coveofsecrets

[coveofsecrets]

Hehe funni number

[coveofsecrets]

Woe

Wip be upon ye

Platonic Yandere, ofc. Not sure if I’ll post it, but! Here you go.

[coveofsecrets]

Hii!! Oh my god, to start up, I HOPE YOUR PILLOW IS WARM ON BOTH SIDES TONIGHT BCS UR BURNING SPICE AND CHILD READER FIC DESTROYED ME 💔💔💔 but on another wrote it was so well written and i enjoyed it SO MUCH.

Is it alr that instead of a fic where Burnung Spice had a kid before his corruption, could you perhaps write one abt him having a kid as the Great Destroyer? Im pretty sure that he would be a relatively distant father, but what if his kid was practically a velcro baby and wanted to stick by his side the moment they were brought onto earthbread? I think it would be rlly silly ehehehhedhehhe

"𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝙱𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝"

─── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

-> Platonic! Burning Spice + reader

-> Warnings: Spoilers for Beast-Yeast chapter 6, child neglect, child abuse, mention of death. Please note I do not condone any of the aforemented stuff. If this is happening to you, please seek help if you can.

-> Word count: 1.8k

-> Uhm. I. I don't. I don't think. You got the silliness you wanted, anon, I. I am so sorry. But there is silly stuff in there!! Somehow????? I'm so sorry anon cires. but other than that THANK YOUUUUUUU WEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHE I LOVE DESTROTING PEOPLE WITH MY WRITINGGGG ATGGFHRF. BUT I DONT WANT MY PILLOW TO BE WARRRRRM <<<//333

─── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Being completely honest, he was bored.

Well, is bored the right word?

The eternal routine of destruction caused by him is nothing but  making innocents beg for mercy,  causing buildings full of history to crumble- watching all of that happen from his effort leaves his stomach full of satisfaction.

This path he walks is one he chose, one he had carved out for himself, so of course he would be having fun with his trail. If he weren’t having fun, then he wouldn’t have caused this ceaseless demolition.

Sometimes, though, there is something lingering within that satisfaction. Something that is out of his reach, something that he craves. With every person he kills, every city he levels, there is something in his gut. Even after he has finished his wreckage, after that pleasure has flushed itself out, something remains in his stomach. It’s as if he tasted something bad, as if, hidden within that delectable meal, there was just one part that threw the whole thing off.

No, he’s not bored.

He is dissatisfied.

Centuries have come and gone by, the Beast taking away the lives of millions, but not a single one of those numbers has done the same for him. When will it be his turn for that to happen? 

Burning Spice can only fantasize of the grand time it would be: Two individuals, fighting to the death. Blood surrounds them in the arena, not one of them knowing who it belongs to. The only fuel that’s driving their barely-working bodies to move is the adrenaline pumping through their veins. Both parties are helpless to the puppeteer that is the hormones, and unable to cut the strings, they raise their weapons, going in for what they hope is the final strike- oh, what splendor, what magnificence! The very thought leaves him in a deep state of hunger, one that even his most favorite hobby cannot quench. It makes him frustrated, how he can never be truly full; he has lived for so long, and not a single individual he met has come close to giving him what he yearns for!

What will it take to destroy him?!

All of a sudden, out of butt-fuck nowhere, Burning Spice comes up with an idea.

Since there is nobody to rip his life out from his body, he shall cultivate the being who shall do so.

If someone with his own techniques, his style- a perfect mirror of him- were to be fight him, given enough time, they could give him the battle he demands. After all, if somebody were to take after the strongest, eventually, they will take the title for themself.

Yes… yes! That’s the perfect plan!

All three eyes snapped open, lips bared into an all-teeth smile, the Beast practically launches himself off of his throne, set to putting his project into action. 

Burning Spice would be a neglectful parent.

Sure, he’s aware of what a baby needs to develop into a functioning person, but he stands strong to the ideal that the weak are to be left behind. So, you’re fed so you don’t die from hunger, you’re talked to so that you can understand and take part in speech, and you’re given certain tools that develop your fine motor skills. However, when you start crying, your father abandons you. No matter how loud they are, or how long they’re carried out for, nobody will come to your aid. Your sobs will not be soothed, your tears will not be kissed away.

In fact, if they weren’t under strict orders from their Lord Destroyer, the Spice Army would’ve killed you long ago. Your whines are grating to their ears, and they want nothing more than to make it stop. Like your father, they, too, will not help you.

Silence is the only thing you will know, so get comfortable with crying out to it.

When you start to crawl, Burning Spice gets so angry he has to take multiple breaks from you.

Having such a thing clinging to him; pulling on his hair, babbling incessantly, and forcing him to be more careful of his surroundings so he doesn’t squish you- ugh! He has to constrain himself to not throw you out the blasted window.

Other than that, though, your life is mostly the same as when the only thing you knew was the cradle surrounding you.

It only takes a drastic change once your fine motor skills are fully developed, you’re able to understand complex sentences, and you can recognize patterns across people. As soon as that happens, you’re immediately thrust into training.

It’s not pretty.

Blow after blow is given, not a break offered, and you’re forced to at least try and defend against your father’s too-quick attacks, else you’ll have to wear another scar on your skin. Whereas other parents would make sure not to push their children too far in sparring sessions,  every single battle you have with your dad leaves you on the brink of death.

You may be lying on the rough textures of the sands, vision blurring in and out- a direct result of all the blood that’s escaping its cage; you can try to call out, “help- help me-” but your voice is drowned out by the savage storms of the Spice Lands. Nobody helps you, nobody checks up on you; even your father, who can see just how bad of a shape you are in, leaves you to fare the battle against your demise.

Eventually, you learn that you’re not, in a sense… wanted. To the Beast who created you, you are nothing but a means to an end- a tool, a weapon, to lead him to his demise.

Despite that, though… despite how much you can see how you are nothing but a convenience, you still want to be near your dad.

He’s the only one who interacts with you; the spice army doesn’t want much to do with you, and all of your interactions with them always end in ignored yells, venomous words, or exchanged blows. Burning Spice is the only person in your life who, even if it was back-handed, has given you any sort of positive comments.

Because of that,, you want to get closer to him, know your only company better.

So you do.

Any time your body can forge energy, you use all of it to follow him around, doing nothing except for bombarding him with all sorts of questions- “Why do you use that bowl to eat? Is it important to eat with your hands? What are those tiny pieces on the map? What’s your weapon called?”- essentially talking his ears off.

Oddly enough, Burning Spice doesn’t mind.

Your father lets you hang around him like the Kulfis who used to serve him long ago, but he won’t exactly carry you around if you get tired. Adding on, if you ask questions, he will answer them. At first, the beast may seem irritated, but he’s not exactly… shooing you away. Take that as motivation to continue.

As you do so, he gets more and more relaxed from your parasitic presence being near him, and at one point, he starts having fun. Hee finds himself… happy to explain his customs, to divulge in practices he has not talked about in centuries.

Over time, His answers become longer, he starts smiling as he explains, and the creature even lets you partake in what he’s doing. For example, if you’re asking about his war plans, he will sit you next to him, tell you to suggest your own decisions for the pieces on the map, and teach you about what the best actions are to take as you do so. 

As the two of you get closer, the army gets confused. What’s the small thing doing, cuddling up to The Great Destroyer like a babe?

It doesn’t help that you, quite literally, try to stick by his side in such a way that you look like you are attempting to fuse your own flesh with his.

“What are you doing?”

The first time you do it, Burning Spice is quick to shake you off- contact outside of battle is not something he is used to, and he does not wish to indulge in your… clingy behavior. If you persist, though, he will fling you away- making sure that the indent you leave in whatever wall stops your trajectory is nasty. He will not tolerate such softness in his army, as it will only make one weak.

If you continue to try and cling to him, you’re gonna gain durability quickly, or learn to maintain a strong grip on your target, because if you don’t, you’re going to get a fractured skull.

Other than that, he doesn’t mind that you’re with him in every place he goes to, participating in every activity he is doing.

However, if you wanna do something of your own (which is surprising, considering that all you do is train and follow him around), then you better pray to the Witches it’s something Burning Spice will enjoy, or he will destroy any equipment there is to it.

“Soldiers of mine have no need for hobbies like these.”

Even if you are his child, you are, at the end of the day, one of his warriors; a discardable game piece.

Like every other fighter of his, you are set out to conquest; any kingdom he wishes to lay to ruin, you will be there, slaughtering the civilians and bringing ruin to architecture. It does not matter if these people beg, or if these buildings are rich with precious artifacts; you are expected to lay waste to anything that comes across your path; just like the rest of his army, you live, fight, and die for your Lord Destroyer.

If the day comes where you manage to crumble, you won’t get any sympathy. No proper funeral is carried out for you, no mourning is offered to your circumstance, and especially no memory of yours is preserved. 

Nobody cares for your death, except for Burning Spice.

Yet, the only emotion that is expressed to it is frustration. “All that time I put into my creation, and what did it amount to? Nothing!” But much like how the sands of time erode abandoned palaces, his frustration melts away into begrudging acceptance. “If they were truly meant to destroy me, they wouldn’t have been killed so soon.”

Such as all other beings who have died in his domain, your remains shall be left to forever drift in the Spice Land’s winds.

[coveofsecrets]

Current wip I’m working on, here’s one of the scenes:

Or, at least, part of it

Don’t worry I’m still working on requests hehe

[coveofsecrets]

pt. 2 to a collection of my favorite zoro x reader stories. (pt. 1 here)

disclaimer: none of the fics are my own works. all writers will be credited. please read all warnings provided by the writers in their respective stories.

scenarios

**other one piece characters are included in these posts**

a kiss on the cheek by @one-sunny (sfw, fluff)

buddy by @chibinasuu (sfw, fluff)

calling them husband by @yoyomomiko (sfw, fluff)

curls and waves by @haerenven (sfw, fluff)

i feel kinda ugly by @bitchimasnake-sss (nsfw)

lipstick stains on the monster trio by @imsryyimlate (nsfw, fluff)

love and affection by @luffydotcom (sfw, fluff)

monster trio & kissing by @vyainide (sfw, fluff)

one piece boys rescuing you by @badgerbl00d (sfw, little bit of angst/comfort, fluff)

seeing their wanted posters in your room by @seerius (sfw, fluff)

sitting on his lap by @arkaiveofurown (sfw, fluff)

stay, please by bitchimasnake-sss (sfw, angst/comfort)

sweet dreams by @sleepymarimo (sfw, fluff)

virtuous by @eggrollforyou (nsfw)

stand-alone fics

abandonment by @2b4st4r (sfw, angst/comfort, fluff)

a sweet window by @triangularz (sfw, fluff)

back to back by @tinytownn (sfw, fluff)

be my muse by @kana-daydreams (sfw, fluff)

between you and i by @mandiemegatron (nsfw, fluff)

by the fire by chibinasuu (sfw, fluff)

first snow by @coveofsecrets (sfw, platonic!zoro x child!reader)

glimpse of us by arkaiveofourown (sfw, angst/no comfort)

hibiscus by @zorosangell (sfw, fluff)

if you were a fruit by kana-daydreams (sfw, fluff)

it’s yours by @urinarythreatinfection (sfw, platonic, fluff)

lullaby by @zoros-bandana (sfw, angst/comfort)

meditation by @tetzoro (sfw, fluff)

nightmares by @angel1010xx (sfw, angst/comfort)

not that kind of guy by @h1nanii (sfw, fluff)

one bed, two sinners by @strawheart-pirate (nsfw)

one lesson by @sleepymarimo (sfw, fluff)

onsen by @nanamimizz-archived (nsfw)

rip my ribcage open (devour what’s truly yours) by @yourtamaki (nsfw, fluff)

smut drabble by @shy-writer-999 (nsfw)

stars, snores, and sake by @alatushours (sfw, fluff)

steel and shame by @hummingbird24220 (sfw, angst/comfort)

strip poker by @superfreakfranky (sfw, fluff)

swan dive by @whirlybirbs (sfw, fluff)

the right direction by @willowbelle (nsfw)

the swordsman and the singer by @evergone (sfw, fluff)

time apart makes you insecure by @grandline-fics (sfw, angst/comfort, fluff)

together by @ink-perfect (sfw, angst/comfort)

undercover discoveries by @justauthoring (sfw, angst/comfort)

wanna savor this by @brairslair (nsfw)

ways that zoro wordlessly says “i love you” by @nina-ya (sfw, fluff)

with a bookworm s/o by @roronoacherries (sfw, fluff)

you’re his soft spot by grandline-fics (sfw, fluff)

series

**some series are complete**

beautiful things by @sanjisleggy (sfw, angst/comfort)

infinite possibilities by @pikapeppa (nsfw, fluff)

oiran (pt 1) and stupid (pt 2) by zorosangell (sfw, fluff)

pain of healing by @cozage (sfw, angst, fluff)

undercover lovers by @inseobts (sfw, light angst/comfort, fluff)

whispers of the wind anthology by tetzoro (sfw & nsfw, fluff)

text au/smau

**other one piece characters are included in some posts**

accidentally texting you pre-relationship by @luffyssa (sfw, fluff)

down the hall by @shotosjupiter (sfw, fluff)

falling in love with him by @portgasdbru (sfw, fluff)

you have a son with zoro…but you’re not a couple anymore by portgasdbru (sfw, fluff)

last updated 05.28.25

writers: if you would like your fic and/or name removed from this collection, please message me. i will update the list at your request

thank you @elleisdesigning for the dividers!

[coveofsecrets]

"𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍"

─── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

-> Platonic! yandere! Eustass Kid x reader

-> Warnings: spoilers for Kid's backstory, violence

-> Word Count: 1k

-> Me when. Me wheb. I love. Eystass Kid. btw this might be a lkittle mini-series bc this has been something ive been rtotting about so. yes.,

─── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Distress.

That is the expression etched onto his face.

This man you don’t know, he has his red lips pulled across his face, eyes unbelievably wide as his pupils are ballon-like, nostrils flaring in correspondence with the ragged way his chest moves up and down.

Clearly, he’s not okay.

“Mister…?” Your voice, shaking against your own will, calls out to the man. “Are you… okay?”

As if remembering he exists, the man jolts, a step 

mouth opening to breathe in, and then-

Nothing.

All that comes from him is a sound- something similar to a word, but it’s indecipherable with how much his wheeze strangles the syllables.

It’s almost as if he forgot how to speak, the concept of language lost to the one in front of you. 

For some reason, that scares you.

One moment, you were just playing with a friend in your hometown… and another, you’re in some dense forest, with a stranger who could easily snap your bones in half.

When he came storming in and faced you, you thought he’d be able to help you understand where you are, but the expression on his face and his indecipherable speech quickly crushed your hopes.

I…

Silence.

Cold, empty silence.

As the man’s fists clench and unclench, the quiet pricks at your stomach, gently threading its way in and sewing an eeriness into your internal organs.

You don’t like it.

You don’t like it at all.

As the hush continues, the thread only gets tighter around your intestines, squeezing and squeezing until they explode.

Before that could happen, though, the book was reopened, and the man has remembered what words are.

“Why do you look like that?”

…huh?

His tone is low, almost like a bite; a wolf, sinking its teeth into its prey.

The prey being you.

Unfamiliar situations are the perfect time to hurt a person, and you’re right in that situation.

“Answer me, dammit!”

An ocean’s roar, a step forward.

Violently, you’ve flinched back, a yelp escaping your lips, “I- I don’t know! I look fine-!” 

“No the hell you don’t! You look like a child!” Thunder accompanies the bed of water, something sharp in his voice. “What happened to you for you to look like that, huh?!”

“Wha- huh?!” Quickly, your vision becomes blurry, tears running down your cheeks- a usual occurrence, for you. “I’m- I am a kid! Who are you?!”

What you ask serves to only add fuel to the fire, the red-haired man yelling, “‘Who am I’- what do you mean ‘who am I’?! It’s me!” Violently, he gestures to himself, as if that’s supposed to help.

‘Me?!’

You sob, “What do you mean?! 

“Don’t play dumb!” The more he speaks, the louder he gets. “Cmon, use your thick skull to remember! I’m your captain, remember? Eustass? Eustass Kidd?! You gotta remember something-!” Your name is hissed, rough and almost desperate.

You falter.

My name?

Once again, that thread starts to squeeze.

Eustass Kid?

The Eustass you know is a kid. A small, scraggly child who’s shorter and a year younger than you. He’s got red hair like the man before you, but your Eustass’s hair is dirtied by the constant dirt and soot he’s roughing around him.

This guy… this guy, is not your friend.

Not only does he look completely different, but he’s an adult. He’s probably just trying to fool you, by saying your name.

Noticing your hesitance, the man before you grunts, “You know me!” Violently grabbing your shoulders, yanking you to face him. “You…” His voice softens, eyes shining with something you can’t place. “You know me… You have to.”

You have to know him.

Four years ago, you, Killer, Heat, Wire, and Kid, had all formed a pirate crew; hopes set high, and hands raised towards the stars, you all wanted one thing: to make your captain The Pirate King.

To make your captain the sole inheritor of the One Piece.

For four years, you all voyaged with that goal. Obtaining new crew members, slaughtering everybody who dared to laugh at him, and watching his bounty steadily climb…

For four years, that was done.

For four years.

There’s no way you could’ve forgotten all that.

There’s no way that four years of memories are gone, just like that.

There’s no way, with a touch of a random asshole’s hand, you’ve turned back into a child, just like that.

Just like that.

But it has, hasn’t it?

Eustass’s grip on you tightens.

It has, and now, you’ve been turned back into the crybaby you used to be, sniffling and whining as you always do.

“God- dammit…” The captain exhales, shaky and short.

What does he do?

His mind is jumbled; a singular race track, with lanes that all intertwine with each other in a way that’s chaotic, all the emotions he’s feeling crashing into one another to create a giant, tangled, mess.

Rational thought does not exist in his mind, it cannot be processed because everything else is just screaming at him because how dare that bastard turn you back into a child, how dare they remove years spent on the seas, memories shared, exploits indulged in. He’s going to kill them. Eustass is going to tear them apart and make sure they were never fucking born.

Yet, in the middle of all of that jumble, lies a singular question in his mind that is clear.

What’s he going to do with you?

You’re a kid.

Not only that, but as far as he can remember, you were a stupid little sniveler. A weak, little thing who could barely throw a bunch for the life of you.

You can’t defend yourself. 

So what does he do?

On one hand, If you came aboard his crew, you would have no way of self-protection in the scenario of an emergency. Anybody could come up and kill you.

On the other, he can’t just leave you here- or anywhere, for that matter. He doesn’t trust any sort of bastard to take care of you. They could use you as leverage for any sort of favor from the Kid Pirates, and the thought of you being hurt makes him want to throw up.

At the end of the day, he doesn’t want you to die.

Although you may not remember, at the end of the day, you’re his crewmate.

His friend.

…he doesn’t want to let you go.

No.

He refuses to let you go.

[coveofsecrets]

"𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙹𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛"

─── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

-> Donquixote Doflamingo and Donquixote Rosinante

-> Warnings: Dressrossa spoilers, swap au, death, violence

-> Word count: 1.5k

-> Weehehehheeeee I have finished this!! Donquixote Swap Au belongs to @anongalactic and I suppose this also counts as a gift??? Because the au is. Soso yummy. And I love it so much it gave me brainworms. Thank you Anon for letting me write this!! This was super difficult to write because I haven't written for either character, let alone a swap au, but I had fun!! Now I'm just nervous, haha. But anyways! I hope you all enjoyyyyyy

─── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Looming frowns and carefree smiles.

Curtained eyes and blocked irises.

The Donquixote brothers, eerily similar by appearances, yet bizzaringly different by personalities.

One quieter than the other, one more cruel than the other, one more of a shut-in than the other…

It’s almost whiplash, seeing them side-by-side.

How one face is full of sharp laughter and jovial movements, while another is abundant with long silences and robotic motions.

One brother fills any silence inside of a room, and the other creates that silence.

For the other, his silence is not only in his lack of words, but how he treats his subordinates.

Failure is not punished, but it is not praised, either; the same goes for success.

His subordinates follow him, they die for him, because of the little effort he puts in.

Those deprived of basic love, those who’ve been outcast, those on the verge of death…

Rosinante comes to them, or they come to him, and he gives them a little something.

A treat.

An incentive.

I know what you feel, he tells, I know what you’ve been through. Let me be the place to fulfill your desires at.

And no matter how bad that place might be, no matter how violent it may be, it is still a place for the damned to call home.

It is a place for the unfortunate to be molded and twisted to what Rosinante desires.

The tiny bit of approval he may give, the chance for acknowledgment, is what causes them to tear themselves apart.

After all, he gave them a home.

He gave them a purpose.

He gave them life.

So it’s only fair for these ‘favors’ to be paid back, right?

If you don’t, you’re just as useful as trash, and The King has no sympathy for subjects who do nothing except pollute his halls.

It’s how Rosinante learned.

He wasn’t smart enough to cure his mother of her disease, he wasn’t strong enough to protect his father from getting shot, and he wasn’t useful enough to his brother.

He was useless, and thus, he got left behind by everybody he loved.

This abandonment, these feelings that arose from it… it explains how Rosinante interacts with Doflamingo like a stuffed animal.

Unwilling to part with it, always holding the thing near him, almost as if as soon as he lets it go, his beloved stuffy will disappear, never to be found again.

It happened once, and it’ll happen again.

So, Rosinante keeps his elder brother close to him; makes his seat next to his, spends all his free time near him- it brings him a sense of comfort, knowing that Doflamingo is actually here, and he’s not going to leave.

Nobody can see Rosinante’s eyes underneath his hair, but Doflamingo can catch glimpses of his younger brother’s gaze to the elder.

It’s… intense. Like a cat watching their prey, eyes wide and pupils shrunken, waiting for just the right moment it decides to move even an inch away.

His looking is not malicious, but desperate. Somebody who has left him came back, and Rosinante will be damned if he let this opportunity go to waste.

For The King to reach such a state like this, in the time he had been away from The Jester- the guilt eats away at Doflamingo.

Gun cold in his hand, younger brother wailing across from him, blood decorating the floor underneath him…

The nightmares will never stop.

Always, always, Doflamingo manages to make up a cold sweat, icy nails wrapping around his beating heart and squeezing until he cannot breathe. The mistress of remorse whispers in his ears, never forgetting the betrayal he has committed to his family, cheating them out of the lives they should’ve had.

God.

He shouldn’t have acted like a spoiled brat.

He shouldn’t have killed his father for a chance at being allowed back to Marejois.

He shouldn’t have abandoned his younger brother to fend for himself on the streets, because look as to what’s happened to him now: tangled up with all the wrong kinds of people, scars all over his neck and chest, and isolation to the worst degree.

Oh, if he hadn’t left Rosinante behind, his baby brother would’ve been a distinguished man, a kinder man, a man who wanted to protect all, rather than hurt them.

But now, because of Doflamingo’s stupid actions, Rosinante’s turned into this.

The Jester’s guilt is a reason why he indulges in his captain’s need to keep him close.

It’s also, in a sense, a yearning for what was once before.

Once before, when a younger Rosinante would ask for Doflamingo’s sweet hugs; once before, when a younger Rosinante would cry in his big brother’s arms; once before, when a younger Rosinante could rely on a younger Doflamingo for protection.

Once before, when things were better.

That yearning, that need, is also a part of the reason why the elder decided to go on this mission, to get Rosinante behind bars.

One part of it is to stop his brother from committing the mass atrocities he’s committing, but another is an almost… childish reason that maybe, just maybe, if the two reunited, everything can go back to normal.

Rosinante doesn’t need to do this, he doesn’t have to burn the world down! He can have a fresh start. He can be… him, again.

Doflamingo needs Rosinante to be him again.

He needs it like he needs his mother on those lonely days, he needs it like he needs his father on those hard days, he needs it like he needs his brother on those terrible days.

He just.

He needs his brother back.

He can put in a good word, take Rosinante under his wing, keep a close eye on him just as he’s done before.

Doflamingo is always one to give second chances.

Whether it’s pirates begging for their lives, or traitors pleading they’ll do better… for anybody against the Marines, oddly enough, if he judges they’re being sincere, Doflamingo will provide a mercy.

Take them under his wing, placing them under his watchful eye; he pleads their case to Sengoku, convincing the man more often than not that if he can change from a cold-blooded murderer, than these people can, too.

This opportunity is a freedom, but also a new cage.

Watching them closer than he does to any other new recruit, Doflamingo practically logs everything they do;  their every move, every meal, every individual they talk to.

He is the shadow that follows them at every moment- stalks them, really. Any wrong move, and it shall devour all it touches.

A second chance was wasted, so why should Doflamingo give a third? Honestly, he’d be stupid to trust them again- it’d just be a waste of time and resources.

Other than that, though, Doflamingo is kind to his other subordinates.

The Commander regards those lesser than him with respect, encourages those who are beaten down by the system, and acts fatherly to anybody younger than him; he is their shoulder to cry on, their safe haven, in difficult times.

Everybody loves him, everybody wants to be around him.

He’s almost like a celebrity, across the Marine force.

Even on the battlefield.

To anybody going with him on a mission for the first time, seeing how he interacts with them to then seeing how he attacks his enemies almost gives whiplash.

Dancing with the enemy like a puppeteer, taunting them with personal jabs and insults, keeping them on the edge of death like it’s a tightrope- he’s fucking insane!

It's almost like these life-or-death scenarios are like a game to him.

Which, they are.

He finds them really fun, being able to toy with his enemy as he pleases, and also not receiving any backlash from his higher ups (except for his adoptive father, who just seems disappointed in him)!

But hey, at least he carries out justice in the way the Marine system values; with any means necessary.

Starting a whole coup d’état behind the scenes, or outright beheading the leader of an organization, Doflamingo will use whatever it takes to uphold the peace of the world.

When it comes to him, mercy is not a word in his vocabulary.

It’s why a lot of people look up to Doflamingo, but also fear him.

They fear how he treats those he deems not worth his time, those who declare themselves enemies of the government, those who betray his ideals.

He and his brother are similar in the strict upholding of their values, but anything else, they completely diverge on.

It is why, in this masquerade, they are called The King and The Jester.

A cruel kindness, and a kind cruelty.

[coveofsecrets]

"𝚈𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚘"

─── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

-> Yamato

-> Warnings: Wano spoilers, mentions of death

-> Word count: 750

-> CHARACTER ANALYSIS GO! Anwyays. Like I said, this is a character analysis of Yamato, because he is my husband and the whole reason I started One Piece hehe.

─── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

The hope that was once lost.

A lantern, that has been smashed.

A torch, that was extinguished.

Kozuki Oden was a man who had brought a light to everybody’s hearts, inspiring them, giving them a shoulder to lean on.

He burned brightly, as brightly as a fire within a forest: wild, uncontrollable, yet planting new beginnings for the small buds who wished for change, against the thick trees that barred them from their path.

He was their savior, their light at the end of the tunnel- yet, no matter how much he blazed through this country, the storm of Kaido had come to extinguish him.

Now, the little flowers of Wano have nowhere else to look to, entangled within the weeds that had grown rampant in the fire’s absence.

They are without guidance.

Alone, with no hope left for them.

Breathe in.

Yamato knows he is not Kozuki Oden.

He knows he is not the savior that had once brought peace to the people.

The neo-daisuki he wears, the stubble on his chin, the hair cascading down his back could never compare to the one he wishes to be.

No matter what he changes, Yamato cannot be Kozuki Oden.

Yet, he tries.

Practices the poses the legend once pulled, mimics the tone that the hero once spoke in, copies the words the samurai had written in.

Everything is changed, for the day Wano can see the dawn once again.

To become Kozuki Oden is not to simply be the opponent of Kaido, but to embody all the hopes and dreams of the people of Wano.

It is to become a physical manifestation of the hope that was once lost, to shine a light atop this darkened country.

The Akazaya Nine are dead, Momonosuke and Hiyori are dead, so who else has the power to stand up to Kaido?

Who else has the guts?

Outside of this island, of solemn chains wrapped around his wrists, Yamato cannot determine, so rather than wait for help from outside, he shall take things in his own hands.

He shall be their light.

Breathe out.

Yamato does not know two-sword style. 

In fact, he barely knows anything about sword fighting.

Anything about ‘proper’ fighting has been taught by those old samurai he met years ago, and it was only basic sparring and sword fighting.

Everything else, is from his father.

Those constant duels Yamato would initiate, taking each loss as an opportunity to learn- how did he hurt me without touching me, what is that lightning he’s summoning, where does he aim the most- because nobody else won’t, or rather can’t, teach him.

He also observes the Tobiroppo, as well as the All-Stars, but those chumps will rarely fight (except for Ulti, who’s always raring to go).

In a sense, his fighting style is a mix between Ulti, Kaido, and those swordsmen.

It’s messy, he knows, and it’s nothing like how Kozuki Oden would’ve wielded it, but there’s nothing he can do about it.

Nothing at all, except for continuing to fight his own way, like how his idol did when he was alive.

It’s almost funny, how what was once simple admiration, has now turned into full-blown dedication.

Breathe in.

No matter what, he will open the borders of the Land of Wano.

A savior will not come, a miracle will not manifest, so he shall take the fate of the country into his own hands.

“Back again?”

Grumbled words from his father’s tongue, as sharp as the electricity crackling along his fists.

The oni’s eyes are indifferent, gazing down at Yamato as if he were nothing more than a bug.

To his question, there is no answer but a grin, the son crouching down as he holds his mace up.

“Hmph.” Lazily, almost sluggishly, Kaido swings his weapon over his shoulder. “Give it up. Your efforts are useless. Kozuki Oden is dead, and Wano’s borders will never open.”

“You wish!” Electricity crackles along his body, channeling into his weapon. “Again and again, I will continue to fight you until the borders of Wano open!”

Just as Oden held onto the realms of time with his nails, waiting for the moment to come, Yamato shall do the same.

Whether it’s by his own hands, or the hands of another, he shall be patient.

His efforts will not be for nothing, and he will make sure of that.

Breathe out.

The people of the Land of Wano need not fear anymore; their savior is here.

[coveofsecrets]

Hiiii I was wondering if perhaps you could write a similar fluffy drabble to the “Oh to be loved by Sanji” but instead it’s Zoro… you characterize everyone so well and your writing is delicious, tysm!!!

"𝙾𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚉𝚘𝚛𝚘"

─── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

-> Roronoa Zoro x reader

-> Warnings: n/a

-> Word count: 429

-> wehehehehhee thank youuuuuuuu!!! I always try my best with characterizations, and Zoro is. so yummy. I wanna eat him.

─── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Zoro is almost like a dog.

Without any orders, he follows you around almost everywhere you go, yet not breathing down your neck.

No.

He’s just… there.

Simply because he likes being near you.

Zoro is a greedy man, so any time he can soak up your presence, he’ll take it.

Oh, to be loved by Zoro.

His greed is a bleeding artery; never able to slow down.

It bleeds for his crewmates, those he loves, and you.

When he thinks about his loved ones- those he has shared food, sake, and laughs with- people who he breathes for, it makes his heart hurt.

The ache is neverending, and no matter what he does, it will not stop.

A bottomless stomach: always hungry, neverending its tantrum.

However, Zoro does not ignore that yearning. Rather, he embraces it.

So, any chance he gets, he consumes your being.

In the same room, he’s cuddling with you; on the deck, if he’s not training, Zoro is by your side; at the dinner room, he makes sure he’s sitting right next to you.

It is so he can spend as much time as he can with you. Neither of you have to talk, you just have to be near each other for his hunger to be temporarily satisfied.

During those moments, he makes sure you are safe and  okay. If he notices anything amiss, he will pounce on it like a vulture to dead meat, asking you what’s wrong. Almost anything you need of him, he will complete without a moment’s hesitation, the man greedy for your approval.

His greed is exemplary of his love.

He knows you can take care of yourself, that you’re strong without him, but his lingering, his devotion is out of pure desire, not necessity.

Oh, to be loved by Zoro.

His love is quiet, but not without impact.

Words murmured in night-enveloped times, gazes of eternal adoration presented to you, and hands of longing gentleness.

When he kisses you, he makes sure to put his all into it.

Emotions he cannot put into thought are expressed within that kiss, unspoken loyalty poured into that simple action.

Full of sweetness, but never short.

Zoro refuses for his kisses to be short.

They are long, drawn-out, more important than air. The mere seconds spent kissing you feel more like minutes, the man taking his time to communicate his deep affections for you.

Anything less than that, is shameful to him. 

He refuses to give any chopped-up efforts to the person he loves most.

Oh, to be loved by Zoro.

[coveofsecrets]

If I ever get my hands on Garp I’m BEATING his ass.

[coveofsecrets]

LAUGHS IN ‘I JUST FINISHED ANOTHER REQUEST TODAY’

[coveofsecrets]

"𝙱𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚆𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛"

─── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

-> Platonic! Charlotte Katakuri x reader

-> Warnings: Minor chatacter death, implied neglect

-> Word Count: 216

-> I need Katakuri to be my dad

─── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

You’re so small.

Swaddled up in raggedy blankets, tiny hands gripping at the fabric as your shrill voice screams to the heavens above…

Oh god, you’re so small. 

With your little form barely fitting in the crook of his elbow, Katakuri needs to be ever so careful so as to make sure you don’t slip from his arms.

How did you even-?

A lone baby, with your parents in sight; the Sweet Commander found you like that: defenseless and so, so tiny- for some reason, he can’t ignore it.

Even though he’s blocked out the cries of newly born babies, petrified kids, and grieving adults as he destroys an island, he cannot block out this cry.

He cannot block out the dry screaming, of the fact that there are no tears coming out of your eyes, even when these sobs are recent.

God.

You are so, so small, and so, so new.

And somehow, the invincible Katakuri- the strong, steel-faced Katakuri- lets his facade drop.

His eyes soften, and the man cradles you closer to him, shielding you from the horrors before you.

His view, only focused on his blood-born family, has expanded.

You, even though you are not related to him, even if you do not share the same blood, have been seen by him.

[coveofsecrets]

the platonic burning spice x child reader fiction WAS SO GOOD. maybe you could do a part 2 pls? you don't have to! 🤍

─── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

"𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗"

-> Platonic! Burning Spice Cookie x reader

-> Warnings: Spoilers for Beast Yeast chapter 6, mentions of major character death, mentions of death

-> Word count: 966

-> waaaahahahahhaaa thank youuuuu <<33!! Not gonna lie, this was super challenging to do! Figuring out what Burning Spice would do as a character, and also his dialogue, was super difficult, but really fun! I hope you enjoy, Anon! This fic is a direct part two to this, so to understand this fic, please read the other one!

─── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Whispers in cracked corridors.

Rumors within dusty floors.

Stories spun along the breeze.

“Have you heard about the child Lord Destroyer’s been keeping?” Purple tail swaying, brushing against the owner’s fur.

“Yes…” Tongue flickering between fangs. “I have, but nobody’s allowed to see them, not even the general.”

“Well, I’ve seen the thing once, through the crack of their room door.”

“Really? What did they look like?”

“Weak.” A grunt. “Puny. If not protected, they would not survive even a second in this land.”

“Impossible! Why would The Great Destroyer allow a weak thing in his temple? There must be something about that child, if he's keeping it.”

“That’s what I’m thinking, too! Our lord prohibits any sort of interaction with that weakling, keeping them barred in there like a princess, so why does he have something like that?”

“Hmph. I’m not sure. Possibly untapped potential?”

“Plausible, but Lord Destroyer is not the kind of beast to recruit somebody for that…”

Red paws tapping against the floor, followed by a bark, “Are you two questioning Our Lord’s choices?”

The two squeak, “G- General-!” 

“You both,” The Nutmeg Tiger growls, “I will not hear another word from either of you. The Great Destroyer’s thinking is something both of you cannot possibly comprehend, and for you to even try and grasp it is almost laughable. This could very well go for treason!”

“General, we weren’t meaning to go for treason-”

“Do not speak when you are spoken to, weakling!”

Purple mouth snaps shut, red eyes narrowing in almost defiance.

The tiger centaur pays no mind to it, instead choosing to continue. “Whatever Our Lord is doing, surely has reason behind it. I will not stand for you two questioning his divine plans. Is that clear?”

“Yes....” This time, the Cilantro Cobra speaks. “Our… apologies, general. We won’t do this next time…”

“Hmph.” A huff, “I hope you don’t. The Great Destroyer’s ideas are much greater than you lowlives.”

Burning Spice has no idea what he’s doing.

He should’ve killed you.

He should’ve crumbled your existence.

He should’ve laid waste to your form like he did before, once again leaving behind what he loved.

Yet, with his paranshu raised above his head, your eyes fearfully staring at the bright thing…

“Baba, baba!” 

He remembers those same eyes looking up at him, as if he had hung up the stars themselves; your sweet voice calling for him as your bare feet violently pad over to reach their father.

God.

He couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t do it.

Burning Spice couldn’t kill his child.

No matter how much he wanted to, his body could not follow his command.

So what does he do now?

Burning Spice cannot kill you, so perhaps he could kick you out of here?

No, the spice storms will tear you apart.

If he lets you wander, his troops will reave your being.

Why does he care so much?!

His head has this horrible ache from all this thinking, so to make the confusing part of his brain happy, and to make this pain disappear, he sends you away.

To be more specific, he locks you in a room to which only a few cooks can come in to place food far away from you. Now, some part of him will be content, and also, he can stop looking at your pathetic self.

It takes months before he’s able to face you again.

Months before the Beast has to stop facing the present, and turn back to the past.

“Child.” Water hitting the sandy floors, he speaks. “Are you bored?”

…huh?

Sitting in front of this unfamiliar man, to the question, you pause.

Months of being held captive, with nobody except your own thoughts to keep you company, and when your captor speaks to you, it’s… this?

“Excuse?” You cannot help but ask for clarification, wondering if somehow you misheard.

To your question, though, the Beast’s eyes twitch. “I asked-” The sand starting to dry out- “if you are bored, child.”

Bored?

You heard right, which… only confuses you further.

“I am… confused on what you mean?”

“Do you need entertainment?” The desert is no longer blessed by the gentle touch of the rain, but it is not angry. “I presume that sitting in a room with nothing but your thoughts to occupy yourself is boring.”

Why is he asking that?

If you need entertainment?

What’s his goal?

You decide to echo your thoughts: “Why… are you asking that-?”

Only to be met with a scowl, lips pulling back to reveal sharp teeth, the yellow things glinting off of the little light in the room. His eyes are narrowed, lashes blanketing red irises, barely concealing his fury. Soon, though, as if he saw something in your face, the creature forces his expression to flatten, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I would prefer-” he growls after a few seconds. “To not answer that question. All you need to know is if you’re bored. Is that clear?”

…huh… best not to press.

“Good. Now, answer my question: are you bored or not?”

“I… guess so, yes.”

Being stuck in a room for months on end, with nothing to do is not… fun, at all.

“Then what entertainment do you wish for?”

Entertainment?

You blink.

What entertainment is there? Actually, why is he asking if I must be entertained? Mm… I feel like I shouldn’t ask that.

“Conversation with you?” You eventually request, “I’d like to ask a few questions as to where I am.”

The beast’s nostrils flare, a corner of his lips twitching, but he acquiesces. “Alright. But if there is anything I do not wish to divulge, I shall not. Is that fair?”

Huh.

How easy.

Once again, you nod.

He's not being violent in me towards any way, and he hasn't made me do anything... if so, then why's he keeping me here against my will?

What does he want from you?

[coveofsecrets]

"𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍"

─── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

-> Platonic! yandere! Eustass Kid x reader

-> Warnings: spoilers for Kid's backstory, violence

-> Word Count: 1k

-> Me when. Me wheb. I love. Eystass Kid. btw this might be a lkittle mini-series bc this has been something ive been rtotting about so. yes.,

─── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Distress.

That is the expression etched onto his face.

This man you don’t know, he has his red lips pulled across his face, eyes unbelievably wide as his pupils are ballon-like, nostrils flaring in correspondence with the ragged way his chest moves up and down.

Clearly, he’s not okay.

“Mister…?” Your voice, shaking against your own will, calls out to the man. “Are you… okay?”

As if remembering he exists, the man jolts, a step 

mouth opening to breathe in, and then-

Nothing.

All that comes from him is a sound- something similar to a word, but it’s indecipherable with how much his wheeze strangles the syllables.

It’s almost as if he forgot how to speak, the concept of language lost to the one in front of you. 

For some reason, that scares you.

One moment, you were just playing with a friend in your hometown… and another, you’re in some dense forest, with a stranger who could easily snap your bones in half.

When he came storming in and faced you, you thought he’d be able to help you understand where you are, but the expression on his face and his indecipherable speech quickly crushed your hopes.

I…

Silence.

Cold, empty silence.

As the man’s fists clench and unclench, the quiet pricks at your stomach, gently threading its way in and sewing an eeriness into your internal organs.

You don’t like it.

You don’t like it at all.

As the hush continues, the thread only gets tighter around your intestines, squeezing and squeezing until they explode.

Before that could happen, though, the book was reopened, and the man has remembered what words are.

“Why do you look like that?”

…huh?

His tone is low, almost like a bite; a wolf, sinking its teeth into its prey.

The prey being you.

Unfamiliar situations are the perfect time to hurt a person, and you’re right in that situation.

“Answer me, dammit!”

An ocean’s roar, a step forward.

Violently, you’ve flinched back, a yelp escaping your lips, “I- I don’t know! I look fine-!” 

“No the hell you don’t! You look like a child!” Thunder accompanies the bed of water, something sharp in his voice. “What happened to you for you to look like that, huh?!”

“Wha- huh?!” Quickly, your vision becomes blurry, tears running down your cheeks- a usual occurrence, for you. “I’m- I am a kid! Who are you?!”

What you ask serves to only add fuel to the fire, the red-haired man yelling, “‘Who am I’- what do you mean ‘who am I’?! It’s me!” Violently, he gestures to himself, as if that’s supposed to help.

‘Me?!’

You sob, “What do you mean?! 

“Don’t play dumb!” The more he speaks, the louder he gets. “Cmon, use your thick skull to remember! I’m your captain, remember? Eustass? Eustass Kidd?! You gotta remember something-!” Your name is hissed, rough and almost desperate.

You falter.

My name?

Once again, that thread starts to squeeze.

Eustass Kid?

The Eustass you know is a kid. A small, scraggly child who’s shorter and a year younger than you. He’s got red hair like the man before you, but your Eustass’s hair is dirtied by the constant dirt and soot he’s roughing around him.

This guy… this guy, is not your friend.

Not only does he look completely different, but he’s an adult. He’s probably just trying to fool you, by saying your name.

Noticing your hesitance, the man before you grunts, “You know me!” Violently grabbing your shoulders, yanking you to face him. “You…” His voice softens, eyes shining with something you can’t place. “You know me… You have to.”

You have to know him.

Four years ago, you, Killer, Heat, Wire, and Kid, had all formed a pirate crew; hopes set high, and hands raised towards the stars, you all wanted one thing: to make your captain The Pirate King.

To make your captain the sole inheritor of the One Piece.

For four years, you all voyaged with that goal. Obtaining new crew members, slaughtering everybody who dared to laugh at him, and watching his bounty steadily climb…

For four years, that was done.

For four years.

There’s no way you could’ve forgotten all that.

There’s no way that four years of memories are gone, just like that.

There’s no way, with a touch of a random asshole’s hand, you’ve turned back into a child, just like that.

Just like that.

But it has, hasn’t it?

Eustass’s grip on you tightens.

It has, and now, you’ve been turned back into the crybaby you used to be, sniffling and whining as you always do.

“God- dammit…” The captain exhales, shaky and short.

What does he do?

His mind is jumbled; a singular race track, with lanes that all intertwine with each other in a way that’s chaotic, all the emotions he’s feeling crashing into one another to create a giant, tangled, mess.

Rational thought does not exist in his mind, it cannot be processed because everything else is just screaming at him because how dare that bastard turn you back into a child, how dare they remove years spent on the seas, memories shared, exploits indulged in. He’s going to kill them. Eustass is going to tear them apart and make sure they were never fucking born.

Yet, in the middle of all of that jumble, lies a singular question in his mind that is clear.

What’s he going to do with you?

You’re a kid.

Not only that, but as far as he can remember, you were a stupid little sniveler. A weak, little thing who could barely throw a bunch for the life of you.

You can’t defend yourself. 

So what does he do?

On one hand, If you came aboard his crew, you would have no way of self-protection in the scenario of an emergency. Anybody could come up and kill you.

On the other, he can’t just leave you here- or anywhere, for that matter. He doesn’t trust any sort of bastard to take care of you. They could use you as leverage for any sort of favor from the Kid Pirates, and the thought of you being hurt makes him want to throw up.

At the end of the day, he doesn’t want you to die.

Although you may not remember, at the end of the day, you’re his crewmate.

His friend.

…he doesn’t want to let you go.

No.

He refuses to let you go.

[coveofsecrets]

@kiyoahdiy requested: Platonic yandere Sengoku as the father of the reader, but the reader is a pirate, despite coming from the marines.

─── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ─── "𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚞𝚝"

-> Platonic! yandere! Sengoku x reader

-> Warnings: Marineford spoilers, minor character death, violence, blood, kidnapping

-> Word count: 3.1k

-> HOLY HELL THIS TOOK SO MUCH LONGER THAN I THOUGHT. THREE REWRITES. THREE. REWRITES + EDITING. HOLY FUCK. Reader is referred to with they/them pronouns

─── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡�� ───

“The Great Battle of Marineford.”

A mug of beer held in the air, scarred fingers loosely wrapping around the handle.

“Has a lovely ring to it, don’t you think?”

The person holding the cup sighs, “Just imagine,” eyes closing as grand dreams and high hopes weave themselves behind eyelids. “Us, in the spotlight, our bounties skyrocketing by the minute…” Letting that fantasy unravel, Yánzǐ opens his eyes back up, irises traveling to you. “Doesn’t that sound grand, Captain?”

Prompted to answer, you divert your view from the sea to your first-mate.

Being in the spotlight…

Out on stage, onlookers’ attention focused on nothing but the actions of your crew, waiting with bated breath for the next line they shall deliver…

The thought makes a bitter taste pool in your mouth.

Usually, it’s an idea you can get on board with, but this time is different. This time, the stage lights must shine on another ensemble.

“Not really,” is your answer. “All that sounds grand to me is supporting Newgate for this war.”

The ‘support’ is mainly to pay back a… personal debt you owe to the Warlord, even if he’s insisted too many times he’s needed no reimbursement.

Yánzǐ chuckles, “Aw, really? Wouldn’t you like to see your bounty rise, though?”

“I would, but that’s not my main goal for where we’re gonna be,” you clarify, turning back to the seas. 

No sight of land.

Even when squinting, all you can see is the unknown blue. 

We’ve been sailing for three weeks, though. Khia said it should take three weeks to get to Marineford. Did we get off course?

A seed of worry is planted, immediately starting to sprout- roots digging into your brain as the stem wraps around flesh, so tight it could burst.

In order to spray a weed killer onto that anxiety, you call to your helmsman: “Khia, how much longer until we get there?”

The mentioned person pulls their head up from a book, foot moving from atop the helm to see you better.

“Six hours.” Barely louder than the crashing waves, you have to strain your ears to hear them.  “Unless you want me to go faster?”

Six hours…

The feel of vines wrapping around an organ lessene, but still lingers.

“Yes, please. That would be nice.”

Nodding, Khia straightens themself up, readying themself to make the ship take speed.

Well, at least that’s done…

The plant is set alight, dissolving into ashes, no longer taking much priority in your thoughts- although a little bit still lingers and god you can’t get it out of your mind-

Gah!

What matters is that it’s mostly gone, this absence allows you to pick up on footsteps approaching, discolored arm wrapping around your shoulders.

“Ah, Captain!” Comes the bellow of the crew’s doctor. “What’re you so worried for? We’ll be fine!” A laugh echoes from her throat, haughty and egotistic; uncontainable joy spreading across the deck, allowing it to worm its way into the hearts of many others.

Well, except for you.

Somehow, her infectious glee never manages to even touch you; even now, as all you can do is frown to her aching smile.

Anxious.

You’re anxious, and like the douche she is, Sasi always notices.

“Is it your dad?”

Leave it to her to be straightforward, allowing for no hesitation or hiding on your end.

Allowing a few seconds to pass, you order your thoughts, soon sighing, “Not… necessarily.” Out of the corner of your eye, you see Yánzǐ perk up. “Well, it is. I’m… worried about the power he holds. we all know he’s going to be there for the execution of Portugas, as well as some admirals.”

Something gross starts to swish around in your gut.

“I know Newgate will be able to handle himself, but I’m sure that Sengoku’s-” His name is practically spit out. “-gonna call out the big shots, especially for a battle such as this.”

Yánzǐ’s creeping closer, you note.

“And I’m worried. About my crew, about all of you.” A short huff from you, as you shake your head. “I… powerful forces are going to be there. Admirals I haven’t heard of, probably with abilities far surpassing our crew. Hell, knowing them, they might do something underhanded.” A dull pain in your bottom lip, teeth digging into it. “…look. If anything happens, I want you all to prioritize your lives. Run away if need be. Your honor does not matter, but your-”

Yánzǐ’s voice, purposefully set at an annoyingly high pitch, rings from behind you.

“AWH, CAPTAIN!”

He wraps an arm around your shoulders, practically yanking you to his side.

“You don’t have to be so worried,” he shouts, “There’s a reason we’re called The Forsaken Pirates!”

Sasi’s fingers snap, a grin on her face. “Oh- you’re right!” The doctor moves to your other side, also wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Why would we prioritize our lives when we have a name to spread?!” The woman becomes loud, voice spreading out across the ship.

All of a sudden, Khia balks. “Oh, hush!” They slam a fist onto the hull, making their presence known. “Must you always be so loud?! I can’t focus on driving the ship with your incessant screaming!” Despite their words, though, it’s obvious they’re hiding a smile of her own, just squished down with all they have.

To her insult, the doctor gasps, a hand dramatically brought to her chest. “Why, I-!”

Thus, dramatics ensue.

Khia and Yánzǐ, the doctor and the first mate; both people starting to argue with one another, throwing insults and punches of all kinds at either side. From an outside perspective, it looks like they’re fighting to the death.

On the inside, though, it’s different.

The two of them have suppressed grins on their faces, uplifting ends to their sentences, and fists that’re lighter than usual.

They’ve gotten along better than when they first met.

To the spectacle, people start to perk up, some crowding around the two, egging them on, a few even placing bets on who will win.

At the end of the day, though, it’s all in fun and jokes.

At the end of every day, it’s all in pure fun and jokes.

It’s something you appreciate about your crew.

No matter the situation, no matter the threat, they’ll always manage to make the scene lighter than it really is.

Whether a fight, a near death experience, or a war.

Broken terrains, and beaten corpses.

Chipped swords, and damaged bodies.

In this arena, multiple people stand; one side against another, shades of grey fighting against a collective shade of white.

Within that grey, is the beams of every single one of your crewmates, unaffected by whatever happens around them. Like shooting down a fish, they take down whatever is in their way, uncaring of the injuries on their bodies, or the fear they may feel.

Another one.

Needle pricking into an arm, sword stabbing into the neck of a man.

Right before it explodes, you jump back. Hands come up to cover your face, debris and smoke decorating your arms.

Cogs and oil; metal and fire.

What the hell is that thing?

It doesn’t have any flesh, and yet, it looks like an identical copy of the warlord Bartholomew Kuma.

Former Revolutionary, too.

Furthermore, there’s clones of that man, all around the field, engaging in combat with your allies.

How? A Devil Fruit ability? But doesn’t he already have one-?

Deciding it’s too much for your thoughts, you discard the train of thinking. Even if the concept is curious (and possibly sickening), you don’t have time to ponder what fucked up thing the Marines did this time.

All that you need to focus on, all that your attention needs, is one objective.

Assist Newgate any means possible in this war.

So, despite how much you want to figure out this fucked-up mystery, you simply, don’t have the time for it.

Something pulls at your brain.

A small prick, a tug, but it has so much force to it, tugging the thing to a far corner of your skull

Ah.

Recognizing the sensation, you turn to the source of the tugging, eyes catching onto a Marine- Lieutenant Commander, the back of your mind echoes- their gun raised, ready to bash it against your head.

Hm. 

The firearm’s way above their head, with nothing to guard them from incoming blows.

Poor tactic.

Your face scrunches up.

Do they even train their Marines, nowadays?

Crouching down, you prepare yourself to strike a palm against their neck, but before you could,  a sudden warmth overtakes you.

Fire lapping at exposed skin, always touching but never burning; a campfire in front of cold hands, meant only for preserving life. That is what the sensation is like, and it’s one you’re familiar with.

“Watch your head, yoi!”

That voice.

That infuriating voice, paired with that annoying blue talon.

Marco the Phoenix.

Long nails pinning your pathetic excuse of an attacker to the ground, compressing so hard on their chest they pass out.

Your ‘savior’ turns to you, that stupid smirk stretched out across his face. He tilts his head, calling out your name- “Didn’t expect you to be joining us, yoi!”

Atop a scalding hot stove, water starts to furiously boil. The liquid bubbles rise up, and up, the container no longer holding it as the water seeps through the lid, leaking down to touch the surface heating it.

“Piss off, Marco the Phoenix!” You bark, ignoring his offended remark as you push past him to find where you’re needed.

Where do I need to go, where do I need to go…

Left and right, your head swivels, looking this way and that for any of your comrades who may be struggling in this battle.

What’s happening, what’s happening…

In one place, there’s Newgate (Overhyped big man) exacting orders; in another, there’s Strawhat Luffy (seems like a bright kid. Knows how to make a flashy entrance) engaging with Mihawk; far up above, there’s the execution platform of Ace, with Garp and…

…Sengoku.

The lid starts to rattle.

Fleet Admiral and Vice Admiral sitting together, on the perch like birds on a branch. High up above, in a place only they can reach so effortlessly. In their position, they can be impartial to the carnage going on beneath them, the broken screams of the grieving, of the afraid, of the dying.

They are the Celestial Dragons, the self-proclaimed Gods, to the lowly humans suffering at the hands of the heaven's actions.

Like a kettle, a high-pitched whistling sound starts to come from the pot.

Nobody seems to be engaging with them, or even anywhere nearby, too busy with all the other forces attacking them.

Looks like you’re needed there.

So you go.

Your feet skidding against uneven rock, you carry yourself there, barely acknowledging the enemies who try to get to you- just so you’re able to reach your goal.

To reach Sengoku.

That good-for-nothing, scumbag of a father who’s better off dead because how dare he.

How dare he sit upon his false throne, looking at but not seeing the wails of your allies.

How dare he call for this war, but does not do anything to aid the burden of his soldiers.

How dare he be in a position of power, only to use it to destroy.

How dare he.

His eyes, apathetically crossing the scene, meet yours.

And his face turns into one of pure fury.

In an instant, his body transforms.

Pale skin starts to form a sheen, changing shades until it’s a blinding gold; body contorting to a bigger size, his shirt unable to handle this change, as it tears off; an aura of sorts forming around him, almost like a halo of the angels.

A false halo.

With such an ugly expression on him, any awe directed towards that presence of his is immediately discarded.

An ugly face, for an ugly man.

Echoing across this ring, the man bellows your name, “After twenty years, you show your face to me-” The harsh cold biting at your skin, his voice nothing short of cruel. “-and you foolishly fight on the side of pirates!”

Pirates.

Disgusting, less than human, beings; monsters, who do nothing except for prey on the week; slobs, who could be doing so much better with their lives.

Pirates.

People, who just want to see the world; people, who had no other choice than to become a pirate; people, who refuse to be a cog within a rusty machine.

Pirates.

You shout, “Yes, I do!” grabbing a sword embedded in a body, you point it at your father.. “On this battlefield, I align myself with what is true! And here-”

There’s a thrumming underneath your veins.

Within its cage, blood rushes against it, the molecules almost pushing against one another in a race to your head. The top of your body almost feels full with it, as if it’s going to burst with the amount in there.

It’s so much.

But at the same time, there’s a fire within your heart. Burning brightly, passionately, adding fuel for you to take grasp of your long-held dream.

“I shall be the one to take your head!”

Papers spread on an ivory desk.

Pads of fingers digging into the reports.

A body hunched over those fingers.

“A child.”

The words are muttered right as your office door opens.

“You placed a bounty on a child.”

The newcomer’s eyes narrow. “It’s for the protection of the common good.” It’s Sengoku.

“You placed a bounty on a child.” Your teeth clench. “I can understand annihilating an island-” can you, now? “-but placing a 900 million berry bounty on a child’s head?”

“She holds secrets that could disrupt the balance of the world-”

A firework exploding.

A rope snapping.

A fire generating.

“She is a child,” you start to yell, “You placed a bounty on a child! Nine million berries-” You grab onto the poster, holding the picture of Nico Robin up.

 “Dead or alive! You want a child to die!”

“It’s for the protection of the world!”

“YOU PLACED A DEAD OR ALIVE BOUNTY ON A CHILD!”

You awake in chains.

Heavy on your body, they weigh you down; where they encase your limbs, they offer nothing but a dull ache for comfort.

Where…

It’s hard to think, you realize, almost as if your brain is a swamp. Wading, trudging; to navigate these muddy waters, all of your energy is needed.

Knowing you won’t be able to traverse with your body, you decide to traverse with your eyes instead, focusing on discerning your surroundings.

As you do so, simple shades of grey start to become multiple tints of that color, bricks and crevices soon identifiable by your barely working eyes. After some more mapping out, your organs of sight notice multiple, thin bars in front of you.

A… cell…?

Past those bars is a discernible shade of white, soon separating into yellows, blues, reds, and blacks. Not long after, you recognize them as clothes. A rectangular sash, round coat lying on top of it, and two circles- glasses, actually- lying atop a man’s face.

“You’re awake.”

Rough and scratchy; sandpaper rubbing against a hand.

You know the voice all too well.

Leftover rage rising up your limbs, you pull against the chains. “You-!” Only for it to be a fruitless attempt. “Sanctimonious fool!” Your tone, however, makes up for that anger. “Where am I? Where did you take me?!”

Suddenly, a stab of worry embeds itself into your heart.

“Where are my crewmates?!”

All the past events are a blur, lost in the mist of your mind. All you can remember is the events before and at the declaration that you’ll take Sengoku’s head, but after that, you don’t know.

You don’t know the outcome of the war.

You don’t know if Ace’s head was taken or not.

You don’t know if your crewmates are safe or not.

Your crewmates, who have been built over long and arduous years, who were all different kinds of people, some who didn’t get along at first, all of them gone from their hometowns for one reason or another, becoming attached to you and your crew and joining with or without your permission, everybody eventually becoming a member beloved by you and if anything happened to them you don’t know what you’ll do because you love them so much-

“If any of them are hurt, I’ll-!”

“I don’t know where your teammates are,” Sengoku interrupts. “I was too occupied with our little fight to check where they are.” He’s maddeningly calm. It’s as if all the tribulations of the world are water off the duck’s back. As if they are all meaningless. “However, I do know that you are in the sixth level of Impel Down.”

Huh?

“Why-”

“I’ve deemed you too much of a threat, so you shall remain here.”

Huh?!

Your teeth grit. “Threat ‘how’? By freeing certain countries from-”

“You won’t be kept here for the rest of your life, though.”

…huh?

A few seconds of silence pass; silence filled with the cogs in your head turning, trying to make sense of his words; silence filled with Sengoku’s icy stare, gazing down upon you like he would an insect.

Eventually, he speaks again. “I’m giving you a second chance.” Your father takes a seat on the floor. “During your stay, you will reflect on your misdemeanors as a pirate, and only when you have admitted your wrongdoings, I will let you out to serve on the sides of the Marines once more, with your crimes cleared.”

Another small silence, as once again, you process what you were told.

Reflect?

Misdemeanors?

On the side of the Marines?

It’s as if you were a child caught stealing cookies past their bedtime, and as punishment, you were sent to timeout. Unable to interact with anybody, and nobody able to interact with you. To the ‘class’, you are nothing.

He’s treating you like a baby.

Nothing but a misbehaving kid, who needs to reflect on the mistake they made.

A little thing, who betrayed the Marines because they didn’t think too much about it; who committed their so-called crimes because they have poor impulse control.

How humiliating.

Festering and seething, mold from a fruit spreads to the others; starting at your heart, scattering to the rest of your limbs. It rots your bones, your muscles, barely peeking through the skin- climbing up your throat, threatening to tear apart your vocal cords as you open your mouth, the decay spilling from your lips.

“YOU BASTARD-!”

[coveofsecrets]

Uhhh I just wanna say for the Yandere stuff i write but uhhh

I shouldn’t say this, but you shouldn’t romanticize or normalize this- I don’t write that stuff in a light that is romanticized, which it shouldn’t be. This is not something to be seen as cute, or romantic, or fluffy. It’s toxic, and unhealthy, and is not good for either side.

Yuhhh

[coveofsecrets]

To that one anon who requested Yandere Loki:

I’M GONNA SHIT MY FUCKING PANTS. NOT BECAUSE OF YOU

I WANNA WRITE FOR THIS MAN SOOO FUCKING BAD

I WANNA WRITE FOR YOUR EWQYETS SOOOO GUVKING BAD BECAUSE I ALREADY LOVE THIS MAN AND I HAVENT EVEN MET HIM YET AND HE HASNT APPEARS IN THE FUVKING ANIME

IM GONNA TWEAK THE FUCK OUT

I wanna WRITE THAT REQUEST SOOOO BAD BUT I CANNTTTT

I caNT WRITE FOR A POTENTIAL HUSBANDSSSDDDDD

Cries