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scribble-dribble-writes · 1 year ago

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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 😭😭😭

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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.

#buggy x reader #buggy thoughts #op buggy #one piece buggy #captain buggy #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #opla #op live action #opla buggy #op fluff #op fanart #one piece fan fiction #one piece fluff

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randomrecsknifedrawer · 1 year ago

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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,”

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.

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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

#one piece #one piece live action #opla #zosan #zosan opla #zosan fic #zosan fic rec #fic rec #fan fiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 fic rec #one piece fanfiction #opla zosan #own post #opla zosan fic rec p1

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nehswritesstuffs · 1 year ago

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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.

8 notes · View notes

nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 1 year ago

Note

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.”

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anystalker707 · 5 months ago

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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.

#one piece #one piece live action #opla #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #x reader #x male reader #x female reader #gender-neutral #sanji x reader #sanji x male reader #sanji x female reader #oneshot #fan fic #fan fiction

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short-honey-badger · 1 year ago

Text

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.

#fanfic #fan fiction #one piece #reader insert #dracule mihawk #red haired shanks #opla #peppermint tea #mihawk x reader #shanks x reader #mihawk x shanks

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naomihatake · 1 year ago

Text

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.

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scribble-dribble-writes · 2 years ago

Text

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.

#buggy x reader #one piece buggy #buggy thoughts #op buggy #captain buggy #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #buggy x y/n #buggy x you #opla buggy #opla #op live action #op fluff #op fanfic #one piece fan fiction

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moon-huny · 1 year ago

Text

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.

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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.

#buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy opla #buggy the clown #captain buggy #buggy X y/n #buggy fanfic #op buggy #buggy d clown #one piece buggy #buggy one piece #buggy smut #stole the moon

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vespidphoenix · 11 months ago

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Entirely at your service

Tag list: @fanaticsnail @turtletaubwrites @weaversofnulbundin

It's Sanji's turn to stay on the Thousand Sunny while the rest of the Straw Hats explore a new island, so he makes his way up to the crow's nest for his watch. He is pleasantly surprised in more ways than one by what, or rather who, he finds up there.

Notes: NSFW, minors begone, lots of swearing, friends to lovers, porn with feelings, idiots in love, chubby OC, some angst, lots of fluff, praise kink, breast worship, consent really is sexy, inappropriate(?) use of observation haki, etc; word count 6.3k

AN: Baby's first fan fiction! Ya girl can have a little a shameless self-insert, as a treat. I've only seen OPLA and I'm not past the East Blue in the manga/anime yet, but I've done my best to keep everything consistent with canon.

AN 2: I use French as the language of the Celestial Dragons, and both Sanji and Amy are fluent. Most of the time, I'll put the English words in brackets at the end of the paragraph, but there are some recurring phrases that I'll leave untranslated: mère bleue is 'blue mother', as in Mother Ocean; merde is 'shit'; mon amour, chérie, and ma chère are endearments

Chapter One: you are here! | Next chapter | Masterlist

Edit: read this chapter on ao3!

(Banner courtesy of @cafekitsune)

As soon as the hatch leading to the crow’s nest clangs shut, Sanji sets his snack tray on the floor mats and collapses with a dramatic groan.

“Fuck me raw,” he sighs.

“As appealing as that sounds, that’s gonna have to wait another couple days per Chopper’s advice,” a feminine voice deadpans behind him.

Sanji sits upright with a start, nearly knocking over his water bottle. “Mère bleue!” he exclaims as he turns to face his crew mate; “for some reason I thought you were in the landing party today.”

Amy’s reply is drowned out by the pounding of Sanji’s heart when he blinks and notices just how casually she is dressed. He recognizes her sarong as a recent gift from a grateful cloth merchant—he would stand by the assertion that everything looked good on Nami, the original recipient, but he’d have to agree with her that it suited their crew’s interpreter better—and the crocheted halter top as Amy’s own handiwork. He feels a sudden itch to find out for himself just how soft a yarn she chose for this particular work of art…

For lack of a mirror, Amy could not see what her face looked like; but she imagined that if she could, her eyes would be wide and sparkling with mischief. It’s certainly the feeling she always seems to get whenever she’s face-to-face with the handsome blond before her: a grin pressing at her cheeks to escape through the seam of lips pressed together, eyelids spread as if to take in more of him.

(Sometimes, she reckons she could spread other parts of herself for that purpose, if she thought him willing to put his money where his mouth always seems to go.)

“I’m not complaining, mind you,” she continues to say, “but this is the third—no, fourth time in a row!”

Sanji gulps and shakes the slightly-glazed expression from his face. “I’m sorry, can you say that again? I was…distracted by your beauty.” He winks one piercing blue eye, and skepticism be damned, she feels heat creeping over her body and pooling between her legs.

Amy rolls her eyes and fidgets with her sarong in lieu of making a snarky comment about blindfolds.

“As I was saying while you were ogling me, I was going to be one of the landing party, but Nami insisted on having Usopp join her in mapping the island because my handwriting is so much better than his, so I should be the one to help you with inventory. She’s not wrong, per se, but this is the third or fourth time in a row this has happened, and part of me wants to call bullshit.”

“Part of you? What about the rest of you?” Sanji asks, resolutely fixing his gaze on Amy’s eyes instead of letting it drift to her bust or the soft rolls of her exposed torso.

This time it’s Amy’s turn to deliver a blush-inducing wink. “The rest of me is simply happy to be spending time with you.”

“Well, lucky for us, sweetheart, I took the liberty of doing inventory earlier this morning so that Miss Nami would have a grocery list,” Sanji replies after taking a deep breath, “so I am…entirely at your service.”

Entirely at your service. The words tickle Amy as she takes in Sanji’s shirtless form, supine once more and sporting that megawatt grin. As her gaze trickles down from his abs to those steel-hard thighs, she can’t even bring herself to be annoyed by how smug he looks; Mother Ocean knows how handsome he knows he is, how hard he’s worked to earn those well-toned—

“Have I rendered you speechless, mademoiselle?”

Sanji’s voice, sultry and teasing, interrupts her train of thought.

Entirely at your service.

Sanji knows he’s close to some sort of victory when Amy’s face flushes even more deeply and she still doesn’t answer right away. There’s something uniquely thrilling about fencing with words and looks the way Mosshead trains with Wado Ichimonji—maneuvering, testing, anticipating, parrying, scoring—and he reckons it has to do with the way both parties win something if one goes about it correctly.

He watches and sits up as Amy walks around to his front before she settles next to the tray of snacks. His heart thumps harder in his chest the same way that foolish thing does every time they’re in such close proximity, not quite touching but close enough that he wouldn’t even need to fully extend his arm were he to caress her cheek—

“You don’t need to sit up on my account, handsome. Maybe I’ll take you up on your offer later, but right now maybe I’ll serve you some—how does that sound?” Amy plucks a single grape from the cluster and holds it above his mouth.

Maybe I’ll serve you some.

It’s not often Sanji allows himself to contemplate what he might do with such an offer. As a child, he’d served in order to live; as an adolescent and now as an adult, he lives to serve. But sometimes it occurs to him that letting someone serve him instead can itself be an act of…well…service.

(It will take some time before he allows himself even to think the word ‘love’ in place of ‘service’, and longer still before he allows himself to speak it; but it’s there, waiting like a daffodil bulb in early March for safe conditions to bloom.)

There will be time for Sanji to unpack all of this later, when a beautiful woman is not offering him a grape that looks as sweet and delicious as the person holding it, looking at him with the inviting heat of an onsen—or perhaps it is the sort of hunger that no amount of grapes can quench but he might be able to satisfy anyway.

All Blue forbid he keep a lady waiting. He lowers himself back onto the floor mats and opens his mouth.

“Good boy,” Amy teases in her best attempt at a sultry purr, frowning when Sanji gives her a strange look and shifts uncomfortably instead of rolling his eyes. “Sorry, does my femme fatale impression need work? Too over-the-top, not campy enough, too demeaning?”

“No, that was—no, no, you’re fine,” he replies, suddenly a little breathless. “How about that grape?”

If Amy notices the hunger filling both his mind and his gym shorts, she mercifully does not comment on it.

There’s a look in Sanji’s eyes that, if she didn’t know better, Amy might call naked desire, and the idea renders her dizzy with want, or it could be dehydration—she’s not sure, not in this weather. She drops the grape in Sanji’s waiting mouth, pats his jaw, and gets up to let a breeze in through a window.

She can hear the slight frown in Sanji’s voice when he calls, “Are you alright, darling? Can I get you something to drink? I think I saw a fountain somewhere…”

“You’re not beating the waiter allegations from Zoro anytime soon, are you?” Amy chuckles, the cooler air having relieved her flustered state.

“He can call me a scullion for all I care; it’s a small price to pay to see you satisfied.” The chef curses under his breath; there are no spare cups up here, so sharing his canteen will have to suffice. He brings it to Amy with an apologetic smile.

She takes a sip and smiles gratefully, and allows her eyes once again to wander over Sanji’s chiseled body. “I have a tall glass of water to drink from, and that’s a good place to start.”

Sanji draws a sudden breath and runs a hand through his hair. “Keep talking like that, and we might not get to finish the snacks I brought up.”

A wicked grin spreads over Amy’s face, and Sanji knows he’s fallen into his own trap.

“How about I help you finish your snack, and you help me finish mine?”

He groans and tilts his head back, and the creeping heat that became smoldering want is stoked into flame by the huskiness of his voice, by the way his neck seems further exposed, there for the kissing—

“Say the word, Amy, and all of it is yours.”

Amy merely smiles. She steps past him, hooking an arm around the far side of his waist as she goes; when he spins around to face her once again, she tugs on the hand suddenly holding hers.

“You gonna have a seat or what?” she asks, nodding toward the tray.

A moment’s hesitation, and Sanji steps forward into the gap between them.

“Are you gonna call me a good boy if I do?” he asks almost under his breath, just above a whisper.

They’re standing so, so close together now, Sanji is sure Amy can feel his breath on her forehead and the place where his shorts are almost too tight to contain him—because she might have called him a tall glass of water, but to him her eyes are Dressrosi kahlua, and he is so drunk on her gaze he would confess to a lot more than his longings, just for another shot.

“I can call you anything you like,” she breathes, “when I am entirely at your service.”

Their lips meet now in a kiss that, for all the repartee and flirtation that preceded it, is gentle and unhurried, a moment to be savored. After a few moments they pull apart, all smiles, long enough for Sanji to remark:

“I’m pretty sure that’s supposed to be my line.”

The pair dissolve into giggles and quick pecks as Sanji finally lays himself down beside the snacks.

To his left, recumbent and supporting herself on one arm, Amy realizes her mistake and gestures to the tray. "Would you mind passing me those?" she asks.

"I thought you were supposed to be serving me," he replied with a mock pout and still-twinkling eyes.

"I was always taught it was impolite to reach directly across someone's personal space." Amy raises an eyebrow, still looking amused.

Gently, tentatively, as if reaching out to pet a cat, Sanji places his left hand on the small of her back. The hitch in Amy's breath at his touch and the way her eyes widen send a tingling sensation down his spine, straight to his groin. He flashes her the most charming smile he can muster.

"Chérie, in case I haven't made it clear, I want you in my personal space; and unless I am reading you wrong, in which case I apologize sincerely..." He begins to remove his hand.

"No, no, keep doing that—"

(Amy almost doesn't recognize that plaintive voice as her own, but the way his broad palm spread across her back and the soothing way he moved his thumb in little circles have seared themselves into her mind like an addiction.)

Sanji, that smug, sexy bastard, grins and does as he is told.

“…if I am not mistaken, you want me in your personal space, too.”

Amy is speechless for a moment with an embarrassment she can’t quite explain, but she knows exactly how to get back at Sanji. With his hand back in its place holding her, she smiles sweetly and says:

“Thank you…”

—she moves not only to reach across him for the food, but also to straddle him entirely, which she is sure was his plan to begin with; but then she leans her head close to his, and her smile turns impish—

“…or should I say ‘good boy’?”

Pulling her waist closer with one hand and pushing himself up from the floor with the other arm, Sanji kisses Amy again, trailing along her jawline with an unmistakable urgency.

“Mon amour,” he pleads, “laisse-moi te montrer ce que tu m’inspires…” [Let me show you what you inspire in me...]

“Ho-hold on, lover boy,” Amy gasps, giving the smallest yelp when his hand squeezes a plush asscheek and presses her body against his hardness. “Don’t forget what you came here to do. We don’t—fuck—we don’t waste food.” She pushes against Sanji’s chest and hopes he can see the sympathetic reluctance in her face.

He whimpers. Sanji whimpers, and the sound of it is almost enough to break her resolve; but she knows that if he loved anything in the world more than women, it would be food alone. She presses her forehead to his and a gentle kiss to his nose.

“We don’t waste food.”

If Sanji didn’t know better, he’d think he was dreaming. If he’s dreaming, then woe betide the person who wakes him up, he thinks.

The afternoon sun backlights Amy’s head like a halo, and the breeze through the window causes her brown hair to flutter like a curtain or a sacred veil. Sanji thanks whatever deities are listening—for surely the vision above him is divine in source as well as appearance—for every person before him who fumbled their chance at the privilege that is now his. Hell if he knows what a rejected-princeling-turned-pirate-cook could possibly offer that is worthy of a goddess like this; but he would devote himself to her, be her high priest, beg her to take him as her throne—anything for the heaven in her embrace, if she would only let him.

We don’t waste food.

The reminder nudges Sanji out of his angst, and he grins. “Let’s have those snacks, then, before we get carried away and fill up on something else.”

He gives Amy one more kiss on her lips, chaste yet searing, and lets her go.

The absence of his hand on her waist feels like a loss, until she sits back to reach for the grapes and feels something pressing below her tailbone. She exchanges a knowing smile with the man pinned beneath her, handsome as a demigod.

“You know, if we share those snacks, they’ll be gone faster,” he muses, before dropping his voice even lower. “Then you and I can have our ways with each other.”

“Someone’s eager.” Amy winks and picks up a piece of bruschetta.

“Eager to please you, eager to serve you, eager to feel you in the throes of bliss—yes, I am eager, and you deserve an eager lover, Amy.”

Amy looks stunned. Sanji gestures to the bread slice in her hand.

“Mind telling me how that bruschetta tastes?” he asks. “I used a different combination of cheese and seasoning since we couldn’t find any mozzarella in the last port.”

You deserve an eager lover.

Amy knows this to be true, knows that a lack of sex is better than mediocre sex; but knowing is one thing, and hearing a would-be lover echo the sentiment is another. Not only that: Sanji says it with such conviction, as if pleading with her to believe it too. It's refreshing. Arousing.

So...maybe she leans forward a bit more than necessary when she brings a morsel to Sanji's waiting mouth, and delights in the way his noises of appreciation seem to be as much for the heft of her breasts as for the acidic tang of the diced tomatoes. Maybe she grinds her bottom on his clothed cock just a little when she reaches for another handful of grapes, and smiles with the knowledge that his moaning isn't only for the bursts of sweetness on his tongue. Maybe she is uncommonly thorough when licking the sticky tangerine juice off his fingers.

Entirely at your service.

Maybe I’ll serve you some.

Swimming as their heads are with heady lust, it takes Sanji and Amy by surprise when they find the snack tray empty. They stare at it in silence for a long moment, before—

“Should I, uh—”

“That went more—”

“No, sorry, you go—”

“You go—”

Sanji sits up, laughing, and Amy kneels in front of him, head cocked to one side.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any condoms on you, or know whether Zoro keeps any up here?” Amy asks quietly.

“Hm? I think Mosshead keeps all his in his belt thing; Franky’s shooting blanks and exclusive with Miss Robin, so they don’t need any—”

“Wait, how does Franky know…”

“Apparently the Surgeon of Death also does vasectomies from time to time—wish I’d thought of that the last time we ran into them.”

“Damn. But do you have any?” Amy asks, leaning closer and poking him gently.

Sanji sighs deeply. “Don’t got any rubbers on me, but I keep some in the bunk room…”

“Hmmm, mais je ne peux plus attendre.” With her left hand on his right cheek, Amy pulls Sanji in for a lingering kiss. “J’ai besoin de toi maintenant.” [but I can't wait anymore; I need you now]

“Fuck, Amy,” Sanji groans between hungry, open-mouthed kisses, “how’m I supposed to resist you when you talk to me all sweet like that?” He slides a hand just above the waist of her sarong for emphasis, and cautiously slips a couple fingertips between fabric and skin.

Amy allows her fingernails to lightly scrape his skin as her free hand finds his spine; the hand already on his face threads through his hair. “You’re not supposed to resist me,” she murmurs into his jawline as she pulls his head back to expose his neck. “You’re supposed to forget about that snack tray, forget about our crewmates”—she places a cluster of kisses along his neck—“and enjoy some time alone with your lover—”

Your lover. The words send shivers coursing over Sanji’s skin.

“—just…enjoy yourself for a while.” She looks up at him through half-lidded eyes and allows one hand to drift down to his waistband.

“Well, when you put it like that—merde, ça me sens bien—let me at least put a towel down for us?” Sanji reluctantly extracts himself from Amy, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand when he catches a pout on her lovely face. [that feels good]

“Make it quick, mon amour…vraiment, j’ai besoin de toi…” [truly, I need you]

Sanji pulls a couple towels from a nearby rack, drapes the larger one so that it flows from the bottom step onto the floor, and sets the smaller one beside it. Approaching Amy, he holds a hand out to her with the air of a gentleman at a ball asking a lady to dance. She takes it and pulls herself up to stand in front of him.

“We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” she asks with an adoring smile.

Sanji cups her face in both of his hands and looks her in the eyes. “We can stop at any time and it won’t cause problems between us, y’know that, right? I want this to be enjoyable for both of us.”

Amy lets her eyes flick down to Sanji’s parted lips before meeting his gaze. “What would really be enjoyable right now is you kissing me…”

“So needy,” he teases, but obliges Amy anyway.

“‘Needy’? The love cook calls me ‘needy’?” she replies with mock outrage. “You’re the one who tricked me into straddling you and got so horny over a simple pet name that you reverted to Celestial!”

Sanji gives her a mischievous smile and another peck. “You stepped into the trap very willingly, though, didn’t you?” Another kiss, lingering a moment, and he adds: “And I know for a fact you loved it when I switched languages.”

“Quoi d’autre peux-tu faire avec ta langue, hmm?” Amy whispers against Sanji’s lips. [What else can you do with your tongue]

“S’il te plaît, chérie,” he whispers in kind, his fingers dancing lightly along one arm as he lifts it to his shoulder, “je peux te démontrer…” [If it please you, I can demonstrate]

Suddenly he bends down, and with a grunt he lifts Amy by her thighs, one on either side of his waist. He sets her down on the towel.

No sooner does Sanji let go of her legs than Amy is on him, gripping his face with both hands and kissing him voraciously.

“That’s so—ungh—so fucking hot, Sanji,” she moans. “Fuck, you’re strong.”

“You’re not that heavy, are you?” Sanji manages to say between kisses—not that he’s complaining. “Ten stone, twelve?”

“Fourteen last I checked,” Amy murmurs into his chin. “You’re so good at what you do, I’m always hungry for more.”

Sanji chuckles at her double entendre. “Fourteen’s nothin’, long as I let my legs do the work.”

“Definitely the sexiest legs I’ve ever seen.” Amy sucks lightly at the base of Sanji’s neck, and almost erases his train of thought completely.

“Merde—since your own, of course, right?” He places his hands on her knees and ever-so-slowly moves them upward.

“Mmm, naturally,” Amy murmurs, more interested in Sanji’s collarbone.

“Are you even listening right now?” Sanji asks, grinning with amusement as he pulls away. He laughs when Amy makes a whining noise and chases him with her lips.

“Your tongue is doing way too much talking, lover boy. Starting to think maybe you’re all talk.”

Sanji narrows his eyes.

Before Amy has time even to discern anything from his smile, Sanji’s gripping the back of her head in one hand and nudging her mouth open with his tongue. His other hand slides higher along her thighs, tantalizingly close to where she suddenly realizes she needs his touch the most. She moans into Sanji’s hungry mouth, the noise sounding more like a whimper than she would have liked to admit were she clear-minded; but her senses are consumed with him, and she can’t bring herself to care. His appreciative groans are like held notes on a saxophone; he smells of musky cologne and sweat in a way that registers as the essence of virility in the back of her mind; he electrifies her skin with the slightest contact; she can taste fruit and spice on his tongue, and—

“Sanj, there’s something metal in your mouth, is that a piercing or…?”

Amy leans back to peer into Sanji’s grinning mouth, and sure enough, the frenulum is pierced with a horseshoe bar.

She puts her arms around his neck and pulls him close again. “You know, I’d heard you described as having a silver tongue,” she teases, her lips a hair’s breadth from his, “but I didn’t think Nami and Usopp were being serious.”

Sanji kisses her again, delicate and sweet like a meringue. “It’s surgical steel, love, but I appreciate the sentiment.” He chuckles and Amy rolls her eyes fondly.

“Now, why don’t we go back to your talent show?” she suggests.

“A show, hmm? I’ve never tried exhibitionism, but we can talk kinks later, sure.”

“You know what I meant!” Amy laughs, giving Sanji’s shoulder a playful backhand.

“Oh, yes, that’s right: the talent show in which I”—Sanji places one more kiss on Amy’s smiling mouth—“pleasure this lovely lady”—he whispers before kissing behind her ear and sliding his hands to the laces of her top—“with my tongue until she”—loosens the knot holding the halter-neck in place and nips an exposed shoulder, prompting her to buck against him—“begs me to make her cum on my face.” He presses his face into her cleavage, and looks up to gauge her expression. “That one?”

Amy combs a hand through Sanji’s corn-silk hair, pushing it back from his forehead, and gasps with something like awe marbled with need. His lust-darkened eyes peering up at her from between her breasts might be the most erotic thing she’s ever seen.

Entirely at your service.

You deserve an eager lover.

“Oh, Sanji…” she sighs and leans back against the bench. “Please, yes, I need it…

“…do I get to serve you after?”

The question is so airy and quiet that Sanji almost doesn’t catch it, occupied as he is with the scent of Amy’s perfume and the solemn task of unbuttoning her from the other side. “What’s that, darling?”

Amy holds his face between her hands and pets his flushed cheeks with her thumbs. “Do I get to return the favor once you’ve made good on those wonderful things you said you want to do to me?”

“You may not need to. I’m pretty, ah, worked up right now—might be that I’ll follow you over the edge when you cum for me.” Sanji kisses her palm and, taking hold of her hand, guides it along the faint trail of hair leading to where he needs her touch the most.

Amy wants to press the question further, but contents herself with pressing her hand to the bulge in Sanji’s shorts. She gasps in wonder at his size and the needy cry that pours from his lips.

“Let’s find out for sure, shall we?” She turns her back to Sanji and lifts her hair out of the way.

Seating himself on the bench beside Amy, Sanji can reach the buttons just fine, but he welcomes the chance to lavish her neck with a flurry of kisses. He smiles against her skin at her giggling, and thinks of how quickly the sound is becoming one of his favorites.

Amy’s breath, already shaking, hitches when she feels her top come loose, and again when Sanji sucks lightly on the skin joining her neck to her shoulders.

“Sanji, please…”

“Shhh, darling, I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs as his hands snake over the bare skin of her waist to cover hers in the front. “Your body is so soft, so beautiful. I love it.

“Can…can I just…feel it for a moment first? Explore it, admire it for a bit before I ravish you?” Sanji continues, tracing with his fingers the places that had previously been covered.

“Just as long as your body stays on mine.” Amy sighs dreamily and leans against him, eyes closed, happy to let him fill her senses once again.

There has, historically, been precious little in Sanji’s life that could be described as soft or tender. Such is a hard-working life at sea, to say nothing of what came before his stint on the Orbit; even on such a well-appointed ship as the Thousand Sunny, piracy is piracy, and the oceans swallow the weak. So when something comes Sanji’s way that could be construed as even the vaguest promise of devotion, he has learned to seize it, to enjoy it while he can, before the Blue Mother’s waves inevitably carry it out of reach.

He does not seize Amy, for she is not a pipe dream or a fantasy: she is substantial, in multiple senses of the word, generous in the warm plushness of her body and likewise in the beauty of her soul. He paces himself, like a man who has known starvation followed by plenty; though he does have to take a steadying breath when she sets aside the bralette and turns toward him, now bare-chested. One hand goes to her heartbeat, one to her shoulder, trailing downward and leaving a tingling heat in its wake.

“I want to figure you out, chérie, before I take you apart,” Sanji rasps in Amy’s ear as he engages his haki.

Amy has a hunch she’s in for some of the best sex of her life. Not that she has a great deal of first-hand experience for the love cook to exceed—men did not often stay in her life long enough for attraction to develop—but even if Sanji is as much of a serial womanizer as Nami and Zoro make him out to be, he has already proven attentive and empathetic enough to be above average. It’s not his skill she’s worried about—

The casual flick of a thumb across a now-stiffened nipple jolts Amy back into the moment with a squeal.

“Fuck, Sanji, that feels so good, do it again…”

He obliges, of course he does, and pleasure like an electric shock goes straight to her cunt, suddenly flooded with slick. She arches her back, leaning forward into his touch; and he must have heard the needy impatience in her wordless moan, because he pulls her flush with him and nibbles her ear.

“Où d’autre, where else do you need me?” Sanji murmurs. “J’ai besoin de te plaîre…” [Where else; I need to please you]

Where doesn’t she need him? Amy wonders. “Everywhere, babe, jus’—fuck—everywhere. My neck, my hands, my tits, need you inside, everywhere.”

Sanji’s face lights up like he’s received the best news of his life, and he kisses her again.

“As my lady commands.”

As he nibbles at her ear and her neck, Amy can’t resist rolling her hips against him, flush as she is with his hardened abdomen and his cock, and spirits it feels so good—

“Amy, my love,” Sanji pleads, “I don’t want to cum yet, let me do this for you—”

“But Sanji…”

“Amy. Don’t you want me to keep my promise to you?”

He stands and pulls her up as well, and continues: “Don’t you want to find out what my tongue can do? I should think you wouldn’t want the talent show to end so early.”

“Your fingers untying my skirt are giving me a mixed signal,” Amy mutters, though her fingers digging out the knots belie the annoyance in her words.

“I’m going to have you lay back for me, darling,” Sanji says as he folds the sarong, “and I want to have a cushion for your beautiful head.” He holds the garment out to her, and he’s looking at her with such tenderness that she feels something clench in her chest. “Your comfort matters to me.”

“And you feeling good matters to me.”

“Tell you what,” Sanji offers as his hands push gently on Amy’s hips, encouraging her to sit. “I get to taste every part of you, and you get to shower me in praise and ‘good boys’ to your heart’s content. How does that sound?”

“And then I get to play with your cock?” she asks, pouting slightly but positioning herself on the towel nevertheless.

Sanji makes a choked gasp. “Merde, yes, then you can play with my cock.”

“Sounds good to me.” Amy leans back and watches as he hems her in, elbows on either side of her shoulders, powerful legs astride her own.

Sanji takes a deep breath and considers what he learns from his haki. Amy shudders almost imperceptibly with each heaving breath; her eyes, wide and dark, dart between his eyes, his lips, his chest, and occasionally his groin. Her back is arched just enough to not have the steps’ wooden lip pressing into her, or perhaps she means to draw his attention back to her sizeable breasts; and her knees are turned outward, as though readying her legs to cage his lower torso close to her own. She smells of jasmine, sweat, and the spiced tang of arousal, so much arousal.

He can’t wait to taste her. With no dissonance of thought or feeling in her aura to give him pause, the tasting begins.

He starts, quite naturally, with her mouth: lips that capture his sight whenever she has occasion to wear lipstick, staining his fantasies a pomegranate red; gasps and moans that spill from her like an overturned glass of sparkling wine; the lingering taste of sweet words and peppery olive oil on a tongue seeking out its counterpart to pull him closer. When the cruel need for oxygen forces them to pull apart, Sanji and his own clever tongue find the sensitive spot just behind Amy’s ear that he knows will make her nerves sing—

“SANJI, oh gods!” she cries, sure enough—

“Amy, chérie, would you be very offended if I were to leave a souvenir on your skin?” Sanji asks in a husky voice while he has her ear. “A mark of my passion, so to speak?”

Amy does not answer right away and her frenzied groping stills, but her embrace remains steady, which soothes his unease. She’s considering it, Sanji reminds himself.

Finally, she caresses his cheek, and he takes the chance to kiss her inner wrist. “Put them in places that can be covered with ease,” she replies decisively. “Whatever…this is”—for the first time since he found her in the crow’s nest Sanji hears a note of apprehension in her voice—“it’s our treasure, and I’d like to enjoy it that way for a bit before making it known to anyone else.

“We may be Straw Hats, but we are still pirates,” Amy continues with a smile returning to her face. “I think we’re allowed to be a little cagey about our hidden treasure.”

Whatever this is. Our hidden treasure. Sanji feels something shift in him at Amy’s words—not a jarring shift like a fall or a sudden change of perspective, but a shift like the changing of plans or steering a vessel in a new direction. A shift like soil making way for growing roots.

In the meantime, Sanji’s cock is twitching at the prospect of marking this woman as his, and again with the thrill of keeping a secret. “Such an angel,” he groans into her neck, “such a privilege just to touch you.”

Such a dangerous business, this whole falling-in-love thing, Amy thinks to herself. No, she’s not in love, not with one of the most notorious flirts on the Grand Line, even if he does look like he belongs on a magazine cover instead of a pirate vessel. Even if she isn’t merely imagining the heartbroken look on his face at the words ‘whatever this is’. Even if he is the most caring lover she’s ever had—because that’s just the thing: he does love generously, he loves in defiance of the sire he left behind, he loves and he loves and it would be selfish of her to want some part of it to be hers alone, wouldn’t it? No, she’s not in love with Sanji, but the cliff’s edge is right there, and the call of the void is strong.

“Chérie, have I lost you again? Is everything alright?”

Sanji’s handsome, smiling face is hovering above her chest again. Amy runs her fingers through his hair—he closes his eyes and hums at the sensation—and tucks it behind his ear.

“I was just…distracted by your beauty.” She smiles and winks.

“Using my own lines on me, are you?” Sanji growls in mock annoyance.

“What?! I’m just learning from the best.”

“Flatterer.”

“Clearly flattery works, or else you wouldn’t be straddling a mostly-naked woman right now.” Amy begins to drag one foot along Sanji’s leg for emphasis.

In lieu of an answer, he shudders and trails a finger along the side of one breast, which he lifts toward his mouth. While Amy lets her head fall back against the improvised cushion, he mouths at one pebbled areola with relish and strokes the other with a firm thumb, basking in her babbled praises over the next several minutes.

“That feels so, so good, darling, so good…

“Gods, your tongue is incredible—yes, just like that!”

“Oh, fuck—could let you do just this to me for hours…”

…and Sanji thinks, feeling the way she bucks and tenses under his caresses, he’d be willing to do it, too, his own erection be damned, if he didn’t think muscle cramps on his part would put a damper on her pleasure. If nothing else happens between him and Amy, he could at least go for months touching himself just to this memory.

Mercifully, the sound of a soft chuckle interrupts Sanji’s anxious thoughts before they have a chance to spiral. He leaves off the sucking motion of his tongue and looks into Amy’s half-lidded eyes. “Chérie?” he inquires tentatively.

She again combs his hair back with her fingers, still smiling. “It just struck me as funny, the way you looked like a boy licking his first ice cream cone of the summer.”

Sanji stares a moment before spluttering with indignation. “And what is a man supposed to look like as he is worshiping at his lady’s breasts?”

Unfortunately, this serves only to make the lady in question laugh harder, albeit with fondness, and touch her forehead to his.

“I don’t know, I don’t know! It felt so good, but when I opened my eyes, there you were, swirling your tongue like you were afraid of letting your mint chocolate chip melt—”

“Melt?!” Sanji echoes, still playfully indignant. “Oh, I’ll make you melt—”

—to which end he pushes Amy back down and renews his ministrations with a vengeance, licking and sucking and nipping the sensitive buds, and tickling her sides. His hands slide lower and lower along her hips until he’s teasing the skin just above her panties; and when she makes no move to bat his hand away, he dips two fingers into the heat of her folds.

Amy never knew sex could be so fun.

Well, no, that’s not quite true; she’s long known, in an intellectual sort of way, that feeling safe and relaxed emotionally is conducive to both having fun and to having good sex. But the wisdom gleaned from others feels like an understatement compared to the euphoria and the anticipation suffusing her right now.

“You—” she pants, smiling, “you’re as good as your word, ah-aren’t you?”

Sanji releases a reddened nipple with a lewd smack. “And you, love, have been melting for a while already, haven’t you?” He runs a finger along her slit, grinning wickedly at her wetness.

“Oh fuck, Sanji, keep—keep doing that…”

“Tell me, Amy, is all of this for me?” Sanji all but purrs. Her pussy clenches at the sight of him licking her slick off of his hand and she whimpers.

A whimper is not enough for him: his fingers tease her clit, dancing around but never touching it. He flicks a nipple with his tongue. “I need words, ma chère…” he says.

Amy does not have words, though. There is nothing in Amy’s world save her body, and Sanji’s touch, and pure sensation.

“Answer me,” Sanji insists in a rumbled voice; and when he hears no answer but more wordless whimpering, he bites on Amy’s nipple and strokes her clit at the same time.

“Fuck! SANJI!” she screams, mustering the last two words in her brain as her world turns from pure sensation to white-hot ecstasy.

Likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated, especially if somehow I fucked up post formatting or my French grammar LOL

#one piece #one piece live action #black leg sanji #one piece fanfiction #one piece oc #sanji smut #sanji x oc #oc x canon #one piece smut #my fictional husband #my ocs #my fanfiction #oc: Amy Lajoie

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nehswritesstuffs · 2 years ago

Text

banish every gaslight; let clarity shine - Part 8

Okay, I'm back! Hope everyone's ready to cry. :D

Part 1 [FFN/AO3] - Part 2 [FFN/AO3] - Part 3 [FFN/AO3] - Part 4 [FFN/AO3] - Part 5 [FFN/AO3] - Part 6 [FFN/AO3] - Part 7 [FFN/AO3]

As one sibling back home tries to make the best of things, the other two realize exactly what lengths Cora-san is willing to go for them. [3433 words; AU where there is a Third Corazón, whose existence makes Law’s life hell]

Baby 5 hid the Den Den Mushi in her hoodie as she made her way out of headquarters and over to the garbage dump. Although it was her job to stay behind that time, she wanted to make sure there was nothing that could watch or listen to her, just in case. It was really one of Law’s hoodies that she was wearing, her having started to wear them with him not around to protest. She found a good spot and took the snail out, giving it a piece of lettuce before making the call.

“Crackers.” The snail made the person on the other end look so tired. Why was he so tired?

“Cookies,” Baby 5 said. A moment’s pause and the snail peered at her.

“A… child…?”

“Um… I don’t know who you are, but Cora-san told me to call you,” she explained. “He said he needs me to tell you whenever the Young Master leaves Spider Miles. He left.”

“Cora-san…?”

“Yeah.” Her hands trembled as she held the snail in one hand and the receiver in the other. “I’m not allowed to ask questions. I’m not allowed to lie to you. I’m not allowed to let the others know I call you.”

The man—Baby 5 knew it was a man on the other end, because he sounded like Lao G if he was nicer and more tired—regarded this carefully. “Do you know who I am? Any idea?”

“I told you: no—Cora-san just told me to do this while he helps my brother and sister.”

“Does he have a snail I can contact him on?”

“No, sir. This was his only one. He said he’ll call you when he can.”

“Sounds like Rosi, alright.” The man gave a weak chuckle. “You are very brave, child. He chose well when he gave you this job.” He seemed to sigh heavily and there was the sound of papers shuffling. “Due to the unofficial shift in protocol, I am not going to ask your name. I shall refer to you as Child, and you can refer to me as Grandfather. Just keep doing this, alright? I am proud of you, Child.”

“Thank you, Grandfather.”

Baby 5 gave the man on the other end of the line the course of the Numancia Flamingo to the best of her ability before the line cut. The snail fell asleep and she held it close to her chest, trying to keep it warm as she went back to Headquarters.

What sort of people was Cora-san talking to, and why did they need that information? She put the snail back in its habitat before she went back to cleaning, wanting to make sure everything was nice and neat and orderly for the others to get back. They needed to not suspect anything.

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

Months began to creep by and hospitals continued to burn, while information continued to be passed along. Baby 5 made it a habit of staying behind at the base when the rest of the Family was on missions, wrapped in her brother’s sweatshirts during the day and holding her sister’s stuffed animals at night. She felt the eyes of the other Family members as they would come home to a spotless headquarters and somehow knew their suspicions. Her being alone was not normal, so why was she alone so much now? Did they know she searched through their things for information? How long would it be before they discovered that Child was passing information to Grandfather, and that it was happening via Cora-san’s old transponder snail? What would it take for her cover to be blown and what would happen when it finally happened? Would they know it was all in the name of protecting her siblings?

There was only one way to find out, unfortunately.

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

[CLASSIFIED]

Official Transcript of Military Den Den Communications – Operation: FALLEN DRAGON – File Number 01746.100059.1511.00234

Listen: I don’t have much time. There’s these five kids in Doffy’s group. Two of them are likely beyond help, but the middle three… no matter what, I need them to be saved. Whatever happens to me, you have to sa…

[INDECIPHERABLE]

She’s the one I gave the snail.

[INDECIPHERABLE]

…I know about [REDACTED] and what [REDACTED] did! Did you really think that was [REDACTED]

[INDECIPHERABLE]

Remember… it’s two girls and a boy. Raise them if I’m not there to do it. Please. I fear what Doffy will do to them if this all is blown to hell.

[INDECIPHERABLE]

They deserve so much more than this. We both know it.

[END COMMUNICATION]

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

It was very cold as Law and Lami sat huddled together on what seemed like a deserted island, waiting in the small alcove where Cora-san had told them to stay while he went somewhere. Law tried to wrap his cloak around his sister as well as himself and failed at getting more than half of her in the extra fabric.

“What do you think he’s doing?” she shivered. He tucked her head underneath his chin as coughs began to wrack her body.

“Hard saying,” he lied. He knew exactly what Cora-san was doing: trying to raid the pirate base that was on the other side of the island. Their adult had trusted him with the information in case anything went sour, because someone needed to get Lami out of there if the need arose. He had even left them with a knife, despite the fact he hoped they didn’t need to use it. “He better not be too long.”

“I want Bee-nee,” Lami sniffled. She rubbed her face in her brother’s shoulder and tried not to cry. “Why couldn’t Bee-nee come along?”

“It would be too much for Cora-san to travel with all three of us, remember?” Law said. He hugged his baby sister a bit tighter and hoped that Baby 5 had not been caught yet. “We’re gonna be okay—Cora-san will be the adult who helps.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“No… but it’s important that you do.” Lami began to sob, knowing that their time—her time specifically—was running out. “Hey, we’ll see Bee soon enough. Cora-san is gonna find that cure for us.”

“Why… why are you allowed to be sad about it, but I can’t?!” she cried. “I’m scared, Law-nii! I’m so scared!”

“I know you are, but you have to know it’s gonna be okay, no matter what,” he replied. He went back into his memory for words of comfort from before… from when they had both their parents and school and friends and… fuck… it had been a wonderful life, hadn’t it? There was something too calm about it, as though it was just the peace one felt before a storm came barreling through. Was finding their sister just the eye of the storm? Was that Cora-san? Damned if he knew. “Everything happens for a reason…”

“It’s not reasonable!” she snapped tearfully. “Don’t say things the sisters said! It doesn’t make me feel better!”

“It doesn’t make you feel better because you know they were right!” he fired back. She looked at him, her eyes puffed up from crying, and didn’t know how to respond. “They were right! I don’t know how, but they were! Do you think I like not knowing how?! Do you think I like not knowing the reason?! It’s fucked up, yeah, but what else do we have?! If none of this had happened, we would have never met Bee! Or Cora-san! We’d still be in Flevance, having never seen anything beyond her waters! Nothing changing!”

“…but we’d still have Mom and Dad! Our family! Our friends!”

“…and we could still be dead anyhow! People die every day from things not bullets or poison! Kids, even! If we hadn’t needed to escape, we would have never gotten here, and I’d rather be here knowing more than I did then instead of dying ignorant! I don’t know why, but we were meant to live this!”

That set off Lami again, fresh tears flowing from her. Law gathered her in his arms and pulled her into his lap, which better allowed him to pull his cloak around her as she sobbed into his shoulder. He grit his teeth as he tried to hold back his own tears, wanting to be the strong one… needing to be the strong one…

“Kids! Kids! Where’d you go?!” Both of them gasped and went to wipe the tears and snot from their faces—it was Cora-san! He stumbled into the snow in front of them, looking exhausted and rather worse for wear.

“What happened to you?!” Law gasped. Shit—it had taken fewer bullet wounds to kill both his parents.

“That doesn’t matter,” the man said. He took a heart-shaped fruit out of his coat pocket and held it out. “This is what we were looking for… this is what Doffy was looking for…”

“That’s a Devil Fruit…?” Lami wondered. “It doesn’t look like any fruit I’ve ever seen…”

“It’s a really special thing,” Cora-san explained. “It’s gonna help Law fix you both up, good as new.”

“…but Cora-san, I…!” Law began to protest, only for their caretaker to shove the fruit into his mouth, forcing him to eat it. “Oh, gross! Why the fuck did you do that?!”

“I sure as fuck couldn’t do anything with it, even if I hadn’t eaten my own Devil Fruit,” Cora-san smirked. Although Law was still freaking out over the nasty, meaty taste of what had just been force-fed to him, Lami saw the intense sadness in Cora-san’s eyes… he knew something sad and wasn’t telling them. “You’re the one who’s going to become a great doctor some day, Law. It’s supposed to be yours.”

Just then, the three of them could hear men shouting off in the distance, making them tense.

“Okay, you two find a place that’s not here,” Cora-san ordered gently. “I’ll find you soon as I can guarantee that we can make a clean getaway. Then you’ll be free.”

“Free…?” Lami wondered as they stood.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Free of this disease, free of Doffy, free of everything you never wanted. You can rescue Baby 5 and the three of you will be freer than anyone on this sea. Do you understand…?”

“I think so…?”

“Good. Now be good brats, for fucking once in your lives.” At that he scrambled off, the kids just barely able to catch him pulling out one of his guns before he turned a corner.

“Asshole,” Law hissed. “Didn’t even ask me if I wanted it…” He saw that Lami was staring at him as they ran and he swallowed hard. “What…?”

“Do you feel any different…?” she asked. He stopped to look at his hands, brow furrowed.

“No, but…” He trailed off, desperately attempting to put what he was feeling into words. “It’s like… the Devil Fruit is trying to tell me what I can do…?”

“Really…?”

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to figure out what was attempting to be said.

Heed me, boy, and I shall make you powerful.

Eyes snapping open, Law looked at his sister with a nearly crazed expression. “Lami, hold still; I’m gonna try it on you first.”

“Why?”

“You’re the one with days left,” he replied. The siblings hugged tightly before Law had Lami lay down in the snow, hidden from the snowy path they’d been on. He held his hands palm-down over her and took a deep breath.

“ROOM!”

Suddenly, a blue sphere grew from Law’s hands and enveloped the both of them. Once that was up, he took Cora-san’s knife and held it to his sister’s arm. He pressed down and it made an incision… one that didn’t bleed.

It was working.

Law quickly worked, taking what he knew to be Amber Lead out of his sister’s body. There was so much of it, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. The only time he did was for thirty seconds, tearing off a bit of his cloak for her to bite on to help with the pain. Okay… anesthetic… he needed to remember that for next time…

Then, all of a sudden, the Room dropped and Law collapsed in the snow. He and Lami were breathing heavily as they looked at each other, both afraid for the other to speak. With a shaky hand, he held up a small rock, not much bigger than a decorative pond pebble. It was much more jagged and rough-looking, however, and a reddish brown where it did not gleam whiter than the snow.

“Five years,” he said shakily. “This should give you five more years.”

“Yeah…?” There were tears in their eyes—that would make her older than he was now.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, there you kids are!” The siblings looked and saw Cora-san was clamoring over towards them, snow stuck to his hair and coat. “Doffy and his crew are nearly here—I can’t let them find you!”

“Cora-san, look!” Lami gasped. She took the pebble from her brother’s hand and held it up. “Law took this out of me!”

“Wait… you did…?” he marveled. He looked at Law, the boy nodding weakly in the snow as hot tears ran down his face.

“She’s gonna be at least fourteen,” he sniffled. “My sister is going to live!”

“Oh… that’s great!” Cora-san replied through tears of his own. He gathered the children up in his arms and they all shared a hug. “We’re going to get through this—just a little bit longer, and we’ll be free. I promise.”

“Cora-san…?” Lami squeaked. She was clammy with sweat and breathing heavily. “Can we go get Bee-nee? And then we can live somewhere nice?”

“I’m sure you will,” he replied, but she shook her head.

“No, you too, Cora-san!” she insisted. “You can be our dad! And we can live together! All four of us!” She gripped his shirt as her breath became staggered. “The four of us can be each other’s new family!”

“Lami…” Law touched his baby sister’s shoulder and she whimpered. “Is that what you want?”

“Yeah!” She looked at him, then at Cora-san, whose makeup was running from his own tears and sweat. “We can have a real parent again, and Law-nii can continue learning how to be a doctor, and Bee-nee and I can figure out what we want to do, and we’ll all do the best thing we can to make the people who tried to kill us suffer!”

“…and what’s that?” Cora-san asked, his voice wavering.

“We can live!”

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

“Remember something kids: I love you!”

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

A heavy thud rammed against Law’s treasure chest as Cora-san was shot—one, two, three, four, five—making the blood in his veins run cold.

Cora-san! You can’t! Law barely heard the order to leave the Corazón for dead and take the treasure. He pressed his limbs to the wooden walls in panic when he felt the chest being lifted up—this was it! His entire world, dark and filled with fear, swayed with the movement of… yeah, Machvise’s steps as he was carried off and away from the scene of the crime.

It was just like three years ago, when he and his sister hid from their executioners in plain sight, except this time they were in separate hiding spots. Cora-san had been reluctant to do it, but they would not fit together in the biggest chest, and besides… he didn’t want Doflamingo’s crew to take what they thought was the most valuable haul, only to get something invaluable instead. Law kept his mind focused—the clearer he could make decisions, the quicker he could grab Lami, get back to Cora-san, and they could begin figuring out a way to rescue Baby 5.

“Is that everything? Good. Let’s make sure we have enough space first…”

Law listened closely for signs that the Doflamingo Pirates were all occupied before lifting the lid off his treasure chest and carefully slipping out. He couldn’t tell which one had Lami in it before he heard Trebol attempting to swallow the innards of his nasal cavity—he couldn’t get caught! Not yet! He ducked behind a nearby pile of rocks, there already being prints going over there he could step in to hide his tracks. Sure enough, there was a yellow divot against the cliff-face—apparently the ship’s latrine was just too far an ask…

Just then, Law heard the telltale whizzing sound of cannonballs hurtling towards them. They hit the cliff-face opposite him with two loud explosions; it was the Marines.

That’s right… Doflamingo had accused Cora-san of being a Marine, not only by the treasure chests, but after they stole a burner snail a few weeks ago as well. Law and Lami had even accused Cora-san of being a Marine. The only problem was: if Cora-san really was a Marine, then who was he having Baby 5 talk to over the transponder snail? Was she caught? Did she get in trouble? Had… had Doflamingo found out because Baby 5 told him…? It made him sick to think about…

“Leave the rest!” Doflamingo snapped. “We have to get out of here!”

At once, everyone scrambled to board the Numancia Flamingo and escape what was most likely Vice-Admiral Tsuru and her command. Law remained hidden behind the rocks while he waited for them to leave, seeing that they had truly left behind much of the load. Ha… Doflamingo was going to be pissed when they returned to Spider Miles…

Before long, the ships were off in the distance, the only evidence they were even around being the distant sounds of cannonfire. Law shuddered as he heard himself let out a sniffle—Cora-san was dead.

Shit! Shit, shit, shit! The teen began to tremble as he realized that things were going to become infinitely more difficult. Having to go rescue Baby 5 with just him and Lami wasn’t completely out of the question, but it was going to take a lot longer than it would have otherwise. He waited until he couldn’t hear the ships anymore before standing up and poking his head out from behind the rocks.

“Lami…?” He carefully picked his way over towards the heaps of discarded treasure and began to search through what remained. It looked like a lot of the chests were weighed down by rocks as just another way for one brother to get back at another. “Lami…? Where are you…?”

As Law continued looking through the chests, a sense of dread settled over him. Lami wasn’t answering, nor was she in any of the other chests. He got to the last one and asked whatever might be listening to let her be inside…

…and found rocks.

“Lami…?!” Law dropped to his knees and cried, knowing that the worst thing must have happened: she must have been taken aboard the Numancia. “LAMI! NO! YOU CAN’T—!” He stopped to vomit, hot and burning over his tongue and throat.

His sister was gone.

He was alone.

His sister was still dying and there was nothing he could do.

He was alone.

His sister was somewhere off in the far-reaching, icy sea, far beyond where he could feasibly go on his own.

He was alone.

His sister was going to suffer.

He was alone… truly alone.

All while she remained trapped.

Once all the contents of his stomach were melting the snow, Law scrambled onto his feet and began to stumble away. His legs were shaky and he felt like hell, but he kept going—the Marines were likely to come back and he didn’t want to be there if they did. He couldn’t go chasing after the Numancia and rescue Lami in the state he was in, barely able to stand upright or move of his own volition.

If this was freedom, then he didn’t want it.

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

It was difficult for Lami to hear outside of the treasure chest—she wasn’t sure what was going on or where she was, but she had the feeling that she should not move… not until her brother opened the lid and took them both away. The chest had moved a couple of times, which made her cautious, because she didn’t know what sort of place she was going to escape from. All she needed to do was wait until the right time and…

…except, the lid lifted on its own, only for a confused-looking Gladius to be staring down at her. Not Law. Gladius. Not Law. Someone else. Not Cora-san. He was dead.

It was not Law.

She was not free.

#One Piece #fan fiction #fanfiction #Trafalgar Law #Baby 5 #Donquixote Rosinante #Donquixote Pirates #Donquixote Doflamingo #I really enjoy how Baby 5 gets to come into her own in this fic. just saying #lol she's got the brother hoodie fit going on lol that's a good fit #there is also no way Law and Lami were taught by nuns and survived w/o some version of Catholic guilt #my source: being Catholic and having gone to Catholic school (despite the fact none of my teachers were nuns (long story))#(I know OP has Nika not Jesus but work with me here okay?)#Trafalgar D. Water Law #Trafalgar D. Water Lami #Trafalgar Lami #...and please don't ask me about opla i know nothing about opla yet my watch party is in a couple days

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