#opla fan fiction

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Aaah, look at that, some more headcanons no one asked for but that I will be subjecting everyone to anyway.

Was in the process of trying not to hack up a lung when I started this, so logical train of thought went to how our One Piece boys handle being sick.

May do a sister-post of how they handle it when you’re sick, too. But. Like. Not right now.

Anyway here we gooooo

Sick Day

Zoro, Sanji, Shanks, Sir Crocodile, Mihawk, Buggy x Reader

SFW! Very fluff! Much cringe!

Wordcount: Like 1.6k-ish

Warnings also include very fluff and much cringe, but not much else. All character x reader relationships are implied to be already established and consensual.

If you enjoy my content, feel free to drop a donation in my ko-fi. My financial situation is quite unstable right now and anything is helpful.

Zoro

“Look, I’m fine, alright? Just...lay off.”

Insisting he is absolutely not sick right from the start, only reason he looks so flushed is because he’s been training harder than usual.

And also because you’re irritating him stop saying he’s sick, dammit—

You’re not going to be able to get him to rest until he literally collapses, hopefully not directly onto the business end of one of his katana.

For someone who enjoys napping so much, he’s still adamant that he does not need to lay down.

Once you finally manage to get him shoved into his preferred hammock he’s going to turn into a clingy baby.

Convincing him to take any medicine would take an act of god. Most he’ll let you do is drape a damp cloth over his forehead.

Which does feel nice, and does calm down most of his protest.

After that he’s going to drag you in with him and use you as a human teddy bear, where you will likely be forced to remain while he sleeps it off.

Sanji

“Well, of course I don’t want to contaminate the food, love, but I don’t want anyone burning my kitchen to the ground either—”

He’s usually awake before anyone else to make breakfast, so you’re concerned from the moment you wake up and find the kitchen empty.

Even more concerned when you find him still in bed, face flushed, grimacing and shivering in his sleep.

Barely wakes up and manages a weak smile when you sit at the edge of the mattress, a contented little sigh when you lay your palm across his forehead.

Admits he might be a little under the weather.

Briefly lapses into panic when he realizes what time it is, immediately trying to get up and go handle breakfast—

All you have to do is give him a firm poke in the chest and he just falls right back into bed, pouting a bit when you point out he could contaminate the food and get the entire crew sick.

Gazing up at you like you’re some sort of celestial being when you assure him you’ll take care of it, and that you’ll make sure no one burns down the kitchen in his absence.

He’s already asleep again when you return with a bowl of miso with rice, but when you set them to the side and sit at the edge of the bed to feel his forehead, he immediately shifts over, drapes an arm across your lap and lays his head there, with a contented sigh and smile.

You’re trapped now. Good luck escaping.

Shanks

“Oh, I’ll be fine, beautiful, you don’t need to make such a fuss over it.”

He plays it off so well that it takes you a while to notice anything is amiss.

There are a couple hints. He’s just not quite as chipper and animated as he usually is, lazing around and looking a bit sour about something, a bit distracted.

Tries to brush it off as a hangover when you ask.

Heavy sigh and defeated pouting when you press your lips to his forehead and inform him he’s burning up.

Lamenting that he doesn’t want to be sick, it will surely sort itself out if he just ignores it.

Maybe a little booze to burn it out of his system—

Pouting only intensifies when you confiscate every bottle you can find in the captain’s cabin, and step out to hand it off to Beckman and explain the situation like he wasn’t already aware, you swear these two have some kind of psychic link

Immediate puppy dog eyes when you return, you’re literally so mean to him how could you, you wound him.

He will only consider forgiving this clear act of mutiny if you agree to get in bed and be his pillow until he’s on his feet again.

Preferably with fewer clothes than you’re wearing at the present.

You’re already rolling your eyes and dressing down as he continues his overly dramatic lamentations.

He’s really too drained and tired to do anything apart from roll over and use your chest as a pillow, draping his arm across your shoulder and combing his fingers against your hair.

Nuzzling down and letting out a contented sigh, commenting with a little smirk that maybe he should fall ill more often.

Sir Crocodile

“I’m not clearing my entire schedule over a runny nose, darling, just leave me be.”

In the foulest of moods about being sick.

Yes, he’s aware his face looks like a tomato, thank you for pointing that out, brat.

No, he is not going to rest, he doesn’t have time to be sick, and if you so much as think of suggesting he put out his cigar—

You’re not going to have any luck in convincing him otherwise, nor any choice but to leave his stubborn ass alone in his office and stealthily check on him every so often.

You can only let out a weary sigh when you find him slumped over his desk hours later, half-conscious and drenched in sweat because he won’t take off that damned fur-lined coat.

You practically have to drag him to the bathroom to get him into a lukewarm bath to help bring down his fever, and he’s still complaining through the whole process about how he doesn’t have time for this nonsense.

Your offer to help finish his paperwork while he recuperates is met with an immediate growl of protest.

Like hell you are. No, if he has to suffer through this pointless ice-bath then you’re getting in with him. He will not be accepting any arguments on the matter.

It’s definitely best to just undress and not protest, as he’s going to pick you up and hold you back against his chest while he gets in whether you’re still clothed or not.

Letting out a low, somewhat weak, still incredibly smug chuckle when you shiver and shift closer to him in the water, wrapping an arm tight around your waist to prevent you from escaping any time soon.

Finally letting out a sigh and laying his head back against the tile wall behind him, admitting to himself (but definitely not to you) that you might be right, and it might not be the worst idea to clear his schedule for at least a day.

Mihawk

“That wasn’t a cough, I was simply clearing my throat. Don't be a pest.”

Only initial signs you’ll have that he’s ill are that he’s somehow napping even more than usual, and he’s more snippy than usual.

It’s not long before his pale complexion makes it clear that he’s feverish, the slightest signs of flushed skin and dark circles under his eyes immediately noticeable.

Rolls his eyes when you mention it and brushes it off, perhaps he just had a bit too much wine last night.

Glares at you any time he sneezes or coughs, like he’s just daring you to say something about it.

It’s allergies. Or it’s this-damned-old-castle-is-too-drafty. Or it’s nothing, stop looking at him like that, he doesn’t get sick, you’re the one who’s being ridiculous about this.

Your best bet at getting him to rest is going to be convincing him that you want to take a nap.

Yes, with him.

Yes, now, unless he has some important plans other than flipping through the newspaper and being impossibly stubborn for the rest of the day.

Your commentary earns you another roll of his eyes, but...well, maybe he is just a bit tired. And he might have a bit of a headache—the latter of which he will be attributing entirely to your badgering.

Still insisting you’re being ridiculous when you shove him into bed and proceed to wipe a damp cloth across his brow, glaring daggers at you when you chide him for acting like an overgrown toddler.

Assures you there will be repercussions for your insolence…at least there will be once he—resigned sigh, rolling eyes—isn’t feeling so under the weather.

That’s as close to an admission as you’re going to get.

Buggy

“I fear these may be our final days together, my dearest! Please remember me fondly--”

Can you not see that he is literally dying??

He is not long for this world, please retrieve a pen and a pad of paper posthaste to take down his last will and testament, everything is fading, he can see the light approaching—

You make use of his lamenting monologue as an opportunity to shove a thermometer in his mouth, more than used to his theatrics, patting him on the head as he stares up at you like you’ve committed some unspeakable crime by interrupting him.

He doesn’t get sick often, he has a fairly strong constitution, but oh boy when he does…

No objections at all to being waited on hand and foot. You don’t really have any issue with it either, he’d do the same for you.

And likely will have to within the next few days—as clingy as he gets, you’re definitely going to end up catching whatever he has.

Oh! but he would give an arm and a leg to be in good health again and so help you if he removes any limbs for a stupid joke you’re going to beat him with them.

Pouting and sniffling at your obviously idle threat, even as you pet his hair and he lays dramatically across your lap.

He’s already on his deathbed how dare you.

At least his sense of humor is still intact. Or he’s delirious with fever. Perhaps both.

[anystalker707]

just right

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x [gender-neutral] Reader Summary: Sanji cares more for you than he allows himself to demonstrate Tags: drabble / comfort

Requested by @songbirdemerald-blog

MASTER LIST

          Seeing Sanji flirting always made something twist uncomfortably in your chest, ironically. You were supposed to like it, since Sanji held a special place in your heart, but it failed to make you feel special or anything for that matter. You were just another one, another source, and yet another end for the attention, if not just someone he flirted with just because of habit. The attention you received didn’t make you any more important than the other people that Sanji flirted with, even if you were in the same crew, sharing a daily life.

Sometimes, Sanji would catch you gazing at him longingly, and you wondered if your feelings transpired through your face whenever you were so lost in thought while observing him. Robin, Nami, and Chopper—maybe even Zoro—would most likely have figured it out already, but it was hard to tell when it came to Sanji. Or perhaps you didn’t want to know, because the bitterness that twisted in your gut with doubt was more comforting than the pang of truth. Ignoring it was difficult when you two were sharing the same ambient more often than not.

Lately, it had been harder and harder to deal with it. Simply having Sanji address you in a flirty manner would make a lump form in your throat, and it was getting hard to face him.

With a deep breath, you tried to clear your thoughts. You couldn’t live with that forever. At some point, it’d become an issue, so it would be better if you just sucked it up now and accepted reality.

Your muscles still complained with the last training session—you had joined Zoro, Luffy, and Usopp, and it naturally developed into a competition that left you more tired than usual. Well, it only brought good results, if anything. Despite it all, the discomfort didn’t contribute to your humor the slightest bit, even more so after a long day of annoying interactions with the locals on the last island. Now you needed a snack to refuel the energy and feed the muscles.

Sanji was in the kitchen, of course, hands on his hips as he furrowed his eyebrows, attentive gaze on the recipe book open on top of the counter. His gaze averted to you when you walked in, and a small smile tugged on his lips, making you forget what you even wanted to eat, in the first place.

“Oh, hey, beautiful,” Sanji said softly. “Chopper was telling me about your training! That was amazing! It’s so nice that you’re getting stronger! I’ll gladly watch the next training session and cheer for you if possible! You’re always so beautiful when you train!”

A mix of feelings twirled in your stomach, and you couldn’t look at Sanji for longer than a few moments, nodding. “Thanks, I suppose.”

“I could also prepare you something with extra protein to help you get stronger, also something rich in carbohydrates before you start training, to give you some extra energy! Do you want to drink something refreshing now? I’m sure it must’ve been stressing at the island,” Sanji said, quickly moving to the fridge to fetch a drink he’d prepared just now.

Your heart sank as you observed Sanji serve you a drink. He was talking more than usual, with that extra attention, asking you questions. He was complimenting your training more. Was he making fun of you? Did he figure out your feelings and decide to make fun of you for it? Or was it for something else entirely? Either way, it made the anguish twist uncomfortably under your skin as the air grew thicker in the room. You glanced between Sanji and the door, biting your lip.

“Sanji,” you breathed before inhaling deeply to clear your mind or at least push the fatigue and soreness away enough to let you have a clear thought. “I… It’s okay, whatever. Thanks. No need to make fun of it.”

A crease formed between Sanji’s eyebrows. “Make fun of you, darling?”

You nodded, sighing. “I’m tired, okay? Maybe later, whatever.”

Sanji stood there for a moment, the gears visibly turning inside his head, until he caught your wrist before you could walk away. “Darling, I would never make fun of you in a malicious way! I don’t know what I did wrong, but I didn’t mean to.” He still sounded confused, but the concern was greater. “Please?” His voice became softer, somehow managing to change the atmosphere as well, and you had to avert your eyes from him for a moment.

Sanji’s hand eventually wrapped around yours to give it a gentle squeeze, his thumb rubbing circles into the back of your hand while the atmosphere eased down a little.

“Did I do something wrong?” Sanji tilted his head, stepping toward your gaze when he noticed you wouldn’t look at him. “I genuinely find it amazing that you were training hard. I’m sorry if I couldn’t express it properly, darling, but I want to support you, too, okay?”

As much as you wanted to say something, the words escaped your grasp, replaced by yet another look of frustration. You inhaled, about to tell you were leaving when Sanji hugged you. The hug wasn’t like the ones he would give the others; instead, tender and comforting, even if it took you a while to finally process it.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I hope you know that you can count on me, alright?” Sanji said softly, and his words made your heart twist in your chest. He had noticed that you weren’t fine, even though he didn’t know the reason—it was relieving at the same time it was not. “You’re part of the crew, so you’re also family, and I also care for you,” Sanji’s voice cut through your thoughts. “I’m also here for you.”

You only noticed you’d been holding your breath when your lungs ached, and you slowly exhaled, resting your head on Sanji’s shoulder as you slowly gave in. The thoughts of the last weeks swirled in your mind, so you closed your eyes and tried to focus only on his touch instead, even if it wasn’t a wise choice.

It took you some strength to pull away enough to look at him in the eyes—well, you froze when your gaze met his, so it didn’t feel much like a choice.

“Are you okay, darling?” Sanji tentatively touched your cheek, his knuckles grazing your skin in yet another attempt to give you comfort, though he was attentive to the signs so that he wouldn’t overwhelm you. The little touch eventually turned into something more, and his hand cupped your cheek. He offered you a small smile.

“I’m… sorry.” You weren’t sure what it was for, but it felt right.

Sanji’s gaze roamed over your face with something in that blue iris that made your heart flutter. Your eyes instinctively fell to Sanji’s lips for a second, and the subtle nod he gave you was enough for you to step forward and kiss him, finally. Dreaming with it would make you wake up with guilt heavy in your chest, but doing it made every weight lift from you the moment his lips returned the kiss more sweetly than you could have ever imagined. His arms wrapped around your waist to pull you closer, so your arms found a place around his neck, allowing the kiss to deepen while your bodies molded against each other. It felt right.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

[taestarii]

treat you right - sanji

just a short sanji x reader story, he deserves to be loved :(

link to request

You knew.

The sun dipped below the horizon, the moon making a gleaming appearance overhead, illuminating the sea in pale navy waves.

Salty air blew through you hair as you sighed, gripping the deck until your knuckles turned white. You loved that blonde man with your whole heart, and you'd give anything to show him that, show him your love. It was hard to get through to him and connect with him on a deeper level, like he built walls with his words.

Underneath his naturally flirty personality, you knew there was a man tired of rejection, looking to feel loved and appreciated. And you could give that to him, you wanted to give that to him.

Opening the door to the kitchen you saw the man in his usual area, his safe space.

"Hey, Sanji..?" He lifted his head up from where his eyes were fixed on the counter. "Oh, Y/n? Why are you up so late, sweetheart? Hungry?" You shook your head smiling. "Someone as breath-taking as you should be getting her beauty sleep." He said, resting his head on his palm. "I can't sleep.“ You averted your gaze and watched the calm waves lap against the boat. "What's keeping you up?"

"You.“

"Me?" Sanji flushed a bright pink color, the tips of his nose and ears changing like leaves in autumn. "Why was I keeping you awake?"

You exhaled, standing up from your seat and walking over to him. "Y/-" Wordlessly, you wrapped your arms around him, placing your head on his chest. "What's this about, love?" He laughed slightly, his hands resting on your waist.

"I love you, Sanji.“

You felt his breath hitch, his grip slightly tightening. "I love you so much.“

He let out a shaky exhale mixed with a slight, unsure laugh. "What did I do to deserve that?" You brought your hands up to his face, tilting his head so his eyes met yours. "You deserve everything, Sanji. Life has treated you so wrong, please allow me to treat you right."

For the first time, you saw a man break. Hot tears ran down his face as he buried his head in your shoulder, your hands massaging comforting circles in his hair. His sobs died down to sniffles, bringing him over to the nearest couch you sat, fingers running through his blonde locks as he held you like you were going to disappear.

"Thank you." He whispered, his voice light enough to be carried away with the wind. "I love you, too.“

link to requests

[sanjisjuul]

i want nothing more than sanji underneath me. face flushed and pupils blown with desire. his hands tied up behind his back as he sits on his knees.

i want to lean down and rake my acrylics over his sensitive flesh. he would hiss strings of french curses, his pent up body twitching underneath my touch.

i want to press the ball of my foot into his weeping cock harder and harder until tears fill his vision and he's begging for me to touch him.

but i won't. at least not until i get my fix as i sit my pussy onto his face, letting him lap up every last drop.

he would moan and cry into my cunt, strong arms flex as he tries to release himself from his restraints.

he would cum untouched before i would, but that wouldn't stop him from letting me cum all over his pretty face.

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Hello! Would you do a mild angst Buggy x Reader fic? With some fluff at the end? Where Buggy and Reader where a fling back in the day when she suddently disapeared. When raiding a village one day years later he meets a boy that looks like the perfect mix of him and his former lover- finding out that he's his son and she died long ago? Her only legacy was this boy.

Buggy as a father omg AHHHHHHHH 😭😭😭

---

One Night

It wasn't enough searching the seas on his own, he wanted to deploy every ship possible. He wanted to dive into the depths of the ocean even if it paralysed him just so he could find the truth about your disappearance. It pulled apart his mind like no other trauma he had ever faced. He drank till he could see the stars or if he was lucky, your face. As a pirate captain, he had been with endless women. Faces he never recognized, voices that never mattered because all they ever did was hold him for the night but you.

He pushed away from the railing, he wanted to scream, to throw this bottle in his hands and break it into shards. His tears weren't enough, he tugged on those gloves as if they were his armour, preventing his fingers from yearning for your warmth. You were the one that slipped away.

A young merchant by a seaside port he had docked once. He had come by your stall demanding you hand over your wages when you stood your ground, looked him in the eye and said no. His henchmen cracked their knuckles behind him as they edged closer but he remembered his hand shooting up, telling them to stop because something within him had shifted.

Noticing his intrigue you had brokered a deal with him instead. To trade all your hand made lanterns instead of the money because no one was buying them and there was no room for you to stock them anymore.

He tilted his head, all the signs pointing towards the fact that you were closing down your shop.

"I have no need for your lanterns.", He scoffed but you shrugged your shoulders, continuing to wipe the glass in your hands.

His crew began to murmur and laugh behind you at your audacity.

"I have a need for the money I've earned. You seem to be doing well for yourself.", you responded looking behind him at his ship and his crew.

He couldn't understand you. You were at his mercy but why was he feeling like he was at yours?

You were an enigma, a map he couldn't read and that was enough of a challenge for him to concoct a plan. Although a pirate, his life was mundane. The same raids, the same celebrations but you were a spark. A different colour he had never seen.

"That is true.", he rolled back on his heels as a smile threatened to spread across his face.

"You can keep your money.", he said turning to catch your eyes again, he heard the silent gasp amongst his crew mates. He had never been this generous before.

"But I would like to hire your services.", he spoke picking up one of your glass lanterns. It puzzled you, you stopped what you were doing as you focused on him, your nervousness now turning into confusion.

"What for?", you asked.

"My circus lights are in need of an upgrade and the quality of your glass is spectacular, along with it's workmanship.", he held the glass up to the light to inspect it.

"I need you to replace all the lights on the ship.", he looked at you and you gasped.

All the lights on the ship, that was two months of work plus the wages. You didn't have to go to bed hungry. Pirate or not, it was honest work and you needed it. So without making him wait for long, you took up the offer.

"When do I start?", you asked.

"The sooner the better.", he hummed flashing you a smile and for second you forgot who he was.

The beauty about the circus was the magic and he embodied it. Never letting you know who he was, elusive like a rabbit in a hat, here one moment, gone the next.

But with every day you boarded the gaudy vessel by the docks, you grew to understand there was more to him. The quiet nights you spent when the town and crew were asleep, to screw on the bulbs and fuse the glass pieces. He kept you company. He wouldn't talk much, but he snuck glances at you and you did the same.

The distance between you, lessened as the days went by and soon he was seated by your side holding up the tools you needed. His soft eyes gazing into yours before looking away. This was a side no one could witness cause he had it sealed. This version of him wasn't up for display.

The nights had become his favourite now, he didn't have to utter a word, make up a joke, exert his authority, he could just sit by your side and listen to sound of the waves. Watch you mix the colours and bring to life the ideas in your head just like he did with his shows and strategies. He didn't have to peel away his clothes to feel seen, your knowing smile after he pulled a stunt or threw a tantrum was enough.

But it was when you had told him it wasn't his fault for all the hurt he carried, after a night he had a little too much to drink and began to writhe in his self hatred, you were there. To hold him up, to quiten these thoughts that were loud in his head and though his vision was blurry, he could never forget the moment you had kissed him then.

You did in the hopes that when he woke up the next morning he would have forgotten about it, but the days after that he looked at you like he had remembered all of it.

It was the final night, the ship rocked gently but the deck was alive. Your lights brought a new life to this ship, it's crew smiling for the first time since you've been here and while you stood in the middle admiring your work, yours eyes found his. There up by the helm, his head resting in his hands with his eyes set only on you.

That was the night, you could never forget. The truth behind you shutting down your shop was not because of poor sales but because you were sick. Only you knew, and you were set to spend the money you had travelling or doing good of some kind, to leave a mark before your time had come.

So this was perfect. Your lanterns would adorn this ship always. You didn't want to bring down the mood of everyone around, so you held this moment to yourself. Nothing could top this feeling of satisfaction.

You stood by the railing, looking out at the sea, the waters dancing under the moonlight and the soft colourful glow from the ship, when he bumped his shoulder gently into yours.

"I feel like we've become friends after all this time.", he said sweetly and you smiled. It was true, he had become your friend. The only man who made you laugh.

But the moment his eyes lingered on yours it was as if he could read your sadness, he jutted his chin towards you in a manner of asking you what was wrong but you shook your head to put him at ease.

"Just that this is my last day on this beautiful ship.", you pushed away to spin around as soft music played. When you came to a halt, your smile so full on your face that when you saw him looking at you, you were certain he was in love. In love with you.

Your tried to hide the sinking feeling but he only made it worse by walking towards you to catch your hands in his, guiding you into a dance that the warmth in his gloves felt soothing from the cold of the night.

"You've made it beautiful.", he said confidently and it stung you. The truth you knew, that you didn't have all the time to offer him.

"You'll always be welcome here.", he continued and you could gauge where this was going.

"Buggy.", you whispered his name, trying to interrupt him but your heart didn't. When would be the next time you would feel loved? You didn't know. So you stayed, documenting his words so that you carry it with you till the end.

"In fact I feel it's time I come clean about about our deal.", He said and his eyes reflected the colour of the lights.

"Somewhere in between these two months, from the first moment I saw you, I've fallen in love with you.", he said, the rhythm picking up in the song that he twirled you around as though you were a star and he was your admirer.

You forgot about the pain in your life and let your heart roam free. Just for this night. When morning came you will cage it and disappear.

You danced around him, escaping from his hold because you couldn't tell him you had fallen for him too. Because that would break him. But he reached for you again, his hands pulling your arms to him that now you couldn't evade him any longer. A vacuum settling over him and you drowning out the music as you gazed into his eyes.

"Say something.", he laughed nervously as though he had put his entire life on the line.

"I cannot offer you an eternity.", you spoke, your smile dying away.

"but I can give you one night.", you let your fingers hold the sides of his face and watched him unravel.

"One night of your love?", he questioned and you nodded your head, sure that he was going to laugh at you.

"That is more love than I've ever received in my life.", he flashed smile just like yours, one mixed with peace and melancholy.

With that he pulled you in, his lips kissing you where he pleased as he stubbled along with you into his quarters, kicking his boots off like he was a drunken sailor, taking you with him as he fell into the bed.

One night, that changed the course of your lives.

Now those memories won't die, in fact they insisted on pestering him, drowning him in the frustration that your words were something he could never hear again.

"Captain, land up ahead.", his crewmate approached him.

"What do you want me to do with that information?", he barked back angrily.

"Do we put down our anchor or pass it by?", the boy answered nervously.

Buggy looked at the island, the lights near the docks reminding him of you again. He groaned.

"Raid it, you fools!", he ordered, stomping away to the helm.

--

The citizens were wary of his arrival. They scattered away from him as he walked down the streets. Everyone left, except for a little boy. He was by the street corner, juggling glass lanterns as he balanced himself on a unicycle. Buggy stopped in his tracks, the boy's face resembling yours and his dark blue hair looking a lot like his.

"Do we burn down the town?", a deckhand asked him.

"Go back to the ship.", Buggy ordered leaving his crew in confusion. They were reluctant to act on his word that he turned back to yell at them. Telling them to leave.

As they went away, he approached the boy.

"Good day to you, sir. Would you like to see a magic trick?", the boy beamed at him.

Buggy fought back tears, as he crouched down.

"I would.", he said softly and watched as the boy pulled out a card, he tried to hide the card within his tiny fingers to then flip it around quickly to hold up a golden coin instead.

Buggy's heart stopped. The gold coin wasn't an ordinary coin. It carried the seal of his Jolly Roger. One given to crew mates and friends as a means to let people know that they were under his protection.

He tried to take it from the kid but the boy closed his fists on it and drew it back.

"I can't give it to you, sir. It was my mother's.", he stared Buggy down. His eyes the same as yours that Buggy couldn't help but let out a knowing laugh.

"Do you know that coin could fetch you a lot of berry, boy?", he asked to which the boy grew silent, his eyes falling to the floor as sadness seeped into his tiny face.

"I know. But my mother said if I kept it safe, my father will come in search for me.", his sweet words broke through Buggy's facade.

"Where is she?", he asked instantly, wanting to take you and your son home with him. He looked around the market, his heart picking up it's pace in the hopes that he could see you once again.

"She's not here. She's gone home to the clouds, that's what the doctor told me. She can't come back from there.", he heard the boy say and understood what it meant that he broke down to sit on the dirt road. The innocence in the boy's face now replaced with a grief he was too young to understand.

Buggy reached for the lanterns the boy owned, it looked similar to the ones you had made.

"Would you like to buy them? I know how to make more of those.", the boy chirped, his eyes looking up at Buggy with the expectation of making money.

Now that made him feel like he was looking straight into a mirror, he smiled.

"Did your mother tell you about your father?", he asked only for the boy to jump up.

"Oh yes. He owned a huge ship. Travelled across all the seas, fought bad guys and sea monsters. He also had blue hair just like me.", The kid said with evident excitement.

Buggy reminisced your presence, that you left your mark in everything and everyone. That even now, you had made sure the boy knew him as someone good and that was how you had seen him. Buggy met the expectant eyes of the boy and slowly removed his captain's hat.

"Blue hair like mine?", he asked and watch the gears turn in his head.

The kid reached for his hat to run his finger over the crest. Placing the coin next to it, he drew in a gasp. It was a match. The crest was the same as the one on the coin. Buggy prepared himself to explain more, but all he felt was the sudden force with which the child ran into his arms. He wrapped his hands around him and Buggy knew he was never going to be the same again.

"You came. You came for me.", the boy cried and Buggy couldn't help but let the tears he held back roll down his cheek.

He had found you, a part of you and that was all he could ask for.

He wiped away the tears as he carried the boy.

"Now come on, I've got to show you my ship.", he said with a dramatic flair as he walked down the street with his son in his arms.

[randomrecsknifedrawer]

OPLA Zosan Fic Rec (P1)

For the truth, break me loose by MarionetteFtHJM

“What?” He grunts, crossing his arms over his chest

“What is your problem with Sanji?” She hisses lowly.

He shrugs but keeps silent. He was hoping it would take her longer to notice that there indeed was a problem. Honestly, he thought he’d have a few more days at least. But she’s quick and sharp and nothing escapes her eye.

“Nothing, he’s just annoying.” He settles on saying and it’s true, she can’t deny it and he sees the protest forming on her lips. “He’s annoying.” He repeats, trying to urge her to drop the subject but she seems to instead read something in his inflection because her eyes widen and her mouth rounds.

“Oh, Zoro.” The shock quickly morphs into a sly grin that he doesn’t like one bit – her eyes are sparkling.

aka Zoro has a lot of pent up emotions about Sanji and how annoying he is.

Word Count: 13,227 - Enemies to Lovers, Getting Together, Flirting, First Time, OPLA, Explicit

For All The Times I Never Could (I’ll Be Good) by Apocalypic_Space_They

After his defeat at the hands of Dracule Mihawk, Zoro wakes up back on the ship, feeling equally physically and emotionally beat.

Luckily the Straw hat pirates had a distracting new cook who was determined to get him to stop brooding and eat.

Zoro doesn't actually hate that.

Aka Sanji brings Zoro soup, they snarky flirt.

Soup is maybe Zoro's new favorite thing.

Word Count: 3,156 - Pre-Relationship, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Getting to Know Each Other, Fluff, OPLA

Laws of Men by Blasphemyandtheboys

Sanji has a lot to learn about love and attraction, the Strawhat pirates are his unwitting teachers.

Word Count: 10,042 Chapters 4/4 - Character Study, Internalized Homophobia, Platonic Relationships, Light Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, OPLA

Get a Room Series -- by Blasphemyandtheboys

the tragedy of the dreamer by encyclopediabitch_jpeg

“People care, cook. People trust you, so return the favour. Trust that they’ll listen. That’s what a crew does,”

“I’ll take that advice if you will mosshead,”

“Alright. You’ve got a deal,”

Or

What Zoro does

Word Count: 5,087 - Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Feels, OPLA

Complimentary by TastyTaboo

It’s surprisingly not as easy as his crew members make it seem to compliment Sanji’s food.

Word Count: 4,716 - Compliments, Food, Praise Kink, Pinning, OPLA, Explicit

a single nail, a single ruby by okayprairie

In a large bowl, beat a cup of heavy cream with a tablespoon of powdered sugar and a dash of vanilla until stiff peaks form.

"Stiff peaks?” Zoro mutters, frowning, flipping the page back and forth. The Going Merry lilts gently beneath his feet. “What the hell are stiff peaks?”

/ / /

Sanji eats like a line cook. Zoro learns the uses for tenderness.

Word Count: 4,181 - Getting to Know Each Other, Food, Crew As a Family, Tender, OPLA

How to save a life by anthea_tesdinic

Zoro is very familiar with how heavy an unconscious body can be. He’s carried several hundred pounds worth of ruthless pirate captain many a time to collect his bounty. Somehow, none of them have felt as heavy as Sanji feels in his arms at that moment.

---

Or: Zoro is bad at communicating, but good at saving Sanji's life. And catching feelings.

Word Count: 7,508 Chapters 2/2 - Mutual Pining, Drowning, First Kiss, Idiots in Love, OPLA, Mature

[vclvetfleur]

Freak Show

Pairings: Buggy x fem! reader

Synopsis: You’re one of the toughest and most ruthless pirates at sea, having a 20 million bounty on your head. But after thieving one of the most wanted pirate in the entire sea, Buggy, years of pettiness and determination to one up the other begins.

Themes: enemies to lovers, 18+, devil fruit

Chapters:

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

[imjustavenuxwithaboomerang]

just learned that people are like legitimately pissed that mackenyu buffed up for season 2 ???

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Bro how would they react if they found out u got pregnant? Cuz yk their pirates and stuff so what would they do? U can do whoever but ik i want shanks, zoro, and mihawk you can do other people or not do the ones or dont do this at all👍 i want i jus want you to be comfortable writing this if you want to write it at all😭

I enjoyed writing this SO MUCH, thank you for the request!!

I just did Zoro, Shanks, and Mihawk for now. May end up doing one for Sanji and Buggy as well if anyone wants, but since I ended up writing these as little short stories instead of headcanons, I just decided to focus on those three this time.

Shanks is already such a dad honestly I lub him <3

So here we gooooo

Whoops

OPLA! Zoro, Shanks, Mihawk x AFAB!Reader

SFW, so fluffy I'm suffocating

Wordcount: 4.6k

No warnings, I think?

Zoro

It took you some time to dredge up the nerve to tell him. It was just a one night stand, after all. A lot of alcohol involved, nothing special. Sure, maybe you’d had a crush on him for a while, but that was in no way relevant. The incorrigible amount of liquor you had consumed had more than done the trick of acting as liquid courage, given you had awoken the next morning in his hammock, both of you stark naked, just a hungover tangle of limbs with no real memory of anything past making out on the quarterdeck while everyone else was staying the night in town.

That had been awkward enough—your eyes locking as you both stirred awake, your face turning beet reed as you scrambled off the green-haired swordsman and quickly threw on enough of your clothes to be able to safely escape, him speaking up behind you as you hurriedly dressed yourself.

“Did we—uh—”

“No idea,” had been your quick, curt response, making sure you didn’t turn around and meet his eye again. “Bye.”

“Wh—? Wait a minute—”

But you had already been out the door. You spent the following days, the following weeks avoiding being alone with the first mate of the Strawhats under any circumstance, avoiding any situation where you might have to actually talk about what had happened between the two of you.

But now you had to talk.

Middle of the night, with everyone else safely asleep so they couldn’t overhear, you stood over him as he lay asleep himself in that same hammock. You stood there for a long, tense moment, arms crossed tight over your stomach, tapping your foot lightly as you looked down at Zoro, deliberating over whether you really had the guts to go through with this.

You decide you have no choice, and you nudge his arm. “Wake up,” you say quietly.

He snores in response.

You sigh to yourself, and nudge his shoulder a little harder, say it again a little more forcefully. “Wake up, come on—”

He gives a small growl of protest at that, rolling his shoulders and stretching his toned arms out behind his head, before tucking one hand under his neck. He squints at you in the small, dark cabin, blinking slowly. The groggy, astonished sort of manner in which he mumbles your name makes your heart skip for a moment.

“Wha…?” He glances past you toward the cabin door, toward the darkness outside on the deck, and asks, “What time is it?”

“Two in the morning.” He quirks an eyebrow as you toe the wooden floor, staring off to the side, biting your lip. “We…need to talk.”

“At…two in the morning,” he repeats slowly. You hum in affirmation and give a small nod, already feeling your face starting to heat up—and you hear him sigh.

Then his hand is around your forearm, and you’re gasping out in alarm as he pulls you down across his chest until your eyes are level with his, your foreheads nearly touching.

His hand slips further up your arm, up your shoulder, back behind your neck, and your blush only grows hotter as he gives you a smirk. “Don’t think there’s really much to talk about.”

And he pulls you down, seizing your lips with his own.

Your brain all but short-circuits. You can barely remember how to breathe as your thoughts whirl. He kissed you. There isn’t a drop of alcohol involved this time, and he still kissed you.

Don’t think there’s really much to talk about.

Maybe that crush of yours was more mutual than you thought it was.

Your eyes flutter shut as you melt against him and return the kiss with a slow sigh, forgetting for a moment what you were doing here in the first place, your tongues meeting and swirling together, his hand drifting down your back, curling around the hem of your shirt and tugging at it and—

And this was exactly how you got into your present predicament in the first place. You tear your lips away from his and sit up at the edge of the hammock, flinching. “No, we…” You glance over your shoulder at him, briefly meeting his eyes as he stares up at you cautiously. “We do need to talk, I…” You swallow, and decide to just rip off the bandage, just say it. “I’m late.”

He’s silent for several seconds, and as you sit there, inwardly panicking, dreading his reaction, he finally speaks up.

“What the hell could you be late for at two in the morning?”

“What—no, I—” you sputter, jerking your head to look over your shoulder at him, sharing his stare of bafflement, as you realized he had no idea what you meant. “I…my period. I—is two weeks late.”

His brow furrows for a moment as that sinks in.

And his eyes slowly widen, and you look quickly away, flinching again, hanging your head.

“O…oh.” He sits up himself, swinging his legs over the side of the hammock to sit next to you, exhaling a slow sigh. “Shit.”

“Mmhmm,” you reply in a weak sort of hum, practically a whimper, watching him run a hand back through his hair from the corner of your eye, his eyes wide, unblinking, glued to the doorframe.

“I…guess it’s a good thing we’ve got a doctor now.” You glance over at him, swallowing nervously as he gives a small, breathless laugh, waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for him to be upset about it, even angry. It was just a stupid, drunken one night stand, after all.

Wasn’t it?

Not really much to talk about. His words ring in your head as you watch him fall back across the width of the hammock with another laugh, resting a hand over his eyes. He said it right before he kissed you, sober this time, as if maybe…there was more to it than just an alcohol-fueled one off fling.

“Y…you’re not upset?” you ask carefully, looking down at him.

“Nah,” he says, laughing a little again. He lowers his hand down to rest over his abs, meeting your eyes with a little bit of a grin. “I mean, it is kinda my fault.”

“It takes two,” you point out, frowning.

“Yeah, but you were drunk.”

“We both were.”

“You were really drunk.” You purse your lips and shove at his ribs as he laughs again, sitting back up. He drapes his arm around your shoulders, sighing and shaking his head. “Shit.”

“Shit,” you agree, nodding. “I guess…we talk to Chopper in the morning and…figure things out from there?”

“Yeah. Guess so.” You’re both quiet for a long moment, staring out toward the darkened deck. “You know…” You glance over when he sighs slowly again. “This crew’s…pretty much the closest thing I’ve ever had to family. That most of us have had, probably. Whatever happens with…this—we’ll all have each other’s backs.”

He isn’t at all wrong, and the thought is enough of a comfort to bring a slow sigh of relief from you as well, a small smile to your lips. You shift a little closer and rest your temple at his shoulder, your hand over his, your eyes slipping shut.

“Anyway.,,” Your eyes open when he speaks, and without warning he pushes you back down into the hammock, pressing his lips to yours—and your eyes flutter shut again as his tongue brushes your bottom lip amid the slow, playful kiss.

“Wait—” You draw back from it just as abruptly as you were drawn into it, lifting an eyebrow, fighting a smirk. “Isn’t this sort of what got us into this situation to begin with?”

“Yeah,” he says, lowering himself down to his elbow. He smirks as well, his hand resting at the crown of your hair. “But it’s not like you can get any more pregnant.”

You can’t help but giggle at that, hooking your arm around his neck and shaking your head, smiling. “Fair enough,” you agree, and lift your head to press your lips to his again.

Shanks

It all started three weeks ago, when you first missed your cycle. Your paranoia and anxiety that it could mean that, meant you had stopped drinking entirely. Shanks had been too busy to pick up on it, or simply as carefree and oblivious as ever.

But this morning you had awoken early, perhaps earlier than anyone else on the ship. You checked the position of the log posse and adjusted the course accordingly until it was pointing straight ahead again—and that was when you realized, by the sound of a match striking behind you, that you weren’t the first person awake—and someone had noticed the cessation of your drinking with the rest of the crew.

And almost the moment Benn Beckman confronted you about it, you blabbed your worries to the first mate, and you were fairly sure he nearly swallowed his cigarette.

“You’re what?”

You had joined the Red Hair pirates as a navigator around eight months ago, and had quickly fallen for the charming captain. There was no real agreement that there was anything more between the two of you than casual sex and flirting, nothing exclusive; but it hadn’t escaped anyone’s notice that the two of you were spending more and more time together, and that from an outsider’s point of view it looked a lot more like romance than anything casual.

But you were dead terrified that this news would ruin everything.

Beck just shook his head, grabbed you by the shoulder like a misbehaving child as you ranted, and walked you toward the door to the captain’s cabin. He opened it, and gestured at you to get in.

“You don’t come back out until you tell him,” he said, and you flinched at his stern tone. “Got it?”

“Got it…” you sighed wearily, hanging your head as you entered and shut the door lightly behind you. You had the idle hope that Shanks might be asleep as you entered but now, standing in the doorway, you can see clearly that he isn’t. He’s sitting up against the headboard of his bed—the same bed that you’ve been sharing every night for at least six months—and squinting at a map in the dim light of the lantern hanging from one of the bedposts, wearing an unbuttoned white shirt and black boxers. He looks up from it mid-yawn, and waves at you, nodding at the empty side of the bed to his right.

“You’re up awfully early,” he comments as you kick off your boots and climb into bed next to him.

“Just checking the course,” you say as he hands the map off to you—an old treasure map that you found helping clean out his rather cluttered desk a few weeks ago. “Any breakthroughs?”

“That.” He indicates a crude sketch of what appeared to be a statue. “It’s in Arabasta.”

“You’re sure?” you ask, looking over at him, and he nods slowly. “Oh, great. That’s…”

“Crocodile’s territory,” he says, as you let out a sigh that mirrors his own mildly dejected tone. “If we dock there we’ll be up to our tits in his Baroque Works wackjobs. Not that they’d pose us much of a threat, but…balance of power and all that.” He sighs himself, grabbing the map away from you again and tossing it off the side of the bed, where it flutters slowly to the floor a few feet away. “Not to mention it looks like it’s out in the middle of the desert somewhere. Not worth the time.”

“I guess not,” you say, frowning as you watch him sink back into the bed, his eyes slipping shut, unbothered by what might have been a disappointment to almost anyone else. He hadn’t mentioned the map to anyone else except for you and Beck, had kept it otherwise entirely to himself in case it did turn out to be a bust. Nothing ever really seemed to get under his skin.

You close your eyes for a long moment, bracing yourself. Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t get under his skin either. Just as you open your mouth to speak, however, he speaks up himself.

“Now, something that’s much more worth my time…”

“Oh—!” You let out a small cry of alarm as he tugs you down suddenly to lie with him, and he shifts so he’s facing you, his forehead resting lightly against yours, his hand creeping slowly up your stomach to where the lapels of your shirt are tied shut, grinning wickedly.

“…is the beautiful woman in my bed who is, frankly, wearing far too many clothes.”

You can’t help but giggle a little as he sets straight to attacking your neck, his lips trailing down the column of your throat as he deftly works the knot loose, lightly nipping at your collarbone as he shifts you onto your back and brushes the lapels of your shirt open. Maybe you could drop it for now, just for now, you think disjointedly, your eyes slipping shut as his fingertips brush over one of the cups of your bra. Just until…

No. No, if you put it off again, you’re just going to keep putting it off.

“No—wait—” You grab his hand, pulling it away, and he lifts his head, raising his eyebrows in puzzlement. You swallow, glancing away for a moment before returning your gaze to meet his. “We…need to talk about something,” you say quietly.

The confusion in his eyes quickly shifts to concern at your hesitant tone, and he slowly lifts himself away from you, sitting up on his knees. “Alright,” he says, just as slowly, just as cautiously, looking at you as if you’re a ticking time bomb about to go off at any second. “What exactly is it that we—”

“I’m pregnant.”

You just blurt it out, before you can stop yourself, so suddenly that Shanks stops mid-sentence with his mouth hanging open. His eyes widen to saucers as he gawks at you, and he blinks rapidly a few times. “B—be—beg pardon?” he stammers.

You just swallow nervously and nod—you know he heard you. He draws in a deep breath, shoulders going limp, and lets it out after a moment as a tremendous sigh, running his hand back through his hair.

It was rare, if ever, that you had seen your carefree captain in an outright panic, but seconds later he was on his feet, pacing back and forth across the cabin, his hand curled over his mouth. You sit up as well, alternating between glancing at him and staring down at your knees, your stomach tied in knots. You’re sure that this is it, this is the end, this is your final stint sailing with the Red Hair pirates. A ship is no place for a child, after all, for a baby, for a woman with child—

He stops pacing suddenly, his hand slipping down to his chin. “Midwife. We’re going to need—that’s what they’re called, isn’t it?” You lift your head, staring at him in mild alarm as he resumes pacing, now rambling aloud. “We’ll need a midwife, I hardly think Hongo’s qualified—might know someone who is, but…” He shakes his head. “Still probably a good idea for you to talk to—have you?” he asks, stopping to look over at you, and you shake your head rapidly. The only inkling you have that you are pregnant is that you’ve gone well over a month without a period; you had been far too scared to talk with the ship’s doctor about the concern, afraid that he would go straight to Shanks and you would be shoved straight off the ship at the next populated port.

“We’ll need to set that up immediately,” he half-mumbles, and resumes pacing again. “How far along do you think you are?”

“I—er—” Your head is absolutely spinning. “M…maybe eight weeks?”

“Eight? That’s two months, tha—that means there’s only seven more, we’ll need—everything, crib, clothes, probably a rocking chair…”

You listen in growing astonishment as he rapidly lists off everything, already planning far more than you had even thought to, not even the slightest bit upset. He seems almost…excited. You swallow, exhaling a slow, shaking breath, your eyes burning a little as relief floods through you.

“…diapers—” He stops in his tracks again, lowering his hand from his chin and looking at it, frowning. “How am I supposed to change a diaper with one ha—”

He looks over sharply when a small sob escapes you before you can lift your hand to muffle it. You lower your head, closing your eyes tightly, gripping at the edge of the bed as that overwhelming flood of emotion becomes too much to contain.

“Oh—sweetheart…no, no no…” You hear him sigh, his footsteps quickly crossing the room. The bed sinks beside you as he sits down and wraps his arm around you, pulling you tight against his chest and resting his hand near the nape of your neck. “It’s alright, love,” he murmurs gently, combing his fingers through your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It’s alright, we can handle this, okay?”

“I—I thought—” Your breath hitches as you turn your head so your cheek is pressed against his shoulder. “I thought you’d be mad,” you force out. “Th—that I’d—I’d have to leave and—and—”

He tightens his hold around your back, letting out a few soft chuckles and shaking his head. “That’s an absolutely ridiculous thing to think,” he tells you.

“It…didn’t seem ridiculous to me,” you say quietly, your voice choked.

“Well, it is,” he assures you again. “I don’t—look, love.” He shifts his hand from the nape of your neck to your cheek, lifting your head and pressing his forehead against yours. His thumb wipes away the tears streaming down your face, and he smiles warmly. “I don’t want you anywhere but right here. With me. Okay?” Your breaths leaves you in a trembling sigh at the sincerity in his soft tone, the softness in his brown eyes as he gazes into yours. You swallow, and nod quickly, closing your eyes for a long moment.

You draw in a sharp breath in surprise when you feel his lips press lightly against yours in a slow, tender kiss that eases almost all of your tension away in an instant. one of your hands slipping from your lap to rest against his knee as your lips just barely part.

“I love you,” he murmurs, and the knots in your stomach are gone as he lowers his hand to rest it there, smiling. “And we can handle this.”

“I…I love you too,” you whisper, and his smile only broadens at that.

He kisses you again, more firmly this time, before standing suddenly from the bed.

Before you can fully register what’s happening, he’s already heading out the door of the cabin and out onto the quarterdeck, calling out loudly, “Lads, I have an anno—where is everyone?”

You hear Beck scoff from somewhere nearby. “It’s four in the damn morning,” he says. “Probably sleeping.”

“Ah. Right.” A brief pause, and then Shanks goes on, so happily you can practically hear him grinning, “I’m going to be a dad.”

“Yeah,” says Beck. “Congratulations. Now maybe go put on some damned pants.”

“…Right.”

Mihawk

You already know he isn’t going to be happy. After your first missed period, you mentioned children. Merely in passing.

And he had immediately expressed his gratitude that there would never be any of the vile creatures roaming the halls of his castle.

Another three weeks, and you don’t have a choice but to bring it up. You’re losing sleep over it and he’s noticed, because of course he’s noticed. Mihawk doesn’t seem to miss anything, where you’re concerned—except perhaps this, which he seems to have not one single suspicion of.

You lay back on a plush sofa in one of the dens, your head resting in his lap as he sips a cup of coffee and flips through the newspaper, your eyes barely open. All you want to do is sleep. You’ve barely slept in a damned week, his words haunting you every time you do, his potential reaction to this upheaval of the peaceful existence you have both lived at his castle for the past several months.

“It’s likely because you’ve stopped having a glass of wine before bed,” he says, and you sigh to yourself. You had outright lied on that account, told him that for no reason you could discern you were suddenly getting horrible headaches any time you consumed even a drop of alcohol. “It’s been almost two months, you could try again.”

“N…no,” you say. “I can’t.”

He lifts the newspaper and glances down at you, lifting his eyebrows—waiting for you to elaborate. It’s now or never. You pull yourself up, drawing up every ounce of resolve in your body to meet his eyes as he looks at you in growing perplexity, his sharp eyes darting briefly down from your gaze as you bite your bottom lip lightly.

“I…can’t because…” You’re already feeling lightheaded, already reeling from the threat of what may come to pass. “Because I’m pregnant.”

His eyes remain locked onto yours for several tense seconds. He slowly folds down his newspaper and sets it aside on the end table. Slowly, gently as if you’re made of porcelain, he moves a hand down to your shoulder and lightly pushes you up into a sitting position. He opens his mouth, lifting his hand as if about to speak…and closes it again.

He tries once more, and words seem to fail him yet again.

And then he stands from the couch abruptly, without a word, and strides out of the room.

You’re fairly sure you know where he’s headed. You pull in a slow, deep breath, steeling your nerves to the best of your ability, before your rise to follow him. Surely enough, as you expected, you find him in the kitchen, pulling the cork out of a half-full bottle of wine. He glances briefly over his shoulder as you enter.

“How did this happen?” His tone is level, but you notice how he fills his wine glass nearly to the rim.

“Well, you see, when a man and a woman—” The glare he levels upon you shares none of your attempted humor, so you just sigh, leaning back against the kitchen island and crossing your arms. “Probably after that warlord meeting a couple months ago?”

“…Ah.”

That’s all he says on that matter—there isn’t much else to say. Whatever had happened at the meeting was a mystery to you, but it evidently had gone very poorly and been an absolute waste of his time, as he had returned to Kuraigana Island that evening in a bit of a foul mood and set immediately to downing two and a half bottles of wine. You had joined him in the endeavor, and the rest of the night was more than a bit of a blur. You only really knew that you both woke up on a couch rather than your bed the following morning, that you yourself could barely walk from the stiffness in your thighs, and that you had both bickered lightly through your shared hangover about who was going to get up to make coffee, before both giving up and going back to sleep for more than half the day.

“Well. This is…”

He doesn’t seem to be quite sure what it is, so he takes a sip from his overfull wine glass instead, leaning back against the counter opposite you, staring at the wall but clearly not actually seeing it. His eyes are far away, unfocused.

“…unexpected,” he finishes finally.

And takes another sip of wine.

“Mmhmm,” you hum in agreement, both your hands gripping at the counter behind you. You pull yourself up to sit there, your gaze glued to him, carefully studying his face for any sign of emotion, any reaction, but there’s nothing—just that blank, miles away stare. “S…so…what do you…what should we…” His eyes shift over to you, but only briefly, before shifting down to his wine glass.

“I…” He cringes slightly before going on, as if the admission physically pains him, “…don’t know.”

You know there are two things that Mihawk hates above all else in life—unexpected news, and a lack of control. Right now, experiencing both at once in tremendous measure, you can almost see the thin thread of his patience beginning to fray, and you aren’t sure what might happen when it breaks.

You swallow nervously, lowering your eyes when his gaze shifts over to you again.

You hear him sigh in resignation.

“We’ll need to find a doctor immediately to be sure,” he says curtly, and you give a stiff nod in agreement, glancing up at him. He’s staring down at his wine glass again, and continues to do so in silence for several long, tense seconds.

“You’re angry,” you say quietly. He sighs again, shaking his head, and sets the glass on the counter behind him. Your eyes fall to your knees once more as he crosses the kitchen toward you, and shift over to your hand when he rests his over it.

“Not with you,” he says lightly. There’s something different about his tone, but it isn’t anger. It almost frightens you more when you recognize it as uncertainty. You’ve never seen him uncertain about anything.

He pulls your hand lightly, and you slip off of the counter and onto your feet, sighing slowly yourself as he tugs you back against him, his arm curling around your waist. He brushes your hair behind your ear, behind your shoulder, and your eyes slip shut as his lips graze your neck. “I’m not sure if I possess the skillset necessary to be a very…adept parent,” he murmurs.

You can’t help but chuckle a little at that, relaxing back against him as his lips brush your neck again, a silent reassurance that he genuinely isn’t upset with you. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.” You rest one of your hands over his at your waist; and you bring your other up, curling your fingers in his hair near his temple. “I can hear it now,” you say airily, smirking a little, and you go on in a mimicry of his dry, deadpan tone, “’Now, now, we’ve already established Daddy’s cross necklace is not a toy.” You giggle at his irritated sigh, as he pulls his arm tighter around your waist.

“Then again,” he says, “I do have to deal with you being a brat every day and I’ve yet to murder you.”

“See?” You pat his cheek lightly, and he grabs your hand to stop you. “Good practice.” You lean to the side a bit and turn your head, smirking at the wry look he gives you, and pressing your lips to his lightly for a moment. He exhales a slow sigh as your lips part, tilting his head forward until your foreheads touch. “We’ll figure it out,” you murmur softly.

“Yes…” His fingers lace through yours. “I suppose we will.”

[anystalker707]

nightmare

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x [gender-neutral] Reader Summary: Sanji has from a nightmare, unintentionally shoving you away in the process Tags: drabble / comfort

Requested by @mere-mortifer

MASTERLIST

          The crew had always been very affectionate—cuddling and being together all the time—, so it was not surprising that you’d share beds, but it wasn’t that often that you’d be sharing a bed to sleep with Sanji rather than just to cuddle with him. Sanji’s chest moved against your back rhythmically with his even breathing, arm draped around your waist. The rest of the crew was scattered around the ship, sleeping in other quarters or wherever they found themselves comfortable.

Sanji’s breath hitched as he stirred in his sleep. His eyebrows furrowed, and he moved, inhaling sharply before suddenly pushing you enough to send you rolling off the bed. Thankfully, you didn’t hit anywhere, shuddering at being woken up so suddenly; the ground under your ass was the first thing you’d noticed. Some of the bedsheets came down with you when you tried instinctively to prevent yourself from falling, tangling on your limbs.

At first, you wondered if there was an invasion or something, but the silence you were met with made you even more confused.

“Fuck,” you whispered. Your heavy breathing was the only sound to fill the room as your heartbeat hammered in your ears, and you gasped when Sanji suddenly sat up with a broken scream that wasn’t actually loud.

Sanji sat there for a solid minute before his breath hitched, and he looked around the room until his eyes landed on you. It was hard to see his face in the darkness. “Uh, what… what are you doing there?’ He swallowed, trying to catch his breath as well, without much success. He furrowed his eyebrows, about to move to help you when you climbed back up on the bed, adjusting the pillows and sheets.

You furrowed your eyebrows and took a deep breath. “I guess you kicked me off the bed. Were you having a nightmare? Are you okay? Do you—”

Blood drained down Sanji’s body as he looked at you, eyes wide. He had kicked you? You? Out of all people? His heart sank, a bitter taste heavy on his tongue, as he observed you incredulously. A lump formed in his throat and made it hard to talk. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, compelling you to stop talking at the same moment.

“Huh? It’s fine, you didn’t mean to.”

Sanji pressed his lips together, shaking his head. He felt like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole and make him disappear from existence. Hitting someone like you—who he loved and cherished so much—went against everything he ever preached and what he believed in. Worst of all, he knew his kicks weren’t weak. He swallowed, pressing his eyes shut.

“Sanji,” you tried. “Hey, it’s okay. You didn’t do it consciously.” The words didn’t sit right, like they were more of a bother than a help, but you didn’t feel like you could do anything else to help him. Sanji rarely showed his weaknesses, so dealing with him wasn’t quite an easy job.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry,” Sanji said, and you were afraid he said it just to make you stop talking. “Where did I hit you?”

You only observed him briefly, or at least tried to do so in the darkness. Clearing your throat, you rubbed your hip, an area near your back. “Here.”

A frown was evident on Sanji’s face as he gently touched the area with a trembling hand, gulping. He was such a mess. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, voice strained. “Does it hurt? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Sanji was shaking, his hands now on your shoulders and rubbing your collarbone lightly. “Really, I’m sorry.”

The pain wasn’t that bad, but you still gave him a moment, taking a deep breath to fully recover from the whole thing. “Sanji, trust me.”

His blue eye was barely visible in the darkness, but you could see it was full of tears. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” you reassured with a light nod, even though it didn’t seem to do much. He looked down before his gaze met yours again. “Oh, Sanji,” you whispered, instinctively pressing your forehead to his. It felt right.

Whatever happened—whoever leaned in first—was unclear among the fog of feelings all over the place, though the only thing that mattered was how comforting it felt. Sanji’s lips pressed to yours in an intense kiss, the taste of the last cigarette he had before bed lingering on his lips before you were forced to pull away because of the lack of air. It didn’t stop you two from trying to keep kissing despite the heavy breathing, tugging each other closer.

The kisses weren’t sexual, but they held their own intimacy and heat to it, craving the comfort and relief they brought. Relief of finally being as close as you wanted to be, after pining over each other for so long. “I… I’ll make it up to you,” Sanji mumbled against your lips, guilt still heavy in his chest no matter what you told him. “I promise.”

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

[nehswritesstuffs]

How Dr. Hart-Steeler Saved the Logue Town Royal Revue

I literally had the idea for this in the shower during summer, so congrats.

9835 words; full disclaimer in that I’ve never watched a single drag competition, mostly because I don’t like reality/competition shows in general (except sports, and I wouldn’t say this is a sport while still acknowledging how Serious Business it can be), so please forgive me if something’s off or I did something weird like used your fave irl queen’s name or whatever bc I don’t even know how to cosmetics correctly let alone be this fabulous; tangibly related to Double Date from Hell (FFN/AO3), but I guess you don’t need to know much other than that Law and Nami are dating the same time as Cora-san and Bell-mère, to hilariously mortifying results; this took me so long to write partially due to Secondhand Mortification and a serious case of the Giggles or y’all would’ve had this back in, like, August lol; shout-out to Gen for suffering through me and this fic all these months, because ooohhhhh they be suffering

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Having never really considered himself weak in the ankles, Law was beginning to rethink his lifelong self-assessment as he slipped his feet into the absolutely terrifying shoes that had been shoved in his direction. With Nami on one side of him and Perona on the other, Law shakily attempted to stand, not enjoying the extra wobble he gained by simply standing still.

“What the fuck is wrong with you people,” he grumbled lowly. His girlfriend, however, scowled.

“You live in heels—I don’t want to hear it.”

“I wear boots, Nami-ya, not whatever torture devices these are.” He looked out over the rows of shoe racks and saw that the difference in height was… concerning. “Fucking hell—these have three extra inches than normal.”

“Well, yeah,” Perona scoffed. “You need to look your best, and they’re already doing wonders for your ass.” She hummed. “Well, what little you’ve got, anyhow.”

“Why are we even here?” Law groused. “Can’t I just order some online?”

“We are not,” Nami said, “because I am not going to have to deal with ordering shoes for your massive man-feet and then them not fitting properly. Turnaround is way too quick for us to need to worry about shipping.”

“I feel like a fool,” he grimaced as he continued to curse the integrity of his legs.

“We did not drive to the only shoe store in Greater Logue Town that carries wides in-stock for you to chicken out,” Perona scolded.

“I’m not chickening out,” he insisted sourly. “I just have way too much coordination to know first-hand why Cora-san practices walking in these things.”

“Well, you’re about to get a lot more familiar with them if we’re going to get you anywhere,” Nami said firmly. “Now go ahead and try to walk to that rack there.”

Two steps and Law went sideways into a shelving unit full of narrow-widths. Nami and Perona stared at one another—they had a lot more work ahead of them than they had feared.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

One month earlier…

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Pulling into the driveway, Law was glad to finally be home. He had been covering in Emergency for the past week, meaning that he was practically living between Logue Town General and Penguin and Shachi’s couch for exactly that same amount of time. Now all he wanted to do was relax, eat something, and fall face-first into his bed and not wake up until Nami came over in the morning. It was honestly all he could do to not head on over to 1000 Sunny Rd and fall asleep in her bed there instead, but knew that there wasn’t an amount of money in the world he’d accept to sleep in that house without her protecting him. He didn’t care what was going on—extremely loud sex could be happening right at that very moment and Law was certain that it wouldn’t even register with him.

…because, yeah, even though it was extremely weird and awkward that Cora-san and Bell-mère-ya were fucking, he wasn’t going to allow that possibility to deter him from sleeping in his own bed.

Instead, however, when Law entered the house, he heard the telltale click of heeled shoes against the kitchen tile. There were only two reasons as to why heels were in the kitchen, and since Nami’s scooter wasn’t parked outside…

“Practicing already?” he mumbled as he shuffled into the kitchen. A glance over at his foster father showed that, yes, the older man was in his highest pair of heels, looking ridiculous in his skinny-jeans and bedazzled mega-pumps.

“Hey, you know how long it takes me to get used to these,” Cora replied. He shakily took a mug of coffee from the counter to the table and sat down, breathing a sigh of relief. “Izou says this time is gonna be big.”

“It’s just the charity drag show,” Law noted. He shrugged off his jacket and began to root around in the fridge, wondering what had appeared in it while he’d been gone. “It’s the same thing every year: you and your friends dress as women and do skits and ticket sales go to whatever organization doesn’t hate you at the moment. What makes this year so special?”

“We’re expanding, for one,” Cora said. Law found some store-bought onigiri hiding in the fridge and put it on the table before grabbing himself coffee as well, his mug ceramic instead of Cora’s silicone. “This year we’re going to have not just Queens, but Kings and Enby Royalty as well. You’d know this if you attended the meetings.”

“I don’t need to attend committee planning meetings to know it sounds like the perfect thirst trap cocktail; Penguin and Shachi will be more conflicted than usual.”

“Belle’s participating.”

“Good for her.”

“So is Izou’s kid sister.”

“Isn’t being trans, but also a drag king, cheating according to some people?”

“She’s the one who demanded there be a non-aligned Royalty category, to alleviate that potential problem while still shaking things up,” Cora shrugged. “If Nami-chan didn’t already have your dick on lockdown, I’d say…” He stopped as Law gave him a deadpan stare. “What? She’s tall, she’s cute, she likes swords, she literally can’t be weirder than us…”

“This conversation is getting worse with each passing word that comes out of your mouth.”

“…andthewinnersoftheRevuearegoingonImpelDragRacenextseason.”

Maybe it was the exhaustion catching up to him, but Law stopped shoveling tuna salad into his onigiri and stared at Cora and the whiplash-inducing topic change. “Come again…?”

“The winners of each category are going to be featured on Impel next season!” Cora repeated, stars in his eyes. “A chance to meet Iva themself…!”

“You know, I can just haul you over to Strawhat-ya’s next weekend if that’s what you want to do.”

“Now that’s cheating,” Cora said decidedly. “I want to meet Ivankov on a professional level, not as ‘your godson considers my son one of his besties against his will’. It’s lame.”

“…and you were going to tell me all about this when…?”

“Eventually.”

“Eventually?”

“Eventually.”

Law took a deep swig from his coffee mug, glad he was long-past the point where caffeine wasn’t going to do jack fucking shit except paradoxically soothe his nerves. “I should plan to go camping that weekend.”

“You wouldn’t!” Law simply stared at him and bit into his onigiri, too tired to banter. “We’d be down four of our most long-term staff!”

“It’s bad enough that every year Penguin and Shachi are in a weird philosophical rut about ‘what even is gender and sexuality’ for three weeks after the show,” Law reasoned. “You might get them for a few hours but I have to deal with the lasting fallout.”

“Fallout that is worth it considering we get a handful of normies who are trained medical staff and willing to beat up troublemakers to defend our honor.”

“Mmhmm—you can defend your own honor just fine,” Law scoffed.

“Not in these shoes I can’t.” Okay, he had a point there. “Please, son… for me…?”

Law sighed, his tank well-past empty. A grown man and he was still trying the pity card from back when he was a teenager freshly rescued from both the system and his brother’s grasp…

…because of course he was going to help. It was on his calendar, wasn’t it? Law took another bite of onigiri and sighed through rice and tuna. Only Cora-san.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was a few days later in the house at 1000 Sunny Rd and Law knew he was in trouble. Although she did greet him with a kiss when he arrived, his girlfriend was pointedly ignoring him as the afternoon went on. It was unusual for Nami to act as such, and he simply let the situation stew as he got roped into her friends’ other antics. Zoro had even pulled him into a sparring match in the backyard, which was even more of a rarity.

“Do you know what I did?” he asked as they were cleaning up. The younger man shrugged.

“It’s hard telling with the witch,” Zoro scoffed. “I get in trouble with her by breathing, so who the fuck knows? All I do know is that she’s been spending more time here than usual, so it’s probably something to do with something not-here.”

“I’m sure we’ve dealt with worse,” Law replied, exhaling heavily. “I don’t know how any of you handle her platonically…”

“By reminding myself that she’s the one who fronts bail,” Zoro reminded him. Law nodded; good point. They threw the equipment into the shed and trudged back to the house, where a plate of onigiri each was waiting for them on the counter. “Ah, shit-cook, how did you know?”

“It’s called not wanting your miasma of body funk hanging around my kitchen any longer than it has to,” Sanji deadpanned. “Now scram, both of you, before I kick your skulls in. You can only come back after you’ve showered.”

“Shower Day isn’t until tomorrow,” Zoro reminded him. Sanji cringed and flipped him his middle finger—clearly he was far from the mood for pleasantries.

“That is nasty, I hope you know,” Law said. “As a medical professional I’ve got to side with him on this one.”

“People aren’t designed to wash that often,” Zoro grumbled. He took his onigiri with him as he retreated to his room, muttering the entire time about Sanji being things such as ‘prissy’ and ‘high-maintenance’. This left Law to his own devices in the unusually-quiet house; most of the regular crowd was either at work or off chasing after Luffy somewhere.

Sighing, Law decided to at least take advantage of the quiet and get some stuff done. He went into the office area with his onigiri and found where he had placed his work bag. Sitting down on the pleather couch (all the better to wipe his excess sweat off later), he opened his laptop and began reviewing patient charts. He had a ridiculous amount of procedures quickly approaching to accommodate his time off to help with the Revue and he wanted to make sure there were no surprises. About an hour had passed when Nami came into the room and staggered in shock at the smell.

“Fuck… you reek like Zoro,” she grimaced.

“We were working out together,” he explained. Law watched as she grabbed her own laptop and hesitated, staring at him. “Like what you see?”

“A bit annoyed at what I see,” she replied. “Your dad has my mom being weirder than usual.”

“It’s no different from cosplay,” he shrugged.

“Usopp cosplays. Bell-mère is stomping around the house acting like she drives an extended-cab-short-bed pickup truck.”

“That’s different from how she normally acts how…?” he asked. Nami folded her arms across her chest and scowled sourly at him. “Hey, I’m not the one who was raised by the woman.”

“True, but it doesn’t change the fact that her practicing her act is more than aggravating.” She frowned as he shrugged at that; it wasn’t his fault that their parents were the way they were. “It’s one thing having some of the goobers around here get into it, but Bell-mère is another.”

“…and you’re going to take it all out on me? I’m insulted, Nami-ya.”

“You don’t look much insulted.” She ran her eyes up and down her boyfriend, trying to calculate how long she could stay cross with him specifically before her libido gave way. “You’re allowed in my room, but only if it’s to go straight to the shower.”

“…and where might I be allowed after that?” he asked, already standing up and reaching for the sanitizing wipes on a nearby table.

“Bed, where we can finish our work,” she wiggled her laptop for emphasis, “and then we’ll talk.”

He shrugged and popped the canister open with his thumb; he’d take it. “I’ll see you up there.” He threw in a wink for good measure, only for her to roll her eyes in exasperation.

“It’s like I’m dating an old man,” she whined playfully before leaving. She knew full-well he’d only try to prove her wrong later for that comment. In fact, Nami would almost place money on it.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Later that night, as Law resisted going to clean up his condom in lieu of being too damn comfortable, he was alerted to the concept of something being wrong as Nami sighed heavily. He hugged her hips a bit tighter and nuzzled her chest, glad at least she hadn’t stopped carding through his hair.

“What’s the matter?” he wondered cautiously.

“Just… still thinking about Bell-mère,” she admitted. “She’s been really happy since she hooked up with Cora-san again.”

“I can almost guarantee that is reciprocated.” He felt the gentle scrape of her nails on his scalp and nearly melted. “You know… this drag thing… it’s pretty harmless…”

“Oh, I know that much,” she chuckled lowly. “It���s just going to be a pain in my ass, like everything about you weirdos.”

“I resent that.” He took a playful nip at her breast and let her roll them both over as she giggled. She then sat on his midsection, partially pinning him. “What? I thought this was a thing because I bring just as much braincells into this house as you do.”

“Doesn’t make you not a weirdo,” she smirked. She gently pressed her knees against his shoulders and hummed as his inked hands found her thighs. “Good thing I like weirdos so much.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

“It’s going to cost you.”

Something told Law that he was going to enjoy paying the price.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It had already been a long day at Logue Town General when Law, Penguin, and Shachi took their lunch break. Bepo had lost the impromptu rock-paper-scissors competition, meaning the charge nurse was stuck back on the floor while the other three were jammed into their usual booth at Don Silver, the restaurant empty aside from a few other sets of scrubs and the occasional delivery courier.

“Cora-san wants me to remind the both of you that the charity show is coming up,” Law said. He was stretched out on his own side of the booth while the goobers sat on their own as they demolished the breadbasket. “He signed us all up again.”

“Should’ve known this was how our life was gonna be,” Penguin muttered through a mouthful of bread. Law raised an eyebrow and he shrugged. “The first time we were allowed over to your dad’s, he was literally practicing his routine.”

“Can you fault him for taking advantage of his semi-androgynous profile?”

“No, but I feel like we’ve worked every single one of these charity shows since we met him.”

“Not to mention the fact that we can’t even meet women at these places because something, something, something, no fraternizing with the customers for our own safety on orders of Cora-san,” Shachi mentioned. “Come on; this is, like, a complete drag. Figuratively. And literally. And several other qualifiers.”

“Besides, we show up with a literal bear; how can we compete with that?”

“That’s your problem, not mine.” Law eyed Gin as he came over with their respective meals—burgers for the techs, a shawarma wrap (no pickles) for the surgeon, and a giant plate full of fries—and put his legs down so the proprietor could slide into the booth next to him.

“So, I hear there’s a ripple in your old man’s charity show,” Gin grinned. It would have been menacing if it weren’t for the fact that Law could probably flip the guy over with one hand.

“Since when have you cared about my dad’s charity show aside from letting us put up a flyer for it?”

“Since it’s apparently a really big deal this year, but also will make Blackleg extremely uncomfortable if I show up.”

“If your place wasn’t so tasty and conveniently-located, I’d say you’re an ass for that comment and several others,” Shachi frowned around his burger. Gin shrugged.

“You know my beef now; like I give a shit.”

“You’re such a sore weirdo,” Penguin added. With his sight line towards the door, his eyebrows shot up and he kicked Law in the shin to get his attention as the other man was picking at the fries. “Look alive: Bepo’s about ready to have a crisis.”

“You people are going to be the death of me,” Law groaned. He heard the sleighbells on the door chime and before long Bepo was standing at the booth, looking indeed as though he was about to break into hysterical sobbing. “You know I have a pager and my cell phone, right?”

“I don’t think this is something that you want to hear over the phone,” Bepo said, wringing his paws. “I just got a call from Marco down in the ER, and… and…”

Shit—that wasn’t good. “…and…?”

“He says your dad’s being less dramatic than usual…?”

Panicking, Law pushed Gin out of the booth and ran out of the restaurant, glad that it was literally in the hospital’s shadow. He hurried past security and into Emergency, where he found one of the most horrifying sights possible:

Cora-san. Laid up in a hospital bed. While Marco instructed some sap doing clinicals on how to properly wrap a freshly-set broken leg in a cast.

Oh hell.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was two days after Cora-san had been released from the hospital and Law suddenly found that his father’s milquetoast cookie-cutter suburban house had suddenly become Drag Central earlier than normal. He didn’t mind his foster father’s friends from the drag circuit—in all honesty, they were some of the nicest people he’d ever known—but at the same time, there was way too much overreacting going on and he did not wake up with enough wherewithal, mana, or general patience that morning to deal with much more than the drama queen he actually lived with.

“There has to be something we can do,” Izou frowned as Law was bringing a tray full of drinks into the living room. It was only Izou, his younger sister Kiku, and Marco at that point; the three of them plus Cora-san were essentially the core of the planning committee and had shooed out the others by that point. “Our regulars are going to expect Rosi Thoughts—if she doesn’t show up, then it could be a disaster.”

“This one imagines there must be some sort of way to do a routine from a wheelchair,” Kiku said. She pondered the concept carefully. “The venue is handicap-accessible, after all…”

“Only for the patrons,” Izou noted. “You haven’t been behind stage yet, but the back wasn’t built with this sort of thing in mind. We’re just going to have to figure something else out.”

“I can do the routine in crutches,” Cora-san offered. He accepted his no-spill tumbler from his son and pouted. “I don’t want to let down any fans!”

“No,” Law said firmly. “Marco-ya showed me your break—it won’t be well enough for a walking cast by then.”

“Patient confidentiality!” Cora-san gasped, pointing at Law in horror.

“You’re my foster father, not my patient. Besides, it would be Marco-ya you’d have to point that finger at… if I wasn’t listed as your emergency contact, that is.”

“He’s got you there, yoi,” Marco chuckled. He was about to continue when the front doorbell cut him off. “Huh… I wonder if that’s Thatch coming back…”

“I got it; I got it…” Law grumbled. He went to the front door and opened it, only to be met by a person in a baby-pink suit, a bowlcut, and a trowel of makeup. “Auditions are closed; they’ll get back to you.”

“Where are they?!” The new person barged their way into the house, pushing past Law and not even caring that he was there. They caught sight of the group sitting around the living room and their face lit up. “Ah! Here must be the belles of the ball—Shenix Fyre, Ganmodokidoki, and…” their eyes landed on Cora-san, “Rosi Thoughts.”

“…and who the fuck are you?” Law asked. Another person came in, this one dressed in orange and white while looking decidedly feminine.

“My name is Inazuma, and this is Bon-chan,” she replied. “We’re here as representatives of Impel Drag Race. We have reason to believe that your production might be in jeopardy?”

“What ever gave you that idea?” Kiku giggled sweetly, trying to throw them off the scent. Bon-chan gestured at Cora-san’s leg with a flourish.

“We’re not here to call the show off, but we are here to inform you that you need to make sure the show goes on with the same amount of contestants,” Bon-chan replied importantly. “We are planning on doing an entire episode revolving around local and independent events like the Logue Town Royal Revue and to have anything less than the nine contestants we were promised is a breach of contract.”

“…but this isn’t someone dropping out because they’d rather go on vacation,” Izou frowned.

“Indeed, yoi,” Marco chimed in. “I work at a hospital—what if I came down with something two days before the show?”

“It doesn’t matter—it’s in the contract,” Inazuma replied. “We’re here as a courtesy to make sure you are aware of the stakes and know that it’s no offense and standard procedure. Iva wants to have a contestant from your revue, so they’re giving you a fighting chance.”

“The show is only a few weeks away,” Cora-san frowned. “We can’t just cook up a replacement that fast! Auditions were months ago! We’d have to contact everyone again!”

“Then you might have to go on an accidental breech of contract and try again next year,” Bon-chan said. “It would be your first infraction, so it’s not like it’s a weighted disqualifier…”

“I’ll do it.” The entire living room stared at Law and all the breath felt as though it left his lungs; fuck, he said it out loud. “I… I’ll take his place. Make it three in the category again.”

“…and you aaarrreee…?”

“Law, kiddo, you don’t have to…”

“I’m his kid—if I take his place in the show, will it still be a breech of contract?”

“No.” Bon-chan pursed their lips and looked Law over. “Ever perform?”

“No, but I’ve been helping out with the show since I was fifteen, and that has to count for something. If I win, then he gets to go on Impel.” He gestured at Cora-san, who was too choked up with tears to say anything. “Let me be a stand-in—it’ll work.”

“A child sacrificing for their parent in order to keep the show going… I love it!” Bon-chan squealed, mood shifting violently. They spun around, nearly knocking over drinks in the process. “We’ll let Iva know right away!”

“We’ll look forward from hearing from you soon,” Inazuma nodded. She deftly dodged Bon-chan as they somehow pirouetted out of the house, leaving the committee more startled than anything. They all turned towards Law, who went deathly pale as his brain caught up with him and the events of the past ten minutes actually sunk in.

Oh… oh no… what did he just do…?!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Nami parked her scooter outside the well-kept inner-city apartment complex that served as Goober Central; for some reason she was summoned here and not her boyfriend’s dad’s place. Why, she had no idea, but she entertained it for the time being, since it was Bepo who called. She couldn’t say no to Bepo, not really. It was kind of like saying no to Chopper—it just wasn’t done.

Heading into the building and up the stairs, she went to the second-from-topmost floor and over to the door at the end of the corridor, it opening before she even had a chance to knock.

“Good, you came,” Penguin said. He looked out past Nami, attempting to see if she’d been followed. “No one else?”

“You said it was ‘of the utmost importance’ and that Law was ‘in danger’,” she deadpanned. “What sort of nonsense do you have him roped into this time?” Nami entered the apartment to find her boyfriend laying face-down on the living room floor, Bepo and Shachi attempting to coax him out of some sort of rut.

It was a damn good thing the sex was so good or this would be ridiculous.

“Alright, what’s going on that I have to fix?” she asked as she sat down on the couch. Law remained still, though she could feel him cringe at her voice. “I take it has to do with Cora-san, since we’re here and not at his place?”

“More than just Cora-san,” Shachi said gravely. Nami rolled her eyes.

“Well, since it doesn’t involve Bell-mère dropping out of the Revue, I don’t know what it could possibly be about.” She watched as Law shifted his head so that he was looking at her shoes.

“People from Impel came to warn the Revue’s organizers about a potential breech in contract with him switching to being a judge,” he grumbled.

“…and this has you laying on Penguin and Shachi’s un-vaccuumed carpet because…?”

“I volunteered.”

She blinked at that. “You volunteer every year…”

“No: I volunteered without thinking about the consequences.”

Oh.

“He might’ve well as called himself a sacrificial goat the way Cora-san told it over the phone,” Penguin said blithely. “Man’s fucked.”

“…and what does that have to do with me?” Nami asked. She knew, of course, but wanted to hear it from her boyfriend’s mouth.

“I need your help, Nami-ya,” he groaned. He shifted his head so that he could look up at her, all sad and pathetic and absolutely delightful. “I need help.”

She grinned at that and pulled her phone from her purse. “You’re going to need a lot more help than just me.”

“So… you’re not angry…?” Bepo wondered. Nami smirked as she fired off a couple texts.

-----

Shopping trip?

I got a project. You’re gonna love it.

-----

“Angry? I might just get some entertainment value out of this whole debacle yet.” Her phone chirped and Nami shifted her weight from one hip to the other as she snapped a photo of her puddle-boyfriend and sent it off. Less than ten seconds and she got a reply.

-----

Ooooh… finally accepting pointers?

-----

Not the kind you’re thinking. Still have those trial palettes from when you got the idiot those beauty boxes for the hair dye?

-----

Yes but…

…

…pick me up in hald an hour

*half

ykwim

-----

“We’re in luck,” Nami chuckled. “We’re going to be accompanied by an expert.”

Law wasn’t sure whether that made him feel better or worse.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Shopping with Nami and Perona had been an interesting experience, to say the least. Law had no idea who the cavalry was until they rolled up to the weird mansion that was in a densely wooded plot in the middle of what was otherwise zoned for commercial property. Haunted land bought cheap enough to afford the zoning board’s subsequent bribe, so the story went, and it honestly made sense given who lived there. When the distinctively large pink ringlets came bouncing out of the house and down the circular drive, it became apparent that he was going to be in for a time.

“It’s a good thing you got a hold of me,” Perona said importantly as she got into the back seat of Law’s car. “It’s bad enough your dad tapped the rest of Zozo’s weirdo friends to round out his revue, but this? This is a project I’m definitely interested in making happen.”

“Just tell me where we’re going,” Law grumbled.

“That depends on what your persona is going to be,” Nami said. Her boyfriend stared at her, seemingly confused. “What? You mean you don’t have a persona picked out?”

“I was thinking we could just get stuff for me to imitate Cora-san’s act…?”

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…” Nami tutted. “Rosi Thoughts might become a legacy character, but only after the original retires, not gets temporarily sidelined as one of the judges. We need a brand-new queen for this scene.”

“Why do you think I’m here?” Perona smirked. She looked smug as a fed cat in the rearview mirror. “We have to come up with something with glamour and pizzazz if you’re going to even have a shot.”

“I’m not glamour or pizzazz—I’m a disturbingly young surgeon who still lives with his foster father and has a bunch of weird friends who are way too cheerful and energetic and loud to be worth it if it weren’t for the crucial facts that A) they actually put up with me, and B) that’s how I met Nami.”

“How about we go with that?” Perona offered, refusing to unpack all that. “The surgeon thing.”

“Marco-ya is also a doctor and his thing is a pineapple-phoenix.”

“…and it’s not like we have a lot of time to develop a distinct act for you,” Nami reasoned. “Maybe if we had two months, but not under two weeks.”

“I draw the line at Halloween-store ‘sexy’ outfits,” he warned. “I don’t care what it costs me; I will leave you both behind.”

“Who do you think we are? Amateurs?” Perona gasped in false indignation. She leaned back into her seat and buckled up. “Just drive, loser. I’ll tell you when we need to make a turn.”

So he did, and Law was taken to all manner of stores in the hunt for supplies. Between his girlfriend and… their… mutual friend’s… sister (…? Their femme style consultant…? Nami’s torture expert…?) he had all sorts of things held to his face and body and even had to try on no less than ten pairs of hellish shoes. By the time they walked into the final store of the afternoon—the scrubs store—he was desperately thankful for the normalcy involved.

“Now this is more something I’m familiar with,” he breathed in relief. He took solace in the rows upon rows of women’s scrub tops that were no different in make and design than the men’s on the other side of the aisle. The only real differences were the patterns and how they were sized. “They probably shouldn’t be the same as what I wear at work, so it—”

“They need to be cute,” Perona insisted as she idly sorted through some patterned tops. “We’re already trying to negate the not-cute things about you, so we’re gonna need to try hard.”

He glared at her, suspicious. “What about me isn’t cute?”

“Those tattoos, that scowl, the fact you look like a scarecrow…”

“Izou-ya has a tattoo sleeve and Cora-san is even scarecrowier than me.”

“…and you’re still not cute!” Perona huffed. She flitted her way over towards some bat-print scrubs while leaving Law to sulk. Nami giggled quietly at the entire thing.

“What…?” he grumbled. “I bet you’re enjoying this.”

“I am, but not in the way you think.”

“I thought you enjoyed torturing me, Nami-ya.”

“What we do in the bedroom has nothing to do with it,” she smirked. His face went red at that—busted. “It’s just nice having a day like this, where I get to go around and dress you up.”

“…but Ghost-ya…”

“You know it has nothing to do with Perona, even if she is giving us a neat perspective.” He rolled his eyes and she playfully nudged him in the side. “What? She can sew and Usopp is too busy with helping both Sanji and Robin…”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he admitted quietly. “The guys just… they aren’t really equipped for this. Working the show, yeah, but…” He rubbed a piece of fabric between his fingers as his eyes lost focus. “Not just any girlfriend would call in the cavalry when she learns her boyfriend is taking his father’s place in a drag show.”

“When you put it like that, you’re absolutely correct,” she said. Nami popped up on her toes and kissed the corner of Law’s mouth. “Just be glad I’m not charging you for my time.”

“I know my payment is going to be how I least expect it,” he said. “You just have that way about you.”

“…and you know it,” she grinned. It made him feel a little better, admittedly, and he bent down to press a proper kiss to her lips. He was nearly there when they heard Perona clear her throat; she was holding up a tight-cut scrub top that was hot pink and decorated in black hearts.

Not just no, but fuck no.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was two days before showtime and everything was in a panic. Law was already off work, meaning he had been chasing Cora-san around the house all morning and afternoon as the taller man tried to wander around on his crutches doing things for the Revue. He eventually needed to threaten his foster father with packing everything up to go to Izou’s tiny apartment in Logue Town-proper. Since they all had sworn that they’d never do that again as long as Cora-san still had his house, the man sulked on the couch with his leg propped up all until Marco left carrying the last tote of decorations. Law helped his coworker out to the car and swore to be at the venue the following day to help unpack, retreating back into the house once the vehicle revved up. He couldn’t help but let out a little laugh as he saw Cora-san pouting right where he left him.

“Your face will stick like that if it’s not careful,” he teased as he closed the blinds.

“It won’t.”

“You’re not going to listen to a medical professional?”

“Sometimes they’re wrong.” Law looked at his foster father and sighed, already regretting what he was about to offer.

“I’ll get together some snacks and maybe you can watch me figure out my makeup?”

“I’ll do it, but I’m still angry with you,” Cora-san grumbled. Well, it was progress. Law helped him to his feet and went to the kitchen while his dad attempted to navigate the stairs with crutches. By the time he brought the tray of tea and sandwiches up to his room, it looked like Cora-san was already nursing two extra bumps to his head and elbows. “The turn in the hallway moved.”

“Mmhmm… now you sound like Roronoa-ya,” Law hummed. He balanced the tray on a stack of boxes and handed Cora-san his tea before filling his own Sora, Warrior of the Sea mug. “So what do you think of the palettes Ghost-ya and Nami-ya got?”

“I think I like this one best,” Cora-san said, handing his son one of the makeup palettes that was sitting on the bed. “Brings out your eyes, I think.”

“Thanks.” Law sat down at the vanity mirror and turned on the lights, preparing to put on more cosmetics than he’d ever had on in his life.

“Can I ask why your cute girlfriend isn’t helping you with this?”

“She’s helping Ghost-ya with my outfit—wants the final product to be a surprise,” he admitted. Law dug through the debris that was littering the vanity and found his old foundation, shaking the bottle well before opening it back up. “Shachi showed her pics of me as a teenager already—she knows I’m not helpless.”

“You were really cute then,” Cora-san recalled. “Do you remember why you had me teach you?”

“…to hide my Amber Lead spots.”

“No… it was because you wanted to have the coolest Halloween costume in your new school. Hiding the spots was only a bonus.” He watched the younger man put on concealer and foundation, layering slightly thicker than he normally would. Blush came next and Law glared at his reflection.

“I feel ridiculous,” he seethed.

“For lack of a more… dignified term, we’re essentially a modern variation on clowns,” Cora-san offered. “Feeling ridiculous is baked in—it’s just all about how comfortable you feel while ridiculous is the thing.”

“…but I have never worn makeup like this.”

“No, you haven’t.” The older man chuckled quietly as he watched Law put on eyeshadow up to his eyebrow, scowling at his own efforts. “You know… I’m very proud of you for doing this. I know it’s well out of your comfort zone.”

“You’ve done similar for me, and would do it again.”

“That’s… that’s not the point.” He placed a hand on Law’s shoulder, the younger man stopping to turn and look at him directly. “You barely wanted anything to do with this when we first moved here.”

“I was a young teenager who had just gone through hell; I didn’t want anything to do with anyone.”

“…and now you’re here, doing this, while your cute young girlfriend helps get your costume together. I never thought we’d get anywhere near this.”

“Don’t get too sappy on me or my makeup will run and then I’ll have to start from scratch,” Law warned. There was no venom in his voice, simply experience. “Now, what do you think I should do with my eyelashes? You aren’t going to get out of this easy, Rosi.”

…and oh, ideas were had.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was finally Revue Day.

Despite the fact the show was going to be at seven in the evening, Law pulled up to the back door of the venue just before eleven in the morning, car full of the last bits of costuming, decorations, prepwork, and Cora-san. Penguin and Shachi were already there, very clearly faking a smoke break as they leaned up against the wall of the building.

“Who all is here?” Law asked, rolling down his window. Penguin shrugged.

“Some of Pops’s gang was already here with Marco when we showed up,” he said. “If Izou and Kiku are here they just came in through the front door, Straw Hat’s crew beat us all here…”

“…even the kid; he’s doing homework at the bar,” Shachi interrupted. “Marco’s about ready to kidnap and adopt him.”

“A common sentiment,” Law nodded.

“…yeah, and, at least most of the contestants are here,” Penguin finished. He took his unlit cigarette and handed it to Shachi, who put them back in the pack and pocketed them. “I think all we’re really missing is the two of you, the Drag Sibs, two other contestants, and Bepo, but the buses are running late due to that festival in Shells District.”

“That’s probably what’s keeping Kiku,” Cora-san said, leaning towards Law’s window. “Izou got his motorcycle fixed, so if anything’s keeping him it’s traffic.”

“Try telling that to Pops’s gang,” Shachi droned, rolling his eyes.

“Alright,” Law put the Polar Tang in park and killed the engine, “I’m gonna get Cora-san in while you two start unloading. It’s all the usual stuff from the house, so nothing too weird.”

“Weird today is a bare-faced businessman in a cheap suit,” Penguin quipped. Law pretended to not hear that and popped the trunk before getting out of the car and grabbing Cora-san’s crutches so the older man could attempt to support himself while he got the costuming supplies.

“Boys, Law is bullying me,” Cora-san whined.

“You don’t even know the definition of bullying, you wet cat of a man,” Law sniped. There was no venom in his voice, however, as it technically fell under the auspices of pre-show banter.He heard twin engines and sure enough: Bepo and his moped and Izou and his pristine vintage Shandoran motorcycle came into the alleyway. “About damn time.”

“Sorry I’m late!” Bepo cried. He and Izou parked their rides in the same space, looking nearly comical next to one another. “Had to pick up batteries on the way and the line took forever.”

“You know we have batteries here,” Law replied. “Marco-ya alone should probably switch to a twelve-volt.”

“Yeah, I know, but I still feel weird taking them,” the bear frowned. He adjusted his backpack full of photography equipment before offering a paw to Cora-san as the man wobbled dangerously on the edge of a pothole more a crater of rubble than anything. “How are you feeling today, Cora-san? Have you been keeping your leg elevated at home?”

“As much as I can,” he replied, with Bepo seeing right through the lie. Law stood next to the car as Penguin and Shachi quickly ran some stuff in, with the pair coming out so they could all grab the last of the stuff together.

“If it’s any consolation, Sanji’s set himself up in the kitchen and has been cooking and baking since five so we can all stay fed with his cooking specifically while he’s competing,” Shachi offered. Law raised his eyebrow at that.

“How’d he get in at five?”

“That’s for Straw Hat to explain, not us,” Penguin scoffed. He stuck his foot into the ajar door and swung it open, careful to not disturb the piece of concrete that was serving as a stopper. “It’s best not to think about it, right?”

“Yeah, true.”

Once Law got into the building he knew it was going to be a much more exhausting time than the year prior. He could smell Sanji’s cooking in the air, which was all sorts of heavenly that they were going to need to filter out before the doors opened at six. Marco and Izou’s extended friend circle all seemed boisterous as ever, the Straw Hats and their crew mixing together well. Even the ones who Law had only seen in passing due to the auditions and last-minute materials pickup were having a great time as they helped set up, with both Luffy and Ace latching themselves onto the two non-Kiku Royalty contestants.

“Oh, it’s Torao!” Luffy gasped as he saw him put down a box. He bounded over, a young rose-haired man in-tow. “Torao, this is Koby!”

“I know… he’s been at my house.” He then turned to the newcomer, who seemed quite nervous. “He’s not giving you a hard time, is he?”

“Luffy-san’s really nice… I don’t mind…”

“Yeah! Koby and Yama-bro are our friends now!” Luffy gestured back to Ace and the other non-Kiku Royalty contestant, both of whom were laughing at something Thatch said. “They’re both gonna come over to the house next weekend! Won’t that be fun?”

“It will be if you don’t scare them off first.” Law looked and saw Nami frowning as she went up to them. Luffy took that as his cue to bring Koby over to the snack table, where Sanji was setting up a new round of food. “I swear, if he keeps this up, he’s going to adopt the poor guy into the group against his will.”

“Strawhat-ya wouldn’t do that,” Law chuckled. He leaned down and pecked a kiss to Nami’s lips in greeting. “Please tell me you remembered my costume.”

“I didn’t, mostly because Perona did,” she replied. He raised an eyebrow. “She was the one who decided to do some down-to-the-wire adjustments. All I did was approve them.”

“Then let me drop off Cora-san’s stuff in his dressing room and we’ll do the grand reveal,” he said. She agreed and helped take everything labeled “Rosi Thoughts” to the closet-sized space that its occupant had not yet gotten to, getting distracted by the spread to rival any professional craft services team.

“Alright,” Nami said as they stopped outside the door with Law’s name taped to it (permanent marker on copy paper; very professional), “close your eyes.”

“Nami…”

“Humor us, alright?”

“Fine…” he groaned. He closed his eyes and held out his hands, which she took in both of hers. “Better?”

“Much.” She opened the door and led him in, Perona’s giggles of glee preceding her. “Okay, you ready?”

“Does it matter?”

“Not much, no,” Perona replied. “Go ahead. Open.”

Law opened his eyes and almost gasped when he saw what was sitting on the costuming dummy. It was a sparkling disaster, with the bright yellow scrub set having been taken in to better contour to his body and blue rhinestones outlining where his chest tattoo sat. There were no sleeves and barely anything left of the pant legs, a bright blue feather boa stethoscope, and his eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to the heeled shoes on the vanity counter, which were so thoroughly covered in their own rhinestones that he couldn’t even tell they had been brown.

“Well, yeah,” Perona said. She turned the dummy around to show that there were more rhinestones to mimic his back tattoo, as well as have two hearts styled like the ones on his shoulders sitting on the ass. “I think it’s going to be stunning. You couldn’t be cuter.”

“…but you hate yellow.”

“I hate what yellow does to my complexion,” she scoffed, swatting the words away with a limp wrist. “It looks fine on you.”

“You two are both enjoying this way too much,” he groaned. A glance over at Nami’s beaming expression confirmed his suspicions—he was going to pay for this, and it wasn’t just going to be letting his girlfriend sit on his face. “Where’s my makeup bag?”

“Oh, shit, I left it at Cora-san’s dressing room…”

“…then I’ll get it,” he insisted, glad for an excuse to escape. Law did not move quickly as he walked down the narrow corridor towards Cora-san’s room, wondering how the community theater company’s kitchily-large costumes ever tolerated such a narrow walkway.

He only had the door open for two seconds before he saw that the tiny room was decidedly occupado with Cora-san and Bell-mère, the latter with her shirt off in the process of stripping them both for an activity they really should have locked the door for; crutches had been hastily abandoned and the noises coming out of the injured man were fucking indecent.

Law shut the door as quickly and quietly as he could, face beet red, and decided to see what sort of snacks Sanji had put out. The makeup bag could wait.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Alright, everyone!” Penguin called out as he meandered down the corridor. “Emcees are on in five! Glam it up! Last call!” He stopped in front of Law’s room and knocked softly. “Captain? You alright in there?”

“I am going to die,” Law announced from behind the wooden barrier.

“No he’s not!” Perona’s voice insisted. She popped her head out and scowled at Penguin. “He’s just being difficult.”

“Who’s being difficult?” Shachi asked as he appeared around the corner. Perona opened the door and stepped out in order to present her project.

If it wasn’t for the fact they knew it was Law who was getting roped into things, they almost would not have recognized him. Heels and fishnets, well-hidden padding in the chest and rear, a short-cut wig with face-framing bangs, and expert makeup that covered all his tattoos except his shoulders and contoured his face into something leagues more feminine… he was honestly drop-dead gorgeous.

“I thought you were going with more… erm… traditional makeup for the occasion,” Shachi noted. Law simply seethed.

“That apparently was not part of the plan,” he hissed. Ah, shit, his goatee and sideburns were gone. Nami and Perona, however, were ignoring the exchange.

“I think he’s ready,” Nami said, nodding sagely.

“Yes,” Perona agreed. “She is ready to take her place as the Queen of Queens.”

“You know that’s Strawhat-ya’s auncle,” Law replied. He wobbled slightly as he realized that Bepo had appeared behind Penguin and Shachi, snapping a pic with his DSLR before he even had a chance to react. “I said: minimal pictures!”

“You look great, Captain!” the bear beamed. “You better get to your station! The show’s about to start!”

“Good luck,” Nami smiled sweetly, kissing Law on his left shoulder, right over the exposed tattoo she knew would not smudge. “I’ll be helping Zoro contain Luffy. You know who my votes are behind.”

“Oh, is it me, dearest Nami-swan~?!” Both Nami and Law glanced over to see Sanji nearly pirouette out of his dressing room as he saw them. ‘Never took ballet’ his ass—the surgeon could almost bet his tucked balls on Sanji having had a secret life where he had done all the stereotypical rich kid bullshit like ballet and fencing and had been good at them.

“My cheers belong to my beau,” she teased. He picked up her hand and delicately kissed the back of it, which Law found fairly ridiculous in his garish makeup and skirted chef’s outfit.

“Then I shall promise a dessert for tomorrow evening guaranteed to be a petite mort?”

“Stop trying to seduce my girlfriend, Kitchin Bitchen,” Law growled. Sanji glared at him, which he returned, only for Nami to groan and punch them both in an arm.

“Ladies, you’re both pretty,” she insisted. “Now get going!” She smacked them both on the ass and left, Law taking it more as the sort of smack a sports coach would give, while Sanji threatened to bleed out of his nose.

“I am not performing emergency medical procedures on perverts tonight, so be careful,” Law warned as they joined the other contestants in the staging area just out of view of the audience. He blanched when he realized that a very crucial part of the whole show was missing. “Where’s Cora-san?”

“Usopp took him around the back to get to the judges’ booth,” Bell-mère said. Fuck, she looked like some washed-up trucker whose long-hauler broke down on the outskirts of Greater Logue Town and hoofed it the entire way there instead. “He’ll be seen, don’t worry.”

“Think about it,” Izou said, doing one final check of his hair before taking a microphone from Thatch. “Are we going to let him out of our sight with crutches if there’s a chance he can ruin the coat that took me murdering how many feather boas because he can’t be trusted with needles?”

Unable to refute that logic, Law shrugged and watched as Izou and Marco looked at one another, took a deep breath, and slap-slap-slap-slap-slapped their hands together in a quick secret handshake of brotherhood (or in this case, sisterhood) before they stepped out onto the main of the stage, the spotlights quickly finding them.

“Hello and welcome to the Annual Logue Town Royal Revue! Can I get a ‘yoi’?”

“YOI!” the crowd shouted back.

“Excellent! You all know me, yoi. I’m Shenix Fyre, and this is my sister-in-heels Ganmodokidoki. We’re your mistresses of ceremony for the night, where we’ve got a stunning display for everyone!”

“That’s right!” Izou grinned. “Our most steady crowd will know most years it’s just us and our sister Rosi Thoughts on the stage, cracking jokes and being our silly selves, but tonight we’ve got a special treat for you all!”

“That’s double-right!” Marco shifted so that his feathered wings shimmered in the lights, showing off the glitter and beadwork better than just the internal string lights could afford. “We have a brand-new, high-stakes format with a cast full of fresh meat for us to devour tonight!” The crowd cheered. “Now, is everyone ready for a transcendent time?!”

The crowd clapped and cheered; it was always a corny line, but Law found it somehow worse this year. He had to hand it to them—they really knew how to fire up and engage the crowd.

“Then let’s get started,” Izou said, “and begin introducing the fine and fabulous who are going to make up the teams! Each team gets a member of Enby Royalty, a King, and a Queen, who all have to cooperate in order to complete our grueling tasks!”

“First up in Royalty, we have Rose Marina, yoi!”

Shakily, Koby hobbled out onto the stage, almost tripping on himself; Killer scoffed at the sight.

“Poor lad’s about to piss himself,” he grunted.

“Well, yeah,” Bell-mère replied. “I don’t think he’s been even exposed to this before and now he’s in it.”

“Meeker than a wee lamb, that one.”

“Let’s give it up for Snowy Mum!”

“Now you’re just being mean,” Robin smirked, edging herself over towards the next spot. “Don’t let Luffy hear you say that about his new friend.”

“Tch…” Killer shrugged and tried to drop it.

“…and give a hand to our final member of Royalty, Kozuki Oden!”

“Is it usually this tedious?” Sanji asked. He was bouncing his leg and fidgeting. “I don’t think I’ve ever needed a smoke break more.”

“Give it a moment and you can run out the back for a hit,” Law deadpanned.

“Now to start off the Kings, yoi! Here we have Devil Ray!”

“Life really turned to shit when you stopped being able to smoke inside.”

“Bell-mère-ya, that’s a lie and you know it.”

“Eh; what are you gonna do about it, kid?”

“Time to meet Smartea Pants!”

“Flex my medical degree at you?”

“You’re a cardiothoratic surgeon on the best of days—you couldn’t tell me shit about anything else.”

“…and here he is, the Beast of the East!”

“See you out there, kids,” Bell-mère chuckled before she walked out under the lights of the stage.

“God, I hate this already,” Law groaned.

“There is no God here,” Killer stated. Law opened his mouth to explain it was just an expression and there was no reason to be a dick about it when Marco’s voice cut him off.

“Now, for the moment you’ve all been waiting for, yoi! Here are this years Queens!” He paused to let the crowd applaud—they knew what they were here to see. “First up is Killer Queen!” Killer sauntered onto the stage and ate up the applause and cheers, some of the loudest coming from the man’s personal cheering section.

“If there is a God,” Law sighed, “then he’s making sure those two fuck.” He pointed out the punk with cherry-red hair and a prosthetic arm.

“Mmm… who knows,” Sanji shrugged. “I know I don’t want to.”

“Here’s a special gal who will cure what ails you, Dr. Hart-Steeler!”

“You’re up.” Law felt Sanji’s hands on his back and the younger man push him our towards the stage. The whole crowd clapped as he found himself under hot lights. He smiled awkwardly and quickly searched the crowd, finding not only where the Impel representatives were, but also where Nami-ya was with the rest of the non-participating Straw Hats. Law was so concentrated on his girlfriend, however, that he let the heel of his shoe slip and he rolled his ankle, landing hard on the worn lacquered wood of the stage floor to a round of gasps and one fairly annoying “faffaffaffa”.

Oh, they were off to a great start.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was two days since the Revue and Law was laying on a couch in Luffy’s sus-as-fuck party house at 1000 Sunny Rd, his feet propped up on the far armrest and his head in Nami’s lap as she idly carded through his hair. Her weather data-crunching laptop was balanced on the other armrest as she used it one-handed, not wanting to stop touching her boyfriend’s fluffy hair.

“How are your feet feeling?” she asked. He grunted in response, leaning into her touch.

“Better,” he admitted. “Ankles not nearly as sore either.” His eyes were closed as he simply enjoyed her touch and company. “I do still think I bruised my hipbone.”

“Did you now?” she wondered idly. “I guess this means that it might need some attention later…?”

“Possibly,” he smirked. “You’ll have to check for signs of contusions.”

“Hey, time to play doctor later,” Zoro warned as he walked into the room. He had his reading glasses on as he squinted at a newspaper—the Foosha Free Press—sourly. “It looks like they even did an article about you all the way out here in the fucking sticks.”

“They did not need to do an article about any of us out this way,” Law said, hoping the glare he was giving would help Zoro take a fucking hint.

It didn’t.

“I guess the editor is an old friend of your dad’s or something,” Zoro replied nonchalantly.

“Between your adoptive pain in the ass and mine, who don’t they know?”

“Boys, you’re both stupid, now what does it say?” Nami frowned. Zoro adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat before peering down at the paper, attempting to find where he’d left off. When it took him too long to find his spot, Nami tore the paper from his hands. “Silly me thinking you could read.”

“Witch! Can to!”

“Mmm… sure.” Nami opened up the paper and found the article Zoro had been hunting for almost immediately. “Huh. ‘The Logue Town Royal Revue, always a show that surprises and entertains, mixed things up to the extreme with their all-new drag show in their attempt to woo support from Impel Drag Race. With the goal of raising money for charity, it felt as though this year one got a lot more for their ticket price. Was it a change in budget? The novelty of new contestants? No one can say for certain.’ At least it seems like they really liked you.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Law whined. Nami grinned wickedly at that, knowing precisely what to do.

“‘The Revue,’” she continued reading, “‘was emceed by the two show founders, with their longtime third helping them with the judging portion. Anyone who knew of Shenix Fyre, Ganmodokidoki, and Rosi Thoughts’s prior acts came in with expectations that were delivered on. They were able to handle a rowdier-than-usual crowd that was there to support the fresh performers.’”

“Oh, get to the good shit already,” Zoro whined. Both he and Nami tried to not snicker as they watch Law curl up and try to hide his face in his girlfriend’s lap—no sale.

“Let’s see… blah, blah, ‘Royalty was a unique model the contestants brought to life’, blah, blah, blah… oh, good, nothing about Bell-mère. I was worried about that. It’s all about the one we didn’t know. Devil Ray…” Her eyebrows raised in amusement as she continued. “‘…but the true crowd pleasers were the Queens, especially Dr. Hart-Steeler, whose klutzy act reminiscent of her mother Rosi Thoughts endeared her to myself and the entire crowd.’ Law! They loved you!”

“…no…” he whimpered.

“Who knew your old man surgeon was sexy enough for that,” Zoro laughed. Nami silently dared him to try harder. “At least you know you can go back if you want to do it again.”

“Maybe if Cora-san had gotten into stunt kites… or maybe historical reenactments…”

“See?” Zoro pointed at Law haughtily. “Old man. He’s so old he doesn’t even have an ass.”

“Be nice; his ass suits my needs.”

“Nami, his ass needs implants it’s so flat.”

“Can you please not talk about my ass?”

“Mmm… too bad,” Nami hummed. She skritched his scalp with her nails and smiled at the photo included with the article: Dr. Hart-Steeler making an unintended dive towards Inazuma’s chest, limbs flailing and expression one of pure panic.

She was going to take what she could get.

[short-honey-badger]

The warlord is bringing up the past. A gamble, but it gets the younger man’s attention, and Dracule feels a dark satisfaction rip through him when Shanks sits up straight and looks at him in surprise, though hurt swims in his dark eyes.

*uhmm. This is when I decided to start to change the direction of how I want to take this work. 🤞🤞

If you're a writer and you see this post, stop what you're doing.

WHENEVER YOU SEE THIS POST ON YOUR DASH, STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING AND WRITE ONE SENTENCE FOR YOUR CURRENT PROJECT.

Just one sentence. Stop blogging for one minute and write a single sentence. It could be dialogue, it could be a nice description of scenery, it could be a metaphor, I don’t care. The point is, do it. Then, when you finish, you can get back to blogging.

If this gets viral, you might just have your novel finished by next Tuesday.

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Tattooed kisses

<<<Prev (gunpowder). (Trapeze) Next>>>

Painting: Buggy x female mermaid!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1700

Content: You have to leave on an assignment so you give something to remember you by 😘

---

You stirred, the wood creaked as the ship swayed with the water gently. The chill of the night still lingered as the dark sky broke for dawn, the faint change in the colour of the clouds telling you to wake up. You had to leave before the sun was up, for your next surveillance task. But he had his arm draped over your waist like an anchor you didn’t want to pull away. His chin resting on the back of your shoulder, skin to skin that his warmth had enveloped you whole, a blanket you didn't want to escape from.

Having spent nights like these, leaving him the next morning grew incredibly difficult, especially with the nature of work you and him par took in. Any day could be your last, so these moments were more special cause it gave you something to hold on to.

You didn’t want to disturb his sleep, he never got to do it properly as is. Most nights he would be on the deck, watching the stars or observing the sea, all that paint on his skin hid the dark circles under his eyes, cause his silhouette would govern the ship like he was a part of its being, the phantom that protected the circus. He would spend the quiet hours of the night looking up at the moon for all the answers to his schemes and vengeance.

But seeing him like this, next to you, was a rarity. Bare without any defenses. No paint on his face, no great costume or cannonballs in his pockets, no need to detach himself into pieces for anyone’s amusement. He could just be, whole and weightless. His finger twitched against your skin as though he could detect your thoughts, he pulled you closer, making it impossible for you to run off now.

“Buggy.”, you whispered to which he gave you a groggy hum.

“I have to leave soon.”, you chuckled as you turned to face him, but he didn’t let you go. He placed his head on your chest, his soft hair tracing the underside of your jaw.

“Skip the assignment.”, he mumbled as he nuzzled into your neck, his weight pining you down comfortably.

You slipped your fingers into his hair, your nails scratching his scalp gently as you petted him affectionately.

“Stay here and sleep in with me.”, he continued with a sigh, his thumb drawing mindless circles onto your skin.

“I wish, but you do know this assignment is important. All that vital information could help us.”, you kissed his forehead as you pushed back his hair, he grumbled because you were right.

“One day, I would have gathered enough loot to buy an entire island and then I wouldn’t have to let you go.”, his eyes fluttered open to reveal his pale blue eyes that looked like the open sky.

So without anymore fuss, you placed your lips on his and he drew in a deep breath as though this was the trick to wake him up.

“You better work on that as soon as you can.”, you spoke against his lips and he let you go half heartedly.

You grabbed your clothes to go change behind the divider but when you threw a glance over your shoulder, he was laying there, his eyes tracing over your body with longing, one arm buried beneath his head while the other dangled over the edge.

“How long is this stakeout?”, he asked from the other end. You put on your shirt and fastened the buttons.

“Two days.”, you responded to his question as you pulled up your long skirt made out of a material that morphed onto your tail once you hit the water which then also acted like a protective layer.

But just as you were distracted, you caught a glimpse of his detached hand scurrying off with your utility belt.

“Buggy.”, you called after him to hear his low mischievous chuckle.

Appearing from behind the divider, he had your belt in his hands as he took in the details on it. A lot of the charms on it resonating with the circus but it also held the daggers he had made for you. He pushed away from the bed to stand up.

“Come back in a day.”, he said as he fiddled with the buckle.

“What’s gotten into you?”, you smiled as you placed your hands on his shoulder. You knew why he was like this. He was expressing it and you weren’t. It made leaving easier if you detached yourself from your emotions but the look in his eyes, his tousled hair, it was a strenuous task to not slink back into the wants and desires of your heart.

You gave in and hugged him, reveling in his warmth as he rested his chin on the edge of your shoulder but his hands were busy as he looped the belt around your waist. You pushed away but he held you steady as he fastened the buckle and fixed it in place. Tugging you closer by the loops on your belt, he frowned.

"Every second without you is going to drive me mad.", he placed his forehead on yours.

"You're mad already.", you chuckled as you pushed away to see his face when his face contorted with surprise at your statement.

But his eyes sobered a second later as he tilted your chin up to see him to see the worry in his eyes.

“Promise me no injuries this time.”, he said.

“Promise me you won’t get into trouble.”, you countered his request but he stayed quite as he bit his lip.

Neither agreed but it was in the air, in hung in the silence, that both of you cared for each other deeply.

So you moved away from him and so did he as he fished for his clothes. You found his pants and threw it to him, he caught it with a sly grin as he walked around with his boxers on. You sat by the vanity set to do your hair but your attempt at a proper braid wasn’t coming together and it frustrated you cause you were running out of time.

But it was the ease at which you cohabitated with him that also caught you off guard, that in some way this was where you belonged, anywhere with him.

He caught a hold your hair gathered in your hand. He stood behind you, his shirt only buttoned on half way, his pants put on in a hurry with his hat placed on a slant over his head that his blue hair peeked through from under. He was busy as he braided your hair and you were busy admiring him through the mirror. The sun wasn’t up yet, the sky was still dark so you had a little more time to spare, to soak up all this love before you entered the harsh world outside.

He fixed your hair and you mouthed a ‘thank you’, to which he dipped his head in acknowledgement.

You let go of the seat for him, he had to paint his face before he went about the chores and tasks for today. He popped open the paint lids but before he could take the brush, you did. His eyes found yours and he didn’t complain. He let you inhabit his personal space, to help him in a task that was almost sacred and as important as any other routine.

The one he started everyday with, to put on this mask. You took a comfortable seat on his lap, his hands held onto your waist as you dipped the brush into the paint sets and applied it to his face. But his eyes never wavered, they were on you, taking you in as much as he could.

Aware of his gaze, “I don’t want to hear about you staying up two nights straight.”, you said as you underlined his eyes with black liner.

“I’ll survive.”, he said quietly and your eyes snapped to his.

“Even if I did try, I will lay awake worried about you.”, he pushed the red paint towards you to finish up the final touches.

You painted the wide smile with red paint and sat back to admire your work, but now his mask was set and your assignment called your name.

Why couldn’t you tell him that your journeys made you restless too?

Worried that he would be caught or the ship destroyed in some battle?

That you worried one day you would come back to nothing?

He sensed your worry and to make feel at ease, he smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll be here when you return.”, he said and it got you.

“Will you?”, you asked quickly, your eyes boring into his as though his promises were what that kept you sane. He nodded his head and you sighed, a smiled finally breaking up the sadness scattered on your face.

His finger held your chin as though he was plotting something, the watch running slower giving you a few extra minutes. You were going to make the best of it, he reached over your counter top to pick up your lipstick, steadying his hand on the edge of your jaw, he applied the pigment over your lips.

“Something to remember me by.”, he grinned as he wiped away the excess at the edge of your lips. Your cheeks grew warm as it flushed with blood, his sudden act of admiration making you fall head over heels once again. But if he had this sway over you, you held a certain power over him too.

You held onto his shirt collar and pulled away his shirt to reveal his chest, his eyes widened at your sudden urgency and authority, you didn’t have time but you had enough to leave a mark.

So you leaned down to pepper his skin with kisses, leaving behind the shape of your lips in red rouge. You looked up at him to see that he looked drunk over this attention you drenched him in. He caught a hold of your chin as he reapplied the pigment and you did it again. And again till there was no place left for his skin to hold another pigmented stain.

Your lips thrummed, his chest rose and fell as he breathed faster, his eyes glued to yours like magnets. You looked back at the window to see that sky had begun to turn lighter.

“Come back to me as fast as you can, so you can pick up where you left off.”, he laughed, you pulled down his hat to bury his laugh as your blush grew deeper.

“All you had to say was you’ll miss me, baby.”, he continued as you hopped off his lap. He didn’t wipe away your lipstick stains, instead buttoned his shirt over it as though he was going to get them etched on his skin.

“Well now you have the proof of my love hidden beneath your shirt, Captain.”, you placed your hands on your hips.

He straightened his hat as he winked at you, all his love sickness satiated, holding the door open so you could run off before the sun was high up, he told you to be safe again.

“I will.”, you whispered as you placed a final kiss on his cheek before you exited. The circus was beginning to grow on you with every passing day.

[naomihatake]

Solitude

you can find other zoro fics here: Naomi's archive

pairing: zoro x fem reader

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, consumption of alcohol

summary: One would expect the swordsman to unwind after a battle, but there are times when he can't help but think. Alcohol doesn't always come in handy when a specific crewmate he grew fond of cuddled a tad bit too close to his heart.

word count: 3.3k

theme song: 'Daylight' by David Kushner

A/N: It can be imagined with both anime and opla Zoro. I don't know if he's slightly ooc or not, but I genuinely wanted to dig into this side of a relationship with the swordsman. The awkward times when he's getting used to it and simply accepting everything as a new part of his life.

I didn't forget about my multi chapter fiction, I just didn't find the inspiration for the 8th chapter. I couldn't help but write this for my own comfort and I want to mention that this original art of @tea917339 inspired me (check it out, it's absolutely amazing!!!)

I'm always open for your opinions and comments, so don't be shy about sharing your thoughts with me! <3

Usually, nights with the Straw Hats were lively, even after battles that left the crew members injured and bleeding. They would pick each other up and cheer up by simply bickering — that's what Zoro thought. 

The same way Luffy's hand extended to help him back on his feet after he plopped down on the ground to rest. The same way Zoro reassured Chopper after the kid tried his best not to get emotional afterwards. The same way Sanji threw some remarks and the swordsman spat back in annoyance. And, for fuck’s sake, Nami reminded him for the tenth time that day he owes her berry for something he completely forgot about. Usopp was sighing in relief every time he remembered they escaped with life again while Robin agreed with a soft smile on her face. Truly, it was almost insane — Zoro wouldn't exactly call that a miracle because he's doubtful of its existence. 

However, he couldn't bring himself to cheer up once the celebration of their victory was over and everyone went into their rooms. He was on the night watch and all he found himself capable of doing was burying in memories of all kinds, be it happy or not. With not enough alcohol in his system yet, it was rather hard to push those thoughts into the back of his head. 

The swordsman sat on the deck, his back resting against the wooden cabin. Hidden from prying eyes, he found peace in the temporary silence. Rare were the times when the crew was so peaceful and it was usually during the night, when they were asleep, because otherwise they would've caused a mayhem. 

The side of his mouth curled upwards at that thought. It was equally annoying and endearing, since in the months spent with them he found a lot of things about himself. Like the fact that he found his crew to be a family, like the way he sometimes found peace even in the chaos caused by them. 

Or like the presence he grew way too fond of along the way. That witch — she truly was one, judging by the effect she had on him. Only a spell could've made his mind get so clouded, only some unknown force could've managed to soften his edges so well. She joined the crew from the first day and he believed that a spell had been casted upon him since the first time they gazed at each other. 

Right. Zoro gulped down. The effect she had on him was equally annoying and pleasant. 

Annoying because he should've focused on his promise to Kuina, not get lost in between fairytales. He wasn't by any means the charming prince riding a white horse and he didn't intend on becoming one anytime soon. It filled him up with feelings unknown to him. Zoro might be a fan of adventures and he had rather insane ideas — as one might say —, but such sentiments were an entirely new path to walk on. 

First and foremost, it bothered him the fact that he wasn't sure he could fulfill both his promises and whatever the fuck was going on between him and the witch. He couldn't pinpoint what was happening, it was all in a blur, even if everything was clearing up whenever he saw her. 

That's when he's reminded why he likes their relationship — what kind of, he didn't know. When he saw her, there were always sparkles in her eyes and the smile on her face would grow wider, lines of happiness appearing on her cheeks. The curl of her lips would make his heart skip a few beats and he would relax his shoulders unconsciously. Eyes filled with joy looked at him as if he was the very reason behind her purest sensations. 

Also, not to mention how warm the depths of his chest felt when she was near. The heat would rise to his cheeks, which he sometimes found uncomfortable, but Zoro never ran away. A side of him wished so badly to go the other way and never look back, ignore her and those stupid damned feelings, but he never gathered enough courage to do so. Every single time, he would remain stuck, with his eyes stuck on her frame and fingers aching to touch and lips tingling to kiss. 

God fucking dammit. 

With a curse rolling off his tongue casually as he closed his eyes, the back of his head collided with the wooden wall he rested his back against. Zoro sat with his knees bent and feet planted onto the floor, only his Wado Ichimoji in his proximity. With its hilt glued to his shoulder, the sheathed sword was in between his fingers. By that time, he held it for comfort.

If that's what he could call it. The swordsman wasn't sure what else to associate it with. Or was it familiarity? The white sword was the only memory he had of a long lost friend and his first home at the dojo, by the side of his sensei. It was the only object tying him to his past, to his beginning, to times when he was much weaker, but determined nonetheless. 

To care about his promise was familiar. Zoro wouldn't give it up — proof was the simple fact that he still achieved to become the strongest swordsman in the world. One day, he will meet Mihawk again and when he does, he will be stronger than the first time he encountered him at Baratie. 

Looking back, it's been so long since. So long since a new life appeared before his eyes and he accepted it with no hesitation. He was a pirate, a Straw Hat, Luffy's first mate. The swordsman swore to help his captain achieve his own dream. 

Those promises were familiar. The erratic heartbeats caused by the witch weren't. The sensation settling in the pits of his stomach when her gentle fingers would brush over his arm weren't. It was foreign and it didn't sit well with him. 

Kuina. 

He still saw her face in his dreams sometimes and it was usually her ghost haunting him. Other times, in her place would be one of his friends and each time it was harder to fall asleep. 

When awake, memories of her replayed so vividly in his mind. Swords clashing together and whistling as they cut the air in half. A grin brightening up Kuina's face when he would fall on his butt and cuss her out again. They promised that one of them would become the greatest, but he was the only one capable of that, because her bones lay in a grave somewhere far away. 

Zoro opened his eyes and stared at the night sky with scars scattered all over it. A calming view, even if there was tumult inside of him, hidden in between ribs that broke with each new pump of his heart. His brown eyes fell to the floor and he crossed his arms on top of his knees, gripping the sword tighter. His chest puffed up with air when he inhaled and he let out a heavy sigh. 

“Zoro?” a soft whisper made him jump out of his thoughts. 

The swordsman snapped his head and he was greeted by the sight of someone he didn't even know he was searching for. A side of him wished to say something along the lines of “fuck off” while the other side desperately wanted to soak into her presence. 

A witch, indeed. 

His eyes ran up and down her figure. She didn't seem surprised to find him there, in a rather hidden spot, which meant she didn't search for too long. Did she even search for him or did she also wish to be alone for a while? The first place to search for someone during night shifts was the crows nest. 

She held two bottles of what he guessed to be alcohol and she swung them carefully before stepping closer. His chest tightened and he found it harder to breathe, even if it was inevitably easier than before at the same time. For some reason, she had that effect on him. 

Maybe he knew that reason all too well, but he just avoided thinking of it. 

“You told me we'd drink something together,” she reminded him in that warm voice of hers. 

The sweet melody that calmed his nerves. 

He didn't know what kind of energy radiated off him, but her behavior was far more gentle than usual. She wasn't hesitant, the witch never hesitated around him, she was just mindful of her actions and words. 

He didn't know why for a second he saw understanding in the curl of her lips when she crouched down. Unconsciously, Zoro knitted his eyebrows together in confusion at her gestures. 

The bottles hit the floor and she let go of them. Her eyes sparkled like they always did, but there was something different that time — a warmth they held only when she comforted Chopper or encouraged Usopp. Warmth similar to the shy rays of the sun of the morning, when the cold is still lingering and there's a specific scent in the air. Gentleness he only ever saw in her, because Luffy's kindness was different. 

A warmth so humane that was visible for the crew alone or those in need of it. 

The witch recognized something in his demeanor and Zoro had no clue what that was about. He could only see it in her gaze. 

“I suppose it isn't really the perfect time for me to butt in, hm?” she whispered. 

Like a promise only for him to hear. A secret. 

“How'd you find me here?” he found himself speaking before he thought it through. 

The question made her shrug. 

“I pick up easily on your energy. It's quite unmistakable, y'know?” 

There it was — one of the main reasons why she had the nickname of Witch both on the ship and outside of it. She's spoken about that for a few times and he had to admit he understood what she meant. However, the swordsman only felt those “energies” (as she liked to call them) in specific moments. He remembers that time in Lougetown when everything felt like energy instead of palpable objects, the reason why he won that fight. 

Sometimes he seriously wondered if she hadn't met his sensei at some point in her life. 

“What is it like?” once again, he asked before thinking. 

The witch pulled her lips in a tight line and hummed, gathering the right words to describe it. Her gaze bounced around and she grimaced once, when she probably found her choice of words to be unpleasant or inappropriate — she always scrunched her nose when it was difficult to find the proper terms. 

“It's sharp, but warm. Kind of steady, constantly flickering. For example, Luffy's energy is always all around the place and Chopper's gets out of control easily. Robin has the steadiest energy of all of us, even if it was kind of… strange lately.” 

Zoro arched his eyebrow at the last piece of information and only received a hand waving through the air. 

“Ignore the last part, I'm still figuring it out myself. No need to worry.” 

The swordsman knew the energy she was talking about was different than what he felt when she was in presence, but he wondered if whatever laid in her heart interfered with her ability to distinguish his being from the others. 

He watched as the witch looked at the bottles next to him and then clicked her tongue, deep in thought. 

“I don't know if they'd help you tonight, but I'll let you be.” 

None of those words were accusatory. They were all coming from a place of kindness and patience. 

Suddenly, her fingers curled around his bicep, below the bandana wrapped around his arm. Skin on skin, her touch was hot and pleasant, even if very confusing. 

What was she thinking? 

His puzzled feelings were written on his face. Uncertainty laid in his dark brown eyes and his fingers held onto the sword tighter. He didn't even notice when the grip on his Wado Ichimoji loosened up. 

Her gaze was reassuring as ever and she gently rubbed her thumb into his tensed muscles. 

Zoro had to at least admit to himself that vulnerability was uncomfortable. Without spoken words, she picked up on it. 

“I don't know for sure if I'll get to sleep tonight, so you could cut your night shift in half.” She's having issues with nightmares again? he silently wondered. “I'll be in my room, reading. Do what you see fit.” 

Instantly, she was back on her feet with her back straight and walked away. The swordsman didn't know what happened or what he should understand. 

He was utterly and completely confused. What just happened? 

Oh. The witch gave him space and time to think. She also told him where she was in case he decided to grip at the promise of comfort and hold tightly onto it. The opportunity laid right in front of him and he was the only one to decide whether he used it to his advantage or not. 

Zoro didn't notice when his shoulders relaxed. His body wasn't as tense as a few minutes ago, his back didn't feel as stiff. The exhale he left wasn't heavy anymore. 

The swordsman knew what this was about. Maybe it was the time to just accept his feelings and get on with it. He had to suck it up and deal with it, even if dealing with her wasn't the right way to word it out. It always felt more like she was dealing with him. 

With closed eyes, he remembered the last time her lips brushed by his. Gosh, it was so hot and his blood was bubbling like lava in his veins. It wasn't an accident, he intended on kissing her back with fever, but he had a hard time accepting everything. It was… weird. Facing that reality was troublesome. 

She has yet to lose her patience. The witch remained firm and each one of her questions were answered by gestures instead of words — something familiar for him. She was far more skilled with expressing herself even when sensitive topics came up. 

That was a miracle. Her presence alone could be compared to a miracle because it was completely unexpected and somehow always caressing him the right way. It was scary how accurately she could read him and the same applied to him. 

The sky before his eyes continued to sparkle with stars and he remained still in his place. His fingers caressed the scabbard of his sword as he blinked in the darkness, the chill air of the night invading his lungs. 

It was complicated and so simple at the same time. Zoro knew the answer — he just had to come to terms with it. 

Just as age promised, the witch sat on the bed in her room with a blanket warming her up. The lamp on the nightstand by her side casted a golden light over the pages of a book sitting in her lap. It was hard to focus on the story — a captivating part of pirate's history, sometime before the appearance of Gold D. Roger.

Her thoughts were followed by the swordsman. Zoro's mood was… sad at best. She didn't expect to find him in that state, but she quickly came to the conclusion that leaving him alone might do him good. 

She tapped her finger over the pages of the old book and clicked her tongue. Was it right to leave him? The witch never saw him in a similar mood and she also realized she didn't know how to help him. There could be a lot of ways to bring him back to earth or at least keep him afloat. Those ways were only known by him. All she could do was guess and hope for the best outcome. 

Heavy footsteps echoed on the other side of the door. When it opened wide, there was Zoro's tall silhouette, his white sword in his hand and one bottle of alcohol in his other. He came closer, his face hard as a stone. The pink hue painting his cheeks was the only detail giving away the fact that he drank one of the bottles she brought hours ago. 

“Why aren't you sleeping yet?” he said with a gruff voice as he plopped down on the mattress. 

There were only a few hours left before the sun would rise up from the sea. 

“You've probably guessed already,” she averted her eyes from his figure. 

“Nightmares again?” 

The witch only nodded, eyes focused on the book. Zoro let the sword against the couch. 

“I won't fall asleep, so you could as well take a night off,” only then she looked at him again. 

His darkened eyes have been locked on her since he entered the valley. The witch wanted to move, to eventually get away from his knowing gaze, but she knew there was no possible way to do it. 

“Are you alright?” she blurted out. 

She had to fill that silence with some kind of conversation. Maybe that wasn't exactly the wisest decision, considering his shoulders visibly tensed and he straightened his back. A frown appeared on her face. She regretted talking. 

The witch figured out he needed more time to sort his thoughts. 

“Why don't you go to sleep?” she tilted her head to the side. “The fight has worn us all out. You could rest for a while.” 

“And you?” 

“We'll be sailing for a few days. I can sleep ‘till afternoon.” 

“Nothing will happen for as long as you're on this ship with us,” the reassurance slipped so easily. “Do you trust us?” 

“More than anything,” the witch responded with a faint smile. 

Several weeks ago, her answer and reaction would've been so different. She made so much progress since she first met them, her trust now fully laying in their palms. Long ago, she would've backed away at such a question and, if they were lucky enough, the witch would admit she “needs time to adjust”. 

At first, all he did was lean close enough for his shoulder to touch hers. The swordsman only intended to enjoy some peace while he shared his booze with the witch. From time to time, she'd gulp from the bottle and then give it back to him before continuing her lecture. After each two minutes, the room would be filled by the rustling of pages. 

It didn't last long until he fell into her trap and tiredness dragged him glued to her. With his head in her lap, Zoro bumped his nose in her thigh. The witch's fingers ran through his hair and he let out an audible exhale, eyes closing instantly. Greeted by darkness, he felt warm not only on the inside. The blanket she curled around herself earlier was now covering his upper body as he sunk into the soft mattress and her. 

One of his hands curled around her knee and he dug his fingers into her flesh. Her leg jerked slightly at the unexpected touch, but when he tried to move away, she muttered a sweet “It's okay”, stopping his movements. 

The oxygen in his lungs was exchanged with her perfume and he bit back a groan. Her voice was like a lullaby, even if there weren't many words rolling off her tongue. Zoro wasn't bothered by the light of the lamp, completely forgetting about the world around him once her fingers continued running through his hair. 

His hand traveled up, until it fully rested on her thigh, the warmth of her body seeping through the thin material of her pants. Truth be told, he's never felt better. 

She was a remedy. His remedy. 

“Good night.”

Zoro heard her whisper solely because he was near her; otherwise he would've confounded it with the night breeze. 

Maybe giving in to her affection isn't that bad. 

[vclvetfleur]

Freak Show Chapter 6

Buggy x fem!reader

Summary: After landing on a new island, you've ran into a familiar face that you've had none stop thoughts and fantasizied about since the last time you've seen him.

TW: Dom buggy, degradation, NSFW, smut, MDNI

WC: 6.8K (25 words away for 6.9k)

Notes; This is my longest Buggy chapter yet. I am so proud of it. Im also not the greatest at writing smut. I hope you all are enjoying the fic so far. The updates aren't so frequent, but I hope you guys take time to lmk. Thank you :)

Chapter 6: 100,000,000 berries

Weeks have gone by, and you haven’t seen Buggy since. You were sure you’d love it this way, but a part of you felt a bit upset. You didn’t understand why. But there was something about his lack of presence that made a part of you feel empty all of a sudden. You shrugged it off most of the time. But the other day after raiding a village you had come across a familiar face. Buggy’s new wanted poster. 150,000,000. Wow. I guess the Marines weren’t too happy about the incident. You felt a mix of proud, but sadness. It was bittersweet. You ignored those feelings more and more.

You couldn’t miss him, and you weren’t going to allow yourself to.

You arrived back onboard, setting sail for a new place to settle and rob. You basically cleaned the whole village of all their belongings. And you didn’t need to kill that many of them either.

You laid in your quarters, staring at the ceiling, letting your thoughts go wild. You found every time you were alone you thought of the moment you swore to forget. You remembered every detail though. Every word. Every kiss. Every single thing. Especially the way he made you feel. You don’t think you ever laid with a man so determined to make you feel as good as you did. You found yourself staying up nights with your hand in your panties trying not to forget any minor detail of it.

You always finished with a waft of shame coming over you afterward. It was something you never saw coming in a million years. It almost felt like a really good nightmare.

You got up in the morning after tossing around for hours thinking about Buggy. You snuck off to the bathroom that attached to your room, opened the shower door, and slid inside. You turned the handle to let the hot water come over your body. You sighed, leaning your hair under the shower head before shampooing and conditioning it. Another perverted thought crept up and you immediately shook it out of your brain. He looked so good on top of you. Nope. You had to ignore these thoughts. You couldn’t do this to yourself.

This was beyond sick. You couldn’t be trusted with your own thoughts.

But neither could Vivienne. She had conversations with him nearly daily on their transponder snails. They spent hours into the night whispering to one another in fear of getting caught or found out. They didn’t feel good about sneaking around, but what they had seemed worth it to betray their captains like this.

“Where are you guys off to now?” Cabaji wondered, hoping he’d be able to get Buggy to set sail for where they were going as well. It’s almost half of the reason your crews were able to run into each other. The other reason was Buggy’s crazy obsession with ‘taking you down’. But it now seemed impossible now that both of your bounties were so high now. You sat at just 100,000,000 berries. 50,000,000 less than Buggy which bruises your ego a bit. But you were working on it. Your competitiveness always got the best of you. If you couldn’t get the highest bounty, you at least needed a higher one than Buggy. It seemed humiliating to be seen as less dangerous than him.

“I’m not too sure, we just left Longiana.” Vivienne huffed at the disappointment.

You couldn’t stand being alone in your room any longer. You pulled your hair in a silked veil to hide your wet hair before putting on your usual attire. You swiped on makeup before making your way out of the quarters. You were greeted by the crew, listening to concerns they had. Just questioned whatever was next. You had been raiding small villages, trying to keep low before having to go back to find the map of the grand line. It was far too dangerous, not just for you, but for everyone aboard the ship. Sure, the grand line is just as unsafe, but this was something preventable. You needed to act smart.

“Where the fuck is Vivienne?” You complained. You were sure she had a few plans she could recommend to you. She came up with decisions sometimes, it was just up to you whether it sounded like a good idea.

“Unsure ma’am. She hasn’t come out this morning. Even for breakfast.” Lily, a member of your crew announced. She was fairly new. She begged and begged to join, doing whatever it took. She tried to prove that she was brutal enough, but brutality wasn’t the only thing you searched for. The only reason you let her join was she had snuck onboard and stayed for days without anyone spotting her. She was quick. Sneaky. Smart. Logical. That’s what you looked for. And she was of good use to you. You had even brought her along to raids and she was able to sneak by food for the crew that would last you at least 3 weeks. The girl had everything it took to be granted the honor of joining you and your crew. She already had such deep dedication. She even won you over by saying she knew you’d be the one ruling every sea known. It was charming.

“Fuck- I’ll get her.” Your eyes rolled back. You couldn’t be sailing to nowhere. You needed a plan at the very least. You headed to her room and opened the door. Vivienne jumped in her bed, giving you an absolutely terrified look as if she had seen the world's scariest film and was told she’d die in 7 days after watching it.

“Oh keep your panties on. What do you recommend we do?” You questioned her.

“What if I was naked?” She asked you, clearly annoyed at the lack of privacy you granted her right now.

“I’ve seen it already. Not interested. Answer the question. None of these dumb fucks have a clue.” You shook your head, placing your hand against your temple, stressed out already after leaving Longiana. You were stressed even while at Longiana. You needed to plan something. You’ve never been so behind. You were always 5 steps ahead. But you felt like you were drowning. Nothing ever came to mind other than Buggy.

“go to Ginevia.” Cabaji whispered in her ear through her transponder. She hid it with her hair covering it.

“Uh- I think Ginevia might be a good place to lay low for a while. Little to no marines. Secluded. Bars everywhere. It seems good enough to stay…” Vivienne recommended. You waited for another village and Vivienne panicked.  “Or maybe… fuck- sorry I didn’t get much sleep last night.” She quickly made up a lie to get you to leave.

“Fine Ginevia it is…” You murmured. “Get rest my love. I need my right-hand man…” You gave her some kind of affectionate words to make up for invading her privacy previously. Her lips turned to a light smile, a part of her dying inside knowing she lied to you.

“I love you.” She granted you that.

“Love you too. Don’t miss dinner today or I’ll barge in here again.” You revealed a smile to her. You rarely showed anyone on board this side of you. But Vivienne was special. Maybe it was all the years spent together or just the fact you’ve always put such trust in her that let you be this way. You never thought she could ever hurt you.

You retreated back to the crew and set course for Ginevia.

“See you later my love…” Cabaji mumbled. Vivienne's smile turned even bigger before pulling the transponder out of her ear. He managed to grant her a smile every time they spoke.

If you could see her, you’d be disgusted.

Hour rolled by and you kept yourself busy by ordering people around. You spent an ungodly and suspicious amount of time with them. You often retreated to your quarters or trained. But you didn’t trust being alone with your thoughts. A rumor flew around that Buggy tortured you and you had gotten a new respect for life and the crew. You knew any day could be your last and you wanted to be around people rather than a hermit. What a load of horse shit.

You even helped out with dinner and setting tables. You sat at the head table, watching people flood into the room. Soon you saw Vivienne as she had made a plate for herself. You spent most of the dinner just giggling and talking to Vivienne about nonsense. “NO! But remember when he was turning around the corner and slipped!” Vivienne cackled loudly.

“No! Please! I forgot! Stop-“You cried in between laughs. “The fuckwad slammed right into a wall and fell!” You let yourself laugh loudly.

“Please stop! My stomach hurts! I can’t!” Vivienne gripped her side, causing you to laugh even louder.

But unfortunately, this could not last the entire night. Slowly everyone left and Vivienne excused herself to her chambers, claiming she was exhausted. You got up and grabbed a bottle of wine before retreating on your own.

You spent the night downing an entire bottle before knocking into a deep slumber.

This became a habit you acquired until hitting Ginevia.

You stepped off the boat before making your way around the village. There were a lot of bars. Vivienne did not lie at all about that. You passed by a wall, seeing wanted posters scattered. Some familiar faces and a few new ones. Monkey D. Luffy… what a dumb name… Roronoa Zoro, the pirate hunter? Oh, there was a new cutie there too. Sanji… looks like a bit of an asshole, but whatever. Nami… God… Usopp. What a prick. Your eyes landed on two wanted posters freshly put up. Buggy the Clown and yours. You stared for a while.

You felt a tap on your shoulder, drawing your sword quickly, looking behind you. No one… Weird. You felt another. You turned around again. Nothing. You felt wind pick up and without looking, grabbed whatever was being thrown on your shoulder. You pulled it over to examine it to notice it was a gloved hand. Fuck- he was here.

You threw the hand on the floor, bringing your heel to it quickly. “Ow! Bitch!” Buggy yelped from the corner as he came back to retrieve what belonged to him. You couldn’t make any eye contact for whatever reason. You pulled your foot off and made an attempt to leave. You didn’t want to look at him out of fear of how you’d react. “Aww come on! Don’t leave me waiting! It was a joke!” Buggy called out for you.

You chose to ignore him and continued to leave him behind. You could not stand to. Be around him right now was not something you needed. This was enough to itch the craving you had for him. You felt the collar of your dress halts you from moving any further. “Buggy let go.” You demanded, a sternness in your voice.

“Oh, come on, you didn’t miss me? I sure missed you a lot.” Buggy attempted to flirt, your eyes rolling. You recoiled, leaning your body away from him.

“Why would I miss you?” You knew why. You did.

“Hmm might be because I fucked you till you barely could even say another word.” Buggy whispered. He was well aware of how embarrassed you had been afterward, but he knew you desired him just as much as he did. At least he tricked himself into believing it.

“Fucking whatever… Just that was the last time, okay? Leave it at that. You’re not my friend. Or my lover. Just some stupid obnoxious clown who can’t seem to leave me alone.” You spit venom his way, hoping he’d take the hint and leave you be. But you knew he wouldn’t.

“I was here first!” Buggy yelled like a child.

You just ignored him once again, vanishing in thin air. You wandered around, making sure not to bump into anyone to blow your cover. You took this time to steal from the small shops around town. But it seemed like you constantly ran into Buggy. Despite him not seeing you, it seemed like you couldn’t escape him. You finally had gone over an hour without running into him before seeing his wanted poster once again. You couldn’t do it any longer. You had to find him. Just to get this off your mind already.

You wandered around town, unable to find him. The only place he could be was his ship. You walked along the port before finding the boat with the obnoxious jolly roger with his makeup look painted on it. You couldn’t believe you were letting your urges get to you this much. You wondered around before finding his quarters. You opened and shut the door, reappearing in front of him. He sat at his desk creating a new map. He looked a lot less flashy than you were ever used to. You never even knew his hair was that long. You always just assumed it was a part of his hat. His hair was bound with a hair tie as he just sat in his usual striped shirt and pants. You couldn’t help but look at his arms. They were slim yet muscular with small scars scattered around them.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Buggy asked, putting his pen away, laying back in his chair. His head turned to you, waiting for a response.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it since we left the Marine base. I wouldn’t come if I really just wanted to humiliate myself. So don’t make this as embarrassing as it needs to.” You confessed. It hurt to even have to say it. You never had to beg for what you wanted. But you’ve also never wanted something so bad.

“Oh, so you did miss me?” Buggy laughed at you. You groaned, wanting to make an attempt to leave, but you couldn’t pull yourself from doing so. “Beg then…” The room fell quiet. You’ve never had to submit to a man like this. Nor would you have ever allowed this kind of treatment.

“Fuck! Fine.. Plea-“ You began before Buggy cut you off. “No. On your knees and beg.” He ordered. You bit your lip contemplating if it was worth your dignity before lowering yourself on your knees.

“Please- I really just want you to fuck me again.” You begged for him.

“How much have you been thinking about me?” Buggy seemed to be entertained of the idea of you thinking about him. You huffed, ready to die of embarrassment. “Don’t act all shy now. You’re already on your knees.” Buggy pointed out, a laugh escaping his lips, enjoying seeing how seemingly easy this seemed for him now.

“Fuck- okay-… uh, like…” You couldn’t seem to actually confess any of this to him. You swallowed your pride eventually. “Every night. Whenever I’m alone, I always think about it. It’s the one thing I can’t get off my mind.” You quickly spewed out.

Buggy leaned in, seemingly interested in the fact.  “Oh, so you really need it bad huh?” He asked.  His elbows rested on his knees that spread apart from each other before returning to sit upright.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t need it.” You said in a sarcastic tone. “Now can the humiliation please end?” This was all so degrading for you. Having to beg for sex was something you never had to do. And having to do so much for slight attention didn’t make it any better.

“Oh, but darling, the humiliation just started.” Buggy laughed at your embarrassment. You shook your head, deciding you were too good for this. You already lost so much of your pride to continue to let this all occur to you. You got up from the floor, heading towards the door mumbling under your breath. “Un fucking believable.”

Buggy watched you for a bit before sending a hand to grab a fist full of your hair and dragging your entire body back onto the floor. You fell down against the wooden floorboard, your knees and hands attempted to catch you. Your eyes went over to Buggy as you heard his boots hitting the wood as he made his way towards you. “I’m not done having my fun.” Buggy bent down in front of you, his face filled with sinister and sadistic ideas of what to put you through.

“I’m not gonna sit here and be humiliated.” You tried to protest.

“Well it isn’t really about what you like right now. You came here. You said you wanted this. I thought you never went against your word…” Buggy continued to demean you, using your own words against you.

-14 months ago-

You had gotten back to your ship after a loot with a few of your crew to see the entire ship disheveled. A few of your crewmates tied against each other or poles that ran throughout the ship as things were thrown around.

A pit of boiling rage filled you up. You dropped whatever was in your hands, a large thud hitting the floor with small clinging continuously hitting the floor. Your hands grew clammy and your face grew hotter by the second. “What the fuck happened here? What the fuck did you idiots allow to happen here?” Your voice boomed throughout the main deck. You inched closer to one of the crewmates, snagging their bounds off of their mouth and grabbing the root of their hair to look your way. “You better give me a good reason that my shit was taken, or you all are being thrown overboard.” You threatened. Vivienne scrambled to assess the damage. “Don’t you think it's a bit harsh…” Vivienne quietly chimed in.

“Shut the fuck up! Unless all your shit is ripped apart and stolen because of incompetent fuckwads, then you have the right to tell me what’s too fucking harsh!” You lashed out before turning back to the scared crewmate. “Now- who the fuck did this?” Your words coming out slowly to demean the crewmate even further. You drew a dagger, placing it under their chin.

“B-b-buggy… His crew ambushed us… It was so fast we couldn’t see it coming…” She cried, snot and droll coming from her face and down to her chin. You pulled the dagger away and released her hair as if it was poisonous to the touch. “Where the fuck did he go?” You asked.

“Look for me?” Buggy called out, standing on a barrel that sat upon the quarter-deck. He held a rolled-up scroll in his hand, waving it around to mock you. Your vision turned completely red, drawing your sword and charging over to him.

Buggy laughed manically before sending a punch over. You drew your sword, swinging to deflect it. You knew it would not do anything to him, but in the moment anything seemed like a rational thought. You forgot he wasn’t normal. His hand reattached itself behind you before striking you in the back of the head. You stumbled, not ready to hit the floor yet. You recovered quickly before charging again. You disappeared, but your footsteps gave you away. Buggy threw punches, missing most of the time, but catching you once he heard your footsteps more clearly. You swung a sword at him repeatedly, chopping him into tiny pieces before he put himself together. You held a grip on your neck, throwing you against one of the shrouds. You reappeared before him, his fingers growing a tighter grip around your throat. His laugh grew more annoying to you than ever.

He stepped down with a bit of a flashy performative state as if he was ready to do a show for the entire ship, bouncing with every step. “Checkmate, sunshine.” He laughed before stepping onto the bowsprit. He jumped off, landing on a smaller boat. You were paralyzed as he left his hand there to keep you pinned. “You morons! Go get him!” You cried out. The only non-bounded crew attempted to grab a smaller boat before realizing they were all sunk and destroyed by Buggy's crew. “Captain we don’t have any…” One of them confessed. You were finally released, and you rushed over to the railing before screaming out into the sea.

“Fucking listen to me! I never go against my word! And I will not stop until you and your crew are fucking gone! I will do whatever it takes!” You cried out. You were completely and utterly embarrassed and defeated.

-now-

“You know…you always knew how to make a girl feel so special.” You said sardonically.

“I mean- I made you feel pretty special at the marine base didn’t I?” Buggy reminded you. It seemed like this was something that was constantly going to be held over your head.

“You’re fucking ridiculous…” You shook your head. You weren’t sure if you were willing to go through this humiliation anymore. You stood up, trying to get the point across.

“I mean- it is your choice.” Buggy hops off his large chair, taking steps towards you. He walked over to you like a dark cloud ready to engulf you in. “You could either leave and hold this embarrassment of sitting here on my floor begging for me or…” His gloved hand reached down to your chin gently as he lifted your head up to look him in the eye. “I can give you exactly what you’ve been apparently thinking about every single night.” His last words huffed out, mocking the desperation you obviously were in.

You fell for it almost immediately. Your legs grew weak, your chest rose up and down quicker and your body leaned into Buggy’s touch, so desperate for him to give you exactly what you were craving. You broke his gaze out of complete embarrassment of what you’ve become. You’ve never behaved this way towards any man. No one made you feel the way Buggy did.

Your eyes left his and to a bottle that he carried in his room. “Fine- but can I have a drink so I can at the very least?” You needed more courage. Something to break the persona you had going for you.

Buggy’s hand flew to the bottle that he watched your eyes revert to, grabbing it before landing it back in between the two of you. “If it makes you less of a prude, be my guest.” His lips curled into a smirk. His finger flung the cap off before handing it over to you. You took a heavy breath, preparing for the awful strong taste before taking a pretty hefty swig. You’ve gotten a lot more used to it due to your time at sea. But it never got easy or tasted good enough.

You took a few more, gagging at the taste before setting it down. “I’m not a fucking prude by the way. I just need some sense of dignity.” You insulted him.

“You lost that bit of dignity the moment you came in. here begging me to fuck you.” He pointed out. He grabbed the bottle before taking a drink out of it with no problem. Just another way Buggy wanted to show off to you. The bottle sat back down on the counter, Buggy turning right back to you. His hand laid on your lower back, pulling your body against his significantly larger one. Your eyes laid on him, taking in everything you found strangely beautiful about it like the day at the Marine base.

Buggy leaned forward, pressing rough kisses into the nap of your neck, biting down a few times. You wanted to protest in fear of having marks being left on you for your crew to see, but the euphoria from it left you speechless. Only a few murmurs and whimpers left your lips. Buggy held your body up, holding you close to him as his kisses peppered down your collarbone. A few gasps left your lips, his teeth sinking into your skin, growing hungrier the more noises you made.

“You really want me that badly?” his voice in a rough tone, undoing your shirt, eager to see you the way he did just a few weeks ago. He exposed you to himself, taking in the sight before toying with your breasts.

You couldn’t help but let out another small whimper, nodding to his question. “Nu-uh. Verbalize your words, darling.” His lips curled into a sinister grin.

“Fuck-“ You were finally able to mutter something out. “Yes- Yes Buggy, I want you. Really really bad.” You gave him what he wanted. You just knew this would boost his ego tremendously.

“You’re a lot more pathetic than I assumed you were.” He couldn’t help himself. You always kept such a hard cold exterior. No one knew the real new under the persona you played. Maybe it wasn’t even a persona. Who knew? But he was able to crack the persona and get such a new version of you. It was so easy to him. There was a bit of pushback, but he was able to see something about almost no one ever got to see.

His hands roamed down your body, pressing his lips across your neck and shoulder. He grabbed the skirt you had on, putting his hand underneath. His fingers grazed the outside of your underwear, laughing to himself. “And you’re already so soaked…” He continued to pester you. “On the floor.” He ordered. You nodded, taking a seat down in front of him, completely at his will. “You look so much prettier at this angle.” His fingers caressed your cheek.

You were so distracted, staring at him to realize his hand made its way back under your skirt. You felt a pressure press up against you, a moan escaping your lips. “So much prettier when you’re acting like a little whore like this.” Buggy’s gaze grew darker, thinking of sinister things to do to you. His fingers rubbed circles over your clit, growing faster and faster. Your whimpers and moans got louder.

His fingers moved your panties to the side, sliding two fingers into you. You gasped at the suddenness. His fingers pumped into you slowly at first but grew quicker over time. You gripped your thighs, letting moans slip through your lips.

You bucked your hips but felt the absence of his fingers. “You’re not cuming without me, sweetheart. You gotta work for it.” You sat up straighter, reaching for the waistband of his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers. His cock sprang up, hard already from watching you squirm around under his touch.

Your hands wrapped around his shaft, pumping him before bringing the head of his cock into your mouth. Your lips wrapped around him, bobbing your head. You removed your hands the more of him you took into your mouth. Buggy’s lips faintly pulled apart as his breathing grew heavier, soft moans leaving his lips. “Look up at me.” He called out to you. You obeyed, your eyes meeting his. He admired you for a second before snapping back to before.

He grew hotter, pulling his shirt off, throwing it off somewhere in the room, fully exposing himself to you. His hand grabbed a fist full of your hair, pushing your head down quickly. You gagged against him, his cock hitting the back of your throat. He watched you struggle to breathe, tears forming at the corners of your eyes before finally pulling you back to get some air. He let you gain control once again. He threw his head back, letting a moan slip out his lips before staring down at you once again.

Your pace grew faster, trying to concentrate on making him feel as good as he made you feel. “You look so much better with my cock in your mouth, you know that?” he attempted to say through heavy breaths. He felt himself grow closer before pulling away from you. He pulled you up by your hair, dragging you as he did so.

You yelped, following his guide as he finally released your hair out of his grip. “Take it off… All of it.” He sat down at the edge of his bed, his eyes laid on your body.

“You are such a pervert, y’know that?” You said before pulling off your skirt painfully slowly in Buggy’s opinion. “I’m not the one sneaking onto ships for a late-night booty call, am I? I think the real pervert is you.”

He made a valid point that you couldn’t argue. You stripped for him, baring yourself completely for him. He had no words. Nothing snarky or petty. He just sat there and admired you. He didn’t get to actually stare as much as he wanted to at the Marine Base. This time he had a complete view of you. “On the bed. Now.”

You took soft, unrushed steps towards the bed. Buggy grew impatient, grabbing your waist and pulling you onto the bed. You felt his hand strike your cheek, holding it before it started to burn. “You’re gonna listen to everything I say tonight, got it?” He threatened before wrapping his hand around your throat. “Now, are you gonna be a stupid fucking whore or are you gonna be good?” he asked, warning you of your answer as his grasp tightened around your neck.

“Can’t I be both?” You answered sarcastically. Your air flow grew more restricted. Buggy’s jaw tightened as he gave you one last warning. “I don’t know. Do you want to be able to cum tonight? Or am I gonna have you all I want and send you fantasizing about me more?”

You took time to think, wanting to test the waters a bit more before feeling another strike hit your cheek. “Times clicking. Come on, even though I wish we did, we don’t have all night.” “Fine- I’ll try to be good..” You reluctantly replied. Buggy had no choice but to take that response. His lips crashed against yours, moving his grip from your throat back onto your hair. He tugged at it slightly. Your lips move in unison together.

Buggy’s lips moved down to your jaws, making his way down as he peppered kisses down your body.

His lips ended at your inner thighs. You squirmed, eager for him to touch you again. You whimpered, needing him to finally give you what you wanted.

“You’re such a pathetic whore.” He laughed lowly. His hand reached over, lets his fingers graze you slightly. You twitched, bucking your hips for more.

“Please-please just touch me…” You began begging. His painted lips grew into a mischievous smirk. He was enjoying every second of breaking you down completely at his whim.

“Say my name.” He knew it would only break you more.

You groaned at the request but gave in quickly. “Please Buggy- Please just fucking touch me. Fuck me. Just please.”

He obeyed your plea. His thumb pressed light pressure against your clit, rubbing small circles. You gripped onto his sheets, covering your face to muffle out your moans as you let out an ‘oh fuck.” Immediately after. Your cheeks flushed red. Buggy ripped the sheets away from you. “Nu-uh… you wanted this. No need to be so embarrassed now.” He had to have a humiliation kink. If you’d let him, you wouldn’t doubt that he would have you chained and forced to walk around him in public.

His head leaned closer to your cunt, finally letting his tongue glide across your folds. Your back arched, your breath growing uneasy. His tongue swiped up and down, finding the perfect pace. His movements grew fasters as his thumb left your clit, being replaced with his tongue. He sucked on your clit a few times, loving the reaction you gave him every time.

“Fuck me- please just fuck me. I want you in me right now.” You interrupted him. He pulled away quickly, hoping you’d ask even sooner.

“You’re such a greedy whore.” He lined himself up with you before pushing himself inside you. His moan syncing with yours. Your hand gripped onto his muscular lean arm, After pumping into you a few times, you adjusted to his size. He spent no time trying to get you to get used to him. His hips slammed against your ass furiously, leaving the room with nothing but the sound of skins slapping together and breathy whimpers and moans. He leaned forward, bringing your leg up to give him more access to you.

You both caught each other's gaze before Buggy pushed your head to the side, pressing it against the bed, using you as nothing but support as he used your body as his own personal sex toy. Something about it made it so much better to you. There was no passion. Just sex. You both were using each other and that’s exactly how you wanted it to remain. Just dirty, animalistic sex. His thrust grew faster causing you to buck your hips towards him. You needed him.

His hand moved away from your face, wrapping around your throat tightly. He squeezed your throat as he would whenever you two would get into small battles with each other. He couldn’t keep his eyes away from you. His other hand moved to the back of your head, moving it up roughly, forcing you to watch him fuck you. “You like watching yourself get fucked?” He hissed before striking you once more, moving his hand back to your throat.

“Yes- I love it.” You cried. Your moans grew out of sync and faster once you were about to hit your limit. You couldn’t hold out longer, cumming all over his cock as he continued to fuck you. Your cheek stung after his open hand swung across your cheek. His hand gripped your jaw, forcing your attention to him. “I didn’t tell you when you could cum, did I?” he sounded furious, slapping you again.

You shook your head. Tears began to leak down your face, ruining the makeup you had put on earlier in the day. Dark black streaks of make-up ran down your cheek. “You’re such a whore. You couldn’t wait, could you?” He berated you. You shook your head again. Buggy spit across your face, causing your makeup to run even more. “Just a little plaything for me to use.” Buggy continued.  

“I-I’m sorry…” You attempted to say. You were already reaching a second climax. “Please let me cum again…” You learned. He trained you to be exactly what he wanted.

“Not until I say you can.” Buggy gripped your hips, using them to move against him as he thrusted into you. As he got closer, his thrusts grew sloppier, mainly using his grip on you to bounce you against him. “Fuck-“ he muttered out of breath. He pulled out of you, jerking himself off over you. You propped yourself up with your elbows, sticking your tongue out. “You’re so fucking disgusting.” He laughed at you. He leaned in, spitting in your mouth before shoving two of his fingers deep down your throat before pulling them out to replace his cock. He laid the head of his cock against your tongue before letting his cum release onto your tongue and a bit of your face. He pulled away before getting off the bed. He kneeled down, grabbing your legs, pulling you forward. He dived back into your cunt, this time with a quicker pace. His fingers entered you, pumping into you. Before he knew it, you began begging for him to let you cum. And he granted you the right. You climaxed, cumming around his fingers. You were left completely sore.

“I need to take a fucking bath…” Realization hit you. Your face was covered in spit and cum and your body littered with not just your sweat, but Buggy’s as well.

“Ya it’s on the right.” Buggy pointed out the bathroom. He was a lot softer and sweeter than he was just a few minutes away. “Do you need a towel?” He asked, getting up to check on you. Mostly out of concern and some for other perverted reasons.

“Uh- I think I found them…” You mumbled. You entered Buggy’s bathroom, taken aback by the luxuries he apparently had on board. Makes sense for someone who was obsessed with themselves you guessed. You didn’t bother closing the door. You filled the tub up, putting soap in it before sliding into it. “You can watch… I know you really want to pervert.” You called out to him. “Already a step ahead of you.” He called back out, laying on his back, taking a peak at you from the comfort of his own bed.

You grabbed a wash rag, scrubbing your body down before washing your face off. You removed all the makeup you spent time putting on earlier today. You were never really comfortable with people seeing you without makeup. You weren’t too comfortable with people seeing you naked either. And Buggy has seen one of those already. So it seemed less of a big deal. You drained the bath, stepping out. You patted yourself dry before coming back to the bedroom in search of your clothes.

“Why don’t you spend the night?” Buggy proposed. 

“Why? So your crew could rob us?” You questioned.

“You can go check on my crew. Half of them are setting up for the show tomorrow or getting black out drunk tonight.” Buggy offered. You scoffed, continuing your search. “Please-.” You heard Buggy’s pleads. You sighed, looking him down before giving in.

“Fine… But this won’t ever happen again. Got it?” You warned. Just like you did at the Marine base.

“Fucking yea yea. Go on. You’re the leader here.” Buggy returned to his sarcastic self after making himself look like a complete fool. You didn’t bother looking for your clothes before sneaking into his bed. It was almost like getting onto a cloud. Either Buggy robbed some rich elite prick or Buggy dropped an obscene amount of berries for it. Judging by Buggy’s room and his clear taste for luxury, you already knew which one it was.

You rested your head onto one of his pillows, letting your body rest. You didn’t realize how tired you actually were. You felt an eeriness, turning your head to see Buggy examining you. “Please don’t mention it.” You begged.

“You’re a lot less intense without all of that on…” Buggy mentioned it.

You shielded your face, groaning from embarrassment. “We all have personas. You have your clown thing. I have my intense dark thing. Drop it. Please.” “I think it looks rather nice. Cuter. Less stabby.” Buggy tried to compliment and joke to ease your discomfort. You unshielded yourself, nodding and taking the compliment.

“Thank you Buggy.” You mumbled. Your body turned to him. Your eyes attempted to stay awake for his sake and for fear of him betraying you. “See. Adorable. Like a little rabbit.” Buggy chuckled. He cautiously scooted closer to you and rested his hand on your hip. His hand slowly stroked your hip, not able to keep his eyes off you. He leaned in to press a kiss over you before you pulled away. “I don’t think that’s a great idea. We’re not having sex. You don’t need to play house with me.” You warned. You didn’t want to break a boundary. It bruised Buggy’s ego, but he covered it quickly.

“No round 2? You’re right. I’m tired too.” He tried to quickly recover. You felt guilty, but it was too much intimacy.

A silence fell over the two of you as you laid there, attempting to sleep. The awkwardness keeping you both up. You broke the silence. “You can hold me if you want…” You whispered.

It was dark inside the room, allowing Buggy to truly express how he felt. His lips grew into a huge goofy smile before wrapping his arms around you reluctantly. But in reality, that’s all he wanted. “I get it. The dark can be scary.” Buggy mocked you.

“Shut up and go to sleep.” You retaliated.

You leaned into one another. Your head resting over his chest and his arms wrapped around your waist. Your hand rested on his toned arms. He rubbed circles into your hips, relaxing you. You both knocked out, wrapped around each other.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You woke up early enough to make your escape unknown. You checked on Buggy to see if he was awake. Poor thing. You didn’t want to break his heart. You dressed yourself and gathered all your belongings.

Even the map to the grand line Buggy stole from you months ago. You vanished within thin air and escaped the boat. You woke your entire crew up, faking a story of a terrible encounter with Buggy. Thankfully you had enough time to cover your marks up, leaving a few to make the fight look believable. Your legs were littered with bruises. Your arm had a few scratches, and your chest had a few scattered around.

And there. You left port for a new island to hide out to.

Notes: This fan fic really represents how i've felt after realizing i was attracted to a clown rather than a normal character in the show

[moon-huny]

Stole the Moon - Chapter One

CW: My content is not for anyone under 18. Mostly suggestive flirting and mentions of kidnapping and imprisonment. Reader character has sustained head injury. Oh, you also get choked. Buggy is an a-hole, but that's why we all love him.

Word Count: 2K

Summary: You've been kidnapped and can't remember a thing. Good news! Ole Captain Buggy is here to make you feel more like yourself.

A/N: Alright this is my first ever fan fiction to grace the website we all know and love. I originally wanted to be a fic writer when I joined tumblr, and now, my time has finally come. This Buggy is very much based off of OPLA, since I never actually got into the anime until recently. Tying to keep him in character, but the plot is very much of my own design.

Being new to this, I would love any feedback you might have. Likes, comments and reblogs are welcome, and would make my little heart sing. Okay, that's all, enjoy.

masterlist ✧˖°

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“Hey, sleeping beauty, wake up.” 

You woke to his voice. Your eyes slowly opening – or attempted to open – before becoming conscious of a stabbing aching pain racking your skull. You rolled over on your side, cradling your head in your hands and shutting your eyes tight. The soft candle light in the dark of your room eased the pain, but whatever relief you found was immediately wiped out by the shrill sound of him speaking.

“Ya know, I thought they killed you.” You could hear his heavy steps pacing the room, the sound too loud, his voice too harsh. He spoke with such levity, a certain air of nonchalance in his tone. He thought this was funny.

“I mean, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy getting you aboard my ship,” he paused, grabbing a chair and dragging it across the floor. A high pitched sound emitting from wood scraping wood – a sound he made on purpose just to cause more pain. You winced.

“But I didn’t think my crew hurt you this badly.” A tone of mock concern fell from his lips. “You must have put up a real knock out fight.”

He sat across from you. Spreading his legs and leaning over to get closer. Your body was curled up on a poorly made and uncomfortable plank of wood some might dare to call a bed. The “blankets” around you were nothing more than used burlap and tattered bits of sail.

He got quiet, you heard the ocean and people stomping and shouting above you. Then, so quietly, just above a whisper, “I don’t usually keep damaged goods, but you’re much better off lying here than wreaking havoc on my ship.”

It took all your strength to peel open your eyes and pull your hands away from your head. Breathing heavily, you pushed yourself upright. The clench in your jaw both from the pain you were in and the anger you felt.

Through your blurry vision, you could just barely make out a red nose. His eyes were piercing green, like the ocean after a storm. The clown makeup, the bright blue hair, you’d seen his wanted poster before.

Buggy the Clown – wanted for 15,000,000 Berry.

“I’ll burn this whole ship down,” you said. “I’ll sink it to the bottom of the East Blue.” 

Your threat came out much weaker than you intended. You were fighting nausea and an intense dizziness you were struggling to keep under control. It seems the clown caught on. He gently pushed his palm into your forehead with a flourish causing you to fall back down onto the bed gripping either side of your head in your hands.

“Aw see,” he said, standing to lean over your body. “That’s why you’re gonna stay right here,” he said, punctuating the last two words.

He made his way to the exit and grabbed the barred door. He pulled it shut with a loud clatter. You felt the metal sound resonate in your skull causing you to push your palms into your eyes.

“Night night, doll! We’ll chat some more tomorrow.” A loud cackling laugh resounded down the hallway. It made you want to scream.

///

And so, he came back to torture you everyday. Never brought you food or water, instead opting to send random crew members each visit. He didn’t want you making any friends. The only constant was one meal at night and a prompt visit from him following. He never said much, and if he did, you could hardly recall what you spoke about.

You started feeling better. You were able to get up, start walking around your prison. You clocked that you’d been at sea only four days. One porthole you could see out of – if you climbed some precarious boxes – told you you were in the middle of nowhere. Far away from any visible land.

The sun was setting, the sky turning a gorgeous orange color and the ocean turning pink in return. His boots thumped down the stairs, you could hear him shouting up towards the deck, “Hey, shit for brains, if I didn’t make myself clear earlier, I want to be docked in that harbor YESTERDAY! GET. A. MOVE ON!” 

Wherever this circus boat was headed, it was moving fast, but clearly not fast enough. What was the hurry? What was the clown’s goal? And with so little in the cargo hold … It wasn’t like he had a huge haul. Were we being followed by another ship? You didn’t ever see anyone from your tiny window, and the conversations above were so muffled that gathering any kind of intelligence was near impossible.

“HONEY, I’M HOME!”

You ran from your porthole back onto the bed, pulling the blankets up around you. You did your best to slow your breathing and pretend you were asleep.

“Oh sweets,” he sighed, draping himself through the bars. “I know you’re awake.”

The smile you knew he had on, the sickeningly sweet way he spoke to you, it made you angry. You heard the door unlock and slowly swing open. 

You were feeling stronger. Though the ship was in the middle of nowhere, if you could just surprise him, lock him up long enough to get to a lifeboat. You could get away.

“Doll, enough games, okay? It's only fun when I want to play, and I really don’t feel like playing with my toys right now.”

He got closer, close enough you decided. You sprang from the bed making a move to pull any number of the knives from his belt. As you grabbed for his waist, you felt a gloved hand wrap itself around your throat and push you against the wall.

“Oh ho ho, you have GOT to be KIDDING.” He laughed hysterically. “I mean wow, honey, I knew you were bold but I didn’t take you for an idiot,” he spat the last insult inches from your face tightening his grip. Your hands flew up to his wrist attempting to loosen the strangling grip he had on you.

His body pressed to yours, his knee slotting itself in the space between your legs. You were fully pinned, unable to move with the full weight of the pirate against you.

That’s when you heard the long knife unsheathe itself from his belt. The sharp metal pushing into your side. Your eyes, once full of defiance, widened to reflect the fear you felt. Your eyebrows pressing together in a pleading look as your lungs burned, the need for air growing stronger.

“Mhmm, I knew I’d like that face on you,” he whispered. “You gonna be a good girl if I let you go?” You nodded slowly, then felt the knife push impossibly further to the flesh of your hip. The nod quickened, your eyes clamping shut, preparing for the worst.

Then, he let you drop. Your hands flying to your throat, bruising surely setting in, as you gasped for air.

“I told you, doll, not in the mood to play,” he said, sheathing the weapon. “I have something I need from you.”

He nodded in the direction of the small table and stools. You hesitantly pulled yourself upright, sharpened gaze never once leaving his larger figure. You were like a mouse in a cage with a snake – look away and you might be his next meal.

You sat across one another as he pulled a map from his coat. His large gloved hands smoothed the cotton-soft paper out in front of you. The candlelight flickered over the page, the night finally setting in, the air growing colder. 

The thin slip-like dress you wore did barely enough to retain your modesty. You pulled your arms across your chest, staving off the cold and attempting to cover your chest. Sitting there with him eyeing you across the table, you became more aware of your body and the night air prickling your skin. If he was attracted to your shape, he didn’t show it.

“You know what this is?” he asked.

“A map,” you replied flatly.

He laughed. “Funny, sweetheart. Yeah, your captain knows it’s – .”

“YOU are NOT my captain,” you spat back before he could even finish his sentence.

The smile spread further across his face, “If you aren’t joining my crew then you'll stay my prisoner.”

“Is that what this is about, you want me to join your band of seafaring freaks?” You were picking a fight you knew you couldn’t win. He knew it too.

“I think I made myself very clear but, if you need a little extra explaining, I don’t mind. You did hit that pretty head very hard a few weeks ago.”

“Weeks?” You did your best to keep your voice even as panic began to settle in your chest. 

“Your…” it took a moment for him to find the right words, “temperament was difficult to say the least. If I thought getting you on board was hard, oh boy! Talk about keeping you quiet! But, it wasn’t anything a little sleeping powder couldn’t fix.” 

He’s cocky, he knew springing this information on you would leave you feeling confused and uncertain. Was every move he made this calculated? 

“We all got used to how quiet you were, so much … easier to watch.” His eyes traced up and down your frame. You got your answer, that remark was calculated and so was his decision to finally regard your attire.

He was stronger, he had more weapons at his disposal. The clown capitan knew he could say whatever he wanted, and there was hardly anything you could do about it. But that didn’t stop you from opening your mouth.

“What do you want with me and why the hell am I on your ship?”

All he could do was smile and chuckle in return, “That’s so funny, beautiful, truly. You are so much more entertaining when you're conscious. But, I’m going to need you to stop playing dumb, okay? It’s really starting to piss me off.”

His eyes were getting darker, his words sharpening. You were really starting to wish you knew what he was talking about but, god help you, you had no clue. You couldn’t remember how you got here, and now that you started racking your brain for answers, you realized you couldn’t remember anything about yourself. 

Your name? Yes. You knew that. Family? Nothing. Village? A small seaside town, but the details were fuzzy. Who were you before this? You didn’t even know how long you were at sea and now you can’t even remember the basics.

The confusion in your mind began to make itself plain on your face.

“Oh no,” his tone began to change, the grin dropping from his face. “No no no no no -- you really don’t know do you?”

You looked up and saw his expression contorted between realization and anger. “SHIT! No! Gah! This was not supposed to happen this way! God fucking DAMN IT!”

He pushed himself up from the table with a fury, and something you’d never seen him carry before, frustration. Up until now, the blue haired man had acted with such a confident air, but now, it seemed like everything was falling apart. You made no move to speak, just watched as he paced the room spitting various curses into the empty space.

Then he finally turned to you, slowly on his heels. “No, you know what, this is fine.” He smiled, collecting himself. “All of this is just fine.” He began to stalk toward you.

“You’re here, on my ship, and that is alllllll that matters right now.” He placed both hands down on the table in front of you, leaning over the map and getting dangerously close to your face.

“We will just have to work through this little hiccup together. Huh? What do you say?”

“You can go to hell. I don’t know anything about this map, or what you need from me. Any information you're looking for is gone because your moronic sideshow and its excessive force scrambled any memories I had,” you spat.

“Okay gorgeous,” his emerald eyes not breaking contact with your (e/c). “Suit yourself.” 

His tactics weren’t working, he knew it. It was time to change the game. Play from a different angle. You didn’t remember who you were, what you were, he’d help you remember, and maybe add a few memories into the mix. The mind was a fragile place, its chemistry could be changed so easily. Enough of the fear and frustration, it’s always easier to attract flies with honey than with vinegar.