop.

Instead, he pressed closer.

His lips were warm, soft, but they carried a weight to them, a demand, roughened at the edges from years of living, of experiencing everything life had to offer.

Aegis felt each movement—the shift of Shanks’ mouth, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath.

It was all too much, and yet, he couldn’t get enough.

He moaned, almost shamelessly into the kiss. Shanks shuddered before him, as if in intense pleasure.

Aegis tightened his grip on Shanks’, his body betraying him, trembling under the overwhelming intensity of the kiss.

His heart was pounding in his chest, blood rushing in his ears, the sound of it filling his head.

Shanks didn’t rush. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss with a slow, deliberate movement.

His tongue slid across Aegis’ lips, teasing, coaxing him open, and Aegis gasped into it, the air stolen from his lungs.

Every nerve was on fire, every touch sending shocks of electricity through him.

Oh.

Oh, this was so much worse than he thought.

Because this wasn’t just a kiss.

It was a claim.

Shanks wasn’t just taking what he wanted; he was savoring it.

His hand moved from Aegis' waist, tracing the curve of his spine, pulling him even closer.

Aegis could feel the weight of his body, the heat radiating from him, like he was absorbing everything, every part of Aegis.

Aegis’ stomach twisted with the realization that this—this moment—had been coming for a long time.

Shanks had been waiting for this. Waiting for him. Like he knew all along that they’d end up here.

The thought made Aegis' breath hitch, and before he could fully process it, Shanks broke the kiss, just barely.

His lips ghosted over Aegis’ again, soft and warm, before pulling away entirely.

Aegis’ chest heaved, desperate for air, but the absence of Shanks’ mouth on his own left him aching.

"Didn’t think you had it in you, songbird," Shanks murmured, voice low and teasing, but there was something else in his tone—something deeper, more genuine, that sent a flicker of uncertainty through Aegis.

Aegis gritted his teeth, his face flushed, his heart still thumping like it might explode.

He tried to glare at Shanks, to snap back, but the heat in his cheeks betrayed him.

"Shut up and kiss me, idiot Captain," Aegis muttered, barely above a whisper, his voice shaky and raw.

And then he pulled Shanks back in.

This time, Shanks didn’t hesitate.

A soft groan escaped Shanks’ lips as Aegis pressed his mouth back to his, a sound that sent a shiver racing down Aegis’ spine.

The kiss deepened almost immediately, taking full control, the power shifting in Shanks' favor.

Aegis melted under the intensity of it, of him.

Shanks' lone hand gripped Aegis' waist, his fingers pressing into the skin exposed by the rising shirt, and Aegis couldn’t help but gasp at the contact.

The feeling of Shanks' hand, rough and calloused, against his bare skin was almost too much, too overwhelming.

But Shanks wasn’t letting him pull away.

He swallowed the sound, his mouth moving with confident ease, coaxing, teasing, taking—giving nothing but more.

Aegis was lost in the kiss, in the feel of Shanks, in the heat and the pressure that filled the space between them.

Aegis felt himself melting, losing himself in the slow, intoxicating dance of Shanks’ lips and hands.

His hands clung onto him, his chest aching as he pressed closer, unable to get enough of the feeling of him, of this.

This wasn’t just heat. This wasn’t just an impulse.

This was something else entirely.

Aegis wasn’t sure if he was ready for it.

But he sure as hell wasn’t stopping now.

Shanks kissed him harder, taking control once more, his hands sliding up to cradle Aegis’ face, pulling him even deeper into it.

Aegis couldn’t think anymore. His mind was a haze of sensations, and he was left grasping for anything to hold on to.

All he knew was that this was real.

And for the first time, he wasn’t running from it.

Not this time.

Shanks broke the kiss, drawing a whine from Aegis. The redhead merely chuckled, the bastard, as he leaned away—balancing on his knees once more. 

His lone hand gripped the hem of Aegis' pajama shirt, pulling it upwards and revealing the man's chest to him.

Aegis blushed, turning his head away but not complaining. He felt too exposed, but damn—

It felt good to be wanted like this.

He heard some shuffling, and a zipper—his heart jolted.

He glanced—and felt his mouth water.

Shanks was staring at him, his pants open, hand cupping and rubbing his very obvious and very big bulge.

Fuck.

“God, sweetheart,” Shanks groaned, cheeks red—eyes blown out. “You look so hot like this. Underneath me, exposed only to me ,”

Shanks had no idea what he was doing to Aegis right now. Aegis was pretty sure his cock was leaking so much precum, like a horny woman.

“Touch yourself, baby,” the nicknames were unfortunately making Aegis hornier and submissive. 

His hand reached up to fondle his chest, twisting his nipples as he bit his lips. His other hand reached down to push his pajama pants down—kicking off the offending material—flushing even more when Shanks' eyes followed the movement.

Aegis took out his hard, leaking cock—wrapping his hand around it shyly. His legs were spread open, exposing himself to Shanks' eyes. It felt embarrassing, but he also felt powerful.

“L- Like this?” He mumbled.

Because Shanks looked as if he was about one inch away from snapping.

Before him, Shanks let out a low groan. “Fuck, yes, baby—you’re so hot. Please. Please touch yourself for me,”

To Aegis' delight—and arousal—Shanks pulled out his own cock from the confines of his underwear. 

He was fucking massive .

Aegis wasn't even bullshitting. That thing looked as if it could split him in half. It was like, what—9 inches? Maybe 10? That thing could and would kill him, and Aegis would thank him. It was darker than his skin, and the tip was angry red. He could see the veins around the shaft, the tip leaking so much precum.

Aegis felt his mouth water at the sight.

“Aegis,”

His golden eyes met red ones, both blown wide in lust. Shanks gave him a smile, a dangerous smile. “ Touch yourself ,”

Aegis whined as power assaulted him. The bastard used his Conqueror's Haki on him again! But he couldn't lie… it felt good. He felt so compelled to do his every bidding.

His hand started pumping up and down his erect dick, his hips moving involuntarily at the sensation as he whimpered and whined.

“ Shanks ,” he moaned.

Shanks cursed under his breath, his own massive hand curling around his dick as he jerked himself off to Aegis jerking himself off. His eyes kept flickering from Aegis' face down to his hand moving up and down his cock.

“Just like that, baby. Such a good boy,” Shanks praised, making butterflies explode in Aegis' stomach. Shanks shifted, leaning closer to Aegis and lining up their cocks together.

He leaned down, bracing himself with his lone arm, as he littered marks on Aegis' neck, all the while thrusting forward.

“Ah!” Aegis moaned loud, hand letting go of his cock as he held onto Shanks instead, the redhead rubbing their cocks together as he moved. 

The sensations were maddening—and they weren't even on the best part yet! Fuck, it felt so good.

“You sound so pretty,” Shanks hummed, still sucking on Aegis' skin, leaving marks that'd take forever to disappear. But Aegis didn't care.

“I sound prettier when I cum,” Aegis gasped out, biting his lip as Shanks continued to move.

“Oh?” Shanks chuckled, “Now you've got me all curious,”

Shanks leaned back once more, pulling away from him completely. Aegis whined at the loss of warmth, “Shanks! Why are you-”

The Captain shushed him, before his hand gripped Aegis by the ass. “I've got you, sweetheart. I'll make you feel really good.”

Aegis yelped as Shanks pulled his lower body up, making him scramble to balance himself. His torso was still on the bed, while his lower half was being held up by Shanks. “What are you-”

He froze.

His legs were thrown over Shanks' shoulders, his erect dick right in front of the man's face. Before he could even say anything, the man swallowed him whole.

Pleasure exploded within him. Aegis moaned shamelessly loud, hands gripping onto the sheets. “Oh my God ! Fuck—yes, that's—”

Shanks sucked hard and Aegis almost sobbed.

God, if people told him months ago that Shanks from the anime One Piece was gonna give him a blowjob, he would've laughed and thrown them the bird.

But this? This was real .

The man basically killed him with his mouth, his one hand keeping Aegis from moving—which was hot, why was he so damn strong?!

He was unable to do anything but take it as the man sucked on his dick as if it was his last meal, all while in eye contact with him. Then, to Aegis' growing delight, fingers started prodding his hole.

He jolted as one entered him. Where did Shanks get lube?

Wait… was Shanks using his own precum as lube to prepare Aegis? His cheeks heated up even more.

The sensations grew stronger as Shanks' thick finger hit his prostate, moaning even louder and whining when Shanks added more fingers. Soon, three fingers were wrecking the bundle of nerves inside of him, all while he was sucking on his dick.

It was too much.

He was tipping over the edge—

“Fuck, I'm gonna cum! Shanks-”

His vision filled with white. Aegis' back arched over the bed as his mouth flew open, letting out the lewdest moan known to mankind—one that would put pornstars to shame.

Shanks let go of him gently, letting Aegis' body rest on the bed once more. The man was looking at him, wide-eyed, his cheeks absolutely red with pupils so blown out Aegis could hardly see the red of it.

“That was so hot. I need to hear that again,” he whispered, in awe. “Fuck, Aegis. I need to be inside you, please,” the man begged, making Aegis lick his lips.

He felt so powerful, being wanted by such a dangerous man. He spread his legs, licking his fingers as he dragged them down his aching hole that was now a little looser and definitely ready from Shanks' ministrations earlier.

Shanks swallowed.