#7 swordsman | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shy-writer-999 · 1 month ago

Text

How many dreams to say "I love you?" (ii)

Summary: Zoro can’t stop dreaming about you, his best friend and crewmate. When his dreams start to wander from themes of romance and tenderness, he finds himself splitting at the seams. How long can he keep up this balance of night and day before he starts to go crazy?

Part 2 of 3 (or 4). ~5k words. CW: Mostly smut / PWP! Afab reader w/gendered language (she/her pronouns). Poor, pervy Zoro. Non-consensual voyeurism, masturbation, toys, kissing. NSFW content - minors stay away!

Part 2: A double life is unsustainable.

As much as Zoro told himself that he learned his lesson—don’t eavesdrop on conversations that are clearly not meant for your ears—the dreams about you didn’t stop.

Days went by and he could find no reprieve from the phantom version of you at night. Torture wasn’t the word for it. Agony, more like. He was in agony. Every night.

While the swordsman affirmed to himself that the dreams were a non-issue, and that they’d inevitably stop soon, you were rapidly starting to infect every single facet of his life.

This duality was maddening—at night, he’d answer to a fantasy world with you, where you treated him like some precious thing, called him ‘baby’ or ‘honey,’ and kissed him. But during the day you were his crewmate, friend, and nothing else. He’d smile at you like usual, sit by you at dinner, and tell himself that nothing changed.

This was a half-truth. The only thing that had changed was Zoro. You were behaving typically, maybe a bit quieter than usual, but he told himself that he was overthinking it.

The issue was that you wouldn’t leave him alone at night, and each of your sickeningly heart-melting smiles during the day was making his heart do that twisting thing. He couldn’t stand it.

Zoro didn’t know why his brain wouldn’t abandon this fixation with you—it had almost been a week; how much longer would this keep up? How many more tender moments would he share with you at night before he went insane during the day? If he got to a breaking point, what would fix it?

The dreams were festering inside of him. Confounding this effect was that the quality of sleep he was getting was atrocious. It’s like he wasn’t able to rest properly at night because the dreams were so concerningly lucid—he felt like he almost wasn’t dreaming at all, just living in an alternate reality, a reality turned upside down, where you loved him and smothered him in affection. A reality where he liked that.

Zoro had no one to confide in about his troubles—you were the person who he was the most emotionally close to. If he could have told you, he would have. But he was worried that it would change something. What would blurting out his dreams and baring these hidden thoughts accomplish, other than make you uncomfortable?

If he did that, you may get the wrong idea. He wasn’t trying to come onto you, he wasn’t in love with you, didn’t have feelings for you, etc. Zoro didn’t think he was capable of romantic love, it just wasn’t in the picture for him and never would be. But that wasn’t the issue here, he told himself. In Zoro’s mind, the problem was that he was being tormented by you at night and couldn’t help it. He was at a loss for what to do.

You were one of the highlights of his days, even before the dreams started. Now he could feel himself, more than ever, looking forward to those moments and latching onto them during the day. He harbored the suspicion that his brain would memorize your face more each time. The dream version of you kept getting more lifelike, more brilliant, more real. It was uncanny.

After the first three nights, Zoro started to brace himself. He knew what was coming when he fell asleep. He knew you’d be there waiting for him in some new scenario.

DREAMS 5, 6, & 7: “You’ve been a bit spacey recently.”

The fifth dream Zoro had about you was one where you held his hand (literally, just you holding his hand, nothing else). Your hand was warm and soft—it felt like it was made for him, like you were made for him. You ran your thumb across his skin and squeezed his hand through your intertwined fingers.

It was a short dream. When he woke up, he could still feel your hand on his. If he kept his eyes closed, if he stayed still, he could feel your fingers, your weight, maybe even your breath against his neck…

When he woke up, he was befuddled. Seeing you on deck the following morning, he glanced down at your hands. Would they feel the same as they did in his dream?

The next night, in the sixth dream, you studied his face quizzically.

“What’s wrong babe? You’ve been a bit spacey recently.” Your eyes explored his face imploringly.

He said something in response. He couldn’t remember what it was, and it was of no consequence. After you studied his face more, you remarked, “Zoro, you have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.” He flushed even in his sleep and woke up moments later to a quicker heartbeat than was normal. This was seriously starting to concern him. As mundane as these sequences were, they were abnormal and confusing.

Were these dreams some subconscious manifestation of a nascent health problem? Or was he not training hard enough? Perhaps this was some form of self-performed punishment for being so distracted by your presence? Maybe he needed to double down on the stoicism and the ascetism.

The seventh dream was also mundane. You were wearing one of his hoodies and a pair of his sweatpants; you kissed him and told him he smelled good. He had seen you wear his hoodies before, in real life. You always had an excuse (“mine are all in the washing machine, can I wear some of yours?) and he always looked at you more than normal.

There was something about you in his clothes that stirred him inside. He didn’t know what was up with that. Something squeezed inside of him at the sight of your face peeking out of his hoodies, your limbs filling up his shirts and sweats; he couldn’t put his finger on it.

The morning after the hoodie and sweatpants dream, Zoro woke up perplexed. His dreams, in the wake of the conversation he overheard, stayed relatively romantic. They weren’t straying from themes of tenderness and endearment (well, except that first dream, the shower sex one).

The romance is what baffled him the most—he had never looked at anyone with romantic intentions before, so why was his brain throwing it at him? Why you, in particular? It was mystifying, suffocating, and excruciating.

There were floodgates inside of him, pooled up dams of emotion, burgeoning romance, desires and fears, and your conversation with Nami sent a shockwave through those walls. They began to crumble, and new cracks showed every night.

Zoro tried not to worry, but he had an understanding that this odd trend of (what was it at this point?) six nights consumed by you was only sustainable so far as the dreams stayed this way—tender and, above everything, mundane.

He was a regimented man. He stuck to a clear and concise schedule, as far as waking up, feeding himself, working out, etc. But the dreams threw a wrench in his daily routine. The negligent quality of sleep he was getting, even after only six days, was starting to have quite the effect on him.

He was barely keeping it together by the six-day mark, dark circles deepening into sunken rings under his eyes. He concluded that he couldn’t handle anything farther than these dreams of kisses and cuddles. If the dreams changed—if they got explicit, he told himself—then he’d start to really lose it.

Emotional turmoil be damned, he could retain a sense of normalcy as long as his waking hours went on as usual and nothing else changed. He may be exhausted, but he could cope. He hoped the dreams would fade into absurdity, cease, and leave him the hell alone.

This was a self-deluding hope.

DREAM 8: Breaking point

The next night, Zoro dreamed that he was walking around the ship aimlessly. He did a lap around the deck, meandered lazily through the galley, and checked the crow’s nest. It seemed like the whole thing was empty. Where was everyone?

He sauntered to check out the sleeping quarters. All the doors were open, the lights were off, and the cabins were empty, except yours. Your door was ajar and the light was on—he felt an overwhelming sense of curiosity. As Zoro walked towards your door, time seemed to alter. He moved in slow motion, laser-focused on your cabin, approaching slowly with bated breath.

As he got closer, he started to hear something.

It was a mix of sounds. There was a wet sort of clacking sound, first, and when he got closer to your door, he also heard faint gasps and gentle moans. His heart beat faster. He reached the door—it was only a couple inches open. He knew way lay ahead.

The sounds were getting louder. He leaned in, staring through the miniscule gap between the door and doorframe, to see what was happening. His hand was poised on the doorknob, ready to push it open.

When Zoro saw what was happening inside, he froze.

You were lying on your bed naked, thighs spread, propped up on your pillows. Your face was contorted into an expression of bliss, mouth agape just slightly, brows pinched together, eyes closed. His gaze travelled down to fix on your breasts, a perfect pair in his opinion. But your arms looked like they were moving, so his gaze trailed down farther. He saw clearly now that you were touching yourself.

You were moving one finger very slowly in and out of yourself; your sensitive spots were red and inflamed, juices seeping out and covering your thighs and hand. He listened to your labored breathing and heard the messy sounds echo through the room.

When you stuffed another finger in yourself, he heard you murmur something, but he couldn’t quite make out what you said. He leaned closer, his proximity to the door threatened to push it open.

You let the sound out again. He heard it this time.

“Zoro.”

Your moan was quiet and needy. He was mesmerized—you moaned his name again and moved your fingers faster. Your pitch increased, your body tensed up, you were so wet that arousal was pooling beneath you, saturating and staining the sheets.

He thought you were about to orgasm when you stopped suddenly, drawing your fingers out of yourself with a gasp.

Reaching to the side, you picked something up. Zoro’s brain registered it with a considerable lag—that was a vibrator. That was your vibrator. He saw it once on accident, when he offered to grab some of your laundry and put it in with his load.

That must have been months ago. When he walked into your room and looked for your hamper, the vibrator caught his eye, sitting on your bed as plain as day. You had forgotten that it was there. He found himself blushing and pretended like he hadn’t seen it. But now it made an appearance in his dream—how sick and twisted.

You pressed the toy into your entrance, pressing it inside yourself with it for a few moments before you pulled it out again. Every thrust of your wrist was coupled with a keen of his name.

The vibrator was dripping wet. A string of your arousal connected the tip of the vibrator to your core and his eyes followed as you brought the toy to your clit. Pressing a button, the vibrator sprung to life, filling the room with a low whirring and pulsing sound. You whined his name again and pushed the vibrator back and forth on your sensitive nub, toes curling in pleasure. Your other hand crept down and snuck a finger back into yourself.

Zoro was hypnotized by the sight of you getting off with both your vibrator and fingers, evidently touching yourself to the thought of him. Your moans got louder again, along with the obscene sounds emanating from down there. He could feel his erection. He was painfully hard.

You started to writhe and squirm.

“Zoro, fuck,” you mewled, tone pathetic and desperate. “Fuuuucccck me, Zoro, fuck, fuck, fuck.” Your thighs started to shake.

It seemed like you were about to cum. He wanted you to cum, wanted to see you cum from fucking yourself with your fingers and toy to the thought of him—but right when you started moaning the loudest, right when you were one good pulse away from screaming his name, Zoro woke up. Of course.

Upon opening his eyes, he was immeasurably frustrated. Any time that these dreams, sexual or not, seemed like they were coming to a climax, he’d always wake up. It was like his brain was telling him to go fuck himself. And he was about to.

He couldn’t take it anymore, it was like his mind was playing games, like it was edging him or trying to piss him off. He was rock hard, about to cry from frustration, wishing more than anything that he could just have you, but knowing that would and should never happen.

Zoro had been telling himself that the dreams were just an aberration, a mistake, that he could forget about them during the day because they only were a nuisance at night, and nothing really happened in them that would impact his day in any meaningful way. But the narrative of the dreams not impacting his day didn’t hold up when he started to fist his cock while thinking about you.

He was forced to face the facts—the dreams were getting worse to the point where they started to bleed into his waking hours.

The morning after Zoro dreamed about you masturbating, he had to step away. Seeing you walk around the deck, interacting with you and watching you walk away… it was too much.

He went to the bathroom, locked the door, and palmed his growing erection until he couldn’t hold back anymore. Unzipping his pants and sneaking a hand into his underwear, he started to touch himself.

Maybe it had just been too long since he orgasmed (or even touched a woman). Sure, that’s what all of this was. His brain was grasping for straws because he was too repressed, right? You were there in front of him every day, so his brain had to make do—this was just a matter of proximity, nothing more. This is what Zoro coddled himself with, soothing his worries for a few moments. It had just been too long.

While he squeezed and stroked his aching length, he could barely keep in the feral grunts and groans threatening to leave his mouth. He bit his lip. Every time his fist grazed his angry, leaking tip, his cock twitched. It felt so good, but it would feel even better, if only…

At first, he tried to not think about you while doing it. He felt guilty enough as it was, having explicit dreams about his closest friend. But when his hand was wrapped around his shaft and precum trickled down his fingers in clear rivulets, the image of you touching yourself seared in his brain, unrelenting and arousing.

“Zoro.”

His name had sounded otherworldly when it parted your lips, coated in tones of lust and desperation. Just like the dreamscape he entered every night, composed of only thoughts, his thoughts in this moment could stay internalized too, couldn’t they? Kept private? This could be a one-time thing, hell, maybe it would make the dreams and nagging thoughts go away altogether. It had been too long, after all. Against his better judgment, the swordsman indulged. Just this once.

Scattered scenes flashed through Zoro’s mind the instant he decided to let his thoughts wander. All of it thundered at once like a maelstrom.

First, the look of your eyes, glossy, rolling back in your head in ecstasy. Then, the image of him shoving his cock in your wet mouth and watching you choke on it. The feeling of scissoring his fingers inside of you, of pulling your hair, of listening to your whimpers while he wrenched orgasms from you, pushing his fingers into your mouth while you sucked on them and made eye contact with him, watching your body writhe and writhe and writhe… every morsel and droplet of your envisioned pleasure fueled the force that was Zoro’s fist on his cock.

It would be hot and sloppy. Filthy.

You’d tell him to “keep going,” you’d dig your fingernails into his biceps, drool from how good it felt, swallow up his inches like nothing—he revered you, craved you, and worshipped you. He needed all of you. Wanted to smell you, taste you, hear you, and have you. He was getting carried away.

What if you walked into the bathroom right now? The door was locked, obviously, but the mental image of you stumbling across him like this gave him some sort of nasty thrill. If only you approached him, sunk to your knees and opened your mouth, petted him and praised him—

When the swordsman came all over his hands, he felt vile. He felt like a hypocrite.

He always called Sanji a pervert and derided him for his lack of control around women, and now here Zoro was, getting off on a dream he had about his own friend and crewmate. And what’s worse is that he didn’t look away in the dream when he saw you touching yourself. He didn’t even try. (To be fair, it’s not like he had control over what he dreamed about, nor could he control what he did in them, but that was a nonfactor to him.)

Zoro felt like shit.

The next time you talked to him, he turned crimson. He seemed distracted. He had been working out more than usual, so you told yourself it was the post-workout glow. You’d never seen him blush a day in your life, but sure enough, it was creeping up his neck and slowly starting to take over his cheeks.

He tried to forget his trip to the bathroom, but your pretty face made his heart thump and his stomach turn. He tried to forget the mental images his brain conjured up in his rabid state of desire. It was futile. He felt like he was going to be sick.

In your brief conversation after dinner the same day, you asked Zoro if he’d grab a drink with you. “It’s been a while,” you smiled at him, same as ever. “Let’s catch up in the next couple days over some sake. Deal?”

He hesitantly agreed. He missed you—the real you, not the dream version of you. When he said yes, you beamed at him, and his mouth went dry. He needed to get a grip and figure out what the fuck his problem was.

Zoro gave up on talking to you about the conversation he eavesdropped on over a week ago. He felt like he missed his opportunity (which is arguable) and, more than that, he felt like he wouldn’t know how to approach that conversation. What would he say at this point? “Hey, I’ve been having vivid dreams about you and I’m going fucking crazy?”

No. So, he kept it inside. He figured that he’d cross that bridge when he got to it. Would he ever admit that he heard the conversation? He wondered about this. Maybe he’d never fess up to it. Maybe he’d keep it to himself, internalize once again. But he was quickly learning that when he tried to stuff these huge emotions back inside of him, they got bigger, louder, more unruly. It was like psychological warfare, except the assailant was his brain.

At this point, the dreams felt all-consuming. He’d get so wrapped up in them at night that he felt like he was in a daze during the day. Perhaps he was being dramatic, or perhaps his brain was desperately struggling to regulate a whopping load of emotions he had never encountered before, or rather, that he had never let himself acknowledge before.

He worried that you could tell something was off with him. You could.

Later, you asked, “Hey Zoro, you doing ok?”

He stuttered out a response, flustered by your presence, falling apart in seconds. It was very unlike him. “Wha—? H-hey, uh, yeah, I’m fine. What’s up?”

“Nothing, just checking on you. You’ve been a bit spacey recently.” Your expression was one of concern. He seemed off, not to mention those dark circles of his. Was he getting sick? Was the insomnia coming back?

Upon hearing your words, it was like a lightning bolt hit Zoro. “You’ve been a bit spacey recently.”

What an insane coincidence. You said those very words to him in a dream a few nights ago, after which you complimented his eyes. He froze for a second, then tried to play off his shock with a yawn.

“I feel fine.” He shrugged. It wasn’t convincing in the slightest. “Just haven’t been sleeping the best.”

The paranoia was coming—did you know that he was dreaming about you? Had he been acting weird? Could you tell that he was thinking about you every moment of the day? God forbid, were you starting to form the misconception that he liked you in some romantic or erotic way? Fuck. This was getting ridiculous. Get a grip, man, he told himself.

You tried to ignore how odd he was acting. If he said he was fine, then he was fine.

He tried to convince himself that he was fine. He tried to wait it out and see that his attempt at convincing himself was effective.

It was not.

DREAM 9: A shocking revelation

Zoro’s dream the following night was delightful and concerning.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, fiddling with something. Maybe he was sharpening a sword, refitting a sheath, polishing his boots… something like that. That part was foggy. Behind him, Zoro felt a weight on the bed. He knew it was you.

You scooted close to him from where you were sitting and reached your hands under the hem of his shirt. Your fingers ran over his bare skin, relishing the feeling of his abs and happy trail, every inch of his taut, tanned skin. You reached around his front and wrapped your arms around him. Your palms were warm, and you moved closer, body flush on his from behind. It was not lost on him that he could feel your breasts pressing on his back.

“Zoroooo,” you cooed right in his ear. Goosebumps. “You’re no fun. Pay attention to me. I’m bored.” You were whining.

You tickled him, poked him, kissed his back through the fabric of his shirt. You were all over him and it felt like your hands were everywhere. You were begging him to put down what he was doing and give you his undivided attention.

“Fine,” he responded in mock annoyance, rolling his eyes and putting his things away. He turned, maneuvering his body so he was facing you. “What do you want me to do?”

You pouted. “I don’t know. I’m bored. Let’s lay down and cuddle. Please?”

The scene shifted. You two were lying in bed, facing each other. You were eye to eye, arms thrown over each other. Zoro tucked your hair behind your ear, breathless. He was enamored, entranced by your beauty and admiration. Your hand was placed under his shirt, resting on his side. The skin contact felt electric. You leaned in and started to pepper his face with kisses—a recurring theme in these dreams. He must have really wanted that.

He closed his eyes.

You first brushed your lips lightly over his, and then you moved to kiss all over one of his cheeks, all over his forehead, his other cheek, his chin, his nose, his eyes, his jawline, ending at his lips again. You nuzzled his nose, ran your fingers through his hair—it was like you couldn’t get enough of him. Your lips were soft, meeting his delicately. When you pulled away from him. You held eye contact, an affectionate smile playing across your lips. He smelled you, felt you, and felt enveloped by you.

Zoro leaned in and kissed your forehead. You giggled and pulled him closer.

He could feel himself starting to say something in the dream, working up the nerve to say something that made his heart feel like it would stop. The words were getting caught in his mouth, they felt like they were taking forever to form…

They were words he almost said to you once before in a dream. He forced them out through his cotton mouth and hesitation.

“I love you.”

When the words left his lips, that twisting feeling happened inside of him so intensely that it must have detonated something. Each piece of shrapnel sent bolts of lightning through his body; he felt like he was vibrating, euphoric, every nerve on fire. He couldn’t breathe.

The dream version of you looked into his eyes and nodded. “I know you do, Zoro. I see you.”

Buzzing, Zoro felt like he wanted to rip his heart out of his chest and give it to you. He wanted you to see him, to see every part of him, to bare his soul to you and say ‘look, here is everything in me, here is every part of me.’

You were about to pull him into another kiss before he awoke up with a start, sweating and practically shaking.

Zoro’s heart was beating out of his chest. He sat up. Immediately, his first instinct was to check whether or not you were really in his bed. You weren’t—to both his relief and disappointment. He checked the time—3:36AM. Far too early. But he couldn’t fall back asleep now, not when his heart was pounding like this.

Why did he tell you he loved you?

It would be an understatement to say that Zoro’s mind was racing. He recalled that in one of his first dreams he wondered if you would still feel lonely if he embraced you. But if he did more than embrace you, if he gave all of himself to you, what then? What would you feel if he did that?

Would you stop feeling lonely and sad if he gave everything to you, even his heart? Would you give him yours, in return?

He ruminated on the concept of giving all of himself to you. What did that mean, and why did the thought pass through his mind when he was dreaming?

To give you all of him, for you to see every part of him… was that love? Is this what it meant to love? If giving you every part of himself meant spending every moment with you that he could, kissing and caressing you, making you feel better, listening to every word you stored up inside, sharing every word he stored up inside… The realization hit him like a train.

He wanted that. He ardently wanted to fill in the hole that loneliness had carved out of your life. And he realized that there was one in his life, as well. A lacuna of would-be companionship that he had forever thought was out of reach.

Could he give you what you needed? Is that what love is? To share yourself with someone else, to want them, to cherish them, care for them, see them for who they are?

He wanted to give you all of him. He didn’t want you to feel lonely, sad, or distressed ever again. He wanted to always be there, he wanted you to know you could tell him anything, wanted to know you like the back of his hand, and he wanted you to know him like that, too.

Zoro understood now what that twisting, thumping feeling inside of him was. No, it wasn’t arrythmia, or indigestion, or anything of the sort—it had been lying low for months, boiling under the surface. It all clicked into place.

That stirring and twisting feeling? It was the feeling of that lock inside of him breaking into a million pieces. The lock around his heart that prevented him from wanting to love and from knowing how to… it was gone now, obliterated.

That impenetrable lock, the lead chains, the crushing weight of it… He used to think that the key to that lock didn’t exist. But now that you were here, Zoro realized that you were the missing key. You were the one capable of ripping open that relentless opacity, that stoicism, that brick of pain that he tried to ignore and train away. You had ripped it to shreds, like it was nothing. You did it over the course of many months, many days, and even in his sleep.

Zoro realized that he was in love with you.

He wanted to recognize you completely and absolutely, and for you to do the same to him.

Zoro wanted to take showers with you and take turns shampooing each other’s hair. He wanted to hold your hand in public, feeling and seeing nothing else but you. He wanted to come home after a long day and hold you tight, kiss you and call you sweet names. He wanted to nuzzle your nose every day and drink up every smile like he was starving for it.

To think that you were so sad and lonely you cried? That shattered him. Hearing you be so vocal about it, seeing a different side of you that he never knew before—maybe he never felt this emotion until he met you for a reason. Now that the pieces were falling into place, he saw that it was you. It was always you. It was only you. It would only be you forever.

He did not have another dream about you for three nights.

< previous part | masterlist | next part >

taglist: @riftmage27 @eggrollforyou @imhwajaez @wiyenspanel @xxmysticxxx @moonmaiden1996

a/n: thanks so much for reading! part 3 is going to be a minute - lmk if you want to be on the taglist! i have yet to write (most of) it.

#zoro smut #roronoa zoro smut #one piece smut #op smut #op x reader #one piece x reader #one piece reader insert #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x y/n #zoro x reader #zoro x you #zoro x y/n

523 notes · View notes

namism · 17 days ago

Text

holding your hand

➳ categories: canonverse, gender neutral reader

➳ summary: How Sanji, Nami, Law, Zoro, Kid, Koby, & Sabo secretly hold your hand.

➳ notes: happy 300, and happy valentine's! 🧡

Sanji

Sanji isn't ashamed of showing affection publicly, so he holds your hand most of the time.

However, he does so in such a way that he considers pretty mild.

Some of the Straw Hats believe otherwise, though.

Notably, Zoro calls his affectionate hand-holding initiatives "shameless" and insults him for his disgraceful public display of affection.

But Sanji can only chuckle to himself as he continues with his gestures—Zoro doesn't know what he's talking about.

This is pretty mild, and it's not at all shameless.

Just how would the swordsman react when he sees how much more physical Sanji gets in private?

Sanji is a sucker for you. He loves getting physically touchy once you show that you're comfortable with it.

Holding your hand is just another way that he shows his affection; he usually shows it through light feathery kisses on the back of your hands and lips, but in public, the safest option is hand-holding.

When you're around people, your fingers are loosely intertwined with his.

When you're alone together, Sanji massages and plays with your fingers gently and intimately. Sensually.

Even then, it doesn't bother you because he seems to be genuinely enjoying himself.

He runs his fingertips across your skin, feeling its texture and seemingly memorizing the way your fingers curve.

He admires your nails as his brain gradually shuts off after a long day of working at the ship.

Sanji doesn't care what you're doing as long as he gets to play with your hands. You can be reading a book or dozing off calmly, and he would continue with his movements.

Some days when he's extremely tired, he falls asleep holding your hand loosely and it makes you feel warm inside. On those occasions, you cuddle up beside him and drift off to sleep as well.

Nami

Nami is secure woman.

That said, hand-holding is just another lovely gesture that you have both grown accustomed to in your relationship.

It's a normal occurrence that doesn't strike any embarrassment or shame.

In all honesty, it's not her favorite romantic gesture, but it's an action socially acceptable enough when you're in public.

Even then, you don't hold hands 24/7.

But it does come in handy when someone attempts to flirt with her.

Yes, Nami can handle herself just fine against creepy people, but sometimes you just have to step in and do something, you know?

One time at a bar with some of the Straw Hats, a guy approached her and started using lame pick-up lines to win her heart.

Nami seems disinterested as usual, but you're head is burning with rage from the other end of the room.

You walk up to them briskly, and you immediately lock your hands with hers.

The dude doesn't get the hint, though. "Siblings?" he asks.

Nami clenches her hands with yours. Her eyes narrow, the hues in them darkening.

Yeah, this guy is stupid.

"Lovers, actually," she corrects.

And just like that, he's gone.

It's a great tactic, one that's funny, effective, and certainly something you would repeatedly do to keep people away from flirting with your girlfriend.

Law

Law is too shy to initiate romantic gestures in front of his friends. Ironically, he's more comfortable with being spotted by strangers in public than his friends or crew.

(It might be because he's always one tease away from ending up a pathetic blushing mess... compared to Penguin and Shachi, at least strangers know how to mind their business.)

Anyway, you don't understand his odd preferences, but you don't question it as long as he displays physical affection. The gestures aren't extreme; they're rather tame, but even the tamest of gestures in anyone's eyes is already the boldest of them in Law's mind.

He holds your hand when he's certain that nobody is around in the Polar Tang, or when the public space is clear of his eavesdropping crewmates.

His tattooed hand holds yours in a loose grip as the other rests on the sheath of his Kikoku over his shoulder, a sign of his relaxed demeanor as you walk side by side.

Law would tighten his grip when you drag him around or when he senses danger nearby.

One time, you were walking around Sabaody Archipelago when crowds of concertgoers swarmed the area and caused a bustling commotion at the grove.

Law's first instinct was to clench his hands with yours and pull you closer to him as strangers among strangers bumped into you after failed attempts to control their budding excitement.

Times like those call for Law's protectiveness, and whenever it happens, he tends to keep you close to him in fear of losing you in the crowd.

It almost happened before when a rival pirate crew raided an island the Heart Pirates were on, and Law was genuinely frightened.

From that day onward, he vowed to always hold your hand in some way.

Zoro

Zoro doesn't do hand-holding.

However, he does it in some way.

For one, if you have to dismount the ship or you're descending from a flight of stairs that can mess with your balance, he would, of course, offer his hand to help.

For two, if you get scared to walk alone at night or at a sketchy island with obstacles that can endanger your life, he would let you hold his hand.

You generally get a pass because it's you. If it were anyone else, he would feel uncomfortable.

When he sees Sanji swooning over a girl, his hands caressing her fingers as she laughs, Zoro notices how much she likes his touches.

The sight made Zoro snort. Frankly, Sanji looks stupid.

However, it gave him an idea to try it with you just once.

Just once.

He doesn't know how to initiate it because he never does these things.

When you want to be physically intimate, you do it through other means.

So as expected, Zoro executes it awkwardly, not until you show a reaction that has your whole face lighting up.

It's a normal day at the Thousand Sunny, with everyone on the crew busying themselves with personal work.

Zoro's resting at the upper deck by Nami's tangerine trees when you sit yourself beside him and lean your head on his shoulder to rest with him.

Zoro takes that opportunity to place his hand on top of yours, which shakes the sleepiness away from your senses and instead brings you energy.

He instantly feels warm inside seeing how happy you look, but he promises to never tell you that.

Kid

Oh, Kid loves to hold your hand, alright.

He realized recently how much better it is to hold you rather than to use his powers in magnetizing whatever metallic garment you're wearing so he could pull you next to him.

He holds your wrist with his metal hand, the size difference driving you insane.

But most of the time, he holds you with his human hand, which is still evidently larger than yours.

It's a sweet act in some way—the hand that represents his humanity is what he uses to hold you.

Anyway, he often drags you around the ship or island while holding your wrist tightly.

Sometimes, you initiate the hand-holding and make a poor attempt to lace your fingers with his.

It's a bit difficult to do since his fingers alone are so much larger than yours, but Kid silently enjoys it.

He likes to see you try, and it's a nice break from the usual way he holds you.

More often than not, he gets made fun of by Killer and his crew for acting so soft around you.

You don't take offense to it because they have made it clear that they were only making fun of their captain, the one who usually puts up a dominant exterior.

Kid wants to punch them for teasing him so badly, but their teasing doesn't stop him from holding hands with you.

Because deep inside, he knows that they don't mean any harm.

Koby

Shy Koby. You can only imagine the amount of time it took him to progress from minimal skinship to holding your hand for extended amounts of time.

Hint: it took him a couple of months.

Part of which is attributed to his shyness, but he also had to make sure that you were okay with it.

The first time it happened drove him insane, to say the least. Although it lasted shortly, feeling your hot skin on his sent a different type of surge through his body.

Sure, Helmeppo hugged him often, and Garp punched him when he misbehaved, but those were different.

Way different.

He wasn't used to it, but it didn't help that he had a crush on you, on top of the circumstance when it happened.

The both of you were cleaning up after Garp's mess at his office, arranging the upturned furniture and binders upon binders of confidential Marine documents.

Koby didn't realize just how close you were to each other when he bent down to help you. At that time, he was focused on cleaning up the office before Garp got back.

Suddenly, you both reached for the same fallen document on the floor, your skin coming into contact.

Your hands froze. Silence came. After a few seconds, you decided to calmly pull away and let Koby do the job, pretending to ignore what just happened.

Koby had to take a deep breath for himself after that encounter.

It escalated soon enough when you began to notice his reactions to your touches. To say that he enjoyed them was an understatement.

As time passed, it was without question when you began to make your interactions more intentional, passing the barrier of accidental physicality and achieving a level of comfort that didn't exist months before.

Eventually, Koby warmed up to the physical contact and could now maintain skinship without mentally malfunctioning every 30 seconds.

Currently, he loves to hold your pinky finger because he thinks it's a cute gesture without being too loudly affectionate, but there are times when he does just hold your hand with fingers intertwined.

At the end of the day, no matter the way he holds your hand, you're just glad that he gets to do so without no longer feeling awkward.

Sabo

When Sabo develops a crush on you, his way to your heart is to make his presence physically known all the damn time.

He initially expresses his interest through his words, but he soon realizes that verbal flirtation isn't enough to express just how much he's into you, so he decides to become intentionally obvious... through physical intimacy.

It's subtle when he does it, but he deems himself a master because it works every single time.

Sabo makes it a goal to stand beside you at any given moment, even moving closer when he realizes that you're comfortable with having him be that close.

It becomes a mutual understanding over time that there is something romantic in your coupled actions, so when he gets the opportunity to initiate skin-to-skin contact, he seizes it before he loses the chance.

He specifically loves to hold your hand because it's a subtle gesture good enough to make your heart flutter.

He does it often when people are around because he wants everyone to see, but doesn't want to at the same time.

(He thinks it's like a game. Also, he enjoys the thrill.)

One thing he does a lot that testifies to that thought is to gently place his hand on top of yours under the dinner table.

Everyone would be eating their meals and involving themselves in conversation, yet you have your hand under Sabo's in a secret act of flirtation.

Sometimes, he would look at you knowingly and start playing with your fingers, causing you to reciprocate and give him your full attention.

Over time, it becomes your favorite way of holding hands with him (not that you do it a lot to begin with)—suddenly, the thrill of people finding out excites you.

...until you were eventually caught by none other than Jiron during dinner.

The little geezer dropped his fork on the ground, so when he bent forward to pick it up, he saw Sabo's hand on top of yours under the table.

He ended up making a commotion over it, and just like that, your little secret was out.

It didn't stop you and him from holding hands, though. If anything, it fueled your physical intimacy even more.

753 notes · View notes

missisjoker · 7 months ago

Text

Since HBO only gave us 4 minutes of Cregan Stark this season, and we likely will have to wait at least 2 years, if not all 4, to see him again, I'd like to bring to your attention some facts from canon to remind you just how BADASS canon Cregan is.

Fought his own usurper uncle for control of the North at the age of 16 and WON.

Fought the best sword of the 7 Kingdoms at that time, Dragonknight Aemon Targaryen to a DRAW and got praised by Aemon as the "finest swordsman Aemon has ever faced".

Marched South to uphold an oath he gave to a man he only saw once in his life to restore the monarchy- even though the said monarchy didn't give any help or care when his own seat was usurped by his uncle.

Installed so much fear of his own and his men's ferocity in battle in everyone south of Trident that when his main forces finally crossed the Riverlands, the Greens panicked and offed Aegon just to sue for peace.

Got pissed that by the time he reached Crownlands, the war was almost over. Took Kings Landing, wanted to go and take Castely Rock, Storm's End and Old Town (in no particular order). When Lord Tully rightfully mentioned that Cregan's men would die if he goes on to attack other kingdoms, Cregan replied " They died the day we marched, boy."

Became the Hand of the King and de-facto the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms for 2 weeks.

Dispensed judgment upon traitors, both the greens and the blacks. Hacked a few heads himself with his ancestral sword Ice, sent the rest to the Wall.

When Baela Targaryen begged him to show mercy to men who freed her from captivity, he refused. Not even the tears of a dragon could melt the frozen heart of Cregan Stark. But when lady Baela brandished a sword and declared she would cut off a head of any man who thought to harm the men who saved her, the Wolf of Winterfell smiled for all to see, and allowed that if her ladyship is so fond of those dogs, he'll permit her to keep them.

Made sure the new king is safe and sound.

Seeing that there was no Targaryen bride to take back to Winterfell to fulfill the Pact of Ice and Fire, released the Throne from the Pact and got himself a new bride.

Resigned his station and went back to the North, leaving half of his men to repopulate the South.

All of that at the ripe age of 23.

#spoilers #Cregan Stark #hotd #game of thrones

664 notes · View notes

sinning-23 · 1 year ago

Note

Hello,

How about a LA luffy where he's dating Reader and he keeps talking about her but no one believes him until she comes and rescue them or something I know not much details but please take this to your account English isn't my first language so excuse me

OMG THIS IS PERFECT! Thank you for the request! I apologize for taking so long to write it I've been so busy and full of writers block its insane! I added a little twist with his and made th reader a gunslinger sooo yeah(for the plot) Anywa here we go! Enjoy

Warnings: None

The strawhat crew was becoming increasingly irritated with how much Luffy would speak of this mystery woman who he claimed to be his 'girlfriend'. In all honestly, neither of them thought he had the romantic capacity to even GET a girlfriend to begin with. But the way he spoke of her...it couldn't all be lies could it?

He mentioned how you'd saved him with your remarkable skills as a gunslinger and you were an amazing shot. He gushed about how it took only one bullet to kill three men who had threatened him and when it was all over you 'pepper his face with kisses'. How you were always there to save him more times than not and that you were just absolutely beautiful. The 'prettiest girl' he'd ever seen as he told it.

"If you guys are so in love why didn't she join you on this little pirate adventure." Nami quips, eyes rolling at the most recent story Luffy had explained. He only tilted his head and smiled as if the answer was just so obvious (it wasn't.)

"It wasn't her dream." He smiles, rocking back and for a bit as Zoro finished off his drink before speaking.

"This wasn't exactly our first choice either but here we are." the swordsman smirks, his arms crossed over his chest.

The smirk was soon replaced with irritation when the waiter went to speak.

"That's different. Besides, I'm sure Luffy wouldn't leave a woman like that all on her lonesome. Right?" Sanji questions, more so trying to convince himself Luffy had more sense than that. But the brunette only shakes his head.

"Nope, she said we would cross paths again one day and I let her be. It was a deal! And now I get to wait until one day I see her beautiful face again." And before anyone could protest or pry any further, Luffy stuffed his face with food.

A sigh rang out from Nami as she leaned against the seating of the booth they're in, only to quickly shoot back up with wide eyes. Since Luffy's bounty had got a hell of a whole lot bigger, there was always the occasional run-in with someone who claimed they'd be getting their money sooner rather than later.

On this particular night though, a gang of about 6 or 7 had strutted up to their booth and slammed his bounty on the cracked wood of the table, making it shake. Zoro paused, debating if these idiots were worth the fight and Luffy continued to eat without a care in the world.

"I'm getting that bounty tonight." Then, what they all assumed was the leader spoke, his hand drawing his sword. This could have gotten ugly rather quickly but the fight seemed to be over with the sound of fired shots ringing through the eatery.

It was so quick you'd almost miss it…each shot followed by another, and one by one each of the men dropped like flies, screams and gasps of frightened patrons filling up the space momentarily. From the darkened corner of the bar stood a woman in a rather large coat that almost touched the floor.

The revolver in her hand rattled before she tucked it away into one of the many pockets that adorned her body. She was a decent height, and her hair was pushed out of her face most likely to keep her line of sight from being obscured. Finally, the once look of disgust that was painted over her features was filled with joy as she stepped over the bodies of the men she'd just laid to waste.

"Luffy!" She squeals, practically vibrating as the Stawhat leaped form his seat and embraced the mystery woman.

This wasn't the usual hug though, Luffy had simply lifted the lady and twirled her, his face buried in the crook of her neck and she giggled and tangled her fingers in his hair.

"I'm sorry did we miss something?" Nami quips, looking to the rest of the crew to confirm they were just as lost.

"This is her! Remember the girl I've been talking about!?" He practically shouts, his hand secure at your waist as that iconic smile plays over his lips.

Oh okay it was finally starting to make sense. Two cinimon rolls but one can and will kill you if they so desire...well-

Nami is the first to laugh, disbelief filling her but the closer she looks the more her laughter and smirk dies down. Luffy's hand was firm at your waist, yours on his chest as you flash a content smile.

"Y/n, meet my crew!" Luffy introduces as you jut your hand out happily, meeting that of whom you soon learn is Usopp and Sanji. Nami was next and Zoro simple noddded in your direction.

"You really know how to pick em! Congratulations on this bounty by the way love." You hum, pressing kisses over Luffy's freckled cheeks.

Damn how much love and affection could you give? It was like every two seconds your lips were pressed somewhere against their Captain’s face! And he didn’t seems to mind at all! Well, not that Luffy was bothered by it but still! With one last kiss to your boyfriend’s face, you usher the crew out of the eatery, sliding the bartender some extra berrie to apologize for the ruckus.

The two of you looked so inseparable like that, hands interlinked and swinging back and forth simultaneously.

“You know what this means don’t you. Usopp teases, sticking his hand out awaiting Nami to fulfil her end of the bargain.

She swears in defeat roller her eyes before paying.

Who wouldn’t make a bet on something as outlandish as their captain having a girlfriend!?

#x reader #one piece #reader is black #one piece live action #i don't care he's hot #headcannons #one piece x reader #opla #luffy opla #opla luffy #monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy x reader #opla luffy x reader

1K notes · View notes

ransprang · 1 year ago

Text

Jaime Lannister x Fem!Reader Hcs

Fueling my Nikolaj and GOT brainrot~ enjoy

NSFW and SFW -

1. Man protects you like a dawg. He will not have anyone touch you or get too close without drawing his sword the second they take a step closer (Not even your parents).

2. Jaime loves having sex the second you both are alone, he just can’t help it. A quickie in the meeting room, in his chamber, after shower. He loves it when he stands tall and you’re on your knees sucking him off as a to thank him for protecting you.

3. Jaime loves carrying you over his shoulder. He’s strong, and you’re his. In the palace he will subtly tease you by carrying you over his shoulder to your room.

4. Jaime loves restraining you, he will tackle you down, pinning your hands above your head. He likes to be in charge, and fuck you to relieve his stress from the long day of managing Cersei.

5. Jaime would like to have children with you, and possibly favour them over Joffrey. As they are his to claim to the public, and he can love them freely also protect and raise them.

6. Jaime likes being just a boy around you. No pressures to fight or decisions. He likes teasing, making jokes and possibly be obsessed with building blocks which makes you look at him sometimes think, how at the core hes just. a. guy.

7. When you watch him fight or be an exceptional swordsman you want him to fight you similarly but in the bedroom, without his clothes on and definitely with a different sword of his. You could testify Jaime was skilled with his other not so miniature sword as well.

8. Cersei would love bullying you, in order to push you away from her beloved brother. Jaime wouldnt never rage at her, but would protect you from all her evil schemes and will never let anyone or anything harm you. They will have to face him before you.

9. Jaime takes off his metal hand and stares at where his wrist used to be sometimes, but he will only show such level of sadness and vulnerability in front of you.

10. Jaime loves pounding you with your legs over his shoulders, he loves to watch your breasts bounce bringing him closer to the edge faster.

Your twin,

Admin Sav

#jaime lannister x you #jaime lannister x reader #jaime lannister #jaime lannister x y/n #jaime lannister imagine #jaime lannister fanfiction #jamie lannister #jamie lannister x reader #jamie lannister x you #jamie lannister x y/n #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones fic #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfic #jaime oneshot #a song of ice and fire #george martin #aerys targaryen

1K notes · View notes

sanjisleggy · 3 months ago

Text

three hundred sonnets (black leg sanji x reader)

a/n: my first OP x reader fic ever written! :D i’m currently only at the start of the Water 7 arc so this will take place somewhere prior to that :) i hope you enjoy!

big thank you to @chibinasuu for your encouragement in my initial post abt this fic idea! <3 i'm so excited to write more stuff in the future :D

also! i’d really appreciate any requests sent my way :D right now i’ll only write SFW fics/headcanons for Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Shanks, Mihawk, Crocodile & Smoker! but they will all be set early in the series/not during any specific arc since i’m still only at ep 200ish :’D

contents: gn reader, zoro is unintentionally an asshole, major insecurity, injury, miscommunication, angst to fluff, hurt/reverse comfort

wc: 3k

—

“if he writes her a few sonnets, he loves her. If he writes her 300 sonnets, he loves sonnets”

it’s no secret that Zoro isn’t exactly the sharpest knife in the kitchen drawer— or at least that’s what Sanji thinks, especially now as he stands by the sink scrubbing away at the leftover grime on the used dishes; feeling a tightness in his shoulders he just can’t seem to will away.

”hey, cook,” the inebriated swordsman slurred from across the dining table, a shit-eating grin on his reddened face—a familiar sight to everyone on the straw hat crew, especially when times have been smooth sailing. “i heard somethin’ interesting from the last town’s blacksmith the other day and it reminded me of you.” Zoro continued without waiting to be acknowledged.

”if this is something about my eyebrows again, i swear to god i’ll-”

”he said somethin’ like ‘if he writes her a few sonnets, he loves her. if he writes her three hundred sonnets, he loves sonnets’ and i just thought-” he paused to let out a quick burp, “-you ever consider you might just love cooking more than you love (Y/N)?”

the muffled, happy chatter of his satisfied crewmates from outside the closed kitchen door does nothing to distract Sanji from what even he himself knows is a turbulent mental spiral. he grits his teeth as his fingers grip the sponge even harder, working away at a particularly stubborn stain that strikes him as the final straw that breaks the camel’s back.

Sanji lets out a choked laugh when it dawns on him how ridiculous all this must seem to an outsider: a grown man on the verge of tears as he washes the dishes, overthinking about an off-handed comment said by an extremely drunk friend that was never supposed to mean anything and yet it seems to have shattered everything he thought he knew about himself and his love for the most important person in his life.

ii.

you decide to excuse yourself from the post-dinner drink-and-chat session with the rest of the crew after you realise someone in particular has been missing for a strangely long time.

you ignore Zoro’s slurred request for you to bring back more booze, knowing he’ll be passing out any minute now from how much he’s drunk tonight, and head to the kitchen. ready to drag your beloved to bed for a nice cuddling session, you can’t help the smile that graces your face as you swing open the door to Sanji’s domain.

”hey love, are you done cleaning up?” you chirp as you approach his broad back, hands ready to plop down on his shoulders for a light squeeze—just the way you know he likes it. the sink comes into clearer view as you get closer and the sight of a few dozen sudsy but unwashed plates and bowls answers the question for you.

”oh, i, um-” the way the blond man jolts slightly in response to your touch isn’t lost on you but what took you more by surprise is how Sanji rubs his face against his sleeve before finally turning to look at you from over his shoulder. he smiles before leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead out of habit. “i got a bit distracted but i’ll be done soon, my love.”

”i can help you-”

”no!” you’re sure the way your eyes widen in surprise at his response is mirrored on his face as you both stare blankly at one another for a second. “no, no. i can handle it,” Sanji continues, quick to press a few apologetic kisses on your face, the rapid pounding of his heart calming slightly when he sees how you lean into his affection, seemingly forgetting his odd outburst from just a second ago.

“why don’t you just wash up and wait for me in bed, hmm? i’ll be with you before you know it.”

”are you sure? it’ll be quicker if we do it together.”

oh how his chest aches from how sweetly you look at him, offering him a final chance to take you up on the offer. his reddened and sore fingertips scream for him to say yes, beg him to accept your company not only for their sake but also for his heart’s—

i must prove to you how much i love you.

”it’s quite alright, sweet thing, it’s only the dishes.”

iii.

“it’s just a few thousand berry.”

“it’s only a massage.”

“it’s just mopping the floor.”

“it’s only folding the clothes.”

”it’s a small scratch, nothing to worry your little head about.”

”i can take up your night watch today… nonsense, i insist…”

”…nothing but a sprained ankle, i’ll be fine. all that matters is that you’re okay.”

iv.

”Sanji, love, is something wrong?” your voice shatters the silence that had long since engulfed the two of you sitting alone in the kitchen. the others left to explore the newest island you’ve chanced upon and your beloved’s insistence on watching over Merry all but confirm your suspicion that something, indeed, is not right.

”whatever do you mean?” the chef responds with a slight tilt of his head, his tongue darting out to soothe his dry lips when he catches how worried you look.

please don’t

”well, it’s just that… you know this island’s pretty famous for its produce, right?” you ask before you slowly reach out to grab his hand resting on the table. “are you sure you don’t wanna look around? take a break?”

”a break from what?” he chuckles nervously, shooting you a small smile when he feels your thumb rub against his knuckles.

”it’s just that… you’ve been working really hard this past week, y’know?” you reach out to cup his face with your other hand, a gesture Sanji instinctively welcomes with no hesitation as he nuzzles into the warmth of your palm, his tired eyes fluttering closed for a second.

it’s nothing. nothing at all. as long as it means i can feel this warmth for one day more.

”you should go have some fun with the others, it’s my turn to watch Merry. i’ll be fine for a few hours on my own.” Sanji opens his eyes and is greeted by the familiar sight of your warm smile as you rub the pad of your thumb under his eye, across the dark patch of skin—a result of his insistence on doing your night watches with you alongside his full-time duties as the sole chef of the ship.

turning his head slightly to press his lips against your palm, he shoots you another smile. “i’m not really in the mood to explore, i’d much rather stay here with you.”

because what if you realise how much you don’t need me when i’m gone?

Sanji feels the tightness in his chest loosen up a bit when his honeyed response, spoken in his best imitation of a sane boyfriend with only normal thoughts in his head, seems to work in quelling your concern at least for now.

oh how you wish you’d pressed further back then, dug deeper even if it made him uncomfortable. if you could miraculously go back in time just once in your life, you’d choose to return to that afternoon in the kitchen when you were alone with him. you would’ve seized the opportunity to pry, to force the hard truth out of your beloved chef even if it meant tears shed and bonds broken; because even a scenario like that would be so much more preferable to the one you’re currently in right now.

the entire crew steers clear of the infirmary for the day. even Chopper only shows up to redress Sanji’s wounds every now and then, leaving once he’s done, unable to stay any longer due to how heavy the air feels inside that one tiny room. the other straw hats rely on him for details on how things seem to be going between the crew’s chef and chronicler. otherwise, they elect to give you two some privacy and space, collectively hoping things can return to normal soon.

neither of you say a word for nearly half an hour after Chopper leaves. the stiffness in your neck is starting to bother you but you remain frozen in position, seated by Sanji’s side as he lays resting in bed, his left hand heavily bandaged.

it happened quicker than anyone could have possibly expected.

the enemy pirate’s sword slashing in your direction as you prepare to parry the way Zoro taught you long ago. you were confident in your ability to win the fight, having been in much tougher situations in the past and still emerging victorious. you might not be the best fighter but everyone knew you could stand your ground fairly well.

Sanji knew that, too. there was no one he believed in more than you, his partner, the love of his life. he knew you would be fine, unscathed, even; and yet his body moved on its own accord anyway. his hands reached forward, contrary to a lifetime of instincts.

i must prove myself to you.

he knows now, looking at the endless stream of tears silently running down your face and the way your jaw is tensed up—your teeth most certainly chewing on your tongue—that he’d fucked up.

”i’m sorry—” your head turns sharply for your eyes to meet his for the first time in a while when he speaks, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Sanji’s bottom lip begins to tremble as he looks away in shame, his own teary eyes glued to his bandaged hand. “i-i won’t be able to cook for you for a while.”

for a minute, you forget how to breathe.

and then, inexplicably, a wave of rage washes over you; a culmination of the past two weeks of concern, confusion and worry over Sanji’s drastic sudden need to do anything and everything for you. his intense desire to display his selflessness all building up to the moment he used his hands to protect you; and even then his only concern is being unable to cook for you?

your own curl into fists on your lap, your nails digging into the meat of your palm, there’s a sudden coppery taste in your mouth as your molars bite down harder onto your tongue. the sheer idea of him willingly giving up his hands of all things to defend you from an opponent you could beat with your eyes closed made you so unbelievably angry at something you couldn’t even quite put your finger on.

sensing a shift in your emotions, Sanji finally tilts his head up to look back at you. his throat threatens to constrict itself and his heart drops when he sees the furious look on your face.

”am i really such a helpless creature to you?”

you regret the words as soon as you say them. the initial fury coursing through your veins dissipating in the blink of an eye when you see how your single sentence instantly breaks something in him.

his mouth opens and closes but no words escape his lips, meanwhile tears flow freely down his faces, one drop after another falling onto the blanket draped over his lap as his uninjured hand grips the fabric for dear life.

no, you could never be helpless you’re perfect you’re the most perfect person in the whole world i don’t deserve to have you and yet you chose me but now i’ve ruined it all—

the endless thoughts racing in his head go abruptly silent when he feels the softness and warmth of your body engulf his. your hand reaches up to hold the back of his head, pulling his face into the crook of your neck as your free arm wraps around his upper back. your knees are planted on the mattress, trapping him in a straddle as you hug him tightly, careful not to agitate his wounds.

for a few seconds, all Sanji does is breathe. in and out. every inhale filled with the scent of your shampoo mixed with the saltiness of your sweat and tears. he feels the hand holding his head run its fingers through his blond hair in a familiar way, it sends pleasant tingles down his spine and for the first time in a while, he’s able to release the tension in his shoulders.

Sanji’s eyes flutter closed as he nuzzles deeper into your neck, pressing a small kiss against your skin before wrapping his own arms around you, returning the much-needed embrace.

”i love you so much, my sweet boy,” you whisper loud enough for him to hear. “i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean what i said. i know you of all people believe the most in me. i was wrong to accuse you of thinking about me in such a way.” you turn your head to kiss his temple, then his forehead, then the space between his eyes, then the tip of his nose. now face-to-face, your beloved opens his tear-stained eyes to look back into your own.

”are you okay? did something happen?” you ask softly, continuing to caress the back of his head, tangling his golden locks with your fingers. “i’ve been worried about you, the others are too.” he lets out a sniffle but stays silent, so you continue, “i know you’re a selfless person and you love doing things for other people, especially me.” you smile and he returns a small smile back. it, however, falters into an embarrassed grimace when he recalls the conversation that started it all.

how silly it all feels in hindsight, Sanji wonders to himself, as you patiently await his reply, still hugging him closely as your soft breath fans his face. how easily this could all have been resolved if he’d simply talked to you about it once it all started to feel too much.

the hand behind his head travels toward his cheek to cradle his face in the palm of your hand. you run your thumb gently over his cheekbone as he practically purrs and leans even closer into your loving touch.

then, he speaks.

vi.

the cooling sea air circulates the space of your shared room as the Going Merry drifts slowly across the calm waters of the night.

Chopper had given Sanji the OK to rest in his usual bed after redressing his wounds in the evening. After leaving the infirmary, the chef made his way to the kitchen to check up on your progress with dinner. Since he was banned from cooking until his hand was fully recovered, you’d volunteered to take up all kitchen duties temporarily. Seeing how excited you were to now be the one providing for him and the others quelled any worries he had instantly.

”Now I get to make all your favourite food and drinks for you instead,” you’d said, crossing your arms and putting on a faux expression of haughtiness, as though you’d finally won some long-drawn out battle.

”I look forward to it, sweet thing.” was all it took to wipe the look off your face as you felt your entire body warm up at his tender voice.

Smiling at the memory from just a few hours ago, Sanji stood outside the kitchen, ready to enter when he heard two voices come from inside. Curious, he stayed put and listened.

”You need to think before you speak!” you yelled, your raised voice accompanied by the sound of a knife hitting the wooden cutting board in a sharp, rhythmic manner. “I know you were drunk but what even was the point of saying all that to him?”

”Listen, I already apologised, you don’t have to keep—”

”I’m just warning you: pull that shit again and I’ll throw all your booze into the ocean.”

”Alright! Damn! I won’t do it again, I swear—”

Sanji’s snapped out of his reverie when he feels you stir awake beside him. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes before blearily looking up at his face, your hand pressing against his bare chest to prop yourself up slightly from the mattress.

”Can’t sleep?” you ask, running your palm up and down his skin in a gentle manner.

”Mmm, just thinking about how you managed to get mosshead to say sorry to me at dinner,” he replied, wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer. “Still feels like a weird fever dream.”

“I’m just so good with words, y’know?” you chuckle as you pull your hand away from his chest to replace it with the side of your head. You don’t fail to notice how his heartbeat quickens. “Why else would the infamous Straw Hat Pirates take me on as their chronicler?”

”Of course,” Sanji hums before burying his face in your hair, “we accept nothing but the best after all.”

You laugh softly in response, ready to let the conversation meet its natural end in order for the two of you to drift off to sleep. Right before you shut your eyes, though, your lover speaks up once more.

”I’m so lucky to be loved by you.” his sudden confession knocks the wind from your lungs as your heart leaps within the tight confines of your chest.

”luck has nothing to do with it, sweet boy,” you reply, turning to your head slightly to press your lips to his chest. “i love you because you’re you—the kindest, strongest, most talented man i’ve ever met. you’ve ruined other people for me, not to mention the food they make. nothing compares to you.”

Sanji silently thanks the night sky for the darkness enveloping your room as he feels his face practically catch fire. Though, he’s certain you can probably tell how flustered he is from the rapid beating of his heart anyway.

”You’ll still love me even if I can’t cook for you anymore?” he mutters, half-joking.

”i’ll still love you even if you refuse to cook for me for the rest if our lives,” you reply, kind of half-joking. “I’d probably be really sad, though, but i’ll still love you.” In response, you feel a chuckle rumble from his chest as his uninjured arm pulls you closer until you’ve basically melded into one.

”you know fully well the day i refuse to cook for you is the day i die.”

you hum in response, already drifting off to sleep with a contented smile on your face. Sanji presses one last kiss of the night to your forehead before dozing off himself.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x yn #one piece x you #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #imagine #fanfic #opla x reader #one piece live action x reader

370 notes · View notes

mercillery · 25 days ago

Text

CHIBI MIHAWK

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + NOT PROOFREAD NOTES: based on THIS absolutely cute Mihawk figure. This was done on a whim on a school night so there may be oopsies here and there.

Somehow, some way, for reasons that defy logic, science, and possibly even the laws of nature, Dracule Mihawk is now a chibi. A pint-sized, absolutely microscopic version of himself with all of his pride, dignity, and soul-piercing intensity still fully intact.

Despite his new… predicament, Mihawk flat-out refuses to acknowledge that anything is out of the ordinary. He does not see himself as helpless. He does not see himself as weak. He will not be patronized. He is still the greatest swordsman in the world, even if he now looks like he could be comfortably carried around in your pocket. And yet, despite his best efforts to maintain an air of authority, his tiny body betrays him at every turn.

You, on the other hand, have been gifted with a chibi Mihawk, and while this has certainly thrown your daily routine into chaos, you can’t deny that watching the world’s most fearsome swordsman struggle to do literally anything at this size is, frankly, the greatest thing that has ever happened to you.

Chibi Mihawk, who you desperately want to scoop up and cradle like a fragile little kitten, but who absolutely will not allow it. Do not be fooled. He may be fun-sized, but he is still himself—a walking embodiment of dignity, self-sufficiency, and sheer force of will.

If you so much as think about treating him like some kind of adorable novelty, expect an immediate and deeply unimpressed stare. Actually, scratch that—you’re getting the stare regardless. His golden eyes somehow retain the exact same sharpness as before, and there is something so deeply unnerving about being observed like a lesser life form by a man who is literally small enough to fit in a teacup. He does not blink. He does not move. He just watches you, silently, like a hawk preparing to swoop down on its unsuspecting prey.

And as if the sheer existence of a chibi Mihawk wasn’t enough, his sword shrank too. Of course it did. Yoru is practically an extension of himself—there was no way it wasn’t going to shrink right along with him. And now, you have not only a pocket-sized Mihawk but also a tiny, toy-sized Yoru that, miraculously, still looks just as menacing as the full-sized version. It is approximately the length of a butter knife. A very intimidating butter knife.

You have seen him attempt to sharpen it. With a rock. Like a miniature warrior preparing for battle, except there is no battle, just a very small man aggressively honing his skills on the coffee table. Oh, and his hat shrunk too. His entire outfit shrunk to match, and let’s be honest—the sight of him in his dramatically oversized coat, which now practically drags behind him like a royal cape, is almost enough to make you lose it. But you don’t. Because you know, deep down, that if you do, if you so much as let out a single laugh—he will remember. And he will wait.

You keep chibi Mihawk near you 24/7. There is no negotiation, no room for argument—this is non-debatable. The paranoia is REAL. He is the World’s Greatest Swordsman, and now he is the World’s Tiniest Greatest Swordsman, and there is absolutely no way in the nine circles of hell that you are letting him out of your sight for even a nanosecond.

What if he gets lost? What if someone steps on him?? What if a seagull snatches him up like a breadcrumb and carries him off to parts unknown?!? No. NO. Not on your watch. You have seen firsthand how ridiculously overpowered Mihawk is in battle, but even you have to admit that at his current size, he is disturbingly close to being classified as a snack.

Of course, Mihawk, being Mihawk, has very specific terms and conditions for how he is allowed to be carried. The only acceptable method? Perching on your shoulder like some kind of regal falcon. That is it. That is the rule.

Attempt to hold him any other way—cupping him in your hands, cradling him like a baby, or heaven forbid, tucking him into your pocket—and you will be met with a stare so chilling it could freeze the sun itself. And then, in a voice that is far too calm for how deadly it sounds, he will warn, “You’re testing my patience.”

Translation: You are moments away from death.

That being said, whether you like it or not, he is going to be on your shoulder. You are now a full-time, unpaid Mihawk perch. He will not ask permission, nor will he give you a choice in the matter.

You could be sitting down, minding your own business, and suddenly—boom—there he is, climbing up your sleeve with the sheer determination of a man who refuses to acknowledge that he is, in fact, fun-sized. You are now his personal throne, and he expects you to act accordingly.

Oh, and speaking of things you have no choice in? It is now your job to protect him from birds. You don’t want to? Too bad.

The moment Mihawk shrunk, he went from world-renowned swordsman to potential bird food, and the reality of that is absolutely terrifying. You have no idea how many times you’ve had to aggressively wave your arms and hiss at an overly curious pigeon while Mihawk simply crossed his arms and stared at it like he was daring it to attack. Like, sir, I don’t think you understand, you are one second away from becoming someone’s lunch.

Mihawk, despite being pocket-sized, still commands authority and expects to be treated with the same level of respect as before. Just because he is now a fraction of his usual height does not mean he is any less of a threat. (His words, not yours.) That means he still demands his wine, his alone time, and most importantly, his dignity. However, this is now impossible.

His first real struggle with his new reality? His wine.

Mihawk, being the man of refined tastes that he is, insists on drinking his wine as usual, except there is now a very specific and hilarious problem: the glass is twice his size.

Watching him attempt to lift it is a test of willpower on your end, because if you so much as smirk, he will know. And he will remember. Eventually, after a long, suffering silence, you had to find him a thimble just so he could properly enjoy his drink.

A thimble.

The World’s Greatest Swordsman is now delicately sipping wine from a thimble.

But don’t say a word. Do not react. Do not acknowledge the absolute absurdity of it all. Because if you do, you will be on the receiving end of the most powerful side-eye of your entire existence.

Good lord. Good. Lord. You lose him a lot. And every single time, it shaves years off your lifespan. Your anxiety? Through the roof. Through the atmosphere. Through the stratosphere.

This man is naturally quiet, an observer more than a speaker, and now that he’s chibi-sized, he is literally a walking jump scare. One moment, he’s perfectly within sight—perhaps perched on the windowsill, staring out dramatically like he’s pondering the weight of existence, thimble of wine in hand. You blink. Gone.

And the worst part? He doesn’t even do it on purpose. Mihawk doesn’t wander off to be mischievous—he just moves effortlessly, like some kind of stealthy little shadow demon. You could be in the same room, watching him one second, and then the next? Vanished.

And now you have to search for your tiny, lethal gremlin of a swordsman, all while panicking because what if you accidentally step on him?!? What if he’s under a cushion?! What if you sit down and crush him?!? You’ve started moving around with the same level of care and fear as someone navigating a minefield.

Mihawk, for his part, is completely unbothered. He does not understand why you’re always looking so frantic when you find him. He gives you a look that speaks why do you look so distressed? completely serious, as he lounges inside the empty fruit bowl on the counter like a very judgmental, brooding plum.

Reaching things has become an ordeal. Mihawk will not ask for help. Ever. If something is out of his reach, he will stare at it. Long and hard. Silently. Contemplating his options like he’s trying to calculate the meaning of life itself. He will not break his dignity by requesting assistance.

He will, however, accept help if you offer—but not without a huff and a very reluctant, “Do not make a habit of this.” Right. Sure. Whatever you say, chibi swordsman.

Being picked up? Absolutely not. You tried once. Once. And the look he gave you? Terrifying. You have never felt more pierced to your very core than when chibi Mihawk silently judged you for daring to lift him like a plushie. He is not a toy!

However, if you warn him beforehand, he will begrudgingly tolerate it—but only if absolutely necessary. If you say, “Hey, I need to pick you up,” he’ll fold his arms, let out a long, suffering sigh, and then mutter, “…Very well. But be swift.” Like you’re asking him to endure some great suffering.

That being said, no matter how much he despises it, he has no choice but to rely on you. And you know what? He hates that. There are certain things he simply cannot do at his current size—whether it’s opening doors, climbing onto furniture, or reaching high places.

And you? You, his beloved, have become his reluctant savior. He tolerates your assistance, but you know every time he needs your help, a little piece of his pride crumbles.

Teasing is absolutely not tolerated. If you so much as snicker when he struggles with something, expect a sharp remark or, worse, a long, judgmental stare. You have never felt so silently insulted in your entire life. And heaven help you if you get too playful—like when you start poking at him or cooing at how “precious” he looks. His eye twitches. His patience thins. You feel the silent threat in the air.

Sleeping is… complicated. His usual bed? Now far too big. You had to improvise—you put together a small, makeshift bed just for him. And while Mihawk said nothing, you swear you caught the faintest hint of approval in his expression. Was that… was that a glimmer of impressed respect in his eyes? You’ll never know for sure, because he’ll never admit it.

Despite your best efforts, though, Mihawk refuses to use the bed half the time. No, because that would be too simple. Instead, you often find him perched dramatically on a pillow, arms crossed, staring at the ceiling like he’s contemplating the tragedies of life. Why? No one knows. It’s just what he does.

And then there was the night you woke up and found him curled up inside your scarf. Not for comfort—no, Mihawk does not need “comfort.” According to him, it was “the most efficient size” for him to rest in. You stared at him, half-awake, and he just stared right back, daring you to question it. You didn’t. You just went back to sleep, pretending you didn’t see anything.

Food has been an experience. You may or may not have handed Mihawk a sewing needle as a sword as a joke. He was deeply offended. The moment you presented it, he narrowed his eyes and stated, “You insult me.”

But guess what? He still uses it. Not because he wants to. No, he would never lower himself to such nonsense—except he has. He has resorted to stabbing pieces of fruit with his tiny sewing-needle sword, all while maintaining a level of dignity that should not be possible. He will slice his meals with precision—small, but still menacing. You have watched this tiny, furious chibi man cut a grape with the same energy he would use to cut down an opponent.

You laughed once. It was a mistake. The moment the chuckle escaped your lips, Mihawk slowly turned his head, golden eyes glowing with silent judgment. And then, with great deliberation, he impaled another piece of fruit without breaking eye contact. You shut up immediately.

When Mihawk finally returns to normal, he acts as if nothing happened. As if he was never a chibi. As if you never had to carry him around. As if he never sat in a fruit bowl or slept in your scarf like a very tiny, very dramatic king.

He refuses to acknowledge any of the more… humiliating moments of his chibi state. The silence is almost worse than if he had complained. It’s the kind of silence that says, “We will never speak of this. Ever.”

However, if you so much as bring it up… Oh, you fool. You absolute buffoon.

He will turn to you with one long, unamused stare. And then, with calm deliberation, his hand will subtly grip the hilt of his sword—a silent warning. A promise. Do not test me.

That said, you were particularly helpful during his time as a chibi, so he does, in his own way, show some small (read: microscopic) token of gratitude. Maybe he’ll pour you a glass of wine. Maybe he’ll spare you from one of his usual sharp remarks. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll allow you one victory and not punish you too harshly.

But make no mistake—he remembers everything. Every single moment. Every joke. Every time you teased him. Every time you picked him up without warning.

And if you mocked him too much? You should start watching your back. Because Mihawk is not a man who forgets. And perhaps, one day, you’ll wake up… and find yourself chibi.

And when that day comes? Mihawk will simply stand before you, full-sized once more, staring down at your tiny form. No words will be spoken. But his smirk will say everything.

Your fate has been sealed.

#mihawk x y/n #mihawk x you #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x you #dracule mihawk x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #op x you #op x y/n #op x reader #I want a chibi Mihawk too 😔

158 notes · View notes