#devil's nest crew

[number1greedlingfan]

If Greed does purr, the reason would likely to calm down and soothe chimeras. Purring also does have healing properties!

Thinking about this made me think about how the chimeras are capable of non-human things (like Martel's flexibility) but only to a certain point, it seems like. Like I doubt Dolcetto can literally bark like a dog... wouldn't it be so ironic if the homunculus could purr but a cat chimera working for him couldn't?? 😭😭

[emmikay]

Greed: Okay! Here are my ground rules. You can punch me, kick me, pull my hair. I am a-okay being stabbed!

Greed: But biting and scratching? On the table! You can use fire!

Roa: (glances at the rest of the Devil’s Nest crew)

Roa: These are the ground rules? Is there anything off limits?

Greed: Damn, man.

Greed: You got something really freaky you want to do, huh?

Greed: Oooh, you little sicko. Alright! I like it! Don’t tell me. Surprise me.

Greed: This is gonna be fun!

[dragonofthestone]

This is Tim and his found family (ies)

[foxyslittlegarden]

Let's try this again!

I got some feedback regarding my last poll, so let's clarify the question -

[the-catmans-offical-2]

I saw a meme post, saw the word "mantle" and then immediately thought "MARTEL!?"

[clearbun]

guys i have so much to do right now i cannot be thinking about a devil's nest one piece au when I'm only on episode 19 and don't know 99% of the universe's lore to work with. god

[waitineedaname]

oh on a similar topic to that reference site with all Ed's outfits. I am eight episodes into my spreadsheet collecting all appearances of recurring characters in fmab

[otkuhotgirl]

─── 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑 .

# with black-leg sanji.

milk started to leak from your nipples — and sanji was never one to waste food.

⎰ & KINKTOBER, day one. smut (mdni). breast worship. lactation. praise kink. pathetic sanji. handjob. no y/n used. afab!reader.

WC: 2k.

sanji had witnessed a fair share of devil-fruits in action throughout their sailing. from those who were foolish in its essence, such as that of the candle wax; to those who were horrid and lethal — sanji could well-reminisce the brightness and the sharp ache that followed-in-suit to enel’s lightning strikes. he figured not another thing could surprise him; until his crew faced a short-lived and stupid battle against the pirates from a self-proclaimed stork-stork captain.

the opponents caused no harm. their captain, all but managing to brush your shoulder before being swiftly knocked out. relieved with your untouched health — as it was shown through your exterior —, the straw-hats’ lives returned to common routine in the aftermath, not a thing amiss. that was, of course, until you started to throw up.

countless examinations and book researches pointed out the source of your illness. the devil-fruit from the stork-captain was known for the ability to impregnate others. however, the user needed to touch two people, and that hadn’t been the case — which had sanji praying and thanking gods he hardly believed in. the mere thought of you, bearing the marimo’s child, was enough to leave him seething. comical reaction aside, chopper theorized that, as you had no bundle of cells within your uterus, you’d but suffer from some pregnancy-related effects for a while — perhaps a time equal to the duration of your period. their doctor advised you to refrain from touching others with the previous common frequency, as to avoid the triggering of said devil-fruit.

that had happened four days ago, and sanji was in the deepest pit of despair. you were far from sight throughout the day, gracing them with your presence only during meal times — and even then, your chair was placed the furthest away from the rest, as to avoid accidental brushing. sanji was half-aware of the anatomical consequences of pregnancy: nausea, cramps, swelling; and being unable to support you through it all was driving him insane.

the soothing herbal tea he brewed was intercepted. he had chopper trailing behind him for hours on end. whenever you aimed to spend time outside the walls of your room, the damned marimo stood by the crow’s nest door as though a guarding dog, unallowing him to proceed. even then, with the sunny docked and most of the crew elsewhere, sanji held no expectations of sharing an alone moment with you whatsoever, as robin had been the one assigned to stay behind in order to guarantee that the pair of you would be kept separated. sanji could neither argue nor defy a woman’s request, and robin could not be swayed with monetary bribery on your part.

he sighed. the weather was not suitable for lukewarm beverages, so he could, at least, distract himself from you with thoughts on how to turn thyme tea into a pleasant summer drink. a knock on the kitchen’s door — followed-in-suit by light steps — tore him from his thoughts, however. sanji’s nostrils were filled with the characteristic scent of your perfume, and he turned to your direction so fast he was positive a bone in his back cracked.

“my love!” sanji shouted, gripping the counter to resist the urge to jump you.

“hi,” you greeted softly, sitting on the side opposite from him.

his throat dried up. he had missed the sound of your voice and sight of your face. having you close yet again after four, painful and infinite days, had him squirming as though an addict being offered his most favored drug.

“how did you manage to convince sweet robin?” he inquired, whose worried you waved away.

“i have my ways,” you smiled. sanji fell to his knees, immediately bolstering himself up with flushed cheeks, for he could not waste a second of that moment. “missed me that much?”

“oh, mon amour, you have no idea,” he started out, placing one hand above his chest in order to profess his affection. “the sun doesn’t shine as bright without you. the food loses its taste. the vastness of the ocean brings not freedom but rather a cruel, monstrous prison—”

“shit,” you interrupted through a curse, the lovesick glance once held switching to one of annoyance. sanji’s attention remolded itself, his instincts all but shouting at him to pay closer attention to your needs, rather than to complain about his non-comparable misery.

“are you hurting, my pearl? do you need me to prepare something? perhaps some tea,��� he fretted, searching for soothing herbs. “are there any cravings? i can cook it for you, no matter how offsetting.”

“it’s none of the sort, don’t worry,” you sighed. “i just need to see chopper later on. it keeps leaking.”

sanji’s eyes trailed to the wet patch on your shirt; two dots staining the fabric and offering him the clear outline of your nipples. his knees buckled yet again, although he had learned enough from the previous embarrassment to contain himself. pregnancy had a countless set of effects; he could not believe he had forgotten of lactation — a process which happened to have a direct influence on the size of your breasts. sanji caught himself drooling upon the sight of it; your hands supporting the weight you were unused to.

“does it hurt?” he inquired, licking his lips.

“it is far from light on the back,” you answered, squeezing it with a sour expression. sanji grew embarrassed at the speed of his erection — his cock aching amidst the coffins of his clothes. yet another renewed influx of milk had begun, leaving a trail in its wake; tearing through the thin fabric, molded into a droplet that fell on your thighs.

“mon ange,” he whined, losing his breath mid-sentence. sanji felt the surge of tears pooling in his eyes, the sheer yearn to hold you one enough to drive him straight into a bridge of delirium. “please, it’s been so long.”

his hands clenched and unclenched. a pathetic gesture; a mute plead to be given the pleasure of groping your breasts. the glance spared was one filled with uncertainty, for you were the rock whose surface swayed with the waves of his lust. it was fair to be cautious — if sanji was a most decent man, he, too, would have waited — yet, he was anything but. the man jumped through the counter’s surface to drop on his knees in front of you, his lips ghosting over the flesh of your legs as he glanced up at you, shedding a single tear.

“please,” he pleaded. “i won’t put it in, i just want—no, i need a taste. i promise i will make you feel good, lumière de ma vie.”

your fingers threaded through blonde locks of hair; infatuation filled-eyes. “you wish to be good to me?”

“yes,” he whined, pressing feather-light kisses to the extension of your legs. “more than anything, ma belle.”

you hummed then, at last conceding to his desire. when your touch left his figure in order to remove the ruined shirt, sanji raised to his feet, placing his hands on your waist.

“wait, wait,” he stuttered, clearing his throat. “i want it to be comfortable for you. a mere kitchen chair will not suffice.”

your thumb parted his lips, resting above the lower share. “you’re so caring, love. always treats me so well, what would i do without my knight?”

he whimpered, closing his mouth around the tip of your finger, his tongue swirling with regained desire. sanji’s arms cradled your figure closer, raising you from the previous seat in order to reach a more comfortable room. you retreated your hand, wiping the tears off his cheeks with fleeting brushes of your lips. adoring whispers were a blessing bestowed upon his ears — praises regarding his strength; his beauty; his love. he could feel the warmth of his pre-cum, smearing the tip and the underwear’s fabric.

he sat you with tenderness on the crimson cushes of the leisure room, placing one of its pillows on your lap. when sanji’s fingers met the edges of your shirt, he found them trembling.

“so eager,” you cooed, petting his chin. “will you be my good boy, sanji?”

“yes,” he whined, tender hands working on the removal of your shirt. the wet patch was more prominent, with nothing but the dripping fabric of your bra separating him from the anticipated and sacred vision.

sanji struggled with the clasp, yet you neither reprimanded nor complained. instead, your words were nothing but soothing. “take your time, there’s no rush.”

he slid the straps down your arms, dragging his tongue around the internal dampness etched on your bra’s cups. the taste had him shuddering; whining and rutting his erection against your bare leg as he attempted to swallow it all, sucking on the fabric. your touch was soft on his scalp; toying with the disheveled hair.

“how does it taste?”

“like heaven, ma moitié.”

a lonesome string of saliva connected his lips from the fabric of your bra, yet it was broken once he placed it on the couch. you tapped twice on the pillow above your lap, beckoning him closer. sanji had then positioned his head on it, eyes trailed to your swollen nipples.

“open wide,” you instructed, and he behaved as though a loyal servant; you, his muse and goddess. “that’s it, such a good boy.”

he moaned, witnessing as you pinched on your left nipple, an amount of liquid gushing over. sanji angled his head in order to catch it all; his tongue lolling out. the perfection of your body had offered him a feast and he would rather not waste a single drop. the initial taste drove him mad, and you raised a knee to drive his face closer to where he wished. sanji’s mouth closed around the hardened nipple, as he cupped and teased the other breast, striving to have it leaking as well.

tears rolled down and sanji closed his eyes at the enhanced taste, moaning with sheer desperation as he delved further, his tongue swirling around the bud as his cheeks hollowed in an attempt to coat more of your milk.

“open your eyes for me, my love. i want to see you,” you voiced out, brushing his fringe aside. when he caught a glimpse of your face — worked up and eager; loving and grateful — he rutted his hips against thin air, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “my handsome prince; my diligent heart. you, too, want to be touched, don’t you?”

sanji tried to convey his agreement through a glance, the thought of departing his lips from your breast to produce an answer all too unbearable. you tsked, tugging lightly on his hair.

“a good boy uses his words, and you’re good, aren’t you, san-ji?” you dragged the syllables of his name, teasing him further.

“yes,” he swallowed the milk beforehand, his lips leaving your nipple with a pop. the sudden lack of contact had you whining — it was brief; hidden; but there nevertheless. “please, love, please touch me.”

sanji whimpered as your fingers hovered over the waistband of his pants. “how could i ever deny my baby?”

the fabric of his pants and underwear lowered ever-so-slightly — only enough to free his aching cock — and sanji cried out when he felt the teasing of your thumb on the tip. his mouth latched itself around your nipple yet again, his fingers pinching and teasing the other one as if to coax your essence. the strokes on his cock matched the rhythm of his tongue, swirling and hot, coated white. sanji dragged out his teeth — a butterfly-touch; a temptive bite — and your lips produced the sound of an angel’s choir.

you shuddered, arching your back, face contorting with pleasure as he claimed your sensitive breast. sanji’s eyes were wide, drowning in the magnificent beauty. crimson, warm, red dripped down his nostrils, a trail that merged with the white from your essence. the milk he failed to swallow escaped past his lips, dripping on the pillow; wetting his goatee. the sound of his moan came out muffled, though the vibration had you mewling.

“keep going, baby, you’re doing so well.”

he was your knight; baby; perfect. neither a failure nor a nuisance, but your good boy.

the taste was intrinsic to you, yet unique; the sweetest beverage he was given the honor to drown in. inimitable, stimulating points of his palate that diverged from those teased by your cum. the divine essence born from your pleasure had a saltier base, it would have worked well as a topping for caramelized meals, though sanji hadn’t been able to convince you to use your cum for that purpose. your milk, however; oh, how he yearned to use it. how would it affect the flavor of a smoothie, a cheesecake? which ingredients would suit best to neutralize the overbearing sweetness?

sanji groaned with need, groping your other breast, his cock twitching once the scarce milk tainted his palm, trailing down his wrist; wetting the buttoned sleeves of his shirt. his lascivious tongue followed-in-suit, his nose burrowed into your flesh.

“t’es mon obsession,” he whimpered, sucking on the tender spots around your nipple, ensuing a painting of red and purple; leaving butterfly-kisses and soft bites, tearing up as his mouth failed to swallow you whole. “je t’aime beaucoup.”

your voice failed mid-moan, and you pushed his face back into your swollen niple, eyes rolling once sanji returned to his previous ministrations. your palm squeezed him; his pre-cum a lubrification that enhanced the pleasure from the masturbation. he rutted his hips, craving your touch, and your fingers busied themselves with his face; drawing heart-patterns, wiping the fresh blood off his nose. your thumb brushed against the milk that fell from the side of his lips, red and white creating pink.

when you smeared the tip of your tongue with it, tasting and moaning around your own finger, sanji combusted. he tore his mouth from your nipple, rubbing himself against your hand while moaning louder than he had ever done. a drop of milk fell upon his trembling lips and he opened them as wide as he could, tainting your palm with his cum while your milk did the same to his tongue.

you hummed with approval, pushing his sweat-drenched fringe off his temple. “let it all out, my love. i’m here, that’s it.”

sanji choked on your milk, whimpering whatsoever as a particular squeeze dried him off his essence.

“a good boy cleans up his mess,” you cooed, wiping his tears. “will you be good for me?”

“always, my heart,” he stuttered, his tongue lapping at the damp flesh of his other palm, chasing the sweet taste of your milk.

the breast he hadn’t sucked on leaked less; sanji wondered if he could change that in the future. your thumb gathered the milk on his cheeks and goatee and guided it to his awaiting lips. sanji sucked on it with diligence, drawing pleasure from your approving expression. at last, he sat upright, wiping his cum hastily with his underwear, whining as you sucked on the rest of his load that stained your fingers.

“don’t move,” he instructed, pulling his pants up with a cough. sanji removed the pillow off your lap and properly laid your back on the couch. he wrapped his coat around your shoulders, caressing your chin before pressing his lips against yours. “i’ll pick you a clean shirt and bra. some water, too. just relax, chérie.”

when sanji left, he made sure to hide your previous clothes inside his own closet, sniffing the fabric and chasing the vanishing scent of your milk; committing it to memory. he would not be able to live without that, his palate itching to be graced with the sweet flavor again. he had no idea of the duration of that devil-fruit, but it was of no problem, as all he had to do then, to keep on draining you off your milk, was put a real baby on you.

— 🐈‍⬛ : the nasty month is officially upon us! had to start with my beautiful french blonde, the light of my life. 🫡 let’s have some fun through october!

[littlemochabunni]

Flashing them for attention~

One Piece boys Headcanon~ Monster trio + Shanks

18+ mdni

A/n: I wanted to get something out the asap while I’m still writing my series, and this may or may not have been rushed making it. Barely proofread my apologies 🫶🏽.

Luffy~

Doesn’t notice the first time, so you do it until he realizes your tits are out. Just as he gives you that same look he gets when there’s meat around you book it across the Sunny, failing miserably as he uses his gum-him devil fruit powers and stretches his arm out, wrapping around you like a vice, and pulls you towards his cabin. “C’mon y/n I want you to do it again, but this time we’ll see how fast I can grab ‘em!”

Sanji~

Immediately gushes blood from his nose like a geyser which leads you to try and catch him from falling face first on the floor. “Y/n my love, I can die happy now that I’ve seen your heavenly body handmade from the gods themselves.” You flick him between his curly eyebrows and call for Chopper to keep him from actually dying from reliving the moment.

Zoro~

You catch him in the crows nest just as he’s drinking water after his workout and you end up in a staring contest with him with your tits still out. “Aren’t you gonna say something?” “Aren’t you gonna put some clothes on?” Obviously you don’t, so he helps you finish taking the rest of your clothes off and keeps them from you since you wanna be naked so damn bad.

Shanks~

You flash him your bare ass while your around the crew which leads him to chasing you down, throwing you over his shoulder and takes you to the nearest room with a lock. “You really thought you could get away with that and not face the consequences?” You huff and lean up against his back with your head in the palm of your hand watching the crew salute their goodbyes. “I still stick by my actions.” “Yeah let’s see about that when your crying on my cock.”

[one-green-frog]

Could I get a sanji x male reader pls? Also the reader having devil fruit powers that give him wings pls?

By Your Side, Always

Sanji x m!winged!Reader

The gentle sway of the Thousand Sunny was peaceful as the sun began its descent, painting the sky in hues of amber and rose. Sanji leaned against the railing of the ship, his ever-present cigarette hanging between his fingers. His thoughts, however, were far from any culinary ideas or flirtations. His eyes were trained on the figure perched atop the crow’s nest — (Y/N).

You had joined the crew only a few months ago, bringing with you the unique powers of your Devil Fruit. The “Tori Tori no Mi: Model barn owl” had granted you a pair of wings, magnificent and grand, each feather with an interesting new pattern when put together create the most beautiful wings.To Sanji, those wings were not just a testament to your abilities but a reflection of your spirit — free, untamed, and breathtakingly beautiful.

“Sanji, you okay there? You’ve been staring at (Y/N) for ages,” Nami teased as she walked by, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Sanji jolted, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “I-I was just… making sure he’s not slacking off! Someone’s gotta keep an eye on him!”

Nami chuckled knowingly before leaving him to his thoughts. Sanji cursed under his breath, feeling exposed. He couldn’t deny it anymore — he was absolutely smitten with you. From the way your laughter echoed across the ship to the moments you swooped down with those magnificent wings, his heart raced every time.

Just then, you descended gracefully from the crow’s nest, landing on the deck with a soft thud. Your wings folded behind you, their sheer size spoke of their strength. Sanji quickly straightened, taking a deep drag of his cigarette to mask his flustered expression.

“Hey, Sanji,” you greeted, your voice carrying a warmth that made his chest tighten. “What’s for dinner tonight? I’m starving.”

“Something special,” Sanji replied, his usual suave tone kicking in despite his nerves. “You’ve been working hard today. I’ll make sure it’s worthy of a king.”

You chuckled, rubbing the back of your neck. “You’re too kind. But honestly, I think Zoro might collapse if he hears you pampering me again.”

“Let that mosshead collapse,” Sanji shot back, his tone playful. “You deserve the best.”

Your laughter filled the air, and Sanji felt his heart flutter. Before he could stop himself, his eyes drifted to your wings again. They caught the fading sunlight, each feather gleaming like it had been dipped in gold.

“Sanji?” you asked, tilting your head. “You’ve been staring at my wings a lot lately. Do they freak you out or something?”

Sanji’s eyes widened in alarm. “What? No! Not at all!” He stubbed out his cigarette hurriedly, trying to find the right words. “They’re… They’re incredible, (Y/N). Really. I’ve never seen anything like them.”

A soft smile spread across your face, and you stretched one wing out slightly. “You can touch them if you want.”

Sanji froze. “Are you serious?”

“Of course,” you said, stepping closer. “I don’t let just anyone touch them, but for you? It’s fine.”

Sanji’s breath hitched as you stood before him, your wings partially spread. Tentatively, he reached out, his fingers brushing against the soft feathers. They were warm and far softer than he had imagined. A strange sense of calm washed over him as he continued to trail his fingers along the edge.

“They’re… amazing,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Strong but soft. Like you.”

You blinked, surprised by his words. “Sanji…”

He pulled his hand back, suddenly aware of how intimate the moment had become. “Sorry! That was out of line—”

“No,” you interrupted, your voice gentle. “It wasn’t. I... that was very nice of you to say.. thank you."

Sanji looked up, his blue eyes meeting yours. For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you standing there, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun.

“I’ve always admired you,” Sanji admitted softly. “Not just your wings, but everything about you. You’re brave, kind, and you’ve brought so much life to this ship. I… I think I’m falling for you, (Y/N).”

Your eyes widened, and for a moment, Sanji feared he’d overstepped. But then, a smile broke across your face, and you stepped closer, your wings enveloping the two of you in a cocoon of warmth.

“You’re something else, Sanji,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I think I’ve fallen for you too.”

Sanji’s breath caught in his throat as you leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a soft, tender kiss. His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as his heart threatened to burst from his chest.

When you finally pulled away, Sanji was left speechless, his cheeks flushed and his cigarette forgotten on the deck.

“So,” you said, your voice teasing, “about that dinner? I hope it’s as special as you promised.”

Sanji chuckled, his usual charm returning. “For you, my angel? It’ll be the best meal of your life.”

As you laughed and walked away, your wings swaying gently with each step, Sanji couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest man alive. You were his angel, and he was determined to show you just how much you meant to him

[angel1010xx]

ｎｉｇｈｔｍａｒｅｓ

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Pairing: Zoro x Reader

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“Nami, stop!” Running with as fast of a pace as you could manage, you chased after Nami, crying out for her to stop. She was heading straight into a trap—but why wasn’t she stopping? Why couldn’t she hear you? And God, why did your side hurt so fucking bad?

A jolt of pain caused you to fall to your knees, scraping them and your shins against the rough cobblestone road. Your hands went to your side, pressing down hard, and you looked down.

Red. There was so much red.

Tears fell from your eyes as if they were a waterfall, and you shrieked in utter agony and fear. You didn’t have the strength to stand. You didn’t have the strength to move at all. 

Barely managing to lift your head back up, you gazed on as Nami got overpowered by the devil fruit users that attacked the crew. You glanced to your right—there was Chopper, laying in a pool of his own blood, body small and misshaped. You glanced to your left—there was Franky, lying still, limbs missing. 

Dazed in shock from what was going on around you, and from the pain in your abdomen, you hardly registered when two hands fell on either side of your head. Someone was standing behind you. However, you did feel when they twisted your neck, and with a quick ‘snap,’ the pain was gone.  

Thud.

You gasped and wheezed, pushing your upper body up off the floor. Sweat was dripping down your face, and your body was soaked in it. Slowly, you managed to piece together that no, you weren’t dying in battle. You were in your cabin, you had just rolled off of your bunk, and you were in your underwear—no bloody clothes and no fatal flesh wounds. 

Your shoulders hurt from the fall, but this was much better than a nightmare.

Groaning, you began to stand up. It was hot. You were thirsty. Why did the kitchen have to be so far away? I need to ask Franky to put some mini-fridges in the rooms, you mused. 

You grabbed a robe off the hook on the wall, and wrapped yourself in it as you left your cabin quarters. It was cool outside, and it was a welcome change. You took a few deep breaths.

In… out. In… out. Someone please make my heart stop beating so fast.

“Can’t sleep?”

You squeaked in surprise, stumbling a bit while you whipped around to see Zoro. He was sitting while leaning against the main mast that led up to the crow’s nest, a slight flush on his face that was a little damp. You eyed the bottle at his side. “Yeah…” you muttered. “Are you training? This late at night?”

He just shrugged. “Can’t become the greatest swordsman if I don’t make time to train.”

“Training? With booze?”

“Mind your business. Gotta practice being battle-ready under any condition.”

You huffed, pulling your robe tighter around you while you moved to sit down beside him. Zoro silently picked up the bottle and gestured it towards you, and you chose to take it. You put the bottle to your lips, took a gulp, and groaned as the alcohol burned down your throat. “I don’t drink much.”

“Oh yeah?” Zoro mumbled as you handed him back his liquor. “Good. It’s not good for you.” A few silent moments passed while the swordsman placed his attention on your heavy eyes. He gestured towards your face, hand still holding the bottle. “You’re tired. You look like you’ve been crying.” You sighed, then placed your head on his shoulder. “Bad dreams. I’ll be alright.”

Zoro tensed up slightly, but didn’t move to get you off him. Mr. Rough-and-Gruff had a soft spot for his crew, and maybe more so for you. “I have strong friends,” you whispered. “I don’t have to worry about any of them, especially not the king of hell right here.” Zoro chuckled. “No, definitely not.”

You two stayed there, quiet, and comfortable in the moment. Neither of you remember when you two dozed off to sleep, lying against the mast.

*_______*_______*________*

Nami yawned and stretched, still shaking off her sleep as she left her quarters as the sun rose. She had to go find Robin, and Robin had been on night watch, so Nami was heading towards the crow’s nest.

What Nami was surprised to see, was you and Zoro sound asleep on the deck. Your head was still on his shoulder, and your legs were up against the side of him while his arm was around your waist. She smiled. 

Nami turned her head as she heard the door to the kitchen slam open. There, in the doorway, stood a very pissed off Sanji. Wasting no time, Nami rushed him, placing her hand against his mouth and pushing him back into the kitchen. She listened as Sanji shouted a bunch of obscenities—“Damn that mosshead! Defiling a princess! His hands shouldn’t be on such an angel! It’s a crime against humanity!....”

Nami laughed at him. What a sore loser. 

[hummingbird24220]

May I request aged down! strawhats with overwhelmed reader. The strawhats were hit with a devil fruit leading them to be 7-10 ish (keeping the same age gaps they already have so franky, robin and brook are still older) Reader finds them all adorable but there’s a lot of children now running around. Just fun shenanigans all around

Love this!!! Theyre all so cute as kids :')

Hope you enjoy!

Daycare Dawn

One Piece x Reader — Aged Down!Straw Hats

You blinked slowly.

Then again.

Then again, just in case the sun was playing tricks on your eyes.

“...Okay. Deep breaths,” you murmured, crouching down in front of the small crowd of miniature pirates now staring up at you with the exact same expressions as the fully grown Straw Hats you knew and loved. Just...shorter. Rounder. With missing baby teeth and too-large clothes.

In front of you stood your crew. The strongest, weirdest, loudest found family you’d ever had.

Only now?

They were all children.

“(Y/N),” tiny Robin said calmly, her oversized cowboy hat slipping to one side of her head. “You appear to be panicking.”

“I’m not panicking,” you lied, kneeling down and pressing your hands to your cheeks as your eyes swept across them again.

There was 7-year-old Chopper sniffling, wrapped in a t-shirt that now draped over him like a cape. He looked like a plush toy you could find in a gift shop.

There was 9-year-old Usopp who already had stick-on stars and bandaids plastered all over his cheeks, doing ninja moves behind you because he thought you weren’t watching.

Zoro and Sanji—11, both of them—were glaring at each other with identical disgust, the former already trying to sneak a training weight under his shirt and the latter attempting to pull a cigarette out of his pocket only to find a lollipop instead.

“Oh no,” you muttered, looking to Luffy next.

The 9-year-old boy was in the middle of climbing the mast like it was a jungle gym. “(Y/N)! (Y/N)! Look what I can do!” he called, hanging upside down from the crow’s nest, grinning like a maniac. “I’m gonna jump!”

“You’re gonna what—” You sprinted to catch him, only for his rubber body to bounce harmlessly off the deck like a living beach ball. He cackled as he rolled in a circle.

Nami, age 10 and furious about it, stomped over to you with her arms crossed. “Do you know how long it took me to grow out of this hair phase?! I look like a dandelion!”

You opened your mouth to respond but froze as a clunk clunk echoed from the stairs.

Franky had arrived.

Sixteen-year-old Franky—barely out of braces and with an unfortunate blue fauxhawk haircut you would later learn was a "daring phase"—grinned at you from ear to ear.

“YO! This is SUPER!!” he shouted, attempting to flex his scrawny arms. “Check out these noodle guns!”

Your soul quietly left your body.

Robin, the most composed of the group at ten years old, patted your shoulder gently. “You appear to be experiencing emotional collapse. That’s understandable.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” you replied, weakly.

And then—skeletal violin screech.

Brook poked his head out from the kitchen doorway, still a skeleton (as ever), but somehow… younger? If a skeleton could be “youthful,” Brook was pulling it off. He even seemed to be standing a little straighter.

“I’d offer to babysit,” he said, bowing dramatically, “but as you can see, I’m bone-tired! Yohohohoho!”

You tossed a dishcloth at him. “You’re not helping!”

“Oh, I’m not helping,” he said with a wink you could feel in your bones.

You dragged both hands down your face.

So, to recap: Some weird Devil Fruit user hit your crew with an ability that aged them down. Not mentally—not entirely. They still acted like themselves. But there was definitely a whole lot more chaos, tantrums, and bursts of uncontainable child energy going on than usual.

And you were the only one unaffected.

Which meant—

“(Y/N)!” Chopper cried, tugging your pants leg. “I accidentally turned into my heavy point and crushed Sanji!”

“I’m fine,” came a muffled voice from under the couch. “But I think my nose is broken. Again.”

You sighed. “Okay. Right. New rule: No transforming without warning me first.”

“(Y/N)!” Usopp yelled from the upper deck. “Can I ride the cannon?”

“No.”

“Too late!”

A BOOM shook the ship as a puff of smoke exploded from one of the Sunny’s cannons—followed by giggling.

Robin sat on a crate, already reading a book. “I took the gunpowder out,” she explained. “Figured that might be necessary.”

You dropped to your knees and clutched your head. “This is fine. Everything’s fine. I’ve definitely babysat this many children before. This is just like that time I watched Chopper, Nami, and Usopp for ten minutes and no one lost a limb. Same vibe.”

“Technically,” Robin mused, “Usopp did sprain his ankle.”

“Robin.”

“Just saying.”

Franky ran by in platform shoes he made out of tin cans.

Sanji was making tiny, child-sized bentos.

Zoro was napping on top of the fridge.

Brook was serenading himself in a mirror.

Luffy was trying to fit an entire watermelon in his mouth.

And you… you were going to need a nap. And snacks. Lots of snacks.

But despite the chaos, the wild energy, and the feeling of being totally overwhelmed by this whirlwind of tiny terrors—

You couldn’t stop smiling.

Because damn it… they were adorable.

--

You stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back, and a growing mountain of sandwich triangles before you.

It had taken you ten minutes to realize that child-sized Straw Hats had the same appetites as their adult counterparts—which was to say, limitless.

“Okay,” you muttered, lining up the last few plates on the counter like you were preparing for war. “Peanut butter and jelly. Tuna. Egg salad. Ham and cheese. And… a few veggie ones. For balance. I am a god.”

You turned just in time to see Luffy’s wide eyes peering over the counter like a cartoon character, hands gripping the edge.

“Are those… sandwiches?” he asked, voice trembling like he’d just seen the One Piece itself.

“They’re not even fancy ones,” you said, lifting a plate.

“I don’t care.” Luffy looked on the verge of tears. “They’re beautiful.”

And just like that, the feeding frenzy began.

Within seconds, your kitchen was overrun.

Zoro was casually grabbing ham-and-cheese sandwiches two at a time, his mouth too full to speak but still managing to grunt his approval like a tiny caveman.

Sanji, despite his age regression, had a pinky up while eating a cucumber sandwich, face flushed as he muttered, “You cut the crusts off… (Y/N), you care so much it hurts—”

Nami had claimed an entire plate of egg salad sandwiches and was sitting cross-legged on the counter like a tiny queen. “You’re getting a tip after this. I'm budgeting it in.”

Robin, who you swore had never smiled wider than this, calmly took a bite of a veggie sandwich. “You have excellent knife skills,” she praised. “These are perfectly symmetrical. I feel respected.”

Chopper made a noise somewhere between a squeal and a gasp, eyes sparkling. “There’s peanut butter in my mouth and in my heart,” he whispered reverently.

You were dangerously close to melting into a puddle of goo.

Usopp had stuffed his cheeks so full he looked like a chipmunk, dramatically flopping to the floor. “I’ve been reborn,” he declared. “This is my new origin story.”

Brook, despite being a skeleton and physically unable to eat, took a plate and sat politely at the table anyway. “I can’t eat it,” he said, holding the sandwich tenderly. “But it’s the thought that nourishes my soul. Yohohoho!”

Franky took one bite, froze, then immediately built a cardboard shrine in your honor out of old cola boxes. “This is the most SUPER sandwich I’ve ever had!” he shouted, fist raised. “I will protect this kitchen with my life!”

“I only used white bread and sliced meat—” you started.

“DIVINE BREAD,” Luffy insisted, eyes wide with awe.

“You toasted the edges?” Sanji whispered. “(Y/N). Marry me.”

“I’m too old for you right now,” you shot back, flicking his forehead.

“I’ll wait.” He clutched his sandwich like a declaration of love.

Zoro looked up, crumbs clinging to his cheek. “What’s a ‘marry’?”

You opened your mouth to explain, but Luffy had already shoved another sandwich in his mouth and mumbled, “It’s when you get extra snacks forever.”

“Oh. I wanna marry a sandwich.”

“You are a sandwich,” Usopp muttered, still collapsed on the floor.

You stood in the middle of the chaos, watching them eat and laugh and yell over one another, with little jelly fingerprints smudging the counter and sticky mouths smiling up at you like you were some kind of hero.

And, yeah.

Okay.

Maybe this was a nightmare for some people.

But watching these tiny versions of your crew—your family—tear into simple sandwiches like they were sacred relics?

Yeah. You could handle this.

Even if you were now officially the Mom, Dad, Cook, Babysitter, Emotional Counselor, and Occasional Jungle Gym of the Straw Hat Pirates.

You didn’t mind.

You were smitten.

--

“GUYS,” you yelled from the deck, holding a dish towel and looking absolutely unhinged, “I NEED FIVE MINUTES. JUST FIVE. MINUTES.”

So far, your afternoon had included:

28 sandwiches distributed.

14 sandwiches dropped.

2 sandwiches stuffed into your pockets “for later,” according to Usopp.

And 1 tiny Brook playing the violin dramatically in the background the whole time like your life was a telenovela.

You were beginning to think the Devil Fruit that did this to them hadn’t just reversed their age—it had amplified their chaos.

“(Y/N)!” Luffy’s voice rang out like a gunshot. “WATCH THIS—!”

You turned.

Too late.

He had launched himself off the side of the Sunny using one of the cannons as a springboard, aiming for… something? A fish? A cloud? The concept of fun?

Either way, he was headed straight for the sea.

“LUFFY—!”

Your heart dropped.

You sprinted to the edge of the ship and dove after him without thinking. The ocean rushed up to meet you, your arms cutting through the water as you spotted a flash of red and rubber beneath the surface.

One firm grip on the back of his vest later, and you hauled a very soggy, still-laughing Luffy back onto the deck.

He spat out a mouthful of seawater and beamed at you.

“That was AWESOME—!”

You flicked his forehead so fast, even he blinked.

“No. More. Launching. Yourself. Into. The. Ocean.”

He rubbed his head, then gave you a sheepish, child-sized grin.

“Okay,” he mumbled, then immediately whispered to Usopp, “...Next time, aim better.”

You gave him the look.

Inside, another disaster was brewing.

“NAMI,” you barked, storming into the common room just in time to see her holding out a tiny ledger.

“What is this?” you asked, even though you already knew the answer.

Nami smiled sweetly. Too sweetly. Suspiciously sweetly.

“A perfectly reasonable breathing fee,” she said. “Usopp’s been taking extra breaths today.”

Usopp, clutching a handful of shiny buttons he’d already offered as payment, nodded. “It’s fair. I was really huffin’ earlier.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

“No one is being charged for breathing,” you said firmly. “You can charge him when he starts asking for air delivery.”

“But—”

“Nope.”

Usopp looked a little disappointed. “So I get to keep my buttons?”

“Yes.”

He threw them in the air and started dancing under them like it was a parade.

You turned the corner.

Only to spot Chopper sitting cross-legged on the couch surrounded by medical supplies. He had at least four syringes sticking out of his little hooves and was carefully inspecting a scalpel.

“CHOPPER.”

He froze.

“…Hi?” he squeaked.

You crouched down beside him. “Hey, buddy. Whatcha doin’?”

“I was just… doing pretend surgery. On this banana.” He held up a very unfortunate banana with a bandaid over its middle.

“Aw, that’s cute,” you said gently. “But maybe let’s not use actual needles right now, yeah?”

He nodded rapidly. “Right! Right. Sorry. I forgot I’m seven.”

You took the scalpel away and replaced it with a plushie shaped like a liver. “Operate on this instead.”

His eyes lit up. “I love you.”

“I love you too, you tiny menace.”

A loud CRASH interrupted your moment of peace.

You whipped around just in time to see Zoro and Sanji rolling across the deck in a tangle of flailing limbs and shouted insults.

“You’re cooking smells like feet!”

“Your sword stance looks like you learned it from a goldfish!”

You stepped in between them, arms outstretched, a flip-flop in one hand for intimidation.

“BOYS. NO FIGHTING ON THE SHIP.”

Zoro froze mid-punch. “He called my eyebrows weird again.”

“They are!”

“That’s racist!”

You held up the flip-flop higher.

They both instantly sat cross-legged and folded their arms like little monks.

“Thank you,” you said, deeply exhausted.

Behind you, Luffy had started drawing faces on the deck with mustard.

Usopp had convinced Chopper to wear a sock on his head as a “doctor crown.”

Franky was trying to upgrade Brook’s violin to shoot fireworks.

And Robin had quietly installed a “help” sign in the kitchen window.

You put your hands on your hips, looked up at the sky, and exhaled deeply.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself. “Just… eleven more hours ‘til bedtime.”

--

Bedtime had started as a hope.

Then it became a goal.

And by the end?

It was a full-blown campaign that would go down in the history books as the “Battle of the Bunkroom.”

But somehow—somehow—you made it through.

You’d started with the easy ones.

Robin, ever graceful even at ten, had calmly brushed her teeth, climbed into her blanket nest, and said, “Goodnight, (Y/N). You’re doing a wonderful job.”

You almost cried on the spot.

Franky, now a lanky teen with too-long limbs, high-fived you, announced he was “recharging his SUPER batteries,” and collapsed onto a futon with mechanical snoring sounds. You covered him with a blanket. He muttered “gear maintenance…” in his sleep.

Nami grumbled, “Only because I have important dreams,” and curled up on her own pile of pillows with her ledger tucked under one arm like a stuffed animal. She was out in minutes.

Chopper and Usopp? Already asleep. Cuddled up in a sleepy little pile on the couch like a deer and a raccoon, legs tangled, Usopp drooling slightly onto Chopper’s ear. You didn’t dare move them.

Brook was sitting upright in a chair with a cup of tea and a lullaby on his violin. “I do not sleep,” he said politely, “but I shall vibe respectfully.”

“…Thanks?”

“My pleasure. Yohohoho~”

The final boss of bedtime?

Monkey D. Luffy.

He’d declared he didn’t need sleep, wouldn’t sleep, had never heard of sleep—and then passed out mid-sentence while arguing with a broom. You caught him before his head hit the floor, bundled him up like a burrito, and gently tucked him into bed.

“Goodnight, captain,” you whispered.

He let out one sleepy “meat…” and began snoring.

You were so close.

Only two remained.

Zoro and Sanji were seated at the table across from each other, eyes narrowed in concentration, arms crossed, faces set in serious little scowls.

“Whatcha doing?” you asked.

“Staying up longer than him,” Sanji muttered.

“Tch. As if you could,” Zoro scoffed.

You blinked. “This is… a competition now?”

They nodded. In perfect sync.

You sighed and collapsed into the chair between them, resting your head on the table. “You know I could just say ‘lights out’ and win, right?”

“We’re already past lights out,” Sanji said smugly.

Zoro grunted. “She’s got wine waiting. Bet she wants us to go to sleep.”

You gave them both a deadpan look. “That’s disturbingly accurate.”

They stayed quiet for a moment, and you just… sat there with them. The ship had fallen quiet, a soft ocean breeze drifting through the windows, the distant creak of the Sunny rocking gently on the waves.

“…You’re a good babysitter,” Sanji said suddenly, not looking at you.

You blinked.

“I mean,” he added quickly, face going pink, “for someone who doesn’t normally babysit, and, y’know, isn’t qualified.”

Zoro grunted. “She didn’t even kill anyone. That’s impressive.”

You huffed a laugh. “Thanks, guys. I think.”

They both leaned on the table, heads wobbling.

“I’m gonna stay up forever,” Sanji mumbled.

“Same,” Zoro said, eyes already closed.

“…You’re asleep.”

“No I’m not,” Zoro muttered, face-first on the table.

Right into a forgotten jam sandwich.

“…You have got to be kidding me.”

Sanji snored softly beside him, forehead resting on your arm.

You sighed—again—and stood up, gently lifting Zoro over one shoulder (carefully avoiding the jam) and tucking him into the closest futon. His cheek was sticky, and you wiped it clean with a warm cloth.

His face twitched slightly. “…Mm. Thanks…”

You smiled.

Then you picked up Sanji, who mumbled something about soufflé in his sleep, and placed him beside Zoro, both of them looking more peaceful than you’d seen them all day.

And finally, finally, it was over.

You stepped back into the now-silent kitchen, grabbed a wine bottle from the fridge, poured yourself a very big glass, and sank into the couch.

One sip. Two. Deep breath.

You looked around at the peaceful chaos.

Blankets everywhere. Tiny socks. Luffy's hat abandoned on the floor. Chopper's plushie liver left on the table like a casualty.

“Yeah,” you whispered to yourself, taking another sip.

“…I definitely need therapy after this.”

But damn if you didn’t love them more than anything.

--

You woke up early.

Groggy. Fuzzy-brained. Slightly hungover, but only in spirit.

Your back ached from carrying two pint-sized swordsmen and a certain rubber boy who slept like a boulder, and there was a peanut butter smear in your hair you didn’t want to talk about.

Still, you dragged yourself out of bed and into the galley.

It was a disaster zone.

Crusts. Crumbs. Stickers on the walls (thanks, Usopp). Someone had drawn a mustache on the fridge with ketchup. You didn’t know how Luffy had managed to get a spoon in the ceiling, but it was there.

You got to work quietly. No complaints. No grumbling.

Just you, the sunrise, and the soft hum of a broom scraping jelly off the floor.

And then—

“...(Y/N)?”

You turned, almost afraid.

There, standing in the doorway, was Sanji. Grown-up Sanji. In all his tall, flirty, freshly-shaven, cigarette-holding glory.

You dropped the sponge in your hand like it was molten lava.

“You’re big again.”

He blinked. Then looked down at himself. “...Oh. Oh.”

From the hallway, more voices joined in.

“Is this a dream?”

“My arms aren’t stubby anymore!”

“My facial hair! It’s returned!”

One by one, the rest of the Straw Hats filed in, stretching, yawning, rubbing the backs of their necks and blinking at the suddenly too-small furniture.

Luffy bounced in, now fully adult, his hat flopping over one eye.

“WHOA! I’m tall again!” he grinned, poking his own face. “I missed my stubble!”

“You didn’t have stubble, idiot,” Zoro muttered, already raiding the fridge. He paused, hand hovering over the jam jar. “...Why is there a bite mark in the jar?”

“Don’t ask,” you croaked, still in shock. “You were eleven. You had a jam sandwich battle with your face. It’s fine.”

Chopper ran in on two legs. “(Y/N)!” he wailed. “Did I do surgery on a banana???”

You gave him a thumbs up. “It survived.”

Robin was serene as ever, smiling gently. “It appears the effect wore off overnight.”

Franky cracked his knuckles. “I remember everything. I had teen angst, didn’t I?”

“You tried to start a band called ‘Supernova Sadboys,’” you confirmed.

He fist-pumped. “...Nice.”

Usopp staggered in, looking like he hadn’t slept in a year. “I had dreams, man. So many dreams. You were in them. You were yelling.”

“Probably real,” you muttered, picking jelly out of your hair.

Luffy plopped into a chair and grinned. “(Y/N), you looked after all of us the whole time, huh?”

You nodded slowly.

“And didn’t die,” Sanji added.

“Almost,” you said, deadpan. “Almost.”

Zoro snorted and passed you a clean mug of coffee. “You earned this.”

Robin took a seat beside you and tilted her head. “We do owe you.”

Brook handed you a single flower from his violin case. “You are our skeletal savior. Or, perhaps, our mama mia. Yohohoho!”

The room erupted in laughter.

“No, seriously,” Nami added with a smirk, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “You were like a whole mom yesterday. Cooking, chasing, yelling, wiping noses—”

“I didn’t wipe any noses!” you argued.

Chopper raised a hoof. “You wiped my nose.”

“Oh my god—”

Luffy leaned back and beamed. “Well, Mom, you did a great job!”

“Stop calling me Mom—!”

Zoro took a long sip of his coffee. “Too late. It’s canon now.”

Usopp leaned dramatically against the counter. “Captain Mom.”

“Mom of the Pirates.”

“(Y/N) the All-Mother.”

You groaned, dropping your head onto the table. “I survived literal child pirates just for this?”

But the truth was… you were smiling.

Because chaos or not, mess or not, wine and jelly and all, they were back. And safe.

And still absolutely the best disaster family in the world.

You took a long sip of your coffee, sighed, and muttered with a grin:

“Never. Again.”

Luffy raised his mug. “Until next time!”

[meowrimo]

Zoro had been harboring a secret.

Tucked away in the crows nest to find a serene sense of sanctuary as you both nestle under the wooly blanket you had long since adopted as your own, brings him a world of comfort — the perfect place to present the gift he had been discreetly working on for the last few weeks.

The empty canvas that made up your neck demanded something equally as mesmerizing as you to show off and enchance your features. The thought of milky dewdrops that resemble the lofty moon you two would embrace under every evening felt befitting — a pearl necklace that he could tenderly string together in a dire hope that you’d adore it the way he cherishes you.

Begrudgingly, Zoro had to make a deal with the devil for it — the devil being the shitty love cook that never fails to cast his heart eyes in your direction and drive the swordsman mad.

But truthfully, he was the only one that could efficiently help him out. So he swallowed his pride for your sake.

The days at quaint little fishing village the crew found themselves docked at awhile ago were spent shucking oysters with Sanji to find the treasure that sometimes lay beneath the squishy meat, somehow forced to work together as the rest of the crew questioned why they were being served at almost every meal.

Words escape your swordsman as his large hand holds out the haphazardly wrapped gift, throat thickening with an unexpected emotion that’s all consuming and lays on his tongue like syrupy honey. But nothing needs to be said, the action saying everything his heart holds.

Tufts of stardust collect under your misty eyes, brimming with happiness that’s ready to tumble and trickle down your smiling face. Zoro doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so beautiful, so full of life that could only be akin to discovering a twinkling star that shoots across the nighttime sky. A sight unfolding before him that he almost doesn’t want the rest of the world to see, something he can selfishly keep to himself in his ever drumming heart that beats to your name.

Calloused palms cusp your expressive cheeks and with the swipe of his thumb, he brushes the sparkling teardrops away as it absorbs into his very flesh and seeps into his bones — sharing every aspect of the sweet moment with you as his forehead kisses your own.

“Merry Christmas.” With the seal of your lips pressing together, he receives his own very gift from you, the one that keeps on giving. The unyielding love that emits from your very being coats him in a divine protection that was stronger than any suit of armor could ever provide, reinforcing his will to keep going.

“Merry Christmas, Zo.” The soft, breathy use of his nickname causes his heart swell up, chest threatening to burst from the intensive heat but your cooling touch melts him in a different way, one that has him secretly wishing you’ll never let go.

And his soul knows you never will.

[dragonofthestone]

what's your role in a found family dynamic?

the hermit who helps

At first, you were a resource for the established characters to turn to, but you quickly began to steal the show due to your personality, your usefulness, or your inherently interesting perspective on life. you were pretty much already able to provide for yourself, but the next thing you know, these people are growing on you.

Instead of asking favors, it becomes an invitation to socialize. you find yourself sticking around for no apparent reason other than you like it here. the people are fun to watch, if nothing else, but ultimately they're just--oh no. oh no, you care about them. you always thought you stayed away from this "relationship" stuff for a reason. it gets messy and isn't worth it unless it really works. for some reason, this group really works. these weirdos are now your weirdos, and if anything happens to them, there will be hell to pay. you were basically already looking after them before this, after all. welcome to the family, hermit.

[stolen off @theyoungprinceling ]

tagging @lunaferrous @mahoushojoumonster @seaglassmarigold @experimentalfma @doldoldolcetto

[and of course any and everyone else who sees this ^.^]

[foxyslittlegarden]

Thinking of reopening my store to make/sell general FMA merch including but not limited to the Devil's Nest team 👀

[star-spacer]

You Don't Need to Try to Belong

Sorry if the tone near the end doesn't quite match the rest of the fic something happened in the middle of me writing it and like all good writers do I used this as an emotional outlet. But hey, who doesn't want Marco to hold them amirite? This was meant to be shorter, but the rest of the crew hijacked it like the pirates they were.

Phoenix Marco x Reader (fluff, near-death experiences, dash of sickfic & hurt/comfort)

As the unofficial ‘Fixer-Upper’, the jack-of-all-trades of the Whiteboard Pirates with a helpful Devil Fruit to boot, you tend to overwork yourself helping any issues that arises. Sometimes at the detriment of your own health.

You don’t think you’d ever get used to seeing the sun rise over the horizon from your vantage point up in the Moby’s crow’s nest. 

The gentle blush of pink peeking over the horizon, watercolor-soft as the veil of the night pulled back. Blackness faded away to reveal the glittering waves of the ocean stretched seemingly infinitely all around you. It was a freedom given to you by the Whitebeard Pirates, one you could never repay.

Sunrise also had the added bonus of signifying the end of your lookout ship, the promise of your bed waiting for you.

Below you, on the deck, the morning bell rang out, signifying the official end of the night shift’s work. The hubbub of the ship coming to life stirred up as you climbed down the mast, seeing the specks of the other lookouts doing the same at the other crow’s nests. A few members glanced your way as your feet hit the deck, and you returned the greetings thrown at you, albeit with slightly less energy.

Your stomach growled as the aroma of food from the galley drifted over when you entered the halls. However, you didn’t join the others for breakfast like normal and instead went deeper into the Moby’s bowels to where the crew’s quarters were. You’d been bothered by a persistent headache all night, and you knew that going into the noisy mess hall would no doubt make it worse.

The shared cabin was thankfully empty for the most part, and you made it over to your hammock before collapsing into it and tugging the blanket up to your chin before blacking out, looking forward to the long, uninterrupted rest you’d get.

“WAKE UP!”

You grunted in pain as you were upended from your hammock, bedding and all falling down with you. Blearily, you sat up and squinted at the pair of legs in front of you, smacking your dry lips. You didn’t know how long it was since you’d fallen asleep, but you knew it was not long enough.

A freckled face and messy black hair invaded your vision, the inquisitive expression of one Portgas D. Ace showing who exactly it was that woke you up.

“Hey! Got a moment?”

Even though it was phrased as a question, you still found yourself forcibly dragged to your feet, his grip on your wrist the sole thing that kept you moving as you stumbled through the halls and out into the deck. Sunlight pierced your half-closed eyes, and you winced, squeezing them shut as you trusted Ace not to run you both into something. You two finally paused and you cracked your eyes open to show that you’d stopped in front of Striker, in all her dripping glory as she hung hoisted up over the deck.

Ace finally released your wrist, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry to drag ya all the to fix up the Striker for me? I’d ask Blenheim, but he’s with the other fleet right now.”

At the request of a fixing, you forcefully shook off your sleepiness. Tiredness still lingered, and that damn headache still nipped at your temple, but you pushed it all back. Alert eyes assessed the damage in front of you as you tuned into Ace’s chattering.

“I got cornered by a few small Marine scout boats and had to take the Striker through some sorta reef. Thought I got through it fine, but I guess the coral—”

A sudden thud.

You paused in your observation to haul Ace out of the way of the crew and lay him out straight before returning to the Striker. True to his word, the bottom of Striker’s hull was deeply scratched when you bent down to take a look at it. The wood was gouged in a few points, areas where leaks would’ve no doubt let in water. It was a miracle Ace made it back. You hummed at the thought, making a note to get Pops to talk with the young man about his recklessness.

The Striker swayed gently from the lines holding her up as you pushed gently, tilting your head to catch the sound of sloshing water in her bowels. It wouldn’t do to mend everything only to have her rot from the inside out by trapped moisture. When nothing came back, you nodded approvingly and crouched down, hand reaching up to touch the largest of the holes. There was a dim glow before the wood seemed to seal up wherever you dragged your fingers over it, returning to its previous pristine state. You did the same for the others, each spark and glow only tugging at the tiredness in your bones. It was light work, but you were still exhausted by the time you finished, opting to take a seat by Ace where he lay. You were only beginning to blink off into sleep when the young man sat back up.

“—scratched ‘er up real bad and—Oh.”

Ace blinked at the newly repaired full before turning to you, sending a thousand-kilowatt smile your way.

“F’xed it,” you mumbled, shooting him a thumbs up. Your head tilted to the side and you dozed off. While your Devil Fruit, the Mend Mend Fruit was extremely useful, it did take a toll on you.

Strong arms once again wretched you to your feet, and you squawked as Ace bodily hauled you off, cheerful as ever.

“Thanks so much! Let’s go get some food. I’m starvin’’”

You went limp in the newly minted commander’s hold, resigning yourself to your fate as he dragged you along to the mess. There were a few others there who were the stragglers from lunchtime.

Ace shifted you to drape over his shoulder like a sack as he assembled a plate for the two of you. The world flipped around as he set you down at a table, and you murmured your thanks, dragging heavy limbs to your utensils to force a few bites down.

A call of your name and a harried-looking Thatch halted right by your table, relief on his face. “There you are. Glad I could catch you. Think you can get that pipe done for us now?”

Your eyes widened as you straightened. Right. You were supposed to have stopped by this morning after breakfast to help fix up the leak in the piping that the division didn’t have the supplies to replace. “Oh shit. I’m so sorry, Thatch.”

Shooting to your feet, you pushed your plate to Ace and quickly set towards the galley, Thatch on your tail. The Fourth Division greeted you, wrapping up post-meal duties as they avoided one particular section in specific. Someone already peeled away the wooden boards to expose the problematic pipe, and rags were stuffed along the spaces in the wall and sprawled on the floor. As you approached, you noticed that there was something on the pipe. You squinted at the stain and sniffed.

“Is this–Is this dried molasses?!?” 

Thatch whistled and adverted his eyes under your scrutinizing stare. “We had to make do.”

You exhaled despairingly, pressing your fingers into the sticky mess. It was concerning how often you all ran short on miscellaneous supplies, despite being an Emperor’s crew. A glow sparked up, and you sealed the gap.

The sticky, dark substance stuck to your fingers as you withdrew them, and your stomach suddenly churned. Rushing to an empty sink, you quickly washed it off as you called back, “I’m not cleaning that.”

“Fair,” Thatch said. He withdrew a rag from his chef apron. “Thanks for this.”

You hummed as you exited the galley.

Somehow, those two actions seemed to unleash a catalyst upon your peace. The promise of rest seemed further and further away as you were directed all over the ship, fixing this odd thing or that odd part. Your headache never went away, only getting worse as nausea was added to the list.

Skull called out his thanks as you bolted away from him, clapping a hand over your mouth as you beelined for the railing. You made it just in time to empty your stomach over the side. The only food in your stomach—the meager bits you managed to shovel down before Thatch interrupted—splashed sadly into the water.

Shivering, you closed your eyes to block out the sight of the swaying waters below you. The railing dug into your stomach as you slumped down into it. Everything felt hot and cold at once, and you admitted to yourself that maybe it was time to lie down. No more using your Devil Fruit for today.

As you were straightening up, a scuffle broke out from behind you. It was two recruits, roughhousing or fighting, you couldn’t care either way. But before you could move, one of them stumbled and slammed into you. Your eyes widened as your grip slipped, and because of the way you were leaning over the railing, you felt gravity tugging you to the wrong side as you pitched overboard.

Your wide eyes were fixed on the spot where you just were, too stunned to make a peep. There was a shout of alarm on board.

It was never fun falling from the Moby Dick. Its massive size meant nothing less than a painful impact, and even a few broken bones if you were unlucky.

But you wouldn’t call yourself lucky either way if you fell over the Moby in the first place.

You slammed into the waves.

The first thing that hit you was the pain. Like crashing into solid brick, your back ached from bearing the brunt of the impact. Then the insidious cold seeped in, past your clothes, past your skin, until everything went numb. Bubbles swirled past you in a dizzying spectacle, and it would’ve been pretty if not for the death grip of the weight pulling down on your limbs.

Motes of bubbles passed your lips, but you had the foresight to not open your mouth, to not breathe. But that was all you could do as you sunk deeper, black edging into your vision.

They always said that drowning was a horrible way to go, the choking of water in your lungs. But to you, it felt soft. Like the welcoming of the tiredness you’d carried around all day.

It’s so easy,

Your eyes fluttered, lips cracking open, allowing the saltwater to rush in.

You could get the rest you wanted.

You didn’t feel the arms clamping around your waist to drag you upward.

But you did notice as the two of you breached the surface, water spewing out of your mouth as you coughed. It burned going up, and you clung limply to the form you now identified to be Rakuyo as he stretched up his other arm. “Bring us up!”

He crushed you to his chest as the two of you shot up from the water, hauled up by his living flail. You both landed on the deck again, him on his feet while you were still in his hold. However, that quickly changed as your body spasmed.

“Woah there!” The man exclaimed, quickly crouching down so you wouldn’t meet a second painful impact if you spilled out of his arms.

“Someone grab Marco!”

Quickly, you were set on your side. Just in time as you retched. More seawater (seriously you don’t know how you swallowed so much) came up, through your nose, through your mouth. Warm hands rubbed your back as you gathered the strength to prop yourself up, as the spasms continued. It would’ve been mortifying to have the crew see you like this if you hadn’t seen these same full-grown men projectile vomit their dinner after a few too many drinks. As of right now, you were busy trying not to feel like death warmed over. Someone’s oversized sash fell around your shoulders as they used it to dry you off of the cold water.

“What’s going on, yoi?”

Marco’s voice was like a balm to your raw nerves as indistinct voices murmured over your head. Someone draped something soft over you (a towel?) and you sneezed.

Like the world’s most pathetic, bedraggled, wet cat, you were picked up from underneath your arms and passed over to warmer ones.

“H-Hol’ on,” you slurred, getting wrapped up in the fabric around your shoulders. Your head lolled against a warm chest. “Might throw—throw up.”

Marco shushed you. “Don’t worry about it, yoi.”

Blue and gold flames fluttered to life around you, your aches and coldness fading away. However, you still felt that bone-deep tiredness, and your lungs still rattled wetly. 

“I’m taking you to the infirmary. We have to monitor your lungs, just in case.”

Aw, man. You hated to be a bother.

Weakly wriggling in his grip, you voiced your protests, “‘M fine. L-Lemme jus’ go sleep it off.”

“You can rest in the infirmary. I healed your superficial injuries, but I can’t fix the drain your Devil Fruit already pulled from you or expel any potential water. Don’t fight me on this, yoi.”

You let out an unintelligible noise, sagging deeper into his hold. The hubbub of the ship fell away into muffled peace as he entered the infirmary, greeting the nurses there.

“Goodness! What happened?” Lisa asked as she pulled out more towels and a pair of spare clothes.

“We had a tumble off the deck,” Marco said, setting you down on a bed in the corner and stepping back for the nurse to let her set the clothes down by your side. He grabbed the privacy curtain, readying to pull it close as he asked you, “Think you can get changed, yoi? Lisa or another nurse can assist if you think you’ll need help.”

You looked down at your shaking hands, then to the set of folded clothes beside you. It was a simple enough shirt and pants, nondescript for their versatility. “I’ll be f-f-f-fine.”

The shiver that broke your words into a stutter wasn’t convincing, but Marco didn’t push it as he pulled the curtains closed around you to give you a bit of privacy. His voice came from the other side, “Let me know when you’re done, yoi.”

It took you much longer than you’d like to admit, wrangling yourself into the change of clothes, but just when Marco began shuffling on the other side of the curtain, you managed to pull the collar of the shirt over your head with your stiff limb and wrapped your hair in a towel.

“I’m d-do-done.”

The curtains were pulled open again and Marco stepped through. In the span of time it took for you to change, the man had collected equipment of his own. His stethoscope hung around his neck, and he carried a blanket rolled up under an arm and a thermometer.

“Just a precaution, yoi,” he said when he saw you eyeing his getup. You took the blanket when he handed it to you. The back of his hand came up to rest on your forehead and he hummed as he began putting on his stethoscope. “I want to listen to your lungs and keep you here to rest up.”

Letting out a put-upon sigh, you tilted your head back, staying still as Marco pressed the cold metal of the chest piece into your skin, expression calm as he focused on your breathing. After a few moments, he pulled away and tugged off the instrument.

“Your breathing sounds alright from what I could tell, yoi. But your temperature’s a little out of its normal range. How are you feeling, yoi?”

With the assessment done, you pulled away and curled up on the bed, tugging the blanket up. “Blegh, fine. I’m just gonna rest my eyes for a bit.”

“You do that, yoi,” Marco said, patting your shoulder. “I’ll watch over you.”

Letting out a huff, you allowed the lull of sleep to finally pull you under.

***

Warm hands on your forehead and cheek stirred you from the fretful slumber you were in, and you murmured, trying to pull away from the disturbance. Your breath whistled when you sighed, nose closed by a painful pressure and the rattle when you breathed seemed more prominent than ever.

There was a quiet tut before they came back with greater insistence, pulling you into a sitting position. You resisted, but your limbs felt leaden when you tried to lift them up. A slow, pounding pain pulsed in your temples on top of that, intensifying when you cracked your eyes open. You squeezed them shut again, but that peek was enough to see the slight chastisement on Marco’s expression as you identified him to be the one taking care of you.

His voice was low, kept to a manageable level that wouldn’t upset your head as he said, “Looks like you’re getting a fever, yoi. That’s strange.”

Blue flickered through your closed eyes as a gentle wash of his flames coursed through you. The pounding in your head lessened

“Tried my best to alleviate some of your symptoms, but since most of them aren’t physical injuries, I don’t think helped much.”

“It’s fine,” you rasped, blinking the crustiness from your eyes as you sat up. “Thanks for tryin’”

He hummed, pulling away. “What I’m surprised about is that you’re getting so sick from a dip in the waters. As far as I’m aware, the waters in this part of the Grand Line should be temperate enough to avoid that issue, yoi. Unless…” He narrowed his eyes at you, suspicion flashing in his gaze as he picked up on your guilty air. “You were on deck at a time where you would usually be asleep, yoi. Why weren’t you resting?” 

“Listen,” you began. “You’re not allowed to scold anybody involved in it…”

Marco sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why do I feel like I already know who it is, yoi?”

“Ace took me out to help fix Striker,” you agreed, ignoring Marco’s muttered ‘I knew it’. “Then we swung by the galley where there was something I forgot to fix for Thatch. Some of the crew caught me about, and it kind of escalated from there.”

The way the man tilted his head was distinctively avian. “Now, why would you do that, yoi? We’ve discussed using your Devil Fruit when you’re tired.”

You pursed your lips and adverted your eyes, shrugging. “I dunno. I couldn’t just say no.”

His eyes softened. “You know… You’re deserving of rest when you’re tired. You don’t need to bend over backward to please us. You don’t have to prove anything.”

Unbidden, you felt tears spring up in your eyes, and you blamed it on the mess running through your system, pulling away so you could wipe them.

However, Marco’s hands came up to hold your face, thumb wiping away the bit of saltiness that spilled over your lashes.

“Silly love,” Marco murmured as he tugged you into his chest and enveloped you.

Pliantly allowing it to happen, your face ended up buried in his chest. His hand rubbed your back comfortingly as he shifted to take a seat and pulled you into his lap. You sank deeper into him, instinctively relaxing at the soothing warmth he emitted.

“Nobody would think less of you for resting. There’s no payment to be on the crew beyond what you can safely provide. And you’ve done plenty, are doing plenty. Pops is not going to kick you out if you don’t repair Skull’s necklace or somebody’s sandals for the fiftieth time. You belong with us. We want you.”

You closed your eyes in embarrassment, hands coming up to cover your face. Marco’s chuckle jostled you a little bit, and the arm around your waist squeezed you, dragging you even closer to him. His flames flickered over you again, and you went boneless against him, hands dropping from your face. The ache in your chest that you didn’t even know you were carrying lightened with his presence.

“You just rest now, yoi. I’ll take care of you.”

You sighed, a trembling shaky thing. “Thank you, Marco.”