nrhshm

[nrhshm]

Embers in the Tide (Part 1)

╰┈➤ pairing: Ace x female! reader

a/n: newww seriesss also feel free to send request the box is open <3

summary: Your weighed down by the legacy of being Whitebeard’s daughter and you find unexpected comfort and love in Ace, whose own hidden past mirrors his pain, and your bond grows from quiet companionship into something deeper and healing.

wc: 2.4k

contains: Fluff, slow-burn romance, moments of vulnerability and unspoken love.

The Moby Dick rocked gently with the waves, its massive white sails glowing under the golden hues of the setting sun. The laughter of your crewmates echoed across the deck—loud, warm, and familiar. And yet, it always seemed to reach you a few seconds too late, like your soul existed just a few steps behind everyone else's.

You sat at your usual spot on the upper deck, legs dangling over the edge, your arms resting on the rail as you watched the sea ripple with molten gold. You smiled when someone passed by. You laughed when Marco made another joke. You toasted with Thatch even if you barely sipped your drink. You did all the things expected of you.

But inside? You were tired.

Not in the way a good night's sleep could fix. It was a deeper kind of weariness—a quiet ache that settled in your bones. You didn’t even know when it started. Maybe it was the burden of being his daughter. Whitebeard’s blood, but no one else’s business. The crew knew, of course. Your family—Marco, Thatch, Izo—they’d never betray that trust. They were your brothers, your protectors. And your father… Well, he loved you in his own mountain-sized way. But the name, the legacy, the constant eyes—it was a lot. It was always a lot.

And you never asked for it.

Then Ace came.

Loud. Messy. Blazing with ambition and carrying the kind of sorrow that mirrored your own.

You didn’t care for him at first. Another hot-headed pirate with something to prove. He challenged Pops to a duel, of all things. You watched from afar with your arms crossed, unimpressed and half-hoping he’d trip over his own pride.

But he didn’t. He earned his place.

And somewhere along the line, he earned your attention too.

At first, it was little things. He'd wave to you every morning, no matter how groggy he looked. He’d sit next to you at meals even if you weren’t talking. One time, after a particularly rough skirmish with a rival crew, he found you on the deck later that night and simply sat beside you, saying nothing. Just shared the silence.

You didn’t realize how much that meant until he kept doing it.

You were both running from ghosts, in a way. You from the weight of a name you never asked for, and him... well, you’d later learn his name came with its own shadow.

Gol D. Roger.

You were shocked when he told you. It was late one night, the stars scattered above like broken glass. You were both leaning over the railing, sharing a drink, talking about everything and nothing.

He said it so casually, like it wasn’t the heaviest truth in the world.

“I’m his son,” he said, staring at the waves. “The Pirate King’s.”

You didn’t speak right away. You just turned to look at him, and he was bracing himself like he expected you to flinch. Like he was waiting for you to back away.

But you didn’t.

You put your hand over his. “You’re Ace.”

That was enough for you.

From that moment on, something shifted. You weren’t just crewmates anymore. You weren’t just two people with heavy names and tired hearts. You were something more—though neither of you said it out loud.

Fast forward to now: years had passed. You were older, stronger, wiser. Ace was commander of the Second Division. You had your own small team under you. And yet, no matter how high you climbed, Ace always made time for you.

Every day, without fail, he checked on you.

“You eating enough?” “You sleeping okay?” “You staying out of trouble?”

He was like a flame that wouldn’t go out—constantly circling you, flickering in and out of your personal space, always lighting up your dark corners.

Sometimes he’d lean against your doorframe at night, arms crossed and shirt half-buttoned, rambling about his latest mission. Other times, he’d bring you weird souvenirs from whatever island they docked at—a shiny rock, a weird snack, one time even a baby goat (which thankfully got rehomed quickly).

But your favorite thing?

When he talked about his brother.

“Luffy’s gonna be Pirate King someday,” he’d grin, eyes sparkling with pride. “I know it sounds crazy, but the kid’s unstoppable.”

You’d smile, leaning against him. “If he’s anything like you, I believe it.”

And he’d laugh, tipping his head back, that fire in his chest burning so brightly you could almost feel it warming your skin.

In those moments, the ache in your soul quieted. The weight of your bloodline faded into the background. Because when Ace was near, nothing else mattered.

A few days later, the crew was having another wild after party.

You couldn’t even remember what the occasion was—maybe another successful raid, or someone’s birthday (Thatch insisted it was his, but you’d heard him say that three times this month). Either way, the deck had been filled with music, laughter, the clinking of mugs, and the smell of roasted meat and spilled rum.

You’d stayed longer than usual. You were laughing. You were dancing. You were drinking more than you should’ve.

And of course, he was there.

Ace always found you, even in a crowd. Whether it was some sixth sense or just instinct, you didn’t know. But your eyes always found his too.

Now, long after most of the crew had either passed out or wandered off, you found yourself in his arms—your body slumped against his chest as he carried you down the hallway to your quarters.

You weren’t wasted, just tipsy and tired. But the closeness… that was new. His warmth, his scent, the way his heartbeat thudded against your cheek—it made your chest ache.

“You’re lucky I was still sober,” Ace muttered, his tone teasing but gentle. “You nearly face-planted off the railing.”

You laughed softly, your arms tightening just slightly around his neck. “I was fine.”

“Sure you were,” he smirked. “Totally balanced. Like a newborn deer on ice.”

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t let go.

He reached your room, nudging the door open with his foot. Inside, the lamplight glowed soft and golden, casting shadows across your bed and walls. He took a step toward the bed but stopped when you didn’t loosen your grip.

“…You okay?” he asked, a bit unsure now.

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, your arms still loosely looped around his neck. “Don’t put me down yet.”

Ace blinked. His hands hovered awkwardly around your waist, unsure whether to hold you or step away. His mouth opened like he was going to say something clever—but no words came.

So instead, you spoke.

“…Ace, you’re so beautiful.”

His breath caught.

You didn’t stop.

“You’re always so kind to me. Even when I don’t ask for it. Even when I’m difficult. Even when I… I don’t even know what I’m doing with myself.” You swallowed. “You always see me.”

The air thickened between you. Ace’s freckles seemed to glow under the soft lamplight, his eyes wide, lips parted as if stunned by your words. His fingers barely brushed your sides, hesitant, like one wrong move would shatter this entire moment.

“…You don’t know what it does to me, hearing that,” he said quietly. “No one’s ever looked at me like that before.”

You smiled, heart hammering against your ribs.

Your hand cupped his cheek.

And then, slowly, you leaned in.

You didn’t rush. You gave him time to pull away.

But he didn’t.

Ace met you halfway.

The kiss was soft, hesitant—like testing the edge of a flame. It lingered just long enough for your heart to stop and start again. His hands finally settled on your waist, fingers gripping gently like he was anchoring himself to you.

And just as you leaned in more, wanting to stay in that warmth, he pulled back.

“…We should stop,” he whispered, voice rough.

You looked up, eyes searching his face. “Why?”

“I—” he swallowed, brows furrowing. “Because if I fall for you… and I lose you…”

His voice cracked. Just a little. But it was enough to break something in you.

You placed a hand on his chest, over his heart, feeling how fast it beat.

“Ace,” you said gently, “I’m not going anywhere.”

His gaze stayed fixed on the floor, jaw clenched.

You stepped in closer, brushing your forehead against his.

“I know you’re scared. So am I. But you don’t have to protect yourself from me.” You lifted your head, eyes meeting his. “I love you, Ace. I think… I’ve loved you for a long time.”

The room was quiet. Only the soft creak of the ship and your breaths filled the silence.

Ace looked at you like he didn’t know whether to cry or kiss you again.

“…You do?” he said softly.

“I do.”

He exhaled, and something in his shoulders finally relaxed.

And then—he smiled.

A real one. Soft. Genuine. The kind of smile he only gave when he let himself feel safe.

“I love you too,” he whispered.

♡♡♡

© 2025 arixella | please do not plagiarize or translate any of my work without my consent.

[nrhshm]

Hey I just came here to say I absolutely love your work. I've been into One Piece for a while now, and throughout that time I've read just about every fic Tumblr provided. I've never commented on fics until only a few months ago, but now that the floodgates have opened I need every author I've ever read from to know how much I appreciate them.

Like, your works mean so much to me. I think about them all the time and come back to reread them whenever I can. They've helped me through so much in my life. They've inspired me to write for myself and indulge in my favorite show. I can't really put into words just how much I love them. My heart is just full of so many emotions and I feel like crying as I send these out.

Thank you for writing, and thank you for giving me the chance to read them. Your stories will stick with me for literal years. 💖

Oh my god you’re such a sweetheart🥺❤️

Your constant support is what motivates me to write, and I truly thank you for such kind words.

I’ll try to be more active I promise!👌👌

[nrhshm]

Woah✨️✨️

Sir🦋

[nrhshm]

Hello, I would like to have headcanons on what he likes and what he hates in a woman (Mihawk, One Piece). Thank you 🥰

Heya! I’m actually ınterested to know too! Lets fınd out together now, shall we? ☺️

Likes VS Dislikes in an S/o: Mihawk

● Likes ●

1. Grace and Poise

I MUST begin with this one, as Mihawk's known to carry himself with an air of nobility and grace wherever he went.

Thus, it is a standard upon all tolerable human beings to present themselves the same way.

And most importantly: His beautiful S/o.

HOWEVER, you'd be surprised to learn about Mihawk's second taste in women.

2. Opposites Attract

I'm not talking about this as a trope, but rather as something quite practical and possible.

A man who has spent his entire life living alone in a draculian castle with a gloomy, dark cloud above his head, and his job was just killing governmental targets and waiting for Zoro to get stronger. THE MAN NEEDS SOME SPICE!

So if a woman of smiles and spontaneity comes into his life, he will find himself strangely drawn in to know more.

Of course, not after trying to repulsively avoid her in any way possible.

It's a Yin and Yang compatibility, an eclipse where the both of them together can create something absolutely magical!

3. Independence and Strength

Okay this is a solid one. Every love story involves a woman depending on a man to protect her from any danger, and Mihawk is ready to put his title on the line if it comes to his s/o's safety.

But! Mihawk would find it more fascinating if his lover was able to handle herself efficiently during battle. Even better! It would straight up boost his ego, priding himself in her strength. He would even give her a subtle head rub or him just carassing her face with a soft expression.

4. Intelligence and Wit

Make no mistake, Mihawk hates naivety. Period.

The man appreciates a daily boost of knowledge and information, a challenging discussion that could lead him to new depths, or one of those debates where he keeps winning everytime.

His s/o can be clumsy, optimistic and almost out of this world, but he cannot bear a naive woman that takes things for granted and isn't grounded to reality's harsh truths.

Afterall, and as he puts it himself: "I'm not a kindergarten teacher."

Add to that trait, the last and most important one...

5. A Subtle, Unspoken Loyalty

And that is an understatement to every man, but to Mihawk it's a ground rule.

Loyalty is the most important thing to a swordsman, and loyalty is tested and proven in the most dire situations. And if his s/o does prove her loyalty to him, Mihawk will view her in a whole new light, a treasure in this world that shouldn't be wasted. His trust in her will be blind, and he will make sure to live up to her trust as much as that.

Mihawk is naturally loyal. If he loves you, he's loyal. If he loves you, he immediately becomes trusting and dependable.

This man is one of a kind when he's in love. DON'T TAKE HIM FOR GRANTED!!

○ Dislikes ○

1.Disrespect for His Solitude

It's a known fact that Mihawk enjoys his personal space and quiet lifestyle. It's something that will stay with him for the rest of his life.

So please, the "I can fix him" trope is out of the question.

A woman who tries to invade that without understanding his need for isolation would not last with him. If she does not respect his personal boundaries even as a married couple, Mihawk will cross a bold X on that. He can not tolerate foolish boldness to that extent.

2. Lack of Self-Respect

This one is quite obvious. Mihawk is a man who respects himself and expects the same from his partner.

So, a woman who constantly belittles herself, lacks confidence, or allows herself to be treated poorly would be unappealing to him.

What DOES appeal to Mihawk are the extraordinary, the people who stand out in a crowd.

Thus, petty habits such as this is a BIG no to him.

3. Lack of Intelligence or Depth

I've already mentioned this one. Mihawk hates the naive, pointless people.

He doesn’t seem interested in shallow or airheaded individuals. A woman with no depth in conversation or who lacks critical thinking would bore him. As simple as that.

4. Overly Competitive in an Annoying Way

I DID say, that Mihawk respects a strong independent woman, who can handle herself in tight situations.

But don't mix strength with delusion. This man dislikes pointless arrogance or someone trying to "prove" themselves to people constantly.

A woman who seeks to challenge him without true substance would be unimpressive and empty.

Yeah. These are the key highlights of Mihawk's refined taste in women. Good luck y'all!! 🤭❤️

[nrhshm]

Revolutionary Army

Sabo: - Reader is affection deprived

.

Dragon: ...

[nrhshm]

Hello!! May i please request an angsty hc/drabble where he patted reader's head or cupped her cheeks,her expression goes :0 and then she starts crying because she rarely received affection from anyone when she was little? with sabo/law and female reader please :)

Right away~~

Sabo and Law with an affection-depirived reader.

. Sfw

. Spoiler free

. Reader is gn (1st pov)

Sabo

The air smelled of fresh blooms, mingling with the earthy scent of the village cobblestones. Your flower stall was modest but well-kept, adorned with colorful arrangements that brought a touch of life to the quiet streets. It was a life of simplicity, one you had built after so many years of darkness.

The villagers were cordial enough—polite smiles and brief greetings—but you knew the truth behind their careful distance. You were the former slave who had been freed by Fisher Tiger. While you were grateful for the life you had now, the shadow of your past loomed large, casting a cloud of fear over the people around you.

But there was one person who always stood out.

Sabo.

He had been a regular at your stall for months now, always buying daffodils. He never said why or who they were for, but his warm smile and gentle demeanor made his visits a highlight of your day. His sunny personality, paired with the sparkle in his eyes, had a way of making you forget the weight of your past, even if only for a few moments.

---

It was a quiet afternoon when the incident happened.

An old woman approached your stall, her expression already sour. “Do you have carnations?” she barked.

You shook your head politely. “I’m sorry, we’re sold out for today.”

Her face twisted with irritation. “Sold out? What kind of flower seller doesn’t have carnations? Useless!”

Her voice rose, drawing the attention of passersby. You tried to remain calm, offering a small smile and a soft apology, but she wasn’t finished.

“You think you can just stand here, pretending to belong in this village?” she spat. “Everyone knows what you are. A slave. A walking liability! How long before the government comes and razes this place because of you?”

The words struck like a physical blow. Your chest tightened, and your breath came in shallow gasps. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The crowd had gathered now, their eyes on you—judging, pitying, or worse, agreeing.

---

“Enough of this.”

The voice cut through the tension like a blade.

Sabo stepped forward, his usually lighthearted demeanor replaced by a calm authority that silenced the murmurs of the crowd. He stood between you and the old woman, his presence commanding and unyielding.

“This behavior is unacceptable,” he said, his tone firm yet composed. “No one, no matter their past, deserves to be treated like this. She’s done nothing but contribute to this village with her kindness and hard work. What have you done, exactly, besides spread bitterness?”

The old woman bristled. “I was just speaking the truth! People like her bring trouble—”

Sabo interrupted her with a polite but pointed smile. “The truth, ma’am, is that she has more strength in her little finger than most of us will ever have. And if you have a problem with her, then perhaps you should reconsider who the real troublemaker is.”

The crowd shifted uneasily. The old woman, her indignation faltering, grumbled something under her breath and walked away.

Sabo turned to the onlookers. “Show’s over, folks. If you don’t have anything kind to say or do, maybe it’s time to get back to your day.”

The villagers dispersed, their curiosity satisfied, leaving the two of you alone.

---

Sabo’s expression softened as he turned back to you. Kneeling slightly, he picked up a daffodil that had fallen during the commotion and gently placed it in your trembling hand.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice warm and soothing. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

You stared at the flower, your fingers trembling around its delicate stem. His kindness was like a balm to the raw ache in your chest.

Noticing you were still shaken, Sabo stepped closer and placed a hand gently on your head, his fingers lightly ruffling your hair in an affectionate gesture. “You don’t deserve any of that. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you’re less than amazing, okay?”

His words broke something inside you. Tears spilled down your cheeks as the weight of years of judgment and loneliness came crashing down. Without thinking, you threw your arms around him, clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping you afloat.

Sabo stiffened for a moment, clearly surprised, but then his arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly. “I’ve got you,” he murmured. “You’re safe. You’re not alone.”

You sobbed into his chest, his steady presence grounding you as his words washed over you. For the first time in your life, someone had seen you—not your scars, not your past, but you.

---

When you finally pulled away, you wiped your eyes, feeling lighter yet raw. Sabo gave you a small smile, his hands resting gently on your shoulders.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

You nodded, though your voice was still shaky. “Thank you… for everything.”

He grinned, a hint of his usual playfulness returning. “Anytime. Someone’s gotta look out for you.”

A question lingered in your mind, and you found the courage to ask it. “Sabo… why do you always buy daffodils?”

He blinked, caught off guard, before a soft chuckle escaped him. “Daffodils are a symbol of good luck,” he said. “I like to keep a little luck with me wherever I go.”

His gaze met yours, his smile turning slightly mischievous. “But, you know, I’ve been starting to think it’s not the flowers that bring me luck. It might just be the person selling them.”

Your cheeks flushed, and Sabo laughed, a light, carefree sound that made the heaviness in your chest dissolve.

“Come on,” he said, gesturing to your stall. “Let’s fix this up. You’ve got a business to run, and I’ve got more flowers to buy.”

As the two of you worked side by side, you couldn’t help but feel, for the first time, that maybe, just maybe, the future didn’t have to be so lonely.

Law

The Polar Tang was quiet save for the hum of the engines. The usual raucous energy of the Heart Pirates had settled into an uncharacteristic stillness, a quiet born from the long day of storms both inside and out. You sat in the ship’s medbay, fidgeting with a roll of gauze in your hands, your mind wandering to the events that had left you here.

The mission had been dangerous—too dangerous, according to Law. He had explicitly warned you and the others to tread carefully. But in the heat of the moment, when you saw one of your crewmates in danger, you didn’t think. You rushed in, shielding them, ignoring the pain that came when debris struck your side. You pushed through the fight, brushing off the blood that seeped from your wound.

No one noticed your injury at first. You didn’t let them. Because that’s what you always did—gave everything you had to make sure everyone else was okay, while quietly swallowing your own pain.

It wasn’t until the adrenaline wore off that you collapsed on the deck, the shocked gasps of your crewmates the last thing you remembered before waking up in the medbay.

---

“You’re an idiot.”

Law’s voice was sharp as he entered the room, his steps deliberate as he approached. He didn’t look at you at first, busying himself with medical supplies on the counter.

“I’m fine,” you said softly, your voice betraying your exhaustion.

He turned then, his gray eyes narrowing. “No, you’re not. You could’ve been seriously hurt—or worse. Do you think that’s fine?”

His tone was cutting, but beneath it, you heard something else. Worry.

“I was just trying to help,” you muttered, your gaze dropping to the gauze in your hands.

Law sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know you were. But you can’t keep doing this—throwing yourself into danger like your life doesn’t matter.”

His words struck a nerve, and you looked away, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat.

---

“You don’t get it,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “If I don’t help, if I don’t give something to others, what’s the point? It’s not like anyone’s ever—”

You stopped yourself, biting your lip.

“Ever what?” Law’s voice was softer now, but it still carried weight.

You shook your head, unwilling to meet his gaze. “It doesn’t matter.”

Law was silent for a moment, then he stepped closer, his hands resting on the edge of the bed. “It does matter. You matter.”

The simplicity of his words made your chest ache. You glanced up at him, expecting to see irritation or pity, but his expression was unreadable.

“I don’t—” Your voice broke, and you quickly looked away again.

---

Before you could say more, you felt something unexpected—a hand on your head. Law’s hand. He gently rested it there, his touch firm but surprisingly gentle as his fingers lightly ruffled your hair.

“You don’t always have to be the one giving,” he said quietly, his voice carrying an unusual warmth. “Sometimes, it’s okay to let someone take care of you.”

The lump in your throat grew, and tears stung your eyes. You weren’t used to this—someone comforting you, showing you even a shred of affection. You had spent so long being the one who gave, the one who protected, that you had forgotten what it felt like to receive anything in return.

Tears slipped down your cheeks before you could stop them, and a soft sob escaped you. Law didn’t pull away, his hand still resting on your head, grounding you.

“Why…” Your voice cracked. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Law’s lips quirked into the faintest of smirks. “Because you’re part of my crew. And I don’t let my crew fall apart—not even the stubborn ones.”

His words were simple, but they carried a weight that made your tears flow even harder. Without thinking, you leaned forward, burying your face in his chest as your emotions overwhelmed you.

---

He stiffened slightly at the contact but didn’t push you away. Instead, his hand moved from your head to your back, giving you an awkward but comforting pat.

“You’re not used to this, are you?” he asked, his tone dry but not unkind.

You laughed through your tears, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “What gave it away?”

Law sighed, shaking his head. “You’re a mess,” he muttered, but there was a softness in his eyes that belied his words.

As the tension in the room eased, you found yourself smiling through your tears. “Thanks, Doc.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he replied, standing and grabbing a nearby clipboard. “I still have to lecture you about following orders and not getting yourself killed.”

You groaned, flopping back onto the bed dramatically. “Maybe I should’ve just stayed unconscious.”

Law smirked, his usual stoicism giving way to a rare moment of humor. “Don’t tempt me to use Room to keep you in check next time.”

Despite everything, you laughed, the sound light and genuine. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t alone.

[nrhshm]

Red Hair Pirates:

Shanks: - Reader hates being a burden

Ben Beckman: ....

[nrhshm]

EKRKRK I LOVE YOUR WRITTING I was wondering if I could request an easily fatigued reader with smoker, mihawk and Shanks? Like they come got soaking wet and shivering from having to walk home in a storm and readers REALLY shy so they're like "no its fine I'm fine!" But then kinda get teary because they don't want to be a bother (sorry if that sounds weird but it's just something I would probably do😭) and just how they'd react? TYSM LOVE YOU‼️‼️

I tried to expand on three different reader personalities in each oneshot. So their reaction to each situation differs. Let me know what you think of it, anon!👋

And Shanks! Oh I went a different way with Shank's story🫡 but it was too good to change...

Smoker, Mihawk and Shanks with an easily fatigued/frail reader

who hates being a burden

---

. Sfw

. Mentions of kidnapping on Shank's part.

. Spoiler free

. Reader is g/n (female in Shanks's part)

---

Smoker

The storm outside was unrelenting, a cacophony of rain and wind battering against the tall office windows. Inside, the room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a desk lamp, casting shadows that danced on the walls. Smoker sat at his desk, the air thick with the faint smell of his cigars.

Tick… tock…

His eyes drifted again to the clock on the wall, the hands creeping forward with a maddening slowness. It was 10:15, and you were late. Not just by a little. The patrol shift had ended at 9:30.

For any other soldier, it would have been a reprimand, a quick note in their file. But for some reason, the idea of something happening to you had twisted his gut into knots he’d rather not admit to anyone—especially himself.

He exhaled a stream of smoke, the ember on his cigar flaring briefly.

“Something’s not right,” he muttered, more to himself than to the empty room.

The storm wasn’t normal—not tonight. He’d seen sailors, seasoned and unshakable, hesitate at the thought of venturing into it. And yet, you were out there, alone.

Tick… tock…

The clock seemed to mock him, its endless rhythm a reminder of his helpless waiting. Finally, with a grunt of frustration, he stood, grabbing his coat. Enough was enough. He wasn’t going to sit here while the storm kept raging and the worst possibilities gnawed at his mind.

Just as he reached the door, it slammed open with a gust of wind and rain.

“Commander Smoker!” Your voice cut through the storm’s roar, sharp with urgency. You stepped in, water pooling at your feet as you stood at attention. “Apologies for the delay, sir! I—”

“Where the hell have you been?” His voice was sharp, though the edge softened almost immediately. His eyes swept over you, taking in the sodden uniform plastered to your skin, the way your hair stuck to your face, and the faint tremble in your shoulders. The reprimand he’d been planning caught in his throat. “Do you have any idea how reckless that was?”

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, standing stiffly despite the rain dripping down your face. “The patrol was delayed because of the weather, and I lost track of time. I apologize for being late, sir. If I may, I’ll begin my report—”

“Forget the damn report!” His sudden outburst made you blink, startled. He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re soaked to the bone, and all you care about is procedure?”

“I didn’t mean to worry you, sir,” you said, voice small but resolute. “It’s my responsibility to—”

“Enough.” His tone left no room for argument. Before you could react, he shrugged off his jacket and stepped forward, draping it over your shoulders. The fabric was warm, heavy with the faint scent of smoke and leather.

“Commander, I don’t—”

“Stop arguing,” he said firmly, towering over you. “You’re freezing, and I’m not about to have one of my soldiers collapse because they’re too stubborn to take care of themselves.”

You looked up at him, wide-eyed and caught off guard by the unexpected gentleness in his voice. For a moment, you forgot how to speak, the weight of his concern settling heavily on your chest.

“I—thank you,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He sighed, his hand coming up to rest briefly on your shoulder, warm and steady. “You need to stop trying to do everything on your own. I’m your commander. You can rely on me.”

Your eyes dropped to the floor, your hands clutching the edges of the jacket tightly. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Idiot,” he muttered, though there was no heat in the word. His hand lingered a moment longer before he stepped back, giving you room to breathe. “You’re not a burden. Stop thinking like that.”

The warmth in his voice made your chest tighten, but you forced yourself to stand a little straighter. “Yes, sir.”

He looked at you for a long moment, the tension in his shoulders easing as he seemed to confirm for himself that you were truly okay. Then he turned toward the door, grabbing his hat.

“Come on,” he said, his voice softer now, almost gentle. “I’ll walk you home.”

Your breath caught, but you nodded quickly, following him into the storm. His presence beside you felt steady and grounding, his coat a shield against the chill.

If Smoker’s feelings lingered unspoken in the air between you, you didn’t notice. And if his hand hovered just a little closer to your back, ready to steady you against the wind, neither of you said a word.

Mihawk

The night was eerily quiet, the humandrills’ growls and the clang of steel against steel the only sounds cutting through the stillness. You moved as swiftly as your aching body allowed, haki crackling faintly in your strikes. Each movement grew heavier, your limbs protesting every swing. The creatures encircled you, their primal strength and cunning pushing you further to the edge.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, your vision blurring, but you couldn’t stop—not now, not after today. Not when you had something to prove.

Then, in a moment too fast to process, one of them lunged. Its weapon glinted under the moonlight, and your sluggish body betrayed you. You braced for the impact.

A flash of black steel tore through the air, and the humandrill was gone, its companions scattering in panic. Yoru, the unmistakable black blade, stood lodged in the ground before you, humming faintly with power.

Your heart skipped. And then, he stepped into view.

Mihawk’s golden eyes pinned you where you stood—or tried to. Your legs gave out, and the ground rushed to meet you, but his hand shot out, steady and strong. His grip was firm as he caught you, holding you upright like you weighed nothing.

“You’ve lost your mind.” His tone was cold, sharp, and laced with irritation. His gaze swept over you, taking in the bruises, the blood, the shaking in your limbs. “What exactly were you thinking?”

“I’m fine,” you muttered stubbornly, trying to stand straight.

He raised a brow, his voice dropping into a dangerous calm. “Fine? You’re about to collapse.”

“I just wanted to—”

“To what?” he cut in, his voice harder now. “Get yourself killed? Or is this another one of your attempts to outrun Zoro?”

The mention of your rival made you stiffen, your jaw clenching. “I don’t need anyone’s help,” you snapped, though the words lacked conviction.

“And yet here I am,” he replied coolly, his eyes narrowing.

The heat of your embarrassment flared, but before you could argue further, your body betrayed you again. You stumbled, and his grip tightened, keeping you from hitting the ground.

“Enough of this nonsense.” His voice held no room for argument, his usual measured calm tinged with something firmer.

Before you could protest, he shifted, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. The motion startled you, your words catching in your throat as you stared up at him.

“What are you—?”

“Carrying you back,” he interrupted bluntly, his tone making it clear he wasn’t entertaining any more arguments.

You could only blink, too exhausted to resist. His expression was unreadable, though his eyes softened slightly as they flickered over your face. “You push yourself too far,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “Strength without control is meaningless.”

You stayed silent, your pride too wounded to admit he was right.

As he carried you through the quiet forest, the weight of his presence felt grounding. You glanced at his face, searching for any sign of mockery, but found none. Just calm, focused intent.

When he reached the castle, Mihawk set you down carefully on a bench near the fire. His golden eyes met yours, steady and unyielding.

“You’ll never surpass anyone if you’re too broken to fight,” he said. His tone was flat, but there was something beneath it—a flicker of something softer. Concern, maybe.

You opened your mouth to reply, but he shook his head. “Rest. That’s an order.”

As he turned to leave, his words lingered, low and almost under his breath. “Don’t make me save you again.”

And then, like a shadow, he was gone.

Shanks

You had grown up surrounded by elegance, refinement, and rules. As the eldest daughter of the Alabasta royal family, your every move had been dictated by tradition. You were taught diplomacy, grace, and poise, but not how to wield a sword or navigate the rough-and-tumble life of a pirate crew. When your father announced your arranged marriage to the infamous Red-Haired Shanks, the Yonko, it had felt like a betrayal—a sacrifice made to secure an alliance between your kingdom and the pirate world.

And yet, you agreed. For your family. For your kingdom.

Weeks later, you found yourself aboard the Red Force, surrounded by rowdy, boisterous pirates whose laughter echoed into the sea. Shanks, your husband, was everything you hadn’t expected. Carefree, loud, and full of life, he was the polar opposite of the strict, composed men you had known.

He’d tease you gently, his easy grin always present, saying, “You’ve got to loosen up, princess. Life’s too short to keep your shoulders so stiff.”

But you couldn’t. The world he lived in was too foreign. You didn’t belong here. And worse, you felt like an outsider—a burden among warriors who risked their lives at every turn.

The breaking point came during a crew meeting. You’d overheard the others discussing their plans for the next mission: docking on a notoriously dangerous island to retrieve a devil fruit.

“She’ll slow us down,” one of the crew muttered, not unkindly but with a tone of concern.

“She’s not trained to fight,” another added.

“Beckman will stay with her,” Shanks said, his tone casual but decisive. “He’ll make sure she’s safe.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. You knew Shanks meant well, but to assign his right-hand man to babysit you on such a critical mission? It was a slap to your pride. You weren’t some helpless child. You were the wife of a Yonko.

That night, as the crew prepared for the next day, you made your decision.

---

The dawn was still pale as you slipped away, knife concealed beneath your dress. The ship was quiet, the crew unaware as you stepped onto the dock and into the bustling village.

The plan was simple. You’d explore the island, avoid trouble, and return before anyone noticed. It wasn’t reckless—it was proof that you could handle yourself.

The market was lively, filled with colorful stalls and chattering villagers. For the first time in weeks, you felt a flicker of independence. But as you wandered deeper into the streets, the vibrant atmosphere gave way to shadowy alleys and silence.

That’s when they approached.

At first, it was just one man, smiling too broadly. Then another. And another. Their words were slick, their laughter dark. Your heart pounded as they surrounded you, their intentions crystal clear.

“Such a delicate thing,” one said, brushing a hand against your arm. “What’s a lady like you doing here alone?”

You tried to pull away, but their grip tightened. A cloth was forced over your mouth, muffling your cries.

---

The air shifted.

It was subtle at first—a faint pressure that made the hairs on your neck stand on end. Then it hit like a tidal wave, an overwhelming presence that crushed the very air around you.

The men froze, their smug expressions dissolving into sheer terror.

At the mouth of the alley stood Shanks.

Gone was the carefree man who laughed too loudly and drank too much. His usual easy smile was replaced by a look so dark, so furious, it made your blood run cold. His eyes burned with unrelenting rage as they locked onto the man who dared touch you.

“You dare take my woman?” His voice was low, a growl that seemed to echo through the alley.

The thug didn’t have time to react. In a single, fluid motion, Shanks swung his sword, and the man’s hand hit the ground with a sickening thud.

The others tried to flee, but they didn’t stand a chance. Shanks didn’t even need to use his sword again—the sheer force of his haki dropped them one by one, their bodies crumpling to the ground.

When the last threat was dealt with, Shanks turned to you. The fury in his eyes melted instantly, replaced by something far more vulnerable.

He was at your side in an instant, cutting away the ropes that bound you. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice trembling just slightly. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, though tears streamed down your cheeks. Before you could speak, he pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly it felt like he was trying to shield you from the world itself.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he said, his voice breaking. “When I realized you were gone, I—” He stopped, his breath shuddering. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Your heart ached at the raw emotion in his voice. “What about the mission?” you whispered, guilt weighing heavily on your chest.

“The mission?” He pulled back just enough to look at you, his brows furrowing. “You think I care about the mission right now?” He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “I told the crew to wait. Your safety comes first. Always.”

You broke down, the weight of your fear and guilt crashing over you. “I just… I didn’t want to be a burden,” you sobbed. “I wanted to prove I could handle myself.”

Shanks shook his head, his expression softening. “You’re not a burden,” he said firmly. “You’re my wife. If worrying about you is what it takes, I’ll gladly do it.”

His words unraveled the knot in your chest, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to lean into him fully.

After a moment, you looked up at him, your voice shaky but resolute. “Teach me how to fight.”

Shanks blinked, clearly caught off guard. Then, a grin broke across his face, his usual teasing demeanor returning. “Fight, huh? Guess I’ll have to, or you’ll keep sneaking off on your own.”

You smacked his arm lightly, pouting. “I’m serious!”

“And I’m serious about carrying you back to the ship.” He scooped you up effortlessly, cradling you in his arms. “Besides, you’re cute when you pout.”

Despite your frustration, you couldn’t help but smile. Resting your head against his shoulder, you let out a small sigh of relief.

As Shanks carried you back toward the harbor, his laugh echoed through the air, a sound that made you feel, for the first time, like you truly belonged.

[nrhshm]

I'm writing a book.

Link to the book on wattpad~~~

@Nrhashem On wattpad

If you're interested in a fantasy/thriller, kingdom-like, knights and rebellion stories with a tinge of romance.

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

Then feel free to check out my new story!! First 3 chapters are OUT

Let me know what you guys think👋👋👋

[nrhshm]

I've completely deserted this account, but now I'm BACK!.

(For real this time...)

I'll try my best to fullfill all of your requests in my inbox and finish up all the remaining drafts. So if anyone has a request, feel free to ask!!

° Masterlist is pinned at the top of my page °

[nrhshm]

Hello there! If you don't mind, could you please do Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, and Shanks (seperate) reacting to seeing their stoic fem!(s/o) smiling brightly for the first time? Thank you so much if you decide to do this!!

- [💚anon]

Heads up! let's do this ~~ I'll do each two seperately.

Ps. I might've slightly diverted from the original prompt...

This is pt 1:

Luffy and Zoro reacting to y/n, smiling brightly for the first time.

. Reader is gn

. Sfw

. Spoiler free

. Genre: fluff, a bit of gore on zoro's part

Luffy:

Amidst the battle, you trod with a heavy breath across the massive wreck of houses. You've been a hurting witness, seeing that one fishman destroy your hometown without a single shred of mercy. Instead, an evil sickening smirk of ridicule was all he left lingering in your thoughts.

"Y/n L/n" of the strawhats, you were known for your strict loyalty to your captain: the wanted pirate "Monkey D. Luffy". Your train of thoughts drift back to that time he decided you'd join his crew, you were so nonchalant about it! In fact, you barely had anything to do with him IF he didn't passively force you with the biggest smile ever.

"Join my crew!"

"No"

"Why?"

"Because we met five seconds... ago..." You deadpan.

"But you're my friend."

"I-... We've met FIVE SECONDS AGO!!!" You repeat furiously.

"Besides, I know a pirate when I see one, and I'm not planning to involve myself in any shady business you've got."

Luffy's big round eyes stare right dead center into yours, 1 minute, 5 minutes and no response.

"So?" He suddenly blurts out.

"So??"

He takes his hand in yours.

"I like you. Isn't that enough?" He says in with a sneezy smile.

.

.

The flashback cuts off as soon as you catch a glimpse of red and yellow drifting across your peripheral vision. Witnessing Luffy's figure marching up to the edge of the cliff. Bloody and torn to shreds he still insists walking up to your line of vision. He wants you to see the geniune seriousness in his request, the sheer determination that he won't back down till he gets what he wants.

"Y/N!!!" He screams at the upmost top of his vocal cords. You freeze. Eyes fixated on the future pirate king. He stands in all his might and glory.

Luffy's intense glare suddenly melts into the most sincere smile.

"Join my crew."

At this point you couldn't hold it back, the immense relief and the overwhelming goosebumps coursing your veins. You didn't even realise how big you were smiling, till you felt the pinching strain at your cheek, and Luffy's bursting victorious grin.

The future pirate king, jumps from the high roof of the building, landing right infront of your figure.

You regain your composure, wiping your tears away, your expression now turns serious.

.

.

"Yes!"

Zoro:

There it is again. That mesh of mint and green making it's way towards you.

Upon his sight, your hand sneaks around the low cupboards, pulling out a strange teabag. You tighten your hold on the item in an attempt to hide it.

The swordsman lazily seats himself in front of you, signalling his 2 sake bottles and a shot of "the strongest thing you have", as he addresses it.

As a bartender, your acting skills were superlative, essential in situations where drunk bandits try to stir up trouble. You have handled your job effectively for over 5 years, which led to you falling under the eyes of the legendary pirate hero of your town: Doflamingo.

This mission was different from its past predecessors. You were set as a spy back then, setting people in a hopeless stupor to leak out any important information, delivering it back to your -now- master.

This time, you are ordered to kidnap a pirate.

Your hands were shaking again, you were morally doubtful if this was your last day alive. Yet the said man didn't bother to comment anything, as you poured in the mysterious black powder into the mix.

"Here you go sir." You hand him his wine bottles and shot in a false smile, your own heart screaming guilt and reconsideration, but fearing your master pushed all of it away. You are bound to him, a slave imprisoned to do his bidding. You have no way out.

You snap out of your thoughts as he gulps down the whole thing in seconds. And with a loud thud, the green haired swordsman falls into deep sleep.

....

When he does wake up, you stand next to him, sharpening your knife, a couple of guards around you. You looked at the said man with a sneer, which somewhat to Zoro, seemed fake.

He'd already had his concerns about you the moment he had sat at your bar, strangely, in which Zoro usually doesn't pay attention to.

"Here's the Pirate Hunter, as you ordered." You outstretch your hand at the swordsman, showcasing your capture. "Now.."

"Let go of my family."

Zoro's eye widens. Now, it all made sense. He felt that immediate deja vu with a distant memory, where Nami had done the same thing.

Nothing about this is acceptable to him, as Zoro wouldn't allow himself to get captured out of sympathy, but something in his gut feeling kept nudging, insisting to solving this issue.

The mafia boss, turns around, a sign of disinterest is quite evident.

"Really now??" He sneers in disdain. "When did I make such a deal with you?!"

Hearing his sick laugh, your lungs begin to malfunction. Short breaths and wide pupils, the world around you greys out.

"Y-Y- You said... you'd-"

"Kabaji! Did you ever hear me say that?." He points out mockingly, his said assistant laughing in amusement. You barely even notice your knife hitting the rough floor.

"No sir. This woman is spouting nonsense."

You've never felt so helpless. A bartender woman, weak and fragile, with a dull present and an even duller future. The only source of hope and persistence was finding your kidnapped family and escaping this goddamned town.

"LIAR!!" You scream in fury. "YOU PROMISED ME MY FAMILY!!" Heaving cold breaths and bearing your rapid painful heartbeats, your entrapped feelings finally explode.

"You call yourself a leader when your words are nothing but shallow lies!!! And your actions are a testament to your incompetence!" At this point, the whole place was in absolute silence.

It's almost as if you hit a thin nerve in this man, as he immediately shouts for your head to be cut off. Men rush towards you with their glistening swords, and you instantly know: this is it. It's over for you.

Closing your eyes, you anticipate the harsh pain that'll penetrate your neck , but all that was heard were the clash of swords, screams of agony, and the quivering words of men begging for mercy.

Most importantly, you felt a sticky substance on your forearms. The warm texture trailing down to your apron.

You finally look up, and you're mortified by the sight of the bloodshed and corpses. The once powerful mafia leader and his cronies reduced to these headless cadavers.

Most importantly, Zoro stood amidst everything, a bloody sword in hand, and the look of a bloodthirsty berserker.

He turns back to you, and look of sympathy becomes evident. "Are you hurt?"

"No." You immediately answer. You try to cover your trembling hands, but they don't go unnoticed.

"Are they on the island?"

You pause, not fully understanding his inquiry.

"Your family, I mean." He elaborates. You flinch at that.

"I believe so... the mafia headquarters aren't far from here."

"There's no time to waste then." He sheaths his swords, walking past your shaken figure.

"Wait!" You grab his wrist. "Are you seriously helping me, after all that I've done to you?" The last few words coming out as a whisper.

Zoro stands still, his expression becomes unreadable. The weight of silence gets bigger by the passing second.

"I'm just doing what my captain would have done." He states with a confident smirk.

His answer takes you aback. And you find yourself smiling tearfully...

'Maybe, not all hope is gone... I can still do this.'

"Let's go." You nod, a newfound determination surging through your body, you begin feeling estatic about finding your beloved people.

With all that in mind, you fail to notice zoro's unusual look of admiration, as a genuine smile slowly traces his lips.

'Ba-dum!'

[nrhshm]

can i have one were zoro realises she does things bc of truama (like doesnt speak much etc)

hold me (still)

opla!zoro; 6,680 words; slow!!!!burn, fem!reader, ex-assassin!reader, straw hat!reader, general tragic backstory/trauma, fluff, hurt/comfort, bit of angst, emotionally constipated zoro, communication? what's that?, nami playing therapist bc she's the only one with 1 iota of emotional intelligence

summary: sometimes, stillness is a virtue, and others -- a tragedy. or, in which the straw hats pick up a new member and zoro is equally intrigued and weirded out by you.

a/n: well. you guys asked for slow burn and... the burn is so slow u gotta squint to see the smoke yall. but trust. the burn does get there! pls be patient!! and i tried to combine 2 dif reqs in this one fic :)

You are of the quiet sort. Just a shadow dancing in the periphery of their vision, and when they first met you, you’d told them it was your superpower, a soft, still smile slipping across your lips. Luffy had bought into it immediately, and the invitation was out his mouth before anyone could stop him.

“Come with us!”

“Oh…” your lips pressed into a thin line of consideration.

Zoro’s fingers itched towards his swords because something about you makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. But something else — something uncomfortable and strange, something very much like curiosity — seizes his chest and twists his stomach. Strange, he thinks, too strange.

“C’mon! It’ll be fun!”

And then, you’d smiled wider, and nodded, and that had been that.

It’s been three months since then, and you are still of the quiet sort, though it had receded a bit with time. What with Sanji’s gentle flirting and Usopp’s not-so-gentle stories and Nami’s bright, dry-humored companionship, you’d begun to “open up a bit”, so Luffy observed.

Zoro, for his part, has kept his distance. Because sometimes he still catches you at the bow of the ship, staring out across the midnight waters, still as a stone-carved statue. Still as a wooden beam — stiller, even.

“What’s with that?” he asks one day, strolling up to Nami as she traces a fine line over a new map she’s working on.

“Hm?” is her very eloquent response.

Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth and casts his eyes about the ship, finding them drawn to the shape of you, up at the bow again, reading in the shade of the tangerine trees. Nothing moves except for the wind as it whisps through your hair and the slow scanning of your eyes as it skates across the page.

“New girl,” Zoro says, crossing his arms as Nami finally looks up at him and then off towards you.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Zoro lets out a puff of breath, unfolding his arms to glare at Nami. He finds her grinning a lopsided grin as she clicks shut her compass and puts down her pen. She leans a hip on the barrel she’d been drawing on and folds her own arms.

“Oh, you like her.”

“I’m weirded out by her. ‘S not the same thing,” Zoro snaps, but when he tries to leave, Nami blocks him with an arm and pins him with a sharp, leveling look.

“No, no, no — we’re gonna work this through.”

“No thanks, I’m good.”

“Uh-uh, you still owe me after that round of drinks the other night — remember when you bet you could drink more than me?”

Zoro narrows his eyes, “I did drink more than you.”

Nami’s grin is gleeful, “No, you didn’t. You had to be dragged back to your room after clogging up the toilet. Or do I need to show you the evidence —”

“Alright — fuck, fine. But really? This is what you’re gonna waste your favor on? You could’ve asked me to —” Zoro gestures around vaguely, “clean the bilge or something.”

Nami shrugs, looking almost too pleased, “Nope! This is what I wanna use my favor for. And, really, you think a bit of bilge water is gonna gross me out? C’mon.”

Zoro heaves a sigh and leans back against the main mast, closing his eyes.

“Fine then. Go.”

Nami sits back on the edge of the barrel.

“No, you go. Admit that you like the new girl.”

“I don’t.” He doesn’t open his eyes.

“I’ve seen you staring at her. We’ve all seen you staring at her.”

“What, that a crime now?”

Nami fights the urge to roll her eyes, “No, but I’ve never seen you try so hard to avoid someone before.”

Zoro lets out a bark of laughter, hard and mirthless, “Yeah, so that must mean I like her.”

Nami cocks her head, “It means you feel something towards her. And I’d suggest you figure it out.”

“And how’d you propose I do that?”

Nami once again waves in your direction, “Go. Talk. To her.”

Zoro lets out another breath, eyes scanning across the ship, anywhere but towards where you’re still sitting and reading, finger flipping a page in a perfect, smooth, singular motion.

And Zoro’s not blind. Blunt though he may be at times and careless as he is about most material things, he can still appreciate beauty when he sees it. And you — there’s no denying that you’re beautiful. Your strange stillness aside, when you do move, it’s with a dancer’s lissome grace, fluid lines, not a single movement wasted. When you smile, it seems to light you up from the inside, and your words, though soft, carries the well-worn weight of river stones, glittering beneath the clear, spring stream of your voice.

There’s a sharpness in your eyes, a straightness to your spine, a way of carrying yourself as if you’re afraid that one wrong move might shatter you and the entire world around you.

Sometimes when he sees you, he wonders at the hands that had sculpted you this way. He wonders at your life before they’d picked you up in Loguetown, when you’d oh-so-silently slipped up the execution platform and helped Luffy down, all the while staying free of Smoker’s watchful gaze.

The few times he’s seen you fight, he can’t help wondering if you’ve eaten some kind of devil fruit as well. No human could be so fast as that. Or be so quiet. But then again, he’d fought Kuro, and they’d seen stranger things. Still, he marvels at the way you flicker in and out of sight, slipping around the edges of battle like a dark, haunting thing, and men would drop like flies beneath your quick, quiet hands. With nary a sound or shout before their eyes roll back and their breathing is no more.

On the instances when Sanji had asked about your past, your eyes had gone misty and dark, unfocused. You’d gone still, freezing for so long that Usopp would cough just to fill the silence. And then slowly, ever so slowly, you’d turn back towards them with a small, sad smile and say:

“There’s… not much to talk about. I grew up somewhere far away, where if you didn’t keep quiet and still, bad things would happen to you. And then when those bad things happened, if you weren’t quick — the quickest of all, you’d die.”

Bad things, huh? Zoro thinks as he makes his way towards you, a hand resting on the hilt of his swords. He comes to a stop next to you and leans against one of the white planters, casually peering over your shoulder at the book in your hands.

For a long moment, neither of you move. Then, Zoro clears his throat and forces himself to speak.

“Is it good?”

It takes you a second, but eventually, you turn towards him.

“The book? Yeah, I suppose.”

“Not exactly a glowing review.”

You laugh, a soft, breathy little thing as you look back down at the page.

“It's about a girl who falls into an enchanted sleep, and a prince who wakes her up with a kiss.”

“Must’ve been one hell of a kiss.”

“Yes, and one hell of a prince.”

Zoro finds himself chuckling, his shoulders loosening as he takes another breath.

“And then what?” he asks.

“And then… he asks her to marry him.”

You run your fingers along the page, smoothing your palm over the ink and parchment. Zoro watches you, wondering, always wondering.

“What’s she say?” and it’s then that he notices his own voice, hushed and low, barely a whisper.

You look back up at him and smile a smile a sphynx would have been proud of.

“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten there yet.”

Zoro takes a breath, and the breath tastes distinctly different than all the breaths he’d taken before it. As if the world takes the breath with him, and some fundamental truth had shifted on the exhale.

The moment breaks, as moments are wont to do, when Sanji calls out for lunch and Zoro jerks out of his almost-reverie. You slowly close your book and rise to your feet, turning back to smile at him.

“C’mon, it’s lunchtime.”

Zoro nods and follows you into the kitchen, where Luffy and Usopp are already digging in, and Nami is pouring herself a drink. She spots the pair of you and catches Zoro’s eyes. A grin ticks at the edge of her lips but before she can say anything, you’re accosted by Sanji sweeping into a deep, flourishing bow, and ushering you towards the table, where he’d set your place in a manner fit for a princess.

“Where’s my setup?” Zoro asks as he drops into the seat next to you, cocking an eyebrow. Sanji shoots him an unimpressed look.

“I’m surprised you can use a fork and knife, moss-head. Just be grateful and eat up.”

Zoro scoffs but digs in nonetheless.

When next they dock, it’s on a rare, peaceful island — an island of light and books and learning, where the air smells of salt and ink and drying parchment, of unwritten words and untold stories. But it smells of a stillness too, and Zoro knows without having to ask that you’d like it here.

And you do.

He’s never seen you smile so much, never seen you so vibrant and full of life. You chat and laugh and read with a voracious hunger, and he finds himself drawn to this new, warm, moving side of you. He finds himself, more often than not, by your side, even when neither of you speak. And he basks in the comfort of the quiet that permeates the air when it’s just the two of you — him hanging in the hammock on deck, you reading by his side.

But now, there’s the soft tapping of your foot, the shuffle of pages when you flip forward to see what’s coming next, and of course the ever-present shush of the ocean as it washes against the Merry’s side.

The Log Pose needs two weeks to properly calibrate to the next island, so they’ve got time to kill.

On the fifth night, over dinner and drinks, Luffy asks the question that everyone’s been thinking since the day they’d all met you —

“So. Why’re you so still all the time? Not that it’s weird or anything — well, actually — it kind of is, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m just asking cause I'm curious!”

You look up from your half-finished wine but Zoro feels it happening, like the hush of a fan blade slicing through air, the gasp before a porcelain vase tips over and shatters. You stop. You stare. You’re frozen in every sense of the word. And he’s known you for long enough to know that you only go still as a reflex, only reach for it as a shield. Against what? He doesn’t quite know.

“It’s… something of a long story,” you say, your voice low and hoarse.

Luffy grins, smacking his lips as he sucks the meat off a chicken leg, “We’ve got tons of time! Right?” he looks around as if for validation, but everyone’s eyes are caught on you and your unnatural stillness.

Zoro shifts slightly in the seat next to you, opening his stance and turning towards you.

“Could do with a good story.”

Your eyes flash in his direction and he offers you the barest hint of a smile.

You relax, ever so slightly, drifting back in your seat, your glass cupped in the palms of your hands. And then, you begin to speak, your voice smooth and lilting, your words washing over them like the faint lull of the tides.

“When I was three, my father sold me for a barrel of beer.”

A dull clack echoes around the room and everyone turns to see Sanji hurriedly righting the thick stein he’s knocked over. Thankfully, it’d been empty.

“Sorry — I just — what?” he sounds furious but Usopp lays a hand across his arm and shakes his head.

You take a deep breath and continue, your voice oddly emotionless as you say, “The man who bought me took me to an island. It was… a dark place. A quiet place. I only learned its name after I escaped — an island called Elysium.”

Nami gasps before clapping her hands over her mouth.

“I’ve just — I’ve heard of that place before, but I thought… I thought it was just a made-up place.”

Luffy swallows hard, frowning, “What’s it like?”

Nami’s eyes flicker between you and Luffy, “Supposedly… it’s the home island for… for the most feared group of assassins in all the seas combined.”

Usopp’s eyebrows jerk up, “The most feared?”

A faint smile seeps across your lips like blood.

“Yes. The Shadows that Live.”

Everyone turns to look at you. Luffy picks up another drumstick.

“Whoa… cool name!”

Zoro hums, “I’ve heard of them before — but mostly, it was just an old wive’s tale about… shadow assassins who hunt in the dark. Mercenaries for hire. But… no one’s ever seen one before.”

“Because… once you see one, you’ll never live to tell the tale,” you say, your eyes now downcast and fixed on the glass in your hands.

“Then…” Usopp’s voice is soft, “What about… you?”

“I… I ran away.”

Silence greets you. But after a moment, Luffy spits out a bit of bone and uses it to pick at the space between his teeth, his eyes round.

“Wow! You must be pretty good to run away from an island full of shadow assassins!”

You almost laugh, his boundless trust hitting you like a punch to the stomach.

“So…” Sanji lets out a puff of silvery smoke, “the staying still thing… that’s just part of your training, yeah?”

You nod, “Something like that.”

Someday, you think, you’ll tell them about the hellscape that was Elysium island, of the long echoing halls, dark and still and silent. Of the mechanical beasts that hunted by sound and movement alone. Someday, you’ll let them know about the poisoned pomegranate seeds that they feed all the “recruits” to keep them hazy, of how you’d kept six of them suspended in your mouth and spat them all out when you’d finally made it far enough from the island to allow yourself to breathe.

“And… are these shadow assassins gonna come after us?” Nami asks, her voice careful and light.

You purse your lips, “I… I don’t know.”

Nami sighs, but a moment later, she moves to refill her drink with a slight shrug, “Well, just one more enemy to add to our growing list. Soon, we’re gonna have to post a sign-up sheet.”

At this, everyone laughs, and the tension snaps like a wounded spring.

Luffy burps loudly, patting his stomach, “I’m not worried — I mean, if you were able to run away from them once, that means you’re stronger than them, right?”

You pause, your hand hovering over the wine bottle. Zoro gently reaches over and refills your glass for you. You shift back into movement, casting him a small smile and taking a sip. The wine is cool and tangy as it hits the back of your throat. You breathe, and the world keeps spinning.

“I… I’m not sure — I’ve never fought… any of… them… before.”

“Guess we’ll find out if they try to come for you then — but you’ve got us now!” Luffy says, reaching for an apple and chomping into it, “ — Sho… you duon gotta wourry —” he licks his lips as he takes another huge bite before tossing the core towards the waste bin, “We’ve got your back!”

Nami makes a disgusted face, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, ugh.”

Sanji chuckles, tapping out his cigarette, “Yeah Luffy, mind your manners.” But his voice is full of laughter and you find yourself relaxing into the sway of the night, the swing of conversation. Beside you, Zoro refills his own glass and leans over to clink it against yours.

You turn, but he only raises his glass before taking a sip.

You mirror his movement, cradling the cup to your chest when you finish.

Later, he finds you by the tangerine trees, ghosting your fingers over their lush green leaves, dark enough to look black in the evening light.

“Hey.”

You turn, “Hi.”

Zoro sighs and looks out over the darkened waves, the moonlight refracted into a million shattered bits of sky.

“Luffy’s right, y’know.”

“What about?” you ask, joining him by the railings. The night air is cool and crisp. Behind you both, the island oozes with lamplight and laughter. Even from here, you can hear the joy, the peace that permeates the air here. It wouldn’t be a bad thing, you think, to stay here forever.

“If they come for you,” Zoro says, “we’ll have your back.”

You let out a small chuckle, looking down at your hands, “I know.”

“So,” he turns towards you, his earrings glinting in beneath the scimitar moon, “you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

You lick your lips, and instinctively, you reach for the stillness. All the days and weeks and months with the people around you have softened you, and for that, you know you should be thankful. Still, old habits die hard, and you have to clench your fists and dig your nails into your own palms to keep from freezing completely.

You take a shivering breath and force it out again.

“Fear’s a hard habit to break.”

At this, Zoro grunts, though it sounds something like consent. The moment stretches, long and soft and taffy-sweet.

He turns back towards the sea, “Yeah,” he says, and then —

“But we can take it slow.”

You swallow hard, passed the broken shards of forgotten words lodged in your throat (you find that they all somehow taste like thank you), and you nod. Warmth tickles your cheeks and you wonder why he’s said we instead of you — and later, lying in your bed at night, staring at the moon-slatted ceiling, you wonder if he was really talking about fear or if it was something else entirely.

You don’t get a lick of sleep that night.

The next few days pass in a light, repetitive blur. You and Zoro are sent on a few short shopping trips in the city, and you’re glad for something to do that involves movement. Shocking how quickly the body adapts once the weight it’d been holding on to is lifted.

You are still quiet, and he, the same; but the silence has shifted around you, and whereas before it’d been solid and steady, it’s now thrumming and charged with some unspoken energy.

Neither of you are blind to it; nor, it seems, is the rest of the crew.

Sanji’s taken to openly teasing Zoro about being with you all the time, complaining loudly that he can’t get a word in edgewise because Zoro refuses to leave you alone. Nami keeps on trying to drag you out for “girl's day” shopping trips, hinting at all the cute clothes you could get and how “green really suits your skin tone, y’know?”

Luffy and Usopp for their part, both just grin whenever they see you together — Luffy stoked at the fact that you seem more happy and talkative, Usopp gleeful at the way Zoro always seems so much softer when he’s next to you.

You’ve taken to watching him when he trains, sitting in the shade of the tangerine trees, a cold drink in your hand as Zoro runs through his katas. You content yourself with watching him flow through the movements, one and then another, and then another after that. He contents himself with your presence, knowing that you’re here, feeling your eyes as they skate down the length of his back or the width of his shoulders.

It’s a peaceful sort of companionship, even if it is living on borrowed time.

When you all wave the little island goodbye, it’s with heavy hearts and tearful smiles. It had treated you well, and you think you’d miss it. But adventure is as adventure does — it calls, beckoning to those with wandering hearts to listen.

The first week back at sea is a strange one, full of a ringing nostalgia. As if you’re simultaneously coming home and leaving one at the same time. Everyone is a bit quiet, except for Luffy, of course, who literally bounces off the freshly waxed planks, humming to himself as he sits on top of the great ram’s figurehead.

“Is he ever still?” you ask one day, sometime in the second week.

To which Zoro makes a sound between a scoff and a laugh, “You’ve been here a while. What’d you think?”

You sigh softly and tear your eyes away from the bright, shivering ball of energy that is your captain towards the far horizon. A sliver of uncertainty twines through you and your breath slows. Zoro glances at you, now long since attuned to your subtle shifts in movement and stillness. He narrows his eyes.

“What is it?”

You shake yourself back into the moment, forcing a smile.

“Nothing. I think…” your words fade as the feeling twists in you again, knife-sharp and stinging. You clear your throat and reach up to brush away a strand of hair. Skin grazes skin as Zoro’s hand meets yours in the same gesture and you both freeze — hands held up, his finger caught against the bend of your cheekbone, your fingers curling over his.

Time slows, slackens around the pair of you, and the moment stays, suspended in space — garnet dark and perfect.

Neither of you dare to breathe. It’s then that you realize how close Zoro is — close enough for you to see the entire ocean reflected in his eyes: big and dark and so endless it nearly unmoors you. Close enough for you to feel the warmth of his skin; his body, emanating heat. You’d often wondered, in the long hours of watching him train, at the glistening copper of his skin and the light-kissed quality, if the sun himself favored Zoro as well.

Like this, it’s easy to believe that beneath his skin, there pulsed something like sunlight.

“Look! It’s an island! It’s an island!”

And just like that, the moment shatters. Time slips back into motion and you pull away from each other, breathless, with warm cheeks and thundering hearts, feeling somehow lightning-touched and static-ridden.

You take half a step back, reaching up to press a hand to your mouth as if to stop something from tumbling through. But what? You can’t really say.

Zoro tips back as well, whipping around to help Usopp and Sanji with the sails as Luffy continues to holler, waving his hat. On the horizon, you see it looming — the silhouette of an island. You lower your palm from your lips to your heart and wonder what kind of island it will be.

Deserted — seems to be the answer when you all make landfall. The island is quiet, but the occasional chirp and cricket staves off your nerves as you all wander cautiously about the beach, squinting into the dense forest that seems to encompass the whole of the island.

“Looks like a good place to camp for the night!” Luffy says, grinning as he plops down on the sand.

Sanji nods, dusting off his hands, “We’ll need some wood for a fire, but I reckon I can whip up some grilled fish from the fresh catch.”

You wrap your arms around yourself and look around, glancing back at the darkening horizon.

“Something the matter?” Zoro’s voice is soft as he helps you carry some of the camping supplies from the ship.

“No… yes… I —” you look up at him, pursing your lips, “I don’t know. I’ve just… this island is…”

Zoro looks around, his dark eyes scanning the thick swath of forest just beyond the beach, “Too quiet?”

You let out a tiny laugh, “Yeah, something like that.”

He nods, “Don’t worry, I’m — we’re here.”

And he leaves it at that, hoisting a stack of wood over his shoulders and going to help Nami with the fire. You watch him with a smile, wondering what on earth you’d done to deserve this level of caring, this magnitude of kindness. Soon, dinner is had and drinks are shared and laughter is spilled like so many silver coins over the white sand beach. The lull of the evening takes over you all, and before long, Luffy and Usopp are slumped over each other, snoring loudly.

You stare into the depths of the fire and try to tamp down the growing dread festering inside your bones. All those years of holding still, of breathing and listening and feeling — you shake yourself — no, not all stillness is a bad thing. Not all silences are made the same.

“You’re doing it again,” Zoro’s voice almost makes you jump. Instead, you turn, finding him next to you as he nurses a half-drunk bottle of wine in his hands. He doesn’t look at you, but there’s a loose grin hinged across his lips.

“Sorry,” you say, ducking your head, feeling a now familiar heat creep into your cheeks that has nothing to do with the dwindling bonfire.

“Don’t be,” Zoro takes another drink, “But I told you… you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“I know… and I’ve said before —”

“Fear’s a hard habit to break,” Zoro echoes back at you, finally glancing over and catching your eye.

You breathe out, looking down at your own hands, “Yeah… but I’m trying.”

You both fall silent, and for a while, the only sounds are the crackle of the dying flames, the shush of the ocean waves, and the occasional snores from the rest of your crew. It’s late — later than you realized.

“Do you… want me to grab a book for you?”

You smile, “No, I don’t think it’s bright enough.”

“I could restoke the fire.”

“No, it’s — it’s okay.”

“Alright.”

A bird coos the distance.

“Why don’t you tell me a story?” you ask, turning to look at Zoro proper, shifting till your body is facing him.

In the faint light, you can see the edge of his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

“You’re asking the wrong guy — you should wait till the Great Captain Usopp’s awake.”

“Yeah, but I want to hear one from you.”

Zoro sighs, his eyes fixed on the last of the flickering flames. He takes another swig of wine before he starts to speak, his voice low and a bit stilted, but he pushes on. He tells you about his childhood, the village he’d trained in, the doujou in the middle of the wood, his friend who he’d never beat — not even once.

He tells you about he early mornings and the late nights, and how the world had seemed large enough to conquer.

“… And then… there came a morning when she didn’t show up… and sensei came and told me that there’d been an accident.”

His voice almost breaks then, and your eyes catch on the shining white hilt of the Wadou Ichimonji — his thumb pressing against the guard, running along it’s hard metal edge.

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

Zoro shrugs, “Don’t be.”

You nod, “Still.”

Zoro slates you a lopsided smirk, “So. Now you know my tragic backstory too.”

You laugh, leaning back to cast your eyes up towards the sky, “And you know mine — it’s almost like we’re friends or something.”

Zoro lets out a long breath, “Yeah… or something.”

There’s a tightness to his voice that makes your skin tingle and it takes everything you have not to look over at him, to try and see if he’s looking at you, watching you the way you’d imagined him to be. You fancy you can feel his gaze on your face, but you close your eyes instead.

You let yourself fall into the warm haze of sleep, and for a while you drift there, your mind sifting through shards of memories and slivers of sound, casting them against the backs of your eyelids as you slowly slide into the darkness of dreams.

You wake up to a gasping stillness — the silence pressing in on your eardrums like thumbs, the darkness around you so complete it’s almost a solid thing. You freeze, your breath hissing to a halt inside you. Then distantly, ever so distantly, you hear the sounds of battle — metal clashing against metal, the hard thud of boots against flesh. You shake your head and reach up to clap your hands over your ears and only then do your senses return to you, snapping back as if you’d been abruptly shunted back into your earthly body.

“Gum Gum — Pistol!”

“Seize her!”

You whip into movement, fast as a flash, dashing away, hoping against hope that it would draw your attackers far enough from your crewmates.

“No one… ever… leaves us…”

The voice is serpentine and susurrus, sinking into your skin like sharpened teeth, but before it can reach you, it’s cut short by a bright flash of silver.

You gasp, whirling around, reaching for the nearest pulse, instinct taking over as you sink your fingers into muscle and flesh. The rush of blood thrumming beneath your fingertips comes too easy, even as a familiar scent accosts you. A moment later, your hands are being pinned above you, and thick, rough bark is digging into your wrists as Zoro stands before you, a sword in one hand, the other holding you still.

His eyes are a little wild and a lot worried. There’s a ring of red rawness around his neck, thin trickles of blood trailing along his jugular, disappearing into the wide scoop neck of his shirt.

“Hey, look at me.”

You nearly whimper, struggling against him, fear still coursing through you like a drug but Zoro is strong enough to keep you held. Behind him, you can see the rest of the crew fending off several shadowy figures, Usopp waving a torch, screaming at the top of his lungs, Luffy whooping as he whacks another figure with his fist.

“Z-Zoro?”

“Yeah, it’s me — eyes up here.”

You swallow in a breath, and then another, and you feel the bright thrum of urgency leave you as your body slowly falls slack. And then you’re slipping, and he’s looping an arm around you to keep you upright.

“Th-they’re here — they —”

“They’re gone — we got rid of them — hey.”

Zoro takes you by the shoulders and gives you a gentle shake. Finally, your eyes catch on his and your gaze holds. You see yourself reflected in them, stark and terrified, but alive — somehow alive.

“They’re gone,” he says, his voice soft and low by your ear, his arm still wrapped around your middle. Shivers wrack your body as you bury your face in his shoulder. He smells of steel and skin and the metallic tang of blood. It’s then that you remember — the wounds on the sides of his neck. The marks in the shape of your hands —

You jerk back and feel a sticky wetness against your cheek.

“Zoro, I hurt you!”

At this, he scoffs, pulling back far enough to flash you a look.

“This is nothing. C’mon.”

He offers you a hand, and after a second you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. Wordlessly, he presses his palm to the small of your back, his arm extended to keep you steady as you both make your way back towards camp.

“Phew! That was a workout!” Luffy is saying just as you both reach the outskirts of the now-darkened bonfire. Sanji is pulling out a cigarette, striking a match, and first lighting the end before tossing it into the remains of the firewood, fanning it up into a slow flame.

Nami and Usopp both look a bit shaken, but none worse for the wear.

They all pivot to look at you.

You go still against Zoro’s side, uncertainty flooding through you. Faintly, you feel Zoro’s fingers as they press into the bend of your waist, solid and steady.

Then, Usopp coughs, “C’mon y’all — the Shadows that Live? Psh! More like — the Shadows that Fled, am I right? Yeah? Didya see the way I sent ‘em runnin’ with my brand new fire-powered explosion rounds?”

Nami chuckles and Sanji follows suit, shaking his head and letting out a thin wisp of smoke. Luffy’s grins at you, pumping a fist in the air, clapping his right shoulder.

“See? Told you we’d have your back! We are your crew, after all!”

Weakness seeps into your limbs as you nod, hot pin-pricks of tears itching at your lower lashes. You lower your head and rub at your eyes before looking back up again with a smile. Sanji grimaces as he looks over Zoro.

“Got something on your neck, mate.”

Zoro glares but you glance over and feel your stomach twist with guilt.

“Sorry… I can clean that up for you. They’re not deep but they do need to be bandaged up.”

Zoro wipes down his sword before sheathing it and motioning towards the ship. Behind you, you can hear Nami yawning and saying something about catching up on some more sleep and Sanji reassuring her about having the last watch anyway.

The kitchen is still dark, but the dusty dawn sweeps against the far horizon and neither of you bother to turn the lights on. You carefully set the first aid kit on the kitchen counter and collect the supplies as Zoro leans back against the edge and folds his arms. You work in near silence, reaching up to first wipe the thin threads of drying blood before tending to the tiny, crescent-shaped puncture wounds.

You press an alcohol-soaked cotton ball against one of them and feel Zoro wince.

“Sorry.”

“I’m fine.”

You bite your lips, “If this had been a bit deeper or a few inches over —”

“But it wasn’t. So it’s fine.”

You don’t look up at him but you can feel his eyes on you. Your movements are fluid and sure; you’d clearly done this before.

“Hey, look at me.”

You freeze, eyes slowly gliding up the planes and divots of his neck, slipping up the line of his jaw, so sharp it might’ve been turned on a diamond cutter’s lathe. Your breath hitches as you finally meet his eyes, and there’s a dark, knowing glint behind them that makes your stomach flip.

“I’m fine.”

And for the second time in a handful of hours, you’re caught by the realization of your closeness — only a breath of space between you. There’s a crimp at the corner of his mouth that looks dangerously like a smile and then you’re tipping forward, a thumb reaching up to trace the line of his bottom lip once —

The movement acts like a trigger, and suddenly, he is leaning in and the breath of space disappears.

For all your life of stillness, you thought you’d learned to appreciate the depths and widths of movement. But nothing could’ve prepared you for this — for the push and pull of lips on lips, for the force and friction of skin against skin. For the gasp and hiss, for the breath and kiss.

For the feeling of his large palm as it settles along the swallow’s-nest bend of your neck, the way his thumb runs along your jaw like tracing the guard of his beloved sword, tilting your mouth towards him. For the way your heart might flutter like a tiny, caged bird, or the way you might feel his heart thumping like a fist from his chest to yours.

For the way his voice rolls over your name like a ship at sea; for the way it would shake your body from your bones and leave you more liquid than solid in his arms. For how you never used to think your story would be a love story, but then you realize that every story is a love story if caught in the right moment, in the right light.

And here, breaking apart from Zoro, with a thick, stolen streak of lemon-yellow sunlight leaking in from the kitchen window — that’s exactly what it feels like.

“Oh,” is all you have the strength to say.

Zoro, in all his solid brilliance and quiet audacity, laughs.

You taste the smile on your own lips before you realize you’re smiling. But when you try to bury your face in his neck, he winces slightly as you brush his still-fresh wounds.

“Crap, I forgot about these.”

Zoro chuckles as you hurry to press a few small bandages to the wounds.

“It’s okay. So did I.”

You finish dressing his wounds in silence, though this silence is markedly different from every other silence that had ever existed between you. There’s ease and tension, both, and when you’re finally finished, Zoro takes both your hands in his.

“So…” you say, unsure suddenly of where to look.

Zoro’s laugh is just as soft, just as uncertain.

“So.”

You try to look out the window, but by now, the dawning sun is so bright that it temporarily blinds you and you jerk back. Zoro smiles, reaching up to run his thumbs along your closed eyelids before dropping them to hook around your wrists again.

“Do you… wanna talk about it?” he asks, quiet as always.

You purse your lips and let your lashes flutter open. You find him watching you. Heat crests up your shoulders and into your cheeks, and suddenly, the exhaustion of the night before saps at your limbs. You sigh.

“Right now? Not really.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, sounding as relieved as you feel.

You bite your lips and cast your gaze shyly across his face, your bird-wing heartbeat still flapping in your chest. You fight the urge to go still, to reach for that shield that has always protected you before. Faintly, you feel Zoro’s thumbs tracing circles along the insides of your wrists.

“Can I ask for something else, though?”

“What is it?”

You reach up a finger, nudging one of his golden earrings. You don’t miss the way he shivers, or the way his breath quickens in his chest.

“Kiss me again.”

Zoro grins, tugging you towards him, leaning into the curve of your palm as he does.

And does.

And does again.

reqs are: temporarily closed

but feedback is much loved and appreciated!!!

[nrhshm]

Innocent Love

IMAGINE: INNOCENT LOVE ~ LUFFY X READER GENRE: FLUFF WARNINGS: NONE ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Luffy loved his nakama, his friends and food. He especially loved you. He thought he loved you the same way he loved his nakama. But this was a different type of love. The best way to describe it was puppy love. It was like this when he first laid eyes on you. You were so pretty to him, and then when he saw you fight- it was love at first sight.

You really had no choice but to join his crew. He was very adamant about you joining the straw hat pirates. To be honest, he only had to ask you twice.

He had the urge to follow you around. His eyes would always drift over to you, wondering what you were doing. He also made it his mis mission to always make you smile. He loved the smile that graced your face and the way your eyes sparkled whenever you laughed. It was honestly never a dull moment with him.

Luffy didn’t really understand these types of feelings though. It wasn’t until dinner time and some teasing for his true feelings to be shed to light.

“Mmm!” Luffy moans while eating Sanji’s food, “(y/n)! Have you tried this? It’s so good.” He says handing you some of his food. Everyone’s eyes widen when they saw him hold his food out to you. They couldn’t believe their eyes. Maybe he was just showing you his food?

“No, I haven’t yet. But I have some on my plate. So I’ll try it soon.” You tell him. “Shiishishi. Here! Have some.” He says not giving you any time to reject his food offer. He had shoved the food in your mouth causing everyone’s jaw to drop. So he was giving you his food. They had never seen this before.

“Mm! You’re right. It tastes really good. Here, have some of mine.” You say giving a spoonful to Luffy as well. You were about to drop it on his plate, but his mouth found your spoon first. You didn’t really mind though; it was a normal thing between you two.

“Thanks (y/n)!”

No one could really believe their eyes right now.

The silence in the dining room was broken by Usopp’s snickers. “Ooh, it looks like our Captain is in love.” He sing songs causing some of the members to chuckle as well.

A blush was starting to creep on your face from Usopp’s words. You could also hear Sanji start to wail at his words. You didn’t really pay any attention to it though.

“Hm?” Luffy tilts his head to the side, “of course I love (y/n). They’re my nakama!” You groan, putting your head in your hands. You were starting to feel a little embarrassed by the situation.

Nami starts laughing, “no Luffy. You love (y/n) as more than a nakama.” Luffy only grew more confused, “what do you mean? What could be more than a nakama?” “Oh, you are so hopeless Luffy.”

You really hated that they were talking about this while you were still in the same room. It was embarrassing for you. You could feel your face turn completely red.

“Hey (y/n)! Why is your face so red?” You hear Luffy ask causing your eyes to widen. “Nothing!” You shout, abruptly standing up from the table. “But you’re not done eating.” He says. “I’m full! Here.” You pass his plate to Luffy. Which he wastes no time scarfing his food down.

You really needed to get out there. You knew if you stayed a second longer, you would spontaneously combust from embarrassment. Once you were out on the deck, you could feel the cool sea breeze blow against your warm cheeks. You sigh in content, happy that the hot feeling was going away.

However, that was short lived it. Five minutes passed by until you heard the shout of your name and someone crashed into you. You fell to the ground with a thump with Luffy on top of you. Luffy laughter riveted around you as he got off of you. You couldn’t even be mad at him.

You didn’t even have to look back to know it was Luffy and that warm feeling was rushing back to your face.n

“Nami explained everything to me.” Luffy says causing you to groan as you stood up. You really didn’t want to talk about this now. “Luffy- “

You suddenly felt his arms wrap around you, and you were pulled into his chest.

“Will you stay with me?”

You blinked a couple times, trying to make sense of his question.

“What? Well of course. I am part of the crew after all.” “I want you to stay by my side forever.”

As the words started to compute in your head, you realized that this was as close as you were going to get to a confession. You smiled at him and finally wrap your arms back around him. “I’ll always stay with you.”

You were definitely going to have to talk to Nami about what she said to Luffy after you left.

[nrhshm]

i want a fic of ace being a father to the little girl after she’s born 🥺🩷 i know he’d be the best dad in the world. i want it to be the FLUFFIEST fic on the planet (no pressure though <3)

Why hello there! My pleasure!!👋

. S/o is g/n

. Spoiler free

. Sfw

Ace as Father to his 4 year old Child (Imagine)

"Rock paper SCISSORS!" The two competitors glance at their significantly different hands.

"Haha!!! I win!!!" The little girl squeals in glee, as her defeated father fake-groans in defeat. He knows he can win the round quite easily, but would his heart bear seeing his 4 year old's droopy face after that? No way!!

Ace has devoted his entire life to keep his little cherub happy, even at the smallest moments he is around with her. To him, this little creature made everything he had valued, worthless, yet has shed it's light on a new purpose: To see her toothy chubby smile every. Single. Day.

"I win Papa! You're a dinosaur now!" She jumps in pure anticipation, knowing that her father had lost the bet.

The bet states that the loser of Rock Paper Scissors has to carry the winner around the ship until Thatch calls for dinner, which should be in... two hours!

"Upsies!!" She makes grabby gestures with her hands as Ace bends down to lift her up on his back. Almost immediately, she wraps her short, tiny hands around her father's neck.

"What are the odds??" Jozu gasps with heavy exaggeration. "I thought Ace would win!!"

"I wouldn't dare to imagine it. That is just, weird." Izo immediately replies. "Besides, y/n would rain hellfire on all of us, if such thing happens." Everyone deadpans at the thought of your furious form.

"Shhhh! She shouldn't know about this!! We're supposed to be sleeping!" Ace exclaims. (D/n)'s large black eyes, follow her dad's gestures, and tries to mimic them. "shhh!!"

Happy baby, happy father. You can clearly see Ace's wide smile whenever his daughter is around. Even if it involves going without his usual afternoon snacks, just to make her happy earning this victory, he'll do it with no hesitation.

Immediately after that, The whitebeard commander secures his daughter on his back, and goes around playfully attacking his other crew members.

"Dinosaur goes RAWRRR!!" He immitates.

"Rawrrr" His firefly cheers with a fist in the air.

You, on the other hand, watch the scene with an endearing smile. The urge to scold them has been far gone. Well, how can you?! When such a team of utter cuteness is doing the ship wonders of positivity. So far, Ace has been a great father to your child, considering how reluctant he was to have one. They both share the same fiery energy, and have the same gleeful smile that lights up your world.

You shake your head with a smile of your own. Oh, how lucky have you gotten...

[nrhshm]

Well written👌✨️

This one got my feels running a bit, omg, I love it thank you. @secretlife028

Sorry it took me a bit, I started to feel super sick last night after taking a walk. (:

He's so beyond relieved when he gets back to the two of you. As soon as the battle was over he was looking for you, trying to track the both of you down as quickly as possible. The Sunny had been attacked while docked, what cowards, you had taken your two-year-old daughter and ran for it to protect her while she cried out of fear, Sanji jumping between you and anyone who tried to come after the two of you, kicking them down immediately and daring them to touch one hair on your or your baby's head.

"You touch either of my girls and I will kill you!"

It won't take your crew long to finish off your attackers, and once it's over, Sanji doesn't even stop for a cigarette, he's running in the same direction you went to find you. You'd gone towards the town, you couldn't be too far away. Sanji wouldn't stop moving until he found the two of you, only doing so when he heard your daughter's familiar cries from an alleyway you'd ducked into to calm her down.

"Shh, shh, sweetheart, it's okay! I know that was so scary, but we're okay!"

"I...I want...daddy..."

It breaks his heart to hear her quietly say she wants her daddy, and you promise her he's going to find you before he's finally able to say your names and your attention is on him.

"Look! Daddy found us!"

When she hears that and lifts her head from your neck, your daughter cries even more and reaches her little arms for Sanji as he comes over and takes her from you. While she cries into his shoulder, Sanji pulls you into the hug too and breathes a sigh of relief that none of the enemy Pirates had gotten to you.

"Thank God you're both okay."

[nrhshm]

That Zoro with Pregnant!S/O is amazing 💕 Hey!!!!! May I request the afterwards of it? I mean like his child is already 6-10 years old & asks Zoro how to fight with a sword. 🥺 Because the child wants to be as strong as their parents 😭❤️ THANKS!!!

.Child is gn! (take (C/N) as "child's name")

. Sfw

. Spoiler free

Zoro teaching his kid swordfighting:

You watch fondly as your 6 year old child peaks at his father, who's been busy practicing his newest attacks and lifting large weights. Mouth wide agap and literal stars forming in his eyes, he tries to conceal his tiny body behind the sunny's mast. But his father's sharpened senses catch on immediately.

Not noticing Zoro's slipping smirk, the young Roronoa races to the other side of the deck, excitement pumping through their veins. They pull out their secret weapon hidden under the cupboards, a rough bamboo shoot found and picked up from a recent island.

Now, eyes furrowed in concentration, trying best to recall the exact movements their father has been demonstrating, the exact pose, the exact moment to strike, c/n aims their sword directly at the fraile hanging target, then landing a full-powered blow.

A sheathed sword intecepts the attack, a dark figure looming over their puny one. C/n looks up catching their father's gigantic stature, his usual frown as prominent as ever.

"Your handling is wrong." Zoro casts the bamboo sword aside, pulling his own katana from it's sheath.

"Right hand up front, left hand at the tail-end." Gripping the sword's handle with a grip of steel, he tears down the same target in up-most ease.

The latter, witnessing the said demonstration, didn't even realise how wide their mouth was open. Their father was even COOLER up close!! Adrenaline was coursing like crazy, he wants to- no, he HAS to learn those techniques as soon as the next second passes.

"Papa! Teach me sword fighting!!" The kid was practically jumping around in excitement, and Zoro found that somewhat amusing. Thinking back, he was seriously considering force-training the child into swordfighting before they were even born. So, the relief he was feeling right now is immeasurable.

Of course, he wanted to scold them for not using the proper formalities of swordsman apprenticeship.

Nahh, he'll scold him later. Right now there's a bigger fish to fry.

"Sword fighting is not a children's playground. The moment you grasp a sword of your own is the moment you decide to carry the weight of your ambition on your shoulder, and there is no. Turning. Back."

Zoro's scowl immediately vanishes once his kid nodded their head vigorously. Who is he kidding?? His kid doesn't even know the meaning of ambition yet! Obviously he didn't grasp a single word he said.

The swordsman huffs with a sarcasting grin. This is gonna be one hell of a journey.

.

.

.

.

.

Evening rolls by, and you join your family with two bowls of steaming chicken soup. Your sight lands upon a flash of green figures moving, hearing the sound of sticks clashing, and the voices of the two doofuses you have to chaperone daily.

As soon as they see you, the young Roronoa drops their weapon and points out.

"Don't eat without me!!" he calls rushing to the bathroom in the blink of an eye. Knowing by now the full protocol of "washing your hands before dinner".

"(C/N)'s really grown up." You murmur to Zoro, whose impeccable proud grin couldn't be any wider.

"They have a lot ahead of them." Your husband answers in response, his eyes never leaving his kid's figure talking to Luffy.

"Look Uncle Luffy!!! I can sword fight!" Swinging his tiny bamboo sword with his little body can afford, whilst Luffy reciprocating the same goofy energy as he always does.

Another laugh escapes Zoro, fondness and amusement never leaving his eyes. He vows to bestow all his fighting knowledge onto the cherub, he wants the best of the best for them after all.

His hand subconsciously clasps the mighty Wado Ichimoji. With thoughts drifting far ahead he thinks that one day... he'll have to hand it over, entrust it to the future generation. Possibly- no, Most definitely, the future swordsman leader.

Right now? He's only yet to dream and percieve, from this moment on he'll put all his time and effort into monitoring his son's training.

"Mama! I promise that I'll protect you and dad, when I grow up!!" He punches the air in determination.

"Oi! I don't need protection." Zoro protests. You eye your husband in mild annoyance. Come on, let them have their moment!

You let out a big sighing smile, rubbing your child's green hair.

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"I can't wait."

[nrhshm]

Quick heads-up:

I'll be taking a short break from tumblr thus I won't be as active as before.

Requests are still open and pending, I will complete them once I return.

Have a good day 👌