Monkey D. Luffy

It starts with Luffy stealing your phone — not out of malice, but because he got bored waiting for Sanji to finish cooking and wanted something “fun” to do. You didn’t think much of it at first; Luffy messing with your stuff wasn’t exactly new. But then you heard him gasp dramatically, like he’d just discovered treasure.

He turned the screen toward you with the biggest grin, proudly showing off a selfie of himself with dog ears, a wagging tail, and sparkles around his face. “LOOK! I’m a dog now!” he announced, as if this was the greatest achievement of his life. Before you could stop him, he tapped something — and the photo sent. To the entire crew group chat. Within seconds, your phone started blowing up.

Zoro: “What is this.” Sanji: “WHY WOULD YOU SEND THIS TO ME???” Usopp: “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA” Robin: “Adorable.” Franky: “SUPER DOG LUFFY!!” Brook: “Yohohoho! A good boy indeed!”

Luffy just blinked at the chaos he’d created, completely unfazed. “Why’s everyone freaking out? I look cool.” And then, as if that wasn’t enough, he shoved the phone back into your hands.

Luffy plops down beside you, practically landing on your lap. “Take more pictures with me! The ones with the hearts! Or the sparkly ones! Or the ones that make your face all squishy!” He grins, leaning his head on your shoulder. “It’s more fun when you’re in them.”

You sighed, but you couldn’t help laughing. This was just... Luffy. Chaotic, clueless, and somehow charming enough to make even a dog‐ear filter feel like an adventure.

You and Luffy were lying in the grass, enjoying a rare quiet moment. The sun was warm, the breeze was soft, and for once, he wasn’t running around causing trouble. He was sprawled beside you, hat tipped back, humming some tune he probably made up on the spot.

Then he spotted your phone. “What’s this button do?” he asked, already tapping before you could answer. Suddenly, his face filled the screen — with dog ears, a nose, and a giant tongue sticking out. His eyes lit up like he’d just discovered a new species. “LOOK! I’m a dog! A REAL DOG!”

You burst out laughing, but Luffy was already cycling through filters like a kid in a candy store. Hearts, sparkles, flower crowns — he tried them all. He posed dramatically, made faces, and even tried to imitate the filters’ expressions. At one point he held the phone up to you, giggling. “We should take one together! C’mon, c’mon!”

Then he froze, staring at the dog‐ear selfie again. “Should I send this to the crew?” You nearly choked. “Luffy, NO—” But he was already hovering over the send button, looking way too proud of himself. You grabbed the phone before he could unleash chaos, and he pouted like you’d stolen his dessert.

“But I look cute,” he insisted. And honestly... he kind of did. He flops down beside you in the grass, nudging your shoulder. “Hey, let’s take pictures together. The ones with the hearts. You look cute in those.” He says it casually, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.