#Return of the One-Armed Swordsman

[madamshogunassassin]

RETURN OF THE ONE-ARMED SWORDSMAN (Sadatsugu Matsuda, 1960).

[chernobog13]

A painted poster for the 1960 film Tange Sazen: Mysterious Sword, aka Return of the One-Armed Swordsman, starring Ryutaro Otomo as Tange Sazen, and Kyoko Aoyama as Ofuji, his common-law wife/girlfriend (her status tends to change with every film).

[cultfaction]

ARROW Announces November 2024 SVOD Lineup

Arrow Video is excited to announce the November 2024 lineup of their subscription-based ARROW platform, available to subscribers in the US, Canada, the UK and Ireland. Enjoy a selection of new titles, from carefully cultivated curations to shorts by new talent. For serious enthusiasts, ARROW offers deep dives into the tastes of filmmakers that changed the way we see the genre. The November…

[starry-bi-sky]

There are two things that Damian knows that he knows Father doesn’t.

He has an older brother

He was dead

(And a secret third thing: Damian was glad he was dead. They did not get along.)

Well. No, correction, they were two things that Damian knew that Father didn't. Past tense. Strange magic swirled through the air and created a mirage before his eyes, and immediately a scowl forms across his face.

The mirage shifts and shimmers like the light hitting a slowly turning prism, and then it settles into a memory. One that Damian does not recall. Like looking into a tv screen, it shows, faintly, a room, with most of the magic going into the image of a crib.

His mother was standing on one side, and next to her, standing on his tiptoes was a small five year old boy looking up at her. With dark hair and skin that was only few shades lighter brown than Damian's, the little boy's resemblance to Damian was undeniable.

However, his eyes were blue. Not green. Damian's scowl deepens, and he sinks back. "Danyal." He mutters, and feels eyes turn on to him.

Danyal Al Ghul. Damian's older brother. A prodigal swordsman like Damian, and five years his senior. He'd be fifteen if he was still alive. His memory of the last time he saw his brother was still clear in his mind.

(A sword to Danyal's neck. Stars were glittering through his window. Damian was five, Danyal ten. He is not sure why Danyal had snuck into his room, all he remembers is hearing a sound and on instinct reaching for his sword.)

(His brother had intercepted easily. But had not shoved the sword away. Moonlight hit his blue eyes, and Damian remembers seeing the pupils shrink to let the light in. His eyes looked almost silver.)

(His brother bares his teeth at him. Damian wants to slice his neck more than anything, and he bares his teeth back. "Good." Danyal says, his voice low in a hiss, "Your reflexes are good, little brother.")

("Of course they are," Damian remembers snarling, and presses the sword closer. But it does not budge. "I am an Al Ghul.")

(Something unrecognizable passes through his brother's eyes, and his mouth twists into something like a smile. "I know." He says, and tilts his head downwards at him. "And you will be great.")

(His brother shoves the sword back, causing Damian to stumble. And like the wind, he is gone.)

(The next morning, he goes on a mission with mother and a few others. Mother is the only one to return with Danyal's sword, and a red-eyed look in her eyes. Damian does not mourn. Now there's only one of them.)

"Momma." The little Danyal-mirage speaks, a furrow between his childlike brows as mother lowers a bundle into the crib. His blue eyes watch her, and lifts onto his toes to peer into the crib as she sets the baby down. "Who is this?"

Their mother's hand comes to rest along his back. "This is Damian, my son." She murmurs, voice low. "He is your little brother. Protect him well."

Damian scoffs internally -- not likely. He remembers every spar he ever had with Danyal, every harsh word and insult. His pushing, pushing, pushing for Damian to get up. To try again. Do it again. The only kindness he ever showed him was when his fingers bled. And even that was harsh, firm. Rolling gauze around his wrist and scolding him, telling him how to wield his weapon better.

(It was the same as everyone else, but somehow it hurt worse coming from his own brother.)

But he watches his older brother's youngest self tilt his head to the side, and then reach his chubby hand through the crib's bars. He runs small, blunt fingers over the baby's arm, and the baby jerks. Through the crib's bars, Damian sees himself grab Danyal's fingers.

And he scowls even deeper.

And Danyal's eyes... widen. He lets out a little gasp, and a small smile Damian's never seen him wear tilts at the corner of his mouth as he looks up at their mother. "Mother," he whispers, "he grabbed me!"

Damian... his scowl falters, for a moment.

He doesn't wait for a response, he looks back to the baby with sparking eyes. His expression melts like sugar as he bounces the finger being gripped tight by the small hand. "Hello, little brother." His brother says, voice its of usual firmness, but there's more fondness underlying it than Damian's ever heard. "My name is Danyal."

The mirage shifts before Damian can comprehend his older brother's voice. It shows the crib again, appearing as if a few days had passed. There is night lilting through the nearby window, and a creek of the door. The baby doesn't stir.

Danyal sneaks in, still wearing his training clothes and a sword strapped to his side. Damian's scowl returns, watching him creep over to the crib. Of course -- the last night he saw his brother wasn't the only time he'd snuck into his room.

Would he go so low as to attack an infant? Damian wonders, watching his brother cross the room to his crib. But while his fingers rest against the hilt, they never curl to unsheathe.

His brother peers into the crib again, and there it is again, that smile wider in the corner of his mouth. It's not a full one, but its as uninhibited as it gets. Dripping honey-sweet with awe. "You are so tiny." Danyal whispers, and pokes a finger back through the crib. It wriggles, then pokes Damian's cheek gently. "Was I as small as you when mother gave birth to me?"

There is no response from the baby. Not a coherent one anyways, the little thing snuffles and turns his head, mouth open to latch. Danyal stills, his eyes grow ever wider again.

Danyal says nothing else, just rests his cheek against the crib and watches the baby sleep in silence. The affection never leaves his young face.

Damian feels unsettled. Off-foot. This Danyal is foreign to him... He wonders what happened to have changed his brother's mind on him.

There's a scuffle, quiet, but there. Danyal picks up on it just as Damian does, and his head pricks up like a deer, head already turning away from the crib. The affection leaves his face, falling away like water into something serious. His blade is already slightly unsheathed.

Two assassins, belonging to grandfather, burst out of the shadows. Their swords swinging into the air and ready to strike.

Danyal kills them both, his back to the crib. It's not without struggle, and when the two assassins lay dead on the floor, the baby is wailing at the top of his lungs. Danyal has a laceration cleaving down diagonal of his cheek. It's close to his eye, just barely missed blinding him.

Damian never knew how he got that scar. He does now. (He doesn't know how to feel about it.)

His brother clutches his bleeding face, sheathing his sword as tears well up onto his face. But he turns towards the crib, and hurries over. "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay." He hushes rapidly, the League-drilled seriousness fallen away to reveal a panic-stricken five year old. He sticks one hand into the crib, the one not clutching anything, and grabs little Damian's hand.

Their mother comes bursting in that moment, and Danyal turns his head towards her. "Mother." He says, his voice cracks un-wantingly. Their mother steps over the bodies of the assassins easily. "They tried to kill Damian."

"But they did not." Talias says, kneeling down next to the crib to inspect Danyal's face and Damian's well-being. When she finds nothing of concern beyond the injury, she continues. "You killed them before they could, Danyal. Well done."

The mirage of his brother nods, his eyes teary and red.

Damian... is discomfited. he never thought Danyal would kill assassins for him. He would have thought his brother would sooner look the other way. The mirage shifts again, and it quickly shows time passing.

Danyal sits in Damian's nursery every night, after that. He lays at the foot of the crib with his sword, a pillow and a blanket with him. Some nights there is nothing but peace -- or as close to peace as a baby could achieve -- and some days assassins break in.

Danyal kills each one.

The mirage shifts again, and it shows more memories of Danyal interacting with Damian during his youth too young for him to remember. His first steps, his first words.

"Danya." The small toddler of Damian says, arms reaching for Danyal.

A frown curls across Danyal's face, and pulls Damian into his lap. "No, no, little brother." He scolds, voice firm but.. softer. "It is Danyal, Damian. Danyal."

"Danya!"

Damian's brother sighs, but there is that same-small tilt at the corner of his mouth. A glimmer in his eyes. A glimmer... that Damian is finding he recognizes.

(He always thought his brother got that look in his eyes when he was mocking him. Was he wrong?)

The mirage shifts again, and this time it shows only mother and Danyal, alone. Danyal is older, taller. Seven, if Damian had to guess. Mother has a stern look on her face, her hands tight on his shoulders. "Damian will be starting training soon, my son."

Ah, then close to eight then. Training starts, always, at three years old. He watches Danyal nod, his expression mimicking their mother's. His arms are folded, always folded, behind his back, always neat.

"You can no longer have the relationship with your brother as you did before." Mother says.

Danyal's expression... falters. It shifts, it fluctuates. He looks surprised, thrown off. Like he isn't quite sure he heard what mother just said. His brows furrow. "What... do you mean, mother?"

"I mean what I said, Danyal." Mother says, stern, "Ra's will be keeping a closer eye on Damian now that he is of age to begin his training. He will not like if he sees you both getting along."

"I am sorry, my child. But your relationship with Damian ends here. You are rivals now, not brothers." In a cruel form a gentleness, mother raises her hand and tucks a stray curl out of Danyal's face.

Of course. Damian never had a relationship with his brother because of Grandfather. Of course. No, he's not feeling a little bitter. No. There's not an inner child that still, like a candleflame, wishes that he'd had a bond with his only flesh and blood.

Danyal is dead now. So it's not like it matters. He's happy about this.

Danyal frowns, and he steps back. He looks lost in thought. "We are still brothers, mother," he says, argues, and looks up to meet mother's eyes. "Let me train him, I will make sure he gets the skill he needs. If we must be rivals, then I will teach him how to defeat me. If he can defeat me, he can defeat anybody."

Their mother, and Damian, both blink in unison. Then mother smiles something sharp, calculated. She folds her hands behind her back. "Then do it. But you will make him hate you."

"...So be it."

Damian.... Damian is silent. His world axis has been tilted on its head. He is sliding, and sliding, and sliding down. Spinning. Many things click into place at once.

More memories from the mirage show. It shows Danyal training Damian. It shows their arguing, their bickering. It shows Danyal going to their mother to praise Damian and his skills, how fast he is picking up on the sword. How one day he will surpass even him.

It shows Danyal sitting outside Damian's bedroom door every night, listening in for anyone who dares to break in. His knees drawn to his chest, his sword at his side. Sometimes he sneaks in, sword drawn, when he hears a sound.

Some nights, Damian wakes up. He remembers those nights. Danyal standing over his bed with his sword unsheathed and tight at his side. He remembers the instant terror as he immediately reached for his own weapon.

His brother always scolded him for his lack of vigilance. That had he been anyone else, Damian would have had his neck cut. He would've been dead already. It only made Damian's hatred of him grow.

But he understands now. Because there were assassins in the room that Damian, four years old, three, did not notice. Not until later. He always assumed the attacks on him after Danyal's death had been because now there was a new heir to target.

It had been the only lesson he'd been even somewhat grateful for.

Then finally the mirage shimmers, and it shows Danyal, ten years old, in one of the training rooms, mid-spar with Mother. It's fast, sharp, impressive and like a blur. Damian is unsure if at ten which one of them was the better swordsman. Some of the assassins who have never met Danyal said Damian was, but the ones who had said it was Danyal. He'll never know.

In a lull in the fight, when their swords are crossed, mother speaks. "Ra's wants you and Damian to fight." She says, teeth grit into a deep scowl. The cross breaks and Danyal jumps back, he frowns.

"We have fought, mother." He says, and dives in first, swinging for mother's feet. Mother dodges, and slices at his arm. He swerves out of the way, twisting on his feet like a dance. "We are always fighting, doesn't he see our spars?"

"Not a spar like that, my son." Mother says, a snarl in her voice. She lunges, and Danyal blocks her blade. "A fight to the death. Father has grown tired of having two heirs."

That gets Danyal's attention -- or, more accurately, it distracts it. His eyes widen, and his sword lowers for a single moment. A mistake. "What?" Is all he gets out before mother has him on his back, her blade pressed to his throat.

He freezes. As does Damian. Danyal's brows furrow, then unfurrow, only to knot up again. "Mother, what do you mean a fight to the death?" He flips to his feet when mother removes the sword. She walks over to grab her water.

"Must I repeat myself, Danyal?" Mother snaps, rubbing her forehead before swigging from her canteen. "Father wants to find out which one of you is the stronger heir, and so you will fight to the death after your training in a few days."

Danyal's tan face loses a shade of color, he looks ashy. "There must be some mistake!" He exclaims, his arms gesturing out as he peers around mother. "There is a five year disparity between us, Damian has only just started training two years ago. It would be an unfair fight!"

"Do you think me unaware?" Mother whirls on him, and there is a grief-stricken look on her face. Like she is already mourning Damian's death. Damian feels ill. "Your skill is far beyond what Damian can accomplish right now, and there is nothing that I say that can convince Father otherwise."

Danyal wears an expression like he is scrambling for answers. A white knuckle grip on his weapon. There is a long silence, and his lower lip curls up. His throat bobs, he swallows. "Is there really nothing we can do?"

Mother makes a frustrated sound, pushing her loose hairs out of her face. "Not unless Father changes his mind, or I send one of you away. But Father would surely send someone to look for you or Damian."

"What if one of us faked our death?"

Mother stills. As does Damian. No, he thinks, stiff as a rod, no way. These mirages were lying, nothing but figments of an imagination. Of some quiet what-if that Damian had not yet stomped out.

Mother's expression shifts, and then turns contemplative. Danyal notices, and keeps pushing, he looks as hopeful as he could get beyond his usual unwavering, stone-like expression. "One of us could go to father--"

"No." Mother cuts off, voice sharp. Danyal wilts, confusion flittering across his face. Damian, from the corner of his eye, sees Father tense as stone. His white-slit eyes have not left the mirage. Nobody's has.

"Father will undoubtedly check there first, it would not be a good idea. You or Damian will have to go somewhere where he would not think to look. Someone unaffiliated with the League."

Danyal's face falls, shutters, and then closes up again into stone. Mother begins to pace, and Danyal's blue eyes follow her. "So a stranger?" He asks, and there is disgust lilting into his voice.

Mother nods, and she looks just as offput as Danyal.

The mirage of Damian's brother rolls his shoulders back. "Then I will do it, mother." He says, voice unwavering. There is a stubborn note behind it all, one that Damian recognizes. "I will fake my death, and Damian will stay here."

Mother's eyes turn sharp on him, and she stops in her spot. She pivots. "Are you sure?" She asks, eyebrow raising, "There is a chance you will never meet your Father if you leave. Nor will you see I or Damian again, if you do this."

Something like fear flickers across Danyal's face, eyes widening momentarily -- as if that very thought had not crossed his mind. But then it smooths over to sharp determination. He nods. "It would be the same for Damian if it was him instead. I will do it, Mother."

Damian feels ill again. Father has a strong set in his jaw, his teeth grinding.

Mother stares at Danyal, and then her expression softens. And like before, it is grieving. "In a few days time, I and another member of the League will be going on a mission to the American States. I will tell Father that you will accompany me, once there we will dispose of the other member and then orchestrate your death."

The American States. Danyal was here, in the country. He was out there somewhere -- but no this was fake. It had to be. Danyal was dead. A fool who got himself killed on a mission with mother and left the title of Heir to Damian.

Or maybe it had been his plan all along. His and mother's both.

...Was mother ever going to tell him?

The mirage of Danyal nods, sharp. Understanding. There is a gleam in his eyes that is not pride, it is tears. And when Mother leaves the room and leaves him alone, the stone-like expression on his face crumbles and falls.

His brother, ten years old, curls up his lip in an ugly way. It wobbles as the tears in his eyes do, and he brings up his hand to slam it over his mouth. And sinks to his knees, a yell-like sob muffled behind the skin.

His brother, ten years old, looks smaller than Damian remembers him being, and cries.

Damian has never seen Danyal cry. Not once in the mirage of memories, nor in his own.

The memory holds for a minute, and then disappears. And no new one shows up. The magic is gone, and it leaves a silence in its wake. Heavy, staticky, and full of revelations.

So there are two things that Damian knows that his Father now knows too.

He has an older brother

His older brother is alive.

(And a new secret third thing: Damian wasn't sure how to feel about it.)

[honnelander]

tart

HERE WE GO EVERYONE. the long awaited jealous!Sanji fic!! AKA a prequel to the main go fish! storyline!! this fic takes place before the main events in go fish! but after they met at the Baratie. and don't worry, part 3 for the main series will be on the way. enjoy!! request: i was wondering if you’d consider making a lil imagine/blurb about sanji being jealous of someone flirting with the reader? like imagine zoro and the reader just talking and then zoro suddenly leans closer and whispers to her “it seems we’ve got an audience” or smth like that

WARNINGS: none

word count: 3.7k

pairing: jealous opla!sanji x fem!reader

summary: Sanji watches Zoro and reader talk and gets jealous. Nami tries to calm him down but fails.

go fish! series: part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 masterlist

taglist: @mischiefmanaged71 @smolracoon25 @smol-book-nerd @shuujin @amanda08319 @nimtano @your-platonic-gay-lover @lovelymrvl @whiskeypowder @jovialcat123 @nimtano @xtigerlily @shadowwolf1864 @quixscentsposts @guidingstarsstuff @ateliefloresdaprimavera

“Reading that garbage again?” a voice called out. 

At hearing the question, you glanced up from your well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice, your favorite book, only to see a calm Zoro casually stroll over to you with a hint of amusement on his face.  

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Don’t knock it till you try it, oh great sword master,” you playfully jabbed as you shook out the book to him as he leaned his back against the ship’s front railing, resting his elbows on top of it. “The almighty Zoro isn’t allergic to reading, is he?” 

Zoro snorted, glancing down at your cross-legged position on top of a crate before returning his sights to the Going Merry’s deck and the open ocean. “Yeah, I am allergic,” he agreed. “Allergic to reading that monstrosity you call a book.” 

“Ooo, ‘monstrosity’. That’s a mighty big word for a non-reader like yourself, Zoro. Good job,” you teased as you marked your page before closing the book and joining your friend in looking across the deck and out towards the ocean. 

The green-haired swordsman crossed his arms. “I read.” 

“Mmhm,” you hummed, not convinced. “Sure you do.” 

“I do,” he defended in a gruff voice. 

“Oh yeah? Here, I’ll make it easy for you: tell me about one book you’ve read.” 

Zoro scoffed. “I can tell you about way more than one.” 

You couldn’t help the surprised noise that came out of you. “Oh, yeah? ’More than one’?” you asked with a raised brow and glanced up at your fellow straw hat, trying to wipe off the grin on your face.  

You were certainly surprised that Zoro has read more than one book in his lifetime, but you weren’t surprised that he took your earlier question as a challenge. Classic Zoro, you thought in amusement. The guy could never pass up a challenge, no matter what it was about. 

So, you repositioned yourself on your crate, making yourself comfortable for the discussion ahead. “Alright, come on,” you said and sat up straighter, urging Zoro on, “let’s hear it. Tell me all about them.” 

From the back of the ship, on the upper deck above the kitchen, a certain chef took a long drag on his cigarette as he watched you and his least favorite swordsman be engrossed in conversation. Sanji removed the butt of his cigarette from his mouth with his thumb and index finger, keeping the smoke in his lungs for as long as he could, before slowly exhaling the smoke from his nostrils, his eyes never leaving the two of you. 

“Daaamn, Sanji,” Usopp drawled as he messed with the sails on the ship’s mast nearby, glancing at the chef for a second before returning to his knots. “You look like a smoking dragon. All ferocious and mean. And....extra smokey.” 

Sanji’s gaze didn’t budge, Usopp’s words not fazing the cook in the slightest. “Oh yeah? And what of it knot-boy?” he asked with a slight edge to his words, taking another drag on his cigarette and exhaling through his lips. 

At Sanji’s snarky question, Usopp recoiled and looked back at Sanji more closely with a confused expression. It was rare for Sanji to lose his cool or be in a bad mood for no reason, unless he was going back and forth in an argument with Zoro but even then, the blonde chef usually took those in stride with a smile, much to Zoro’s annoyance, so this was new. 

“Aren’t those things supossed to calm you down?” Usopp asked as he nodded to the cigarette in the cook’s hand. 

“I am calm,” Sanji rebuked a little too quickly to be true.  

Usopp then noticed how intent Sanji’s stare was towards something at the front of the ship and raised an eyebrow. Whatever he was staring at must be pissing him off because the chef’s gaze looked absolutely lethal. What the hell could be making him so mad? Usopp followed Sanji’s gaze, looked towards the front of the ship, and saw....y/n and Zoro talking? 

To Usopp, it looked like they were just having a normal conversation, but when he saw y/n laugh at something Zoro said, hitting his arm with a grin and Zoro having a slight smile, he heard Sanji scoff loudly in disgust and mutter something under his breath. 

And in that moment, it dawned on Usopp what was up, and it was hard for him to contain his shit eating grin: Sanji was jealous. Sanji was jealous of y/n and Zoro. To Usopp, it looked like a completely normal conversation between friends since he knew of y/n’s affections for the blonde cook. But to Sanji? It probably seemed like a complete flirt fest, and he was jealous. 

Up until this point Usopp had thought y/n’s crush was only one sided. Sure, he’s had his suspicions ever since Sanji seemed to stare at y/n more often than not, but Usopp was still just a guy at the end of the day, so he never considered if Sanji might actually have feelings for y/n too.  

But now? Oh boy- Usopp was all caught up to speed and he couldn’t wait to meddle in their budding relationship and tease the heck out of them both for it (when the time was right, of course).  

Usopp looked back over at Sanji and wiped off his grin as best he could. “You say somethin’ Sanji?” he asked innocently, knowing damn well the chef said absolutely nothing. “I thought I heard you mutter something.” 

Sanji flicked the ashes off his cigarette. “No.” 

“Oh. Must just be the wind then...” 

Suddenly, y/n’s laughter could be heard from the ship’s front and Sanji nearly snarled in disgust and shook his head. “What the-” Sanji started but let out an exasperated sigh. “He’s not even funny,” Sanji complained before taking another hit on his cigarette. 

Usopp couldn’t help himself, he had to poke the bear. “Who, Zoro? I think he’s funny.” 

The blonde chef let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, funny looking.” 

He also had to twist the knife. “Well, y/n seems to think he’s funny.”  

Sanji chuckled to himself and stayed quiet for a moment, contemplating Usopp’s words. “You know what? It doesn’t matter,” he muttered and took one last drag of his cigarette before putting it out and immediately lighting up a fresh one. 

Unbeknown to the cook and slingshot fighter, standing underneath them and near the tangerine trees was the Going Merry’s orange-haired navigator, who had heard their whole conversation. 

------------- ----- 

“Zoro!” You laughed loudly and hit your crewmate on his bicep. “Reading books on how to dismember your opponents doesn’t count as real reading!” 

A ghost of a smile appeared on Zoro’s face as he raised an eyebrow at you. “Says you. Can you tell me fifty different ways on how to cut up a body? No? I didn’t think so.” 

“Fair enough,” you relented good naturedly with a small laugh as you shook your head. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.” 

A comfortable silence fell over you both as you let out a small sigh, watching the waves crash. 

After a few quiet beats, however, you felt Zoro lean into your personal space as he lowly murmured, “Don’t look now, but it seems like we have an audience.” 

You blinked in confusion as your eyebrows pulled together. “What? An audience? Where?” Completely disregarding Zoro’s instructions, you immediately started looking around the ship. “Watching what?” 

“Us,” Zoro said simply and returned to his full height. 

You shook your head in disbelief. “What? Us? Now who would be watching-” you started to say but the rest of your sentence died in your throat when you saw piercing blue eyes staring right you both. “...us?” you finished slowly.  

Sanji? Sanji was your audience? But- why? What? You were so confused. Even from this far away, you could tell something was off with him. His posture was stiff and the usual smile that adorned his features whenever he saw you was nowhere to be seen.  

“When did he get here? I didn’t know he was on deck...” you trailed off, about to move to hop off the crate and make your way over to Sanji to see what the matter with him was when something stopped you.  

Before you could hop off the crate, you saw Sanji put out his cigarette and make his way off the deck and head down into the kitchen, not sparing you another glance. As you made your way across the deck, about to follow him into the kitchen, Usopp quickly called out to you from up on the ship’s mast, asking for your help with knot tying since ‘yours were so much better than his’. You agreed with a small sigh, not wanting Usopp to struggle by himself, so you made your way to the mast and started climbing, but not before sparing the entryway to the kitchen one last glance. 

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Sanji flittered around, grabbing random ingredients he saw at first glance. Mushrooms? Grabbed. A block of cheese? Sure. Corn? Ok. Tomatoes? Sure, whatever. 

As he looked down at the growing pile of ingredients on the counter, he stopped for a second to examine the pile, putting his hands in his pockets. What the hell was he supposed to make out of this? He didn’t know. He couldn’t think straight, and it was bothering the absolute hell out of him. The kitchen had always been his sanctuary, a place where he could always rely on to decompress and escape from his thoughts as he got swept away in the act of cooking that came so naturally to him. Usually. 

But today? His natural instincts weren’t there. He felt his chef’s mind drawing up a blank on how to mix all of these items together and the longer he stood there, the more ticked off he became. On a normal day, he’d have thought up of 15 different dishes he could make and already have been busy at work making one of those ideas come to life. But now? There was nothing. No ideas swirling around in his head, nothing.  

He could feel his face twist up in irritation the longer he was standing there until finally, he let out a short, brusque sigh, muttering, “Now what the fuck am I supposed to do with all this?” 

“You’re the chef, aren’t you supposed to figure that out or something?” 

The blonde chef glanced up from the pile and saw Nami casually strolling in from the deck and up to the counter opposite of him, hands clasped behind her back, with a curious eyebrow raised.  

Instantly, to cover up his sour mood, the cook plastered on a fake smile. “Well, it seems my mind is a little blank at the moment, Darling. Why don’t you come over here and help me come up with an idea or two?” he offered with a wink, taking his hands out to lean against the counter. 

But Nami saw right through him. “I’m good, thanks,” she declined bluntly. Nami wasn’t sure when she had become the Going Merry’s pseudo-therapist, especially since this crew hadn't been together for more than 3 months at this point, but someone had to be, and she figured the only way to get Sanji to talk right now would be if he was doing something he loved: cooking. “Actually,” she started offhandedly, “I have a request for you.” 

Now that immediately got the cook’s attention. “Oh?” he asked with a raised brow, straightening up as he dropped the fake flirty persona. 

“Yeah,” she said aloud, sounding more like she was trying to convince herself that she actually had a request for the cook. From behind her back, she pulled out a couple of tangerines. With a slight smile and raised brow, she said matter-of-factly, “If I remember correctly, I believe I was told I could ask for a tangerine tart anytime I’d like?” 

A genuine smile came across Sanji’s face at that, his eyes crinkling at the corners, as he laughed with a nod. “The Madam is correct.” He took the fruits from Nami’s hands and placed them on the counter, pushing away his bizarre pile of ingredients to make room. “One tangerine tart coming right up,” he said and started bustling around the kitchen with purpose this time, pulling out the necessary ingredients, a far cry from his movements a couple of minutes ago. 

Seeing Sanji occupied, Nami took a seat at the table, sitting where she had left her charting journal and reading glasses from breakfast that morning. She opened her journal back up and put her glasses on, flipping through the pages and resuming her sketch of her latest map.  

Both of them worked in silence for a few minutes, both engrossed in their respective activities until Nami broke it. Before speaking, she snuck a glance at the chef, making sure he was preoccupied before she started prodding and sure enough, he was. Perfect. 

“You know, I never told anyone this before,” Nami started, laying the groundwork for Sanji to open up, creating a tit for tat sort of thing, “but I actually love tangerine tarts.” 

Sanji huffed slightly with a slight smile, not looking up from his work. “Oh yeah? Well, be prepared to fall in love with them all over again.” He started pouring heavy cream into a separate bowl, adding sugar before whisking it all together. “Even Zeff used to say I made a mean tangerine tart.” 

Nami hummed. “Maybe you can make Zoro fall in love with them too,” she said casually, sneaking a quick look at Sanji, only to see him press his lips together in a firm line and start to whisk the cream harder at the mention of the swordsman. “Or y/n,” she added quickly. “I don’t think she’s ever had one either.” 

At the mention of you, Sanji’s face and motions relaxed slightly. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I...think you’re right about that.” 

The orange-haired girl rotated her journal ninety degrees. She decided to prod a little harder. “I think I saw them talking earlier.” 

Sanji simply hummed in agreement, cracking eggs into a bowl, staying silent. With the third egg, however, he cracked it a little too hard on the counter, causing the raw egg contents to splatter everywhere and onto his black blazer.  

“Ah- fucking hell,” he muttered in disgust, throwing the broken eggshell into the trash before cleaning his hands off in the sink. 

Nami looked up from her work and quirked an eyebrow at her crewmate. “You good?” 

The blonde cook shook his head once with a sardonic smile. “Never better,” he quipped. 

Ok, she couldn’t do this dance anymore. Nami closed her journal and took off her glasses, looking straight at him. “Alright, you want to tell me what the hell is going on? You’re acting weird, even for you.” Sanji opened his mouth to protest but Nami spoke before he could. “And don’t lie to me.” 

Mouth still open, Sanji exhaled slowly and deflated. “I- I’m fine.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Sanji-” 

Upon hearing his name, Sanji blinked and raised his eyebrows in surprise. Nami rarely called him by his name.  

“Cut the bullshit,” she continued. “I heard your conversation with Usopp and you certainly didn’t sound ‘fine’.” 

Sanji was caught red-handed. With what exactly? He didn’t really know but he did know he was caught in a lie because he definitely did not feel fine. He shrugged his shoulders, at a loss for words. “I...” he sighed and took off his ruined blazer, draping it over the back of an empty chair, rolling up his sleeves as he avoided Nami’s expectant stare. He grabbed a dirty rag and started cleaning the egg off the counter. “I don’t know...” 

“Sanji, you can barely crack an egg.” 

That brought out a short bark of laughter from the chef. “Yeah,” he relented. “Obviously.” 

“Is this because of your jealously over y/n and Zoro?” 

“My- my what? My jealously?” he sputtered and scoffed, still not looking Nami in the eye. “I, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why on earth would I be jealous over that stick in the mud?” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Nami played along, tapping her temple, pretending she was deep in thought. “Maybe because you saw and heard them laughing from all the way across the ship?” she pointed out. When Sanji tried to wave off her accusations with an unconvincing smile, Nami decided to just go in for the kill. If Sanji wasn’t going to admit his obvious liking towards her female crewmate and friend himself, then she’d have to do it for him. “Maybe....maybe because you might have a little crush on y/n?” she offered with a raised brow, staring right at him. 

“Wh-what?? A crush?” Sanji quickly rebuked, jerking his head back. “What are we? Little kids?” 

From her spot at the table, Nami could swear she saw a faint dusting of pink appear on his cheeks. She smirked to herself. She got him. “Well,” she shrugged, “it doesn’t matter how old we get, we all get crushes from time to time.” 

You? A crush? Sanji shook his head as he resumed making the tangerine tart. Labeling whatever feelings he had for you as simply a ‘juvenile crush’ didn’t feel right to him. You were more than that, and you didn’t deserve to be labeled as such. “No, she’s not a crush.” 

“Oh, so you like-like her?” Nami said like it was obvious. “You like her as more than just a friend.” 

“I-” Sanji started but stopped himself and sighed, feeling his irritation grow the longer this conversation went on. Now even the kitchen wasn’t bringing him peace? First, smoking and now this? What was next? “Why does it matter? All of a sudden, my love life is interesting to you and up for debate? I don’t remember asking for your opinion.” 

Nami watched his jaw tense and his body become stiff as he started zesting the tangerines. Clearly whatever feelings Sanji was dealing with, he wasn’t ready to openly talk about them, so she decided to back off.

She put her hands up in surrender, slumping back in her chair as she said, “Hey, I’m...I’m sorry. You’re right.” Deciding to give the chef his space, she gathered her belongings and stood up, making her way to the counter. “If you ever need to...talk or anything, I’m here,” she offered quietly. In a normal tone, she added, “Let me know when the tarts are ready. I really do want y/n and Zoro to try one.” 

Speaking of the devil, you came into the kitchen from the deck, eyes lighting up at the sight of Sanji cooking. Seeing Sanji cook was one of your favorite things and you always loved to guess what he was making. “Sanji! Ooo, what are you making?” 

Nami watched as Sanji’s whole demeanor change at the sight of you, like a switch being flipped on. She couldn’t help but smile knowingly between you both. “I’ll be in my room,” she announced before making her way out of the kitchen, leaving you both alone. 

Sanji had a wide smile, shoulders relaxing as his eyes lit up. “Why don’t you guess? Give it your best shot.” 

“Oh! I love this game. Ok, let’s see,” you said as you surveyed the ingredients laid out before you. “I see flour, sugar, butter and tangerines...are you making a tangerine cake or something?” 

Whatever jealousy or anger he had been feeling all day just instantly disappeared once he was with you. He felt like himself again, all carefree and lighthearted as he chuckled at your guess. “Not quite, Missus. But nice try,” he said as he looked into your eyes with a crooked smile. 

Missus. You felt your heart skip a beat at the nickname and you felt your insides became all warm. You hoped your face didn’t give away your swooning. He's never called you that before and you hoped to God that he would never stop. 

“Ah, my bad,” you laughed embarrassedly. “What are you making then?” 

“I, am making a tangerine tart,” he proudly stated as he grabbed another egg, perfectly cracking it this time. “At the request of the ship’s navigator.” 

A wide grin broke out across your face. “No way!!” you squealed eagerly, causing Sanji to laugh. “I’ve always wanted to try one!”  

The blonde chef nodded. “Yes, she did mention that actually.” After a beat, he added, “I hope you like it.” 

“Of course I will,” you said without hesitation. “I know I haven’t known you for that long, but it seems like everything you make is phenomenal. You’re the best cook I know.” 

Normally, nearly everyone compliments his cooking (except for Zoro) and he never really thought anything of it. He knew was the best cook in the East Blue and someday, the whole world when he found the All Blue. But hearing that compliment from you? How you said it so easily and with such certainty? He felt a funny, warm feeling deep within his chest and when he looked at you, just like how you knew for certain that he was the best chef around, he knew right then that you really were the most beautiful woman he’s ever known. 

So, yeah. Nami was right. He guessed he did have a little crush on you, or ‘like-liked’ you- whatever she was saying.  

“Do you mind if I watch?” 

Your question broke the little staring trance he was in, blinking and tearing his gaze away from you as he tried to refocus on the task before him. He truly had to make sure this was the best tart he’s ever made. 

He nodded, perhaps a little too eagerly. God, he was probably acting like an excited puppy, but he couldn’t help himself. “Of course you can,” he agreed with a small smile. 

As you pulled up a stool to sit on the opposite side of the counter, Sanji realized something: him cooking in the kitchen with you sitting nearby? That’s something he could get used to and get used to very quickly. 

[sunderwight]

SV AU where Shen Yuan transmigrates into a dragon.

It's not so bad, at first. He's an extremely magical sort of dragon so he can easily take on a humanoid shape, and he has dominion over an entire mountain, with a magical gate that leads to his palace. Said palace has a fully stocked treasury, a library, garden, etc, with the only real downsides being that the place is kind of huge and very difficult for a neet with limited housekeeping or landscaping skills to keep up with. The original dragon had enslaved a bunch of fairy spirits to do it for him, but since Shen Yuan has moral objections to that, he'd let them all go and they'd run off before he could even think to offer to hire any of them as paid employees instead. Not that he can blame them for being in a hurry to get gone.

He does his best, and generally enjoys being a dragon lazing on his mountain, or wandering the beauty of his palace and investigating the books and scrolls kept there. He doesn't actually seem to need to eat or drink, so that's not really an issue, and nobody looks keen to bother him. But after a few months the dust starts to really pile up, and trying to figure out how to do his own laundry without modern equipment leads to several disasters, and even though he doesn't need to eat he's starting to think it would be quite nice to have a fancy sit-down dinner and enjoy it for its own sake anyway. He has an enchanted larder but his food prep skills aren't up to much.

So, Shen Yuan ventures away from his mountain. He keeps to his human disguise when he's not traveling, and at first tries to hire on some help from a nearby city. But when he explains that he lives on the mountain, he realizes the difficulty, because everyone in the area knows that only the dragon lives there. So they all think he's either a liar or a fraud, or some servant of a nefarious supernatural creature angling to trick and possibly devour them.

Shen Yuan tries approaching another town in his dragon form, to see if anyone will actually deal with him if he's being upfront and honest about the situation, but the townspeople just panic. He returns to his mountain to rethink his strategies, and in the meanwhile the alarmed locals hire a swordsman to go after him. The guy gives him a few very painful cuts before Shen Yuan mostly-accidentally sends him careening into a boulder. One broken arm later the swordsman is gently persuaded that the pay he was offered isn't worth the effort on this job, and leaves.

Discouraged, Shen Yuan decides he's gonna give this one last try. He picks the second closest city, flies up, and is like yes hello, yes I am indeed a dragon, no I'm not trying to burn down your walls, yes it would be excellent if you stopped shooting arrows at me, look they don't even get past the scales? It's kind of silly? Okay, yes, thank you very much. Good. Now, the thing is, I'm looking for some people. I want to take them back to my mountain with me, to my incredibly nice palace, and -- what was that? A princess? No no I don't want a princess, what would I even do with one? If anything I'm looking for the complete opposite of a princess!

Anyway, the locals take this to mean that the dragon is demanding a sacrifice in the form of a pretty boy of no particular pedigree, and Shen Yuan takes this to mean that he's finally made his case clear and they're going to dig up someone who is willing to overlook his being a dragon in exchange for free room and board and fair wages out of his massive treasury.

SY's a bit disheartened when the entire city could only apparently turn up one such person -- an underfed teenage boy who looks at Shen Yuan like, despite the situation, he is still expecting to be eaten at any moment. Poor thing! But at least having one servant means he can potentially get more, especially if it all goes well. The lad can tell others that working for a dragon isn't so bad! Well, provided that he doesn't give up in alarm at the state of the mountain palace.

For his part, Luo Binghe at first thinks he's definitely going to get eaten, and then that this dragon is weirdly nice about planning to eat him, and then that maybe the dragon has other (even less savory!) plans for him, until finally he sees the state of the dragon's laundry and the foot-thick layer of dust in the corners, and gets completely distracted. Mortal terror forgotten, those floors should not be that filthy, Lord Dragon respectfully that isn't how anyone should prepare rice either, but oh Binghe has never seen a kitchen so nice before in his life...!

Anyway, needless to say, it works out just fine.

[amoreva]

KISS THE GIRL

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pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

summary: two times luke knows he’s in love with you + one time he can’t hold it in anymore

warnings: pre tlt luke, ooc luke

a/n: percy jackson 🔛🔝 (request some fics for the characters), i think i ended this terribly, but i’ll fix it later at some point!

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I. SCAR

“You are an idiot.”

That’s the first thing Luke hears when he wakes up in the Camp’s infirmary. He feels groggy, sluggish and slow and barely registered that you were in the room.

He faintly tasted his mother’s cooking. A small comfort for the consequences of failing his quest. His heart is filled with embarrassment and pity and dejection.

You snapped your fingers by his ears. “I know you’re awake. You hear me? You are an idiot!”

“If you’re here to make fun of me failing my quest, go away.” Luke groaned and turned on his side, despite the pain flaring in his abdomen.

"Luke." You said in a much softer tone. You were concerned about his injuries since he returned from the quest. "You know I wouldn't do that, not with something this serious.”

You helped him sit up in the infirmary bed and cup his cheek. He felt a gauze patch rather then your warm palm on his right cheek. “I’m saying you’re an idiot for not letting me come with you!”

“You can’t do everything by yourself.”

Love is fickle and strange thing. Luke and you promised that if either of you went on a quest, you’d bring each other. Yet, Luke couldn’t keep his promise.

He couldn’t see his girl—best friend, his best friend get hurt because of a stupid promise. He wouldn’t forgive himself if you went out he quest and got injured in some way, shape or form.

Even if you hadn’t gotten hurt, he might’ve— he would’ve gotten worse injuries from being distracted by your beauty. He could never tear his eyes from you whenever you entered the room.

In hindsight, it was a really bad way to go about things.

“I’m fine, aren’t I?” Luke responded and couldn’t hold himself back. He interlaced his fingers with yours, knowing you were still pissed when he didn’t choose you or anyone, for that matter, to join him on his quest to retrieve a Golden Apple from the Garden of Hesperides.

He resented his father and the gods for not caring for his wellbeing during the quest.

“Yes, but—” You protested.

At least you cared for his wellbeing. You caring about him was better than any god or goddess on Olympus.

His eyes softened. His mind screaming the words he was too scared to say to you out loud. “I love you.” He loved you for caring about his wellbeing. His safety.

“Yes, but nothing.” Luke retaliated and squeezed your hand to assure you. “I’m okay, I’m alive and have some cool ass scars now.”

Luke grinned as he was able to produce a laugh from you. Your laugh was like music to his ears. His own ambrosia in human form.

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes playfully.

“Never.”

II. SPARRING

“Again.” Luke demanded as he pointed the celestial bronze sword at your throat. The sun beating down on the two of you as you trained. A past time as the days got boring.

“Fuck off.” You scoffed and laid back in the grass that laid beneath the pair’s feet. The grass tickling your arms and legs.

“C’mon! Up and at it. The momentum will wear off.” Luke helplessly convinced you to try and spar him again.

“Oh no, what ever will we do?” Sarcasm bled through your tone. You pushed yourself to sit up and leaned against the rack contained to celestial bronze swords.

Luke shook his head and grinned. He pushed back his chocolate curls to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He joined you on the grassy floor.

“Five minute break then.” Luke nodded.

“Ten minutes.” You negotiated and looked over at Luke. His scar was healing nicely, no infections—just a clean cut from his eye to his jaw. “You can’t expect to be up and at it after training with the greatest swordsman for an hour straight.”

Maybe it was the heat or maybe it was from the training. Luke’s cheeks became pink. He knew his siblings and other demigods talked about him being the “greatest swordsman”, but hearing it from you was different.

“You think I’m the greatest swordsman?” Luke said with a teasing grin.

“Not after I’m done with you.”

“Say that to the many times you hit the floor.”

“I was going easy on you!”

Luke and you burst out in laughter at your banter, unable to keep a serious conversation. He thought your laughter could brighten up the Underworld. Hades would even agree.

Again, those three words would cross his mind. “I love you.” He loved bantering with you back and forth. How dare he try to ruin the moment with his romantic phrases.

“C’mon!” You huffed and pushed yourself to stand up. You were obliviously to the admiration in his eyes. The celestial bronze sword gripped loosely in your hand.

“What happened to the ten minutes?” Luke titled his head up only slightly to look at you. A stupid grin on his face. He stood up to get in position

“I can train when I damn want too.”

“Don’t start complaining about being tired then.”

He never tore his eyes away from yours as you thrusted the blade at his torso.

III. STARS

Luke had no idea where the line between lover and friendship was crossed. He had absolutely no idea when he started to see you more as a crush rather than his best friend.

Though he did notice his stomach started to twist and turn every time he saw you. He noticed his heart raced a little faster every time he heard your laugh.

Luke found himself gravitating towards you during dinner, training, capture the flag—like a moth to burning flame. Would he find himself getting burned for pursuing you?

“Hey.”

Luke spoke as the wooden dock creaked beneath his feet. You were sitting on the edge of the dock. The night sky lit up with tiny bright lights. You gave him a smile (one that could melt his heart) and patted the space next to you.

“You doing okay?” Luke asked and sat next to you. His leg touching yours. The lake rippled. The moonlight shining down on it.

“I just—needed a break.” You reassure Luke. “From gods, goddesses, prophecies, quests…all of it.”

The chirps and cheeps of the birds and animals filled the silence. A background noise. Luke felt your head lean against his shoulder. His heart beat quicker. He hesitantly wrapped his arm around your shoulder. Comfort, he convinced himself.

“You can’t really escape being a half-blood.” Luke consulted and rubbed his hand up and down your arm. You hummed in agreement.

You were quite glad Luke joined you. These nights on the dock, after dinner, were getting lonely. The silence is comfortable save for the wildlife in the forest.

Faintly, ever so faintly, you heard Luke speak three words. Three words you would never hear from him.

“I love you…”

Gods.

He didn’t even realize it. His lips were making the consonants and vowel sounds. Luke didn’t know until you picked up your head from his shoulder. Your eyes wide with shock and what he had hoped was…relief.

“What…?” You mumbled.

Did he just ruin his friendship with you? Did he just lose his best friend because he said his thoughts out loud? Luke thought he had better control over that.

“What?” He responded and let his arm fall from your shoulders.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

“Luke.”

His breath hitched. He felt lovesick. Like Aphrodite personally made his body malfunction during this moment. “I…”

“I love you…” Luke avoided your gaze like he was ashamed to have a crush on you.

How did you feel? Would you reject him in a heart beat? Would you ridicule him? Thoughts swam his mind.

Before he could get too into his head, he felt a soft pair of lips pressed against his. Your eyes closed and he willed himself to close his eyes as well. Melting, melting into your touch, your lips.

When you pulled away, his eyes opened. He was graced with the sight of you in the moonlight. “What?” He spoke breathlessly.

“What?” You responded slightly confused and scared you made the moment uncomfortable.

“You…” Luke paused and closed his mouth as he tried to formulate the words. To form a coherent thought. He just…he wanted that to never end. He finally got what he yearned for (and he wasn’t rejected?). He got you.

“Is this real?” Luke asked and you laughed. His stomach churned with butterflies.

“Yes!” You answered and interlaced your fingers with his.

“May I?”

“You’d be a pretty bad demigod if you didn’t.”

And once again, Luke got the kiss the girl. He got the kiss the girl he been pining over for gods know how long.

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[annievrse]

pick up lines

roronoa zoro x reader —ᡣ𐭩 blurb c/w: established relationship, reader gets called 'pretty' (aka my favourite term of endearment from zoro), a little suggestive but nothing too crazy.

Zoro squints the small paper in between his fingers. "I could get lost in your eyes..."

Nami sighs, rolling her eyes. "You get lost walking in a straight line."

"Yeah, marimo, try a different one."

"Fuck you, cook."

Sanji and Nami glance at one another, the former taking a drag of his cigarette before stepping into the kitchen. "Nami-swan, would you like a refreshment?"

"Yes, please," She says, returning to the swordsman. "What else have you got written down?"

Rubbing his forehead, Zoro sighs. "Is it hot in here? Or is it just you?"

The navigator drops her face into her hands, her elbows on the table. "Where did you get these from?"

Narrowing his eyes at Sanji, Zoro mumbles something incoherent, and Nami knows he's a lost cause.

"I don't know how you got her to date you in the first place," Sanji quips, placing an orange glass before Nami. "You're hopeless at this."

"Stop," Nami shakes her head. "You've been together for how long? Three years? I don't know why you're trying pick up lines now."

Zoro huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, the piece of paper crushed in his fist. "I'm trying to be romantic."

"I wouldn't put you and romantic in the same sentence."

Zoro goes to retort when the door to the kitchen swings shut, and the trio turn to see you.

"There you are," Smiling, you walk toward Zoro, his arm circling your waist when you stand beside him. "Hey, baby."

"Hi, pretty," The swordsman grumbles, pulling you closer. You rest your hand in his hair and scratch his scalp lightly. Almost like a cat, you can feel him relax.

"Drink?" Sanji asks, already handing you a glass.

"Thank you," You say, Zoro's hand curling further to splay his palm across your stomach as you take the cup. You sip the beverage before leaning down to kiss Zoro's cheek. "Wanna go to bed soon?"

Nami and Sanji narrow their eyes in your direction, waiting with bated breath.

Your breath on his cheek holds the sweet tang of orange, and Zoro refrains from devouring you whole right then and there. Nonetheless, he pointedly ignores his crewmates and smiles.

"Would you mind pinching me?"

Sanji and Nami groan and hide their faces. You hold back a laugh and squeeze the skin of his thick bicep with your index finger and thumb.

Zoro's eyes twinkle with something unsaid, and you feel your face warm up. "Sorry, you're just so cute, I thought I was dreaming."

You scrunch up your nose and shove your face into his neck, his deep laughter rocking his body. He moves his arms so you're on his lap, your body flush against his.

"That's our cue to leave," Nami says, disgust lacing her words. She grabs Sanji's arm and tugs him from the room, stopping in the doorway. "Don't keep me up, or I will strangle you."

Zoro salutes her with his free hand, the other wrapped securely around you.

You pull your head from his shoulder and rest your palms on his warm cheeks. "How long were you saving that one?"

Sighing, Zoro furrows his eyebrows. "Few days."

"Cute," You laugh, pulling his face closer and pecking his lips. "You're so cute."

Zoro scoffs with his eyes on your mouth, his tongue darting to taste the orange from your lips. "And they said I'm not romantic."

[otkuhotgirl]

─── 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖 .

# with akagami no shanks.

the captain was drunk — and a bit self-conscious. not to fret, for you were his favorite entertainer.

KINKTOBER, day ten. smut (mdni!). strip-tease. lap dance. masturbation (reader!receiving). thigh riding. dry humping. usage of conqueror’s haki. afab!reader. no y/n used.

WC: 1.9k.

akagami no shanks had lost his arm.

upon his return to the wild seas of the new world, those had been the most frowned upon words. the fearsome captain, the unmovable force, somehow would miss a limb forevermore. the reactions were but a divergent cacophony. fear — for what human could achieve such a feat? was it even a human? if not so, how close was the beast? if it had been enough to face him, what chance did the commoners have? anger — for mihawk no longer had a worthy rival. it would be far from honorable to face in combat a swordsman whose dominant arm was gone. and, at last, curiosity — for why was the truth hidden? one did not brag about a loss, but aside from overused jokes, shanks refused to spare a single word. who was he protecting? it was hilarious to witness the fuss as part of the select number of people aware of what had, in truth, happened.

akagami no shanks had lost his arm. and you had been the one to hear his puns ever since.

of course, he faced decent struggles. waking at night phantom pain; forced to master the art of the sword yet again with a hand he had no experience with whatsoever. yet, above the frustration soared an undeniable truth — for luffy, it had been worth it. besides, a decade past and shanks had grew accustomed to the mandatory shifts, living as though had not lost a thing.

however, as it seemed, there was yet one he would never cease to whine about.

the man was drunk — a common occurrence — and awfully clingy — another common occurrence. you had dragged him from the bar, pitying the poor beckman, for the man deserved a break from the captain’s shenanigans, and shanks had been hugging your waist ever since. he sat on the bed, drooling on your flesh, not allowing you to at least go fetch some water. his grip was a prison of itself on usual hours, but it did not help that you, too, were a bit intoxicated, swaying to the sides and failing to pull his face off your body.

“dooooooooooooll,” he drawled out, hiccuping. “i miss your ass.”

shanks gripped a considerable amount of flesh, daring to whine. “get over it, you’re a grown man.”

“how mean, i am half a grown man,” he laughed at said joke, biting the bare inch of your waist.

“half a man deserves half an ass,” you stated matter-of-factly, fighting off the urge to let out a hiccup yourself.

“but i miss groping both sides at the same time,” shanks insisted, dragging his nose on your belly, daring to grow drunker on your scent.

“you never had this complaint with my tits,” you pointed out, to which he liked his lips, seemingly aroused all of the sudden.

the hand pinching at your waist trailed itself up to rest on one of your breasts, his once slouched figure straightening up so that he could drag a sloppy stripe across your covered nipple. he had no problem with it whatsoever, for he was a man of considerable height.

“i can tease both of my girls at the same time,” he stated, wetting the fabric of your shirt, grinning at the elicit expression. “i can’t slap both your asscheeks at the same time anymore.”

your nipple hardened due to his ministrations, all but his for the taking, for you hadn’t felt the need to wear a bra that night. shanks closed his lips around the bud, humming as he sucked on it, spit soaking clothing and skin alike.

“and you like it,” the man teased, voice a bit muffled; rough.

you arched your back with a sigh, gripping locks of red hair, falling prey to his sensual tongue. yet, though your glance was tethered to his face, shanks’ own eyes seemed ever-so-lost, melancholic, even. you caught on the instance he moved his other shoulder, as though aiming to grip your hip with a nonexistent arm — a maintained instinct despite the absence of the limb. shanks laid down, retreating from your figure altogether, explicit vulnerability that would not have been shown otherwise, was he not drunk.

“see, doll? half a man,” he scoffed, to which your eyes narrowed; face scrunching in concentration as you then pondered on how to comfort him.

your fingers tugged at the waistband of his pants, whistling with faux innocence. shanks observed your approach with hooded eyes, laughing with delight once your chest was pressed against his own.

“my poor, poor husband,” you teased, pleased to witness the sudden shift in his attitude.

shanks and you hadn’t officiated the marriage; no celebration to be seen whatsoever. it had been the initial plan, two years prior. however, with newgate’s death and the aftermath of the war, waiting on a better period was the agreement. that did not mean the titles weren’t used, and shanks, in particular, never failed to be aroused whenever the word husband fell past your lips. a decade worth of lovemaking, too, made you more than attuned to what had him squirming.

“how i hate to see you so sorrowful,” you hummed, kissing the scars etched on the flesh of his eye. “i will fix that.”

“yeah, doll?” he grunted, growing excited when you dodged his advances. “how so?”

shanks sat on the edge of your shared bed, widening smirk and lustful eyes following your every move. you spun around the room, strutting your hips and nearing the corner, positioned far from his reach.

“you’re not allowed to touch,” you ordered, far more daring due to the alcohol. “just watch.”

shanks had his legs spread, a growing erection visible through the thin fabric of his pants. you opened the small, circular window, allowing the music from the outside bar to travel inside. your hips moved accordingly to the beat, an established sensual pace that had your fingers hovering over your breasts as you spun and approached him with languid steps.

you danced around the border of his reach, teasing the thin grip he had on his self-restraint. when he dared move, you dodged with a fit of giggles. “how should we start, sea emperor?”

he groaned at the title. “let me see your tits, doll.”

you hummed, rolling your hips with a languid sensualness born from the usual influence of alcohol. your fingers teased the straps of your shirt, trailing down the fabric until you reached the button of your shirts. rather than listening to his request, you sluggishly tugged down the zipper, perching your ass up as you slowly turned around, movements following the rhythm from the music outside.

the loose piece of clothing threatened to fall, yet you held the hem, controlling the pace of its trajectory, rolling your hips; lowering yourself on your knees. when it was, at last, off, you kicked it away, snapping the strap of your underwear. shanks had a brief sight of your soaked cunt before he was forced to face your front yet again. he cleared his throat, eyes trailed to the lacy, borderline transparent, fabric that left near nothing to the imagination.

“tits?” you mocked, trailing your fingers down your clothed labia.

shanks was left conflicted, his inebriated mind struggling to wrap itself around what to answer. would you concede if he reacted positively? or would you tease him yet again, offering the much desired sight of your intimacy? how could he outsmart that? shanks was far too drunk for an elaborate plan.

“thighs,” he answered smugly, a grin that indicated he felt all much too quirky.

you parted your legs open, pinching and grabbing the bare flesh, mimicking his touch. your lover was drooling, observing the outline of your intimacy; stroking his clothed member. yet again, a temptive roll of your hips deprived him of what he yearned for. shanks gripped his cock, growing out of patience as your fingers gripped the hem of your shirt, raising it ever-so-slowly, a languid set pace. you stretched the fabric, biting on it in order to keep your nipples covered, using your fingers to tease said hardened buds, muffled moans and dancing matching the melody of the song.

when the saliva started dripping down your chin; staining your shirt; you removed it, spinning it on your finger until it fell at his feet.

“doll,” he warned, sweat surging on his temples, ceasing the ministrations of his hand on the hardened member. ��c’mere.”

“nuh uh,” you sang, turning around on purpose. shanks had the entire sight of your cunt when you lowered down to remove your panties, dancing with it stuck between your teeth, growing hot at the explicit lust on his eyes.

“come to me,” he demanded, the applied pressure stealing your free-will.

your dance ceased altogether, for shanks had dared use his conqueror’s haki to guarantee compliance. your figure stumbled towards the awaiting man, his index beckoning you in a mocking manner.

“sit on my lap,” you conceded, no questions asked. shanks gripped your chin, a lonesome finger tugging at the lacy underwear dangling from your lips. “i want that.”

he opened his mouth, forcing yours to mimic the movement. your panties fell on his tongue, and he moaned at the taste of your essence, the loud slurping causing your walls to clench around air. you whimpered, neglected and unable to move, and shanks all but spat out the piece of clothing, rutting his hips as though a hound in heat.

“turn around,” he instructed, groaning when you brushed against him. your ass rested on his clothed cock, legs spread and back arched, prepared for whatever he had in store. “dance for me, doll.”

the music fell on deaf ears, overthrown by the choir of your moans once you started to move, the roll of your hips teasing your clit, growing swollen due to the texture of his pants. shanks panted, leaning forward. he sucked on your earlobe, twisting one of your nipples as he teased the clothed erection under your bare entrance. the dancing grew sloppy, for he had your back pressed against his chest; his lips latched to your neck. shanks made out with the flesh, spit trailing down your breast, the wetness used to tease your abused nipple.

shanks’ feet sunk down on the ground for further support, and he interrupted the languid roll of your figure on his lap by rutting his hips, forcing his clothed cock to rub itself on your folds. he licked a trail up your chin, biting on the bone, tilting your head with his nose. expert fingers left your breast to dance down your stomach, finding themselves a home amidst your folds. he drew fast-paced circles on your clit, and you closed your eyes, moaning at the sensation. your legs trembled, thighs burning, yet the pressure of his command lingered. you were but a puppet whose strings he pulled, dancing despite your own tiredness.

the growing knot at the pit of your stomach snapped, your orgasm arriving with treacherous swiftness, for the alcohol had done its part when enhancing your pleasure. shanks laughed, shoving his fingers past your parted lips without warning, forcing you to taste yourself; to lick him clean.

he wrapped his arm around your figure to throw you against the mattress. you had but a brief sight of him — removing his clothes, standing in naked glory — before he hovered above you, teasing your slick, sensitive entrance with his leaking tip.

“you were kind enough to dance,” shanks mocked, his lips mere inches away from your own; hot breath fanning over your face. “but the spectacle won’t be complete until i have you singing.”

— 🐈‍⬛ : i’m running out of things to write here omg, happy kinktober? 😭

[atsumutu]

it’s your scream that wakes him up. a shrill cry that has zoro jerking upright and latching onto the hilt of his swords. 

it takes him barely a minute to get to you, calling out your name as he enters your shared room where he finds you wide eyed and backed into a corner.

“what’s wrong?”

a quick scan of the room comes up empty for intruders so he returns his attention to you, closing the distance between you two with a few steps. 

there were intruders. just not the human kind. 

“c-cockroach!” you cry, pointing towards the corner of the room where sure enough, there’s a cockroach scuttering past. 

zoro turns to you, unimpressed. it’s a tiny thing that hardly called for this level of reaction. it most definitely didn’t warrant cutting his mid afternoon nap short. 

“seriously? i thought you were dying.” sleep still clings to his voice making it more rough than usual. 

your frenzied eyes move back and forth from the cockroach to the swordsman. “please zoro, if you love me you’ll-“ a squeal cuts off your pleading when another one decides to make an appearance. with nowhere left to run, you just push yourself further into the corner, shutting your eyes. 

before your scream comes to an end, zoro’s taken care of the situation, disposing off the offending creatures before returning to you. 

“god, such a crybaby.” he grumbles, pulling you towards him. a warm palm settles on your back, rubbing up and down between your shoulder blades. “it’s gone now, okay? it’s dead.” 

you peer at zoro through your lashes. “both of them?”

“yes, both of them.”

although his words comfort you, you seek further solace in his embrace, grabbing the fabric of his t shirt and nestling into his chest as he continues running up and down your back. 

a few seconds pass before zoro pulls back, remembering something. “i thought you were going out?” he asks, recalling the lively chatter over breakfast as the straw hats made plans to explore the port town they were docked in for the next few days. 

“I decided to stay in, thought you might appreciate some company.” you grin, mood perking up now that the cockroaches were dealt with. 

zoro rolls his eyes, sassy man that he is, and you suddenly find yourself thrown over his shoulder. 

“what i would appreciate is going back to my nap.” he huffs, making his way towards your shared bed. 

giggling, you give his firm bottom a few pats. “of course, my hero deserves some rest.”

zoro tolerates it all with a smirk playing on his lips, giving your thighs a gentle squeeze. when he reaches the end of the bed, he drops you onto the mattress, chuckling mildly at the disgruntled noise you make. he makes quick work of removing his swords, resting them on their usual spot against the bedside table, before joining you. 

it’s only when you’re tucked into zoro’s side that you pipe up again, lifting yourself to rest on your elbows, feeling playful. “zoro?”

he can already tell this isn't about to be a normal conversation just from the mirth dancing on your lips but he indulges you anyways.

“hm?”

“would you kill all the cockroaches in the world for me?”

zoro snorts at your absurd question. “that’s ridiculous.” he scoffs, fixing an arm behind his head and using the other to have you lie on his chest before answering, only because he knows how this goes with you. “yes, i would.” 

he’s rewarded with a chaste kiss on the lips and the melody of your laughter. its enough to fill his entire body with warmth. 

half an hour and several questions later, sleep still calls to him but his smile remains, content to humour you until your words begin to jumble into one and your breathing evens out into a familiar rhythm, convinced he could do this for an eternity with you.

[shunsuiken]

cw. gn!reader + mentions of blood & wounds + jing yuan being protective over you + this can be read as part 2 to this drabble or can be read as a stand alone! + wc 1.1k

let me talk about merman!jing yuan again…

you stumble in your steps on the path to the pool of water, trying not to move your spine too much from the injury you sustained the day before. a few monsters attempted to raid your town and so you joined in with the others to defend your home. you’re an incredible swordsman of course—but the monster had caught you in a blank spot and almost tore an entire strike across your back were it not for another townsperson who stopped it.

you still have some scars on your arms and legs, but it didn’t hurt as much as the wound on your back. it stings as you trudge your way over to the waters, a smile growing on your face when you spot arctic hair peeking out from it.

when jing yuan spots your figure in the distance, it’s like his heart has been returned to it’s place in his chest. where were you yesterday? you never missed a meet-up with him. he swims towards you, his tail swishing under the water with excitement but flinches at a metallic-like scent filling his nose.

blood. the stench clings to you heavily.

you're hurt.

“i’m sorry i missed you yesterday i—ow—” you bend down too quickly to sit yourself on the smooth stones, grunting as you make yourself comfortable. “—there was an attack at the town. got a little hurt.”

“a little hurt?” jing yuan raises his brow and gives you a once over, golden eye seeing straight through your lie. “the stench of blood on you is almost overbearing.” he slides himself beside you, scanning your figure.

you shake your head. “no i swear! everything healed up pretty quickly.” you show him your arms adorned in scars. “our apothecary is very resourceful! these healed up after a night.”

“mm,” jing yuan hums, placing a hand on your back. your thin cotton blouse doesn’t hide the bandaged area there. “including this one?”

you hiss, “ow!” grabbing his wrist, more aggressively than you would have liked. “don’t touch it, that one still hurts.”

jing yuan’s eye twinkles at your spark of aggression. since you first found him injured, you've been nothing but lovely and gentle. so witnessing even a split second of another side of you definitely piqued his interests. noting the situation though, he decides that he can tease you about it another time.

“you were poisoned.” his fingers slip the hem of the blouse out of your pants its tucked into. “whatever attacked your town did not just raid it with ordinary weapons.” you let him check you. it’s not like he hasn’t seen your skin before.

you feel him removing the bandage wrapping around your middle, revealing the bleeding that is far from dry. if anything, it looks like a fresh wound.

“how did you walk all the way here with this?” jing yuan hovers his palm over the bleeding, watching your expression closely. there's a concerned glint in his eye that you missed to see.

your shoulders immediately drop and relax at the cooling sensation that spreads across your back. merman magic, you presume. other than their immense strength, mermen were also known for their healing abilities.

“i thought i would worry you because i didn’t drop by yesterday,” you explain, holding your blouse from getting in the way with his healing. “so i had to drop by today.”

“you haven’t forgotten that i have legs to roam the land if necessary, have you?” you hear a smile in his voice, it makes you turn your head to see it.

“yeah, but how would you have known that i got hurt and needed your help?” you say without much thought, but when your words run through your head again, your eye twitches with sudden awareness. “i mean, you know, i didn’t come here specifically for your help, i’m saying that i didn’t want you to misunderstand-”

jing yuan pulls his hand back. your wound is cured and you have yet to realise it because you’re still babbling about something he already knows the answer to.

it seems you care a lot about what he thinks, and he thinks it’s quite adorable.

“i understand, y/n.”

that quiets you down easily. it makes him chuckle, taking your blouse and pulling it back over your healed skin. “i would still be here, even if you hadn't visited for a day, a week, or even months.”

you ponder for a second before speaking up, your voice leaving your lips quietly, perhaps nervous to know what jing yuan’s response would be. “what makes you say that?”

he’s closer than he was earlier. you don't even realise how much space he’s taken between you two until you feel his breath just against your cheek. “i believe we’ve grown a strong companionship.” he runs the tip of his nose over the bone of your shoulder blade. “wouldn’t you say so?”

“oh i would say so,” you respond with a smile, accompanied by warmth that rests over your cheeks. raising your hand, you pet the gentle merman. “such a strong companionship that you allowed me to bathe you in a time of need.” you giggle as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his arm snaking around your waist to pull you towards him gently.

“such a strong companionship but i’ve yet to return the favour…” he sighs dramatically and you roll your eyes.

“well, you've washed my legs before! surely that counts, jing yuan.”

it's incredibly magical. how his heart skips a beat whenever you say his name, how the corners of his lips can no longer resist concealing the smile that burgeons on his face. he swears you must be part-siren by the amount of times he's caught himself in a trance whenever you speak.

“it does, but it is not enough. why don't you take me back to your home?”

“what?!” your voice cracks, snapping your head around to face him, your expression flushed with embarrassment. his directness will somehow always catch you off guard. it's also very possible that he's just messing with you and just knows that your mind would take that in a completely different way.

jing yuan's shoulders shake at your reaction, noting how endearing you are. the melody of his laughter filling the atmosphere somehow comforts the burn of shame you're feeling.

he softly runs his palm along your waist, maintaining closeness with you. “that is not what i meant... unless, of course, you wanted it to be?”

you shake your head repeatedly. “i- i thought of something ridiculous—forgive my behaviour.”

“you're forgiven,” he teases you with a grin and you groan into your palms. “let's run some errands in town—” his eye twinkles with mischief, and you're not even bothered to brace yourself for what’s coming. “—and i'm certain those aunties you mentioned last week will silence themselves when they see you walking home with m—”

“oh shut up!”

[twoidiotwriters1]

Soulmates (Rorona Zoro x Fem!reader)

A/N: Hi :) -Val

Words: 2, 197

“I don't believe in that bullshit,” Zoro grunts and takes a sip of his sake bottle. 

Nami and Usopp nod in agreement. 

“Wait, I don’t get it,” Luffy says with a frown. “How does it work?” 

“The story says that we all have one person who completes us in every way,” they all look at Robin. “It’s like you’ve found the perfect piece of meat, Luffy,” she smiles at him knowing his language. 

Luffy’s eyes grow in awe understanding the meaning of soulmates. 

The kitchen stays silent as the rain outside drops hard. 

“But, do you eat that person?” Luffy asks again, making Chopper and Usopp laugh. 

“No, Captain,” Robin giggles. “This person helps, protects, loves, and takes care of you. The connection is mutual. They say you feel attracted to that person even if you don’t know who they are. It’s beyond being a nakama, friend, lover, or protector.” 

“And how can you find them?” Chopper asks. 

“Everyone has a birthmark and your soulmate has the same as you,” Robin continues. “The legend says that destiny would reunite you two at some point in life.” 

Chopper and Luffy gasp. 

“Yeah, that sounds lovely and magical, too bad it’s just a legend and it isn’t real!” Nami exclaims.  

“What?” Chopper, Luffy, and now Sanji squeak in shock. 

“Nami-swan!? You don’t believe in soulmates?” The blond looks at her half-offended half-disillusioned. 

Nami shrugs. “I’ve seen so many people get disappointed when they can't find their ‘soulmate’.” 

“Hang on! I don’t think I have the mark,” says Luffy looking at every part of his rubber body. 

“Oh! It’s on the back of your left ankle,” Chopper points. “I thought it was just a spot, but...” he hums “It looks like a banana, actually,” he giggles. 

“What!? Really?” Luffy raises his leg and stretches it to find his birthmark. He laughs excitedly. 

“What about you, Usopp?” Chopper looks at him. “Do you believe in soulmates?” 

“Uuuh!” Luffy exclaims. “Is that girl from your home island your soulmate?” 

“Usopp’s face flushed in embarrassment as he crossed his arms. “Who? Kaya? I-I don’tI mean–” he stutters.  

“She doesn’t have to be his soulmate to be with him,” Zoro adds, rolling his eyes. 

“She’s not my–” Usopp squeaks. “I mean, we aren’t–It was just a kiss, it doesn’t–” he keeps trying to explain nervously. 

“See? Usopp found his soulmate!” Robin points with a smile. 

“What!? You’re not listening. I’m telling you that she’s not!” 

“I personally and fiercely believe in soulmates,” Sanji interrupts while he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt on his left arm. He shows them his mark in the form of a knife. “I know they exist somewhere and,” he smirks, “they’re giving me another reason to keep living and keep looking for them,” he says proudly. 

Zoro scoffs and chuckles shaking his head. “Still bullshit, no matter how hard you try to decorate it, cook.” 

Sanji frowns and looks at him. “These are facts, no matter how you make it sound, Moosehead. Even you have one. I don’t know how it could be possible, though...” he murmurs the last thing. 

Zoro groans. “Nothing’s fucking written or is out there. Nobody tells me what to do or who I have to be with. You can be with whomever you want, whenever you want, it’s stupid to waste time searching for a silly birthmark that could be just a fucking spot or scar on your skin,” Everyone looks at the swordsman when his tone increases and his body tenses as he talks. His lousy posture on the chair changes to a straightened one, and the veins around his muscles pop. 

“Wow, I think we’ve stroked a nerve there, uh Zoro?” Nami says unsure. 

Her voice makes him clear his head. Zoro sighs and returns to his sake. “I just think it’s a stupid thing to believe...” he shrugs. 

Nami hums and nods. She then looks at you. “What about you, Y/N?” But she stops and frowns as you give a start. “You’ve been oddly quiet about this,” The redhead looks down to your right arm, which is strongly grabbed by your other hand. 

“Well,” you clear your throat as you leave alone your upper arm, realizing Nami’s worried sight. “I’m not sure if it’s real or not,” you try to sound chill but fail. 

Nami is the only one who reads you, although she doesn’t know why you’re acting like that, she helps you by changing the subject to distract the others. 

Your friend’s voices fade away as your mind clouds in many thoughts. Instinctively, you grab your right arm again. On your inner bicep, there is tinted skin since birth, your soulmate’s mark, which you found not so long since you joined the straw hats crew, it’s the same form of three bamboo sticks that Zoro has tattooed on his left pectoral. 

 ** 

It has always been hard for Zoro to connect with other people. He calls himself a loner, but situations in life make him change that. First was his friend Kuina; although she passed away, he learned a lot thanks to her. Like Loyalty, keeping promises and love.  

Then, Luffy jumped into his life and, in Luffy’s style, he shook Zoro’s mind with new lessons. As his crew got bigger, Zoro learned the real meaning of being a nakama. His trust grew with the straw hats (within his limits, of course). 

Finally, you came along the way, a person Zoro never thought he needed until he had you. It all happened so naturally for him, to follow every movement you made, to look for you, to search your voice and laughter, and to hold your smaller hand. 

If the others knew deep into his thoughts, they’d understand why he snapped at the idea of soulmates. He’s confident that his life is based on his strengths, decisions, and his guts. Magic or anything else didn’t do it. Him and only him. And maybe, that’s why he got distracted when Nami changed the subject so quickly and he hasn’t thought about it ever since. For now, he has more important things to care about… like you acting weird, avoiding and hiding from him and he doesn’t know why. 

He has learned to give you time sometimes, but he senses something different, and it has been five days since you two had a real conversation. “You’ve been avoiding me.” 

“You should be at the market,” you answer without looking at him. You don’t stop in your tracks either. “Lost again?” 

He scoffs rolling his eyes (yes, he got lost). “I’m worried,” he says in a serious tone. 

“You shouldn’t, I’ll help you.” 

“Hey,” he grabs your wrist and makes you turn to him. Your eyes fidget everywhere else but him. “What’s wrong?” 

“What?” 

“Don’t bullshit me,” he warns then, he sighs relaxing his features, then grabs your chin and makes you look at him. “Why don’t you want to talk?” 

You sigh stepping away from his hand. “It’s nothing,” you whisper. 

Zoro doesn’t think twice about grabbing your waist and pulling you to him in a big hug. You gasp at the sudden movement, but your body recognizes his warmth and strength, so you melt against him. You hide your face on his broad chest as you feel his lips on your hair. He hugs you for a while, humming and caressing your hips. 

“I thought, I was the one with the communication issues, don’t take my place now,” You can feel his stupid smirk as you scoff rolling your eyes. 

As always, his touch and voice relax your mind and body and the anxiety fades a little. You step back and raise your head to look at him. 

“There you are,” he smiles. He caresses your cheek as you prepare yourself to confess. 

You aren’t sure exactly why you are so afraid. It's not like Zoro’s gonna change, right? But the unknown terrifies you, that’s why you haven’t told him in all this time since you found out. And after that soulmate’s talk the other day, the anxiety kicks in instantly. 

“Th-the other night…uh- Y-you said that. I mean…ugh!” You grunt. “Is- is that what you… of soulmates?” You make a face. 

Zoro takes a moment to remember and then, he gets it. “Is that what’s all about? That legend? You believe in it, don’t you?” He frowns. 

Your heart sinks. “I- I know...” you want to talk about your birthmark, but he interrupts you with another big hug.  

“It’s okay, Doll,” he shrugs “I don’t care if you do.” 

You frown. “But Zoro I–” you try to talk against his chest. 

“I knew what I was getting into when we started dating.” 

“What?” You lean back.  

“Yeah,” he smirks looking down at you “I knew you were crazy since you joined the crew anyway,” he shrugs.  

“What!? Hey!” You punch his chest as he bursts into laughter. “You fucking idiot,” you said incapable to hide your smile. 

The goofy moment is gone when you both hear an explosion not so far from the Sunny. 

** 

When you open your eyes, you see Chopper’s office. You try to move, but there’s a sharp pain on your left shoulder that makes you whine. 

“Hey, stop. You’ll open the wound!” Zoro helps you to get more comfortable on the med bed and he gives you some water. 

“W-what happened?” You ask with a groan. 

“You did a stupid, reckless thing. That’s what happened,” he groans. 

“What?” 

“The Marines almost caught you,” he clenches his jaw. “If it weren’t for me, you’d be dead.” 

The memory flashes in your mind, you helped Nami and Robin fight against the Marines, but you got distracted for a second and then nothing. Zoro sits on a chair next to you, but then Chopper enters and climbs on your bed. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks, voice and face in serious doctor mode. 

“It hurt,” you smile at the adorable doctor. 

“I’ll give you stronger pain killers,” he moves naturally around his office and back to you, checking your wounds. “All right, you have to rest in bed, no excuses!” he warns you. “And I’ll help you clean your wounds, after that Zoro can do it.” 

Zoro nods. “Anything else, Doctor?” He smirks at him. 

“Hmmm…” Chopper thinks. “Ah! Yes! Why you didn’t tell us that you two are soulmates?” He asks innocently. 

“Uh?” Zoro frowns. You try to warn him with your eyes, but Chopper only frowns at you.  

“She has the same mark as you!” He exclaims happy, but then, he senses something odd and stutters looking between you and Zoro as he gets nervous. “Uh… maybe I’m wrong?” He laughs awkwardly. 

“It can happen to anybody, Chopper,” you continue with a tense smile. 

Both of you laugh, then somebody calls to Chopper and he runs away. 

“Well, I think I’m kinda hungry, Zoro,” you try to sound like nothing happened but you look at the swordsman. His body stays tense on the chair and his eyes are glued to somewhere in the room. “Zoro?” You wait for a while, getting worried. You grab his hand. “Zoro?” 

“Where?” He asks. 

“Uh?” 

His eyes return to you. “Where is it? Is it–Is it true?” 

You sigh as you carefully move the sheet that covers your body. Your upper body’s wrapped in just bandages and a thin top covering your breasts, but you turn a little and hiss when you raise your right arm enough to show him the three bamboo sticks. Zoro stands up and leans to softly grab your arm as his other hand traces the mark on his chest.  

He lets go and sits again. “That’s why you avoided me,” he says to himself. “The things I said… but you are… the mark...”  

“Are you broken?” You ask him, and he looks at you. Zoro notices your teary eyes and worried expression. 

It’s a lot to process for him. A minute ago, he was angry because he couldn’t protect you enough to prevent your wounds, now he has discovered that the bullshit he always listened to it’s real and in front of him… all this time. Out of nowhere, Zoro chuckles and shakes his head. 

“Oh, no...” you whine. “I did break you!” 

“I-fuck, now everyone’s gonna mock me,” he grunts looking at you. His cheeks flush as he raises a hand to clean a tear dropping out. “I’m sorry.” 

“Wh-why?” 

“For saying those things, now I understand I...” he sighs. “Well, now I get why I always wanted to be at your side,” he makes a face and you couldn’t help but chuckle. You’re still confused but relieved at the same time, you never expected that reaction, but it's better. 

“It wasn’t ‘cause I’m the most beautiful girl?” You tease. He laughs. 

“Yeah, that too,” he takes your hand and kisses it. 

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner… I thought...” 

“No, it’s okay,” he nods. “It’s better this way, at least in my head I fell for ya’ ‘cause I wanted to.”  

You smile. “Me too. The tattoo was something extra.” 

He chuckles and leans to kiss you. 

Taglist.

@sosactrl @irethepotato

[chernobog13]

Poster for Return of the One-Armed Swordsman (1960).

This was one of a series of Tange Sazen films from Daiei starring Ryutaro Otomo as the curmudgeonly, irascible one-eyed, one-armed ronin.

Not to be confused with the 1969 Hong Kong film of the same name from Shaw Brothers starring Jimmy Wang Yu.

[demonpiratehuntress]

baby (name)! (Straw Hats + Ace, Law, Kaku)

featuring - Zoro x F!Reader, Law x F!Reader, Kaku x F!Reader, Ace x F!Reader, Sanji x F!Reader, Usopp x F!Reader, Luffy x F!Reader

summary - you somehow get turned into a baby and they have to spend 24 hours babysitting you

warnings - none, except that Law's is a bit longer

a/n: just an idea that's been sitting with me for a while, I'm thinking about giving each of them a full-length one-shot on this idea

ZORO

"Shhh, he's sleeping! Maybe we can get past without him noticing."

Zoro was, in fact, not sleeping. He was pretending, just to see what kind of scandal or shenanigan Luffy - or you - got the crew into. He was about to say something, until the cry of a baby rang out. Everything and everyone stilled, the only sound being the wind whistling through the night air.

"Why the hell did I just hear a baby?" Zoro's gruff voice made the crew stiffen. The swordsman stood up and turned to face them, his eyes widening at the sight of the infant in Nami's arms. "What is that?"

"A baby!" Luffy cried cheerily, poking your tiny, chubby cheeks. "Isn't she cute! It's (Name)!"

The others all swatted at the captain as Zoro's entire body went rigid, his gaze flitting from Luffy to baby you. For a scary moment, nobody said anything, and then you saw Zoro and squealed happily and reached for him. Zoro would never admit it out loud, but his heart melted.

"I think she wants you," Usopp suggested.

Zoro smiled, surprising everyone, and scooped you into his arms. You got even more excited and giggled cutely, making grabby hands at him until he set you against his chest and you immediately fisted his shirt in your tiny hand. You gurgled softly, and Zoro found it hard to keep his composure.

He found out from Robin that this was a 24 hour issue, and you would all have to babysit infant you for that time. Zoro was, however, more than happy to do all the babysitting. He played with you, he fed you, and he napped with you. Not unlike you as a fully grown person, Zoro spent all of his time with you.

"Zoro can I-"

The swordsman damn near hissed at Luffy when the captain tried to hold you, but eventually let him under the condition that Zoro stayed to watch every second. And no stretching. He was super protective of you, because you were small and helpless and the cutest thing he's ever seen- he stopped himself before he could gush again. Who ever thought Zoro capable of gushing?

As Zoro held you in his arms while feeding you later on that day, you gazed up at him with the biggest (eye colour) eyes ever, pure innocence. He smiled gently, cradling you close to him as he cooed at you and made you giggle. He even burped you, which surprised everyone because no one thought he'd know what to do.

"Who's the cutest little baby?" He cooed when no one was around, tickling your little stomach. You giggled and blew a raspberry, raising your arms and kicking about excitedly. He grinned and pressed a gentle kiss to your small forehead. "That's right, sweetheart. You are."

He fell asleep that night with you comfortably nestled in his big arms, your small body curled up against his chest. When you woke up the next morning, you grinned widely at him.

"Let's have a baby."

ACE

Ace had just returned from a mission. He was grumpy and exhausted and all he wanted to do was see you and kiss you and hold you. He hadn't expected to walk past Marco's room and hear a baby crying.

"Shhh, shhh, it's okay," Marco was saying softly. "You have to be quiet, (Name)."

(Name)?!

Ace burst through the door, his eyes wide and frantic. When he couldn't spot you anywhere, his gaze fell to the fussing infant laying on Marco's bed. His jaw dropped, and Marco looked at the 2nd division commander a bit nervously.

"Is that my girlfriend?" Ace blinked, walking over slowly. Then he grinned widely, "She's so cute!!"

The moment you heard and saw Ace, you stopped crying and immediately squealed excitedly and tried to reach for him. You pouted and kicked your legs, whining adorably.

"You're not going to ask what happened?" Marco raised an eyebrow as Ace picked you up excitedly.

"No, as long as it's not permanent," he answered with a smile as he admired your tiny face and all your extra small features. He felt warm inside as he held you, warmer than usual, and he almost burst into flames when you grabbed his nose in your tiny hand. "Marco! Did you see that??"

He is SO excited. He is great with you, especially when it comes to entertaining you and making you giggle and laugh loudly. You are such a happy baby and Ace LOVES it, he's always doing tricks and doing silly things to make you laugh and kick your legs excitedly. He is absolutely in love with you as an infant, and he learns quickly how to feed you and bathe you because he is just so excited to have a baby to look after, even if it's only for a day. It makes him want one with you.

You're also a naughty baby.

"(Name) no!" Ace yelped when he saw you crawling towards his food as he set you on the table. What did he get? A bunch of food in his face as you laughed so loudly and so adorably the crewmembers around you all stopped to coo at you. "You naughty little-" You stopped laughing and your bottom lip trembled and your eyes got glossy and he panicked, "No no I'm sorry! You're a good girl!" You instantly bubbled with happiness again, and Ace sighed in relief.

You were a handful. You kept him on his feet, and he quickly learned that taking care of an infant was hard work. And it was exhausting. At the end of the day, he laid back on his bed and put you on his stomach, watching you drift off into slumber before he fell asleep.

He woke up to you smiling in his face, "Babe, I want a baby."

LAW

Law was so busy with work that he didn't end up going onto the island with you and the others. He figured you'd be safe with Bepo, Shachi and Penguin, since they exhibited such fierce protectiveness over you at any island the crew went to. Unfortunately, something had gone wrong, and you had been turned into an infant for 24 hours, and they knew Law would kill them all if he found out. They were hoping that he would be too busy for 24 hours to notice.

Unfortunately, Law came looking for you.

"Shachi, where's (Name)?" The captain cornered Shachi as he was returning from the kitchen. "You're all back, but she's not."

"She-she is," he stammered nervously, "I think she's sleeping with everyone else in the bunkhouse." Lying to Law was not easy, because he saw through it all. But before he could, a loud squeal met his ears. The squeal of an infant.

Law's eyes widened, "What...is that?"

"No no captain!" Shachi ran after the doctor as he followed the noise to the bunkhouse, and slammed the door open to see Bepo holding up a baby and cooing at it.

A baby girl.

When you saw Law, you giggled and clapped your tiny hands, blowing a raspberry and then sneezing. Law's jaw dropped, but he was conflicted. He couldn't decide if he wanted to strangle his crewmates, or cuddle the cutest baby he had ever seen. You whined and fussed when he didn't come closer, holding your tiny arms out. Law's eyes widened, and he backed away.

Big mistake.

You started bawling, screaming loud enough to wake the entire submarine. Penguin thrust you into Law's arms so you would stop, and when you saw you were close to Law you stopped crying and giggled innocently, reaching for his face.

"Captain, are you sure-"

"I'll be fine," Law assured Shachi, even though he was extremely nervous. "She'll never let you sleep if I don't take her." That was his excuse, but he was happy to take you away to his room and enjoy your cuteness privately.

But Law did not know what to do with you. He just sat at his desk with you on his lap, staring at him. He was staring back, and after a few minutes you giggled again and bounced on his leg. You clapped your small hands and then reached for his face, and he leaned down to give it to you, just so you could squish his cheeks and let out the cutest laugh that made him relax and smile gently.

He tried to keep you occupied, but ultimately realised that you were more interested in him than you were anything else. So he held you as he worked, and he had to admit it was a nice feeling because you were just so adorable. He read to you and told you stories and you enjoyed them so much you gave him a big sloppy kiss on his cheek.

Eventually Law became the official babysitter, as he wouldn't let anyone else touch you. Except Bepo. But even then, he'd let the bear hold you for a few minutes and watch anxiously because he had gotten so protective over you. You loved it when Bepo played with you, because he was so big and soft and gentle, but you also loved it when Law played with you. Granted, his definition of playing was a bit different, but you seemed to enjoy it. So much so that you fell asleep on him out of tiredness at the end of the day, fisting his shirt in your small hand. He smiled and held you close as you slept.

When you woke up, you were back to normal and opened your mouth to say something, but Law beat you to it, "We should have a baby."

KAKU

You don't know how it happened and neither did he. One moment you were engaging the target, and the next you were a little infant crawling around on the floor. This sent Kaku into panic mode, and he quickly took out the devil fruit user who'd de-aged you before picking you up, his eyes going wide at how tiny and fragile you were. But...he had to admit...you were adorable. Your big (eye colour) eyes were so full of innocence and wonder that his heart warmed and melted.

Then you gripped his long nose, and with a strength he didn't know babies had, tugged. He groaned at the sensation, but couldn't be mad at you since you giggled so cutely and smiled so sweetly. Your mouth was toothless, and that made you even cuter. He sighed. What was he going to do?

Ultimately, he had no choice but to take you back to HQ. The others were stunned by seeing a baby you nestled in his arms, comfortably napping on his shoulder. They had so many questions, but Kaku waved them all off and took you straight to his room. He didn't want to ask Khalifa for help, since he thought that might be sexist. So he tried his best, smiling down at you as you gurgled and watched him with one small hand in your mouth and the other playing with one of your tiny feet.

"You're so cute," he suddenly said out loud, even though he knew you couldn't understand him. But it seemed you did, because you giggled and raised your arms for him to pick you up.

Kaku carries you around like his child all day, taking care of you as best he could. He didn't do too bad of a job, since you clung to him happily and didn't want to go anywhere near anyone that wasn't him. You gave him a sloppy kiss on his long nose when it accidentally poked your little stomach, just to tell him it was okay. He fed you what soft food he could find, changed you with what little knowledge he had of babies, and played with you with anything safe that could be used as a toy without hurting you.

But his favourite moment of all was when he turned into a giraffe just to see how you would react, and instead of being scared you squealed excitedly and reached up to grab his little horns. You giggled and laughed as he played with you in giraffe form, your cutest laugh coming out when he playfully licked your chubby cheek with his long purple tongue. You accidentally grabbed it and pulled, like his nose, making him yelp in pain while you just giggled.

If Kaku was protective of you before his protectiveness surged to whole new levels with infant you. Like when Jabra almost stepped on you, Kaku kicked him so hard he went flying into the wall. Then he picked you up, relieved, and kissed you all over while Jabra groaned and passed out.

"Nothing and no one will hurt you while you're like this, (Name)," Kaku whispered, patting your back gently. You just giggled and offered him a toothless smile before yawning, prompting Kaku to gently rock you to sleep.

Later on, when you finally awoke in your grown up form, you looked for Kaku and beamed, "I think it's time we made a mini Kaku."

LUFFY

Honestly, he doesn't even know how it happened. And he was there. One minute you were a fully grown woman, and the next you were a tiny baby who couldn't even stand on two legs. Luffy is immediately overprotective, scooping you up and running back to the ship with you to show everyone else. He thinks you're the cutest thing in the world, and while he loves the older you, he also loves this smaller version of his favourite person in the world.

"Zoro! Sanji! Nami!" Luffy rattled off the names of everyone on the crew, jumping onto the ship with little you tucked safely in one arm. Everyone's jaws dropped.

"Luffy, what-"

"Look!" He excitedly held you out for everyone to see. "Little (Name)! Isn't she so cute?" He then cradled you against his chest again and smiled happily.

Everyone was thinking the same thing. There was no way Luffy could be trusted to babysit you on his own, and they didn't even know what happened. This was bad, but the captain didn't seem to have the same issues.

"WATCH HER HEAD!"

The last person everyone expected to yell at Luffy, yelled at Luffy. Zoro lunged forward to shield your head from a potential bump against the mast, after Luffy got a little too excited and stretched you further away than he anticipated. Luffy apologised when Zoro hit him hard on his head, but you seemed to enjoy the violence and you laughed when it happened. Both Luffy and Zoro looked at you, and then Zoro smirked and smacked Luffy again. Infant you laughed even harder than the first time.

This gave everyone else the same idea.

Pretty soon, everyone was taking a chance to punch or smack Luffy, and you were giggling and laughing so much that you fell on your back on the table you were placed on for safety. Everyone cooed when they saw this, before Luffy lifted you up again. He was bruised, and had bumps in some places, but he was still grinning at you.

"Baby (Name) is even cuter when she laughs!"

You reached for his face and he moved it closer, and you patted his cheek with your tiny hand as if trying to soothe his injuries. He smiled even more and watched you with bright eyes, everyone else melting as you tried to make his sores go away. You were pouting with the effort, until you discovered that his face was stretchy when you pulled his cheek. You burst into another fit of giggles, and started pulling all over his face. Luffy just laughed, thinking it was funny that you thought his stretchy skin was a toy.

So Luffy was allowed to babysit you, because he was apparently your favourite toy, but he was strictly supervised by at least one person every hour. The crew took turns, and by the end of the day you were passed out peacefully in Luffy's arms. He was smiling down at you with love and amazement in his eyes, as if he couldn't believe something so cute existed.

You woke up the next morning knowing about all of Luffy's near misses with you, but smiled and told him, "You need a little help babe, but I'd love to have your baby."

SANJI

Sanji left the group alone for a few minutes to get some much-needed ingredients and food stock for the ship. A few minutes. What trouble could you guys have gotten into in a few minutes? A lot, apparently, because Sanji came back to see Zoro holding a little infant girl.

Wait a second...

"(NAME)?!" The cook cried, rushing forward to pluck you out of the swordsman's arms and cradle you in his own. He glared at Zoro, "What happened?!"

"Luffy picked a fight with a devil fruit user," Nami sighed, "He de-aged (Name) before Luffy finally knocked him out. It'll last abiut 24 hours, according to what he said, she's stuck like that for a bit."

Honestly, Sanji didn't mind at all. He was finding this tiny you absolutely adorable, and when you looked up at him with your big, round (eye colour) eyes, he almost fainted. You were the cutest thing alive, and he wasted no time peppering your tiny chubby face with kisses, reveling in the giggles and gurgles that escaped you. You kicked your little legs happily and hugged his head, and Sanji all but melted. Your arms were so small, and barely wrapped all the way around his head.

"As cute as this is, we should get back to the Sunny," Usopp looked around nervously. "We don't want to pick more unnecessary fights."

Nami agreed, smacking Luffy on the head, and you laughed as Sanji carried you away with hearts in his eyes. You stuck your tiny hand in your mouth to suck on, and relaxed in the cook's arms as you looked around in wonder. The first thing he did back at the ship was prepare something for you to eat, and he happily fed you and dealt with you smacking the spoon and sending food flying all over the place. Mostly onto his face and in his hair.

"Come on, my sweet little one," he cooed, trying to coax you into eating the next spoonful, "Just go ah for me, please cutie?" He pleaded, demonstrating by opening his own mouth.

You giggled and opened your mouth for him and he slid the spoon into your mouth, before pulling it back out when he was sure you'd taken the food. Then you spat it out at him and laughed so hard you almost rolled backwards, and Sanji realised you were doing that to tease him. Naughty baby.

He smiled gently, "You're cute when you're naughty too!" And continued feeding you. It took him close to an hour, but he got it done. Then he changed you with help from Nami and carried you around the ship, telling you stories about the All Blue and the Grand Line as you chewed on his tie. Well, more like gummed on it, since you didn't have teeth. That spot was soaking by the time you were done, but he didn't mind. He simply kissed your little cheek and tickled your stomach, calling you a good girl before rocking you to sleep gently when he noticed your eyes drooping.

"Sanjiiiii, let's make a babyyyyyy!" Was what the crew heard from you when you woke up.

USOPP

"I LEAVE YOU GUYS ALONE FOR ONE MINUTE AND-"

Usopp's shouting was interrupted by a loud infant cry, stunning the sniper into silence. Nami just laughed nervously, trying to make an excuse for that noise but when Usopp pushed past her to see what they were hiding she knew all was lost. Usopp's jaw dropped, because he hasn't thought it could get any worse.

Baby you stared up at him innocently from Brook's lap. The musician was surprisingly good with you, singing to you softly to soothe your raging baby moods. The minute you spotted Usopp, your eyes lit up and you bounced up and down on Brook's thigh excitedly, reaching out for the sniper.

"M-me?" Usopp pointed to himself, shocked.

"That's (Name), you idiot," Sanji grumbled, but his gaze softened when he looked at you in your tiny form.

"(Name)?!" Usopp cried, before immediately lifting you into his arms. You gurgled happily and reached for his goggles, giggling when you tapped on the eyeholes. "What-"

"Don't ask," Zoro grumbled.

Usopp stared at you, eyes wide. He wasn't equipped to take care of a baby yet! He needed your help! Panic was settling in, but then soon disappeared when you nuzzled against him and wrapped your small arms around his neck. He felt his knees get weak from how good it felt, and from the adorable baby smell you emitted.

"I suppose...I AM the best person to look after her," he boasted, patting your back gently. You coeed softly and patted his shoulder, as if you were agreeing with him.

Usopp is actually really good with babies, and it shows when he looks after you. He holds you properly, plays with you so nicely that you squeal and laugh loudly from all the fun, and he knows exactly what to feed you. He's so so gentle with you, and he showers you in affection and love while trying not to faint from how adorable you are when you laugh and clap your little hands.

That is, until you steal one of his tools or contraptions and start hitting him with it or throw it at him. His butt is suddenly on fire, and he's running around yelling for water while you cackle and howl with laughter, amusing everyone else as well. He forgives you of course, kissing your chubby cheek and showing you how to properly use them, before noticing you dozed off against his chest. He smiles softly and lays down so you can sleep comfortably.

In the morning, you wake him up with kisses all over his face and a bright smile on your lips, "You know, I think it's time the crew got a new member~"

[entitled-fangirl]

The midst of death and destruction.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: Bolton takes Winterfell in the dead of the night, leaving the Starks to fight in any way they can.

Summary: BOLTON IS A FUCKING CREEP!!!!! Blood, cursing, threatening, perverted talk of reader, attempted s.a.; Def read at your own discretion.

A/N: based on an ask! I totally fooled you guys and finished this earlier than I thought! SUPRISE!!!

Masterlist

part 2

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Her eyes cracked open at a sound deep in the castle. 

She sat up, forcing herself to wake up and noticed Cregan's absence from the bed.

His side was still very warm, signaling that he had just left. 

The sound that made the hair on the back of her neck stand was sword on sword. 

An imminent fight in Winterfell. 

She pushed herself out of bed in a hurry, throwing a robe loosely over her shift and opened the door to her chambers. 

The entire hall was dark, save for her lone guard that stood outside of the door.

The guard, Ser Henry, stood vigilantly, but she could see the facade he put on. He was scared.

"Lady Stark, I'd advise you return to your quarters. It's not safe," he urged quietly.

"Where is my husband?"

Ser Henry sighed, "I do not know. Somewhere in the midst of it all, I'd assume."

Her face paled. "I cannot stand here while he fights."

"I was instructed to keep you here until I receive word from Lord Stark himself."

She leaned against the doorframe, trying to block out the sound of grunts and slicing swords. "You won't let me leave?"

"No, my lady."

"I'll refuse then."

"I'd advise you don- MY LADY!"

Y/n had set off in a dead sprint, her small dagger in her hand. A sturdy blade, the handle carved intricately. A gift from Cregan, along with the lessons of how to use it.

Her guard followed behind her as she ran. 

She paused her steps at an all knowing sound.

Liquid hitting the floor behind her.

She turned her head slowly, unsure of what to expect. 

Her guard stood there in the dark, illuminated only by moonlight, a dark liquid spilling from his neck and onto the floor.

He fell to the ground dead, and another man stood behind him. 

Lord Bolton.

There was a bloodthirsty look in his eyes. For once, she felt fear in the home Cregan had made her. 

She stepped backwards carefully like a frightened rabbit that would run at any moment. 

Bolton stepped forward in tandem with her, his head cocked to the side. 

"Where ya going, pretty girl?"

The moment was now.

She fled as quickly as her legs would take her, anywhere but there. 

Consequentially, it was toward the sword fighting at hand. 

Through every dark hall, she prayed for a savior. Bolton was no doubt not far behind. 

So when she ran into her brick wall of a husband, she thanked the gods. 

His free hand reached up to her cheek, a touch of relief to both of them. "What are you doing, you foolish girl?" He yelled over the sounds. 

"I won't stay in my room while you're fighting for our home. What is happening?" She asked as she grabbed his arm in support. 

"Someone's betrayed us. I just don't know who-"

He paused as his eyes locked on something behind her. His chest puffed out as he spun his longsword, Ice, in his hand. "Lord Bolton."

Bolton stood confident, only a few feet behind Cregan's wife.

Cregan moved suddenly, grabbing Y/n's hip and practically shoving her behind him as he stepped forward to Bolton.

The two swords clash, and their fight began. 

Cregan was one of the best swordsman in Westeros. It was evident in his confidence behind the weapon, and the look he always gained in his eye. 

But the fight was cut short when a hand grabbed Y/n's dagger from her and the another hand pulled her hair. The dagger was then placed at her throat. She couldn't tell who it was, but judging by the burning sensation at her scalp and the knife to her neck, it was foe.

She cried out at the sudden pain when the hand tugged her hair, "Cregan!"

His head turned, and his eyes flooded with concern.

Bolton lowered his sword with a smirk, "Drop your sword, Lord Stark, and surrender Winterfell."

Cregan looked back and forth, a deep contemplation in his mind. "Let her go."

Bolton's smirk only grew, "I don't believe we shall."

Tears filled Y/n's eyes. 

Bolton moved passed Cregan and grabbed Y/n by the chin, pulling her to him. 

"A pretty wife you have, Stark," he mocked. "Don't you think?"

Cregan took an angered step forward, but stopped himself when Bolton pulled her closer to him. 

"Don't touch her," Cregan growled lowly.

Bolton let out a chuckle as more of his men appeared. "Tell me, Stark," he said as he studied the girl up and down, "Does she bed well?"

Cregan rushed forward in pure anger, Bolton's men moving forward to grab him, two to each arm and one wrestling Ice out of the Lord's hand. 

He grunted and yelled as they did so, "Don't fucking touch her!"

Y/n tried to pry Bolton's hands from her face, but to no avail. 

He took joy in her attempt to flee from him, "Tell me, girl. Do you bed well?"

Y/n spit at him, the saliva hitting his cheek. 

Bolton smirked widely as he wiped the spit from his cheek. He let go of her for just a moment to pull his hand back and slapped her across her cheek.

She fell to the ground with a shriek, covering her face.

Cregan began to yell now, "LET HER GO!"

"The Starks have ruled the North for generations. We've all been trampled on by their cold boots for far too long. I think it's time for a change." Bolton lightly kicked Y/n's leg as he stepped over her. He stood inches from Cregan's face in full confidence, "Surrender Winterfell to me."

"DON'T!" Y/n yelled from the ground.

"Quiet, girl."

Cregan's eyes moved back and forth from the man to his wife in contemplation. "And if I don't?"

Bolton knelt down and pulled Y/n up by the hair. He taunted the Stark, moving the girl's face close enough for her husband to feel her breath on his face. 

Cregan's eyes didn't stray from her when the proximity neared. He saw the fear that was evident in her eyes, and the angry red mark on her cheek.

"Bolton, we all know you'd be pummeled into the ground if I was not restrained currently."

Silence filled the entire hall, a strange feeling in the man's gut. 

Y/n's mouth moved, no voice coming out. She shook her head lightly, "don't. Please don't."

What were the man's choices truly? Either way, she would remain in danger. 

"Too late," Bolton sneered. 

He pulled the girl to his chest, yanking on her hair to make her look at him. His other hand caressed her face, "Be good for me, yes?"

Both of the Stark's brows furrowed at his words, but the confusion was quickly gone when Bolton quickly untied her robe.

Her hands moved to his to try to prevent him from moving further, but she was no match for the man. He grunted, "Don't fight me."

Her eyes moved to Cregan in pure fear.

Cold had never shivered through Cregan Stark. He had always thought that's how he knew he was meant to rule the North. But now that it moved down his spine uncomfortably, he began to question his right to Winterfell.

He immediately began to fight the men holding him down, "Stop. Stop now."

Bolton continued his movements against the woman. He practically wrestled her out of the robe, leaving her in her shift. 

His hands shot out and grabbed both of her wrists, keeping her there as he studied her lustfully. "Does Stark even know how to pleasure a pretty woman?"

Y/n found new strength at the questioning of her husband and she fought against his hold.

Bolton found joy in her fight and he pulled her to him. His voice spoke so quietly in her ear, that she had wondered if she'd heard him correctly, "Let me have you and I'll let him live."

She froze stiffly. It felt wrong. It all felt wrong, but what else could she do to save her husband?

She looked up at the evil lord, her thoughts racing before their lips connected.

Cregan roared, the men barely able to hold back the man's reckless movements, "YOU BASTARD! STOP!"

Y/n felt bile rise in her throat as she felt the man's hands wander. One of his hands moved up to her collarbone, moving the neckline of her nightgown until it was pulled taught at her shoulder. He then yanked, ripping it down her arm. 

She pulled away from him with a whine, pulling at the scraps of her sleeve, trying to cover herself. 

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"  Cregan continued to roar.

Tears filled the girl's eyes as she sank to the floor in pure embarrassment. She began to lightly weep, holding her face in her hands. 

Bolton knelt down and cooed mockingly at her, "Oh, you poor little thing." His face hardened, "Some fucking Stark you are. Nothing toughens up a woman like a Bolton's seed."

Cregan stopped his fighting for a moment, his eyes beginning to take on a new flare of fire behind them.

When Bolton pulled her face up, his eyes glowed predatory, "I'll make sure carry as much of my seed as it takes to turn you to stone, girl."

His hands then moved back to her gown, pulling on it anywhere he could. 

She fought with what strength she had out of self-preservation. "STOP!" She cried. "Please," she began to beg, "Please stop."

Cregan was quick to move, overpowering the men from pure adrenaline. He began to swing at anything that was near him as his vision turned to a bright scarlet. 

He's not sure how, but he really came back to reality when he hit his knees on the floor, Bolton under him with a bloody nose. 

Cregan then grew a bright smile. He leaned down to the man's face, his voice low, "You touch my wife? I'm going to skin you alive and wear you as a fucking coat."

He began to swing at the man's face, not caring where the punches hit or how hard. The sight of more of the red liquid pooling around them only made him continue. 

"Cregan…?" Her voice rang out.

He snapped out of it. His head shot up in front of him. 

She sat against the wall, her clothes barely covering her, that much obvious by the shaking of her body- from the cold or fear, he wasn't sure. Tears still fell down her cheeks in a steady rhythm. 

Cregan looked down and determined Bolton was dead enough. 

He stood up, his muscles aching and his clothes stained in the bright color. 

He stepped to her and held his arms out, "C'mere."

She hiccuped and shook her head.

Disappointment ran across his face. He knelt down next to her and slowly pulled her limbs away from herself, making her open up to him both physically and mentally. 

She let him.

"Can I take you to bed?"

His voice was soft, sweet. Hoarse, but calm. A complete change to what it had been only moments before.

She immediately moved to him, throwing her arms around him and sobbing into his neck. 

"Love, I'm covered in-"

"-Don't care," her muffled voice spoke.

His kissed the side of her head, pulling his comforting arms around her waist. "I've gotcha."

"Are… are we going to be alright?" 

Cregan pulled her face away from him so he could look at her. His fingers brushed over her cheek. "I'll always make sure we are."

"Are you angry with me?"

He wanted to scoff, but he restrained himself. "No. No, my girl. I'm anything but."

She slowly inched her lips closer to his, as if waiting for him to decline her. 

He wouldn't dream of doing such a thing. 

Their lips connected softly, the two Starks finding love in the midst of death and destruction.

..................................................

Cregan Stark taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @callsignwidow, @8812-342, @nyxbranwenn, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest

Part 2

[cammys-imagines24]

°•Teasing Mizu•°

Mizu will have the patience of a saint most days. An ingrained sense of being calm and collected made from her years of training.

Often, you won't even notice if your teasing has any effect on the composed Samurai.

But, for all her patience, it just makes you want to try harder.

And, when she snaps, which she inevitably will, get ready to be punished.

See, when you agreed to go on her path of revenge with her you didn't realize how little opportunity you'd get to be intimate.

You two are either roughing it in the woods, in which case she'll tell you to get some sleep while she stays up to guard your campsite.

Or, you two are simply too exhausted after miles and miles of travel to even consider anything other than falling into each others arms and getting some much needed shut eye.

Plus, because it's imperative that her gender remain hidden, it's not as though you can pull her into a discreet alley in a town and have your way with her. What if someone sees?

And, joining her when she does bathe either in the sea or any natural hot springs you two may come across? Forget about it. That's when you take watch and make sure no one sees her body as she cleans up.

Which makes the few times you two actually get a room at an inn all the more tantalizing to you.

What better way to utilize this rare chance than to make your beloved suffer?

You'll start off slowly in the morning, going down to get breakfast for her and when you return to your shared room you'll let your kimono fall off your shoulders.

The sunlight pooling into your exposed collarbones, your coy approach not fooling Mizu one bit.

You'll show a bit of leg, too, as you offer to bind her chest for her.

Just so your hands can linger on the lithe muscles of her torso. Your fingers tracing her biceps and the hard ridges of her abdomen.

All the while whispering sweet nothings in her ear, your breath fanning against the nape of her neck as you bring up memories of past intimate moments between you two, by means of conversation. And to rile her up.

"Remember when you used that toy on me you got from Madame Kaji's brothel? That was fun. Remember that one time I was stitching you up? You were so pent up from the fight that you used your sash to keep my hands tied while you had your way with me? Blood stains be damned."

Mizu knows what you're up to immediately, can read the mischief in your eyes like the back of her hand. Why else would you bring those steamy memories up?

As the day goes on and your touches continue, your soft body pressing against hers more and more and the way you keep on wetting your plump lips with your spit...

When walking around town, your hand so casually snakes around her waist, her navy cloak an easy cover with others none the wiser as to where exactly your hands are traveling.

Your fingers slip under her clothes for just a little skin on skin contact, you leaning against her as you walk, the squish of your chest pressed against her arm...

Mizu is too damn stubborn to submit, despite the dampness starting to form in her white undercloth.

The townsfolk who pass you two by scurry away from the daggers she's glaring at everyone from behind her orange glasses, all assuming she was furious but no, she was just horny and tired of your shit.

You'd all but given up on your teasing, as day unfurls into evening but when you two make it back to your room at the inn get ready for a whiplash.

As soon as the door is latched shut, Mizu will waste no time in shoving you up against it.

Her strength, raw and powerful, coiled like a snake about to strike.

You'll have the nerve to smirk victoriously until she slaps it clean off with her mouth as she snags your bottom lip between her teeth.

Her swordsman hands, made calloused from forging, quick to lift you up in her arms, your kimono rising to your upper thighs before she pins you down to the bed.

"You fucking brat. Is this what you wanted?" She'll rasp out, pushing her knee in between your legs to spread them nicely for her.

There'll be no mercy for your poor body. Not when her blue eyes are staring down at you with ravenous hunger, every inch of your flesh a meal she can't wait to devour.

Your previous smug triumph is wiped clean fast, she has you a begging mess beneath her in no time at all.

The Samurai likes you that way, especially after you've been such a tease. Whimpering, messy and dripping, cheeks red and practically tearing up...

So overstimulated you can't even form coherent sentences, only whining out "Mizu, Mizu, Mizu" as you plead for her to let you come.

She loves her name in your desperate mouth and just shy of mean, she'll force you to say it dozens of times before she let's you have your release.

Come morning though, Mizu will be all soft and kiss every lovebite she left on your skin, from your neck to your inner thighs.

She'll massage your sore flesh and say how much she loves you, her voice a gentle rasp against your skin.

In truth she doesn't mind your bratty moments since she can then fuck the brat out of you.

And, of course you'll never learn your lesson. Not when the reward is Mizu.