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wordy-little-witch · 4 months

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Also sliding in and out to ask if you have any other op characters you could see as regressors other than Buggy? Personal fav for me is Robin, partly I can’t find anything for her as the regressor, partly cuz she deserves it, partly because imagining Franky as her primary SUUUUUUPER caretaker is healing to the heart. (One of Little Robins favorite games is to climb on his back while he pretends to be flabbergasted and goes „Oh noooo where did Robin gooooo? Has anyone seen Robin?“ while she just giggles as he pretends to shield his eyes to look towards the horizon)

YES ACTUALLY!!!! I focus mostly on Buggy because he's my absolute favorite but I do in fact hc others as regressors

I'll divide them out under the cut with some headcanons as well bc this may.... get long honestly.

Robin

• starting here because she is the one in the ask and you're RIGHT AND SHOULD SAY IT LOUDLY!!!!!!!!!

• she's a playful person and that only gets x100 when she feels safe to regress

• she spent so long hypervigilant that it was honestly only with the Strawhats that she finally relaxed a little and wound up feeling that fuzzy blurry aspect in her head which took away some inhibitions. Nobody made a big deal out of it the first few times it happened. they were just happy she was happy. It's only after she reads a book on psychology on a whim that she begins piecing some things together.

• everyone is really excited when she finally feels comfortable to talk to them about it. And, in doing so, a few others on the crew also realize they may either benefit from it or already do it themselves.

• Robin really loves games and playing when she's regressed, and she laughs more openly when she's little.

• Franky is her primary caregiver, but everyone else on the crew also chips in constantly. (Zoro specifically always keeps an extra close eye when she's running around anywhere near the railing or somewhere potentially dangerous. He's the king of gentle redirection)

• Sanji will make her extra fun little snacks, cut fruit or little finger foods. He melts every time she beams at him or giggles or thanks him. He just wants to squish her cheeks~

• not an Aeathetic Regressor, honestly. She does what makes her happy, and her clothes aren't necessary for that, she's not obsessed with pastels or anything, she still finds morbid things amusing. She will, however, become the BIGGEST clothes thief ever and toddle after Franky in one of his button ups, spouting random facts about decomposition and the science of decay.

• spooky baby!!!!!!! Not on purpose, but she IS!!!!!!

• Luffy and her get on like a house on fire. He's one of her favorite people when regressed because he's just that perfect mix of On Her Level and Protective. He also has Mega Siblihg Energy. While Luffy himself is a complicated topic I'll get into later, he does take being her playmate and protector VERY seriously. He's also a polyglot bc I love the idea of him not being dumb at all, just operating on a different wavelength. They bond over Weird Facts and Special Interests, and they speak different languages a lot together, accidentally even making their own on occasion. ((Luffy also calls her mi pequeña luna even before the whole Gear 5 Thing, which becomes a bit of an inside joke))

• chewy stims chewy stims chewy stims if it can go in her mouth while she's distracted, it WILL.

• no particular age range, but she has determined she's likely an older kid - perhaps around the ballpark of nine? Maybe. Maybe not. Doesn't matter.

• can, will, and has justbwordless gone to Usopp, plopped down on her tummy, kicking her feet and Stared. He pauses slightly. "Story?" She nods. "Okay..... yeah, I got one-!!"

Moving on~

Luffy

• I will die on this hill bc I have so many thoughts on it and nobody does it??? Justice?????????????

• he is SO resistant to it, honestly. This may come as a huge shock to many, but this boy is a Captain and had to grow and survive FAST. He may be a little weird or perceived as 'dumb', but he is most certainly NOT. I love Dadan, Makino and even Shanks, but his most stable adult relationships were a barmaid, a flighty pirate, and a largely hands-off bandit woman. He canonically faced potentially lethal ordeals as "training" from a man he loved, yes, but also FEARED. It's overlooked so often bc of how optimistic and bright and semi-competent he is, but that boy has So Much Trauma.

• he's the captain and so he puts a LOT of pressure on himself, though it's rarely seen point blank.

• I think he involuntarily regresses pretty often and hides it exceptionally well by either Faking It or hiding away as quickly as possible.

• personal hc here that Robin was the first to address regression with the crew, everyone gave it a try bc Nobody There Had A Good Childhood, and nobody noticed that Luffy.... didn't. Or rather, nobody brought it up. At first.

• it's baby steps. They let him be. They never push, but they do encourage the times when his lock on his Haki gets a little fuzzier, bubbly, and his laughter is bright and clear and innocent.

• Luffy has a lot to unpack, and it only really comes to ahead when he's teetering just a little during dinner one night, wriggling happily, someone reaches past a little too quickly, a little too close to his head, and he flinches. Everyone freezes. The mood drops like an anchor. Luffy apologizes. He's subsequently smothered.

• getting Luffy to really regress is difficult. One would think it would be easy with his normal demeanor. One would be very very wrong. The Luffy he is now is the one cobbled together by his experiences, under layers and layers of protective shielding and self applied armor of love. Luffy acts most like a child when he's big. Luffy acts far different when he's little.

• he also looks different when he's little. Current theory is the weirdness of his Devil Fruit, the way his body shifts and morphs according to whims and wants and stimuli. He used to shrink down after Gear 3, so sometimes just.... physically being tiny isn't TOO unusual. And having the little white curls peppered into raven hair is odd, but it is Luffy, they've seen, done and experienced weirder....

• Lil Lu, as dubbed by the Great and Powerful Big Bro Usopp, is quiet. He's firm stares beneath messy curls, red-brown eyes peeling layers of a person back and studying them bc that is how he can tell who is Safe and who is Not. He is not diluted by the cloak of sunshine, though stars still glow in his veins. He's quiet, he's slightly calmer, but he's also... more open than they're used to. Luffy doesn't cry easy. Lil Lu seems to make up for that in excess. He happy cries, angry cries, sad cries - they all learn to navigate the different tones of tears.

• Lil Lu also picks his people. It's usually not the exact same, but he'll choose a person and be their duckling for the day or evening. Sometimes it's Sanji, and Lu wants to help and hold his pants leg and just Be There. Sometimes it's Nami, and he helps count out the berri or draws her pictures while she works on a map, beaming under ink smudges and parchment smells. Sometimes it's Zoro, with the naps and occasional playtime, or Usopp and Chopper with games and stories. Sometimes it's Robin and Franky, the former big or little, the latter delighting in the trust given to him. Sometimes it's Brook or Jinbei, the oldest on the crew who understand better than most when the weight of the world crushes a too-small chest and grief stains his every cell. Sometimes it's one, sometimes it's many, and sometimes he wants to be alone. It's all progress.

Shanks

• ironically, not a whole lot on him. His regression is blurry at best, and it's diluted in part due to his alcoholism. It mostly manifests in going semi or nonverbal, wanting more hugs and cuddles, being a little more emotional than usual - something often times attributed to drinking as opposed to smth psychological.

• his crew eventually puts it together that Drunk Shanks and Needy Shanks are very different, and they simply adjust accordingly. Nobody ever really.... brings it up?? But they know. And Shanks knows. And they know that Shanks knows. That's enough for them.

• honestly Shanks' regression is on the older end, but it's from around the time he was selectively mute.

• traumatized teenage captain hours.

• really likes texture stims btw. Lucky Roux made him slime once and he was mesmerized for hours.

Law

• not a regressor but I wanted to include him anyway bc he went the full opposite of everyone else. He vibes as a caregiver no I do not make the rules but I do enforce them.

• Law, upon meeting little Robin and Lil Lu: you activated my Loving Side, now SUFFER- ((He spoils them but has safety rules and they thrive with the structure honestly, 100/10, he and Franky become The Best At Wrangling The Tinies))

Uta

• I don't know quite yet how she vibes but the vibe is THERE okay, it simply IS and I will die on that hill. She either regresses or she's a caregiver, but regardless she is very Big Sister Coded, especially to Luffy.

Perona

• pastel goth baby. On the younger end, and Mihawk and Zoro were the ones who clocked her habits at Kuraigana. She herself never really clocked it but they both started.... slowly accommodating it, and she was blindsided by it.

• eventually came to terms with it, and while they never put a name to the behaviors, Zoro knew damn well what was going on after sailing with Robin. Big Brother Energy honestly.

• it's only after the time skip, after some time away, and when she reunites with Mihawk that the greatest swordsman knows now what it was, thanks in part to Buggy.

• on that note, she and Buggy get on like a house on fire and it's adorable and mildly terrifying bc smth may, in fact, literally catch fire.

Okay that's all I have rn ily thanks for the ask, y'all have no idea how happy it makes me to see stuff in my inbox ♡♡♡♡♡♡

#witchy answers!!#agere one piece #sfw agere #age regression #agere headcanons #regressor shanks #regressor robin #regressor luffy #one piece headcanons

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charmed-and-alarmed · 1 year

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EPISODE 7 - tangerine trees + marmalade skies (pending Sanji's approval)

Episode 6 right over here

Buggy's improv singing skills are unmatched

Sanji is weirdly confident in Nami's character despite only knowing her as a traitor who stole their map and tried to kill Luffy.

They really smoothed out Bellemere's character in the show, which is a disappointment. She's a very tough, abrasive woman who wants to build a family for herself - likely to make impulsive, dumb decisions (like taking in two kids she found on a battlefield) and I wish we saw more of that

Was Arlong Park always meant to be like a theme park? Bc it's quite an eff you to Buggy

I like that Nami was just predisposed to theft. She always saw it as the answer to her problems, even before the traumatic incident

The pinwheels are sweet but they're supposed to be the Genzo's thing. So now we miss out on a) Luffy's weird obsession with the pinwheel in a hat and b) the adorableness of the scene with Genzo and baby Nami

Changing it so neither Nojiko nor the Coco Villagers know about Nami's plan takes away from her character. It also takes away from the village, bc in the anime they knew Nami was sacrificing everything for them, so they played along to protect her. In general, they downplay how the villagers are always looking out for each other, which is important bc Nami at first appears to be the exception - a girl who only cares about herself - but it's revealed that she is just like them. It was always a community trying to help each other - trying to hide the girls bc they knew Bellemere couldn't pay, trying to get them out safe, etc

Zeff and Garp have more chemistry than is entirely necessary. Why do so many ppl in this show have such powerful divorce energy?? Zeff's wink? Like, what the hell guys

"you don't know women. They never say what they mean" <- Sanji, please stop.

Zoro cutting off Luffy's usual introduction with the lie about being pirate hunters, and Luffy going along with it?? That is a display of trust, right after Zoro's almost death, is so good.

Sanji's flirtatious nature and cooking ability gets the Strawhats a win in the form of intel from Nojiko. I'm glad he has this chance to demonstrate how his skill set fits in with the others, esp since his flirting is embarrassing bad still

I like that Zoro comes onto the roof to talk to Luffy like, "convince me I'm wrong. Nami says she wants nothing to do with us, she left us. I don't have your faith in ppl, so convince me that you believe in her so I can too"

Arlong taking offense at the marine dude's comment about being "smarter than ppl give you credit for" is clearly a tactic he uses often. Why am I not surprised?

Helmeppo is so offended when Koby implies that he and Luffy are similar lol

How does Zeff know Luffy is Garp's grandkid?? How is this common knowledge?

I love the comparisons between Luffy and Gold Roger. It's cheesy and obvious (esp in the anime) but I still really enjoy it

Nami is one of the smartest ppl in the show, esp in terms of street smarts, so the fact that she falls for Arlong's promise is just so much worse. It was the one bit of childish hope and navite she let herself have. It was her stupid dream - the kind she made fun of everyone else for having.

(I am having a moment of reckoning with Nami as a character. Sorry girl for being mean earlier)

Nami's moment with Luffy at the end is so beautiful. Luffy admitting he doesn't know what's going on, he doesn't know the whole story, but that he doesn't need to. He's just on her side. And then he puts his hat on her and we all cry with Nami. He goes and rounds up the other Strawhats, and they don't need an explanation either. Their captain calls, so they're on it

Season finale coming right up!

#opla #opla spoilers

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psilactis · 1 year

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Ok here's reaction to episode 2 and 3, this will be a spoilery one so it will go under the cut

The Soundtrack keeps being awesome and the characters started feeling more like the ones we know, but like....

Why are they together tho. Sure, they had to leave Shells town together on account of being hunted, but no one but Luffy even wants to be there. By the time they finish fighting Buggy, each one should've gone their own way. Neither Nami nor Zoro has agreed to join Luffy as crew, and Zoro is still acting like a pirate hunter and Nami as a thief. They don't really have any reason to stick together at all!!

Why are so many scenes being filmed in the dark now.... I can't see anything...... The circus was ok but confusing to keep up with, but Kayas mansion is just so grim and dark, why.....

On to things I liked now tho because oh boy.

I love loved love love Buggy. He's so good he's so stupid and emotional and goofy and beautiful. Oda really did make this whole TV show just for Buggy, and it shows. And I thank him for it.

The whole Buggy episode was really good, them really going off with the circus theme and making it all creepy. Kinda sucks we didn't get much of buggy's crew action tho.

Im really enjoying Zoro being an Actual Pirate Hunter, like knowing the pirates and their names and their bounties. Its a really small detail but that I feel like it works to tie the whole universe together really nicely.

I love Kaya in this!! I'm really indifferent to her in the anime/manga, but in the show she is very charismatic. The decision to have her be literally poisoned instead of being just implied poisoned is also very good. This is something that has been going on on the show, instead of just implying they really do say their stuff, and I feel like it does add to the whole thing, like Zoro actually killing people instead of it just being implied.

Im not sure how I feel about the Coby thing. I think taking away the scene of Luffy telling the marine Coby used to be a pirate was a bad decision. That scene helped to develop both their characters, Luffy as someone who will help his friends, even if in a convoluted way, and Coby finally cements his will to become a marine and fight pirates. It also settles their relationship - one of mutual respect and friendship, even if on diverging sides that will clash one day. Giving the role to Garp to know that Coby was a pirate once feels really weak and really puts off the relationship between our boys.

I also don't think the whole Morgan debacle made much sense. Sure, me as a manga reader know that Morgan was corrupt and abused the town, but we don't see much of that in the show, apart from the marines causing mild discomfort at the bar. So why was he crucified? Because he was defeated by three kids? Doesn't make much sense. Doesn't make sense for Garp either....

Usopp looks a m a z i n g. I liked the way his backstory was told, the transition was very cliche but felt really nice to see. I think the jump of him meeting Luffy and immediately taking him to Kaya didn't make any sense tho. In the Manga/anime, they talked for a while, and then Usopp left, and Luffy and Co followed him to Kayas place. Feels kinda odd that Usopp would care so much about her, and then drag virtual strangers to her place like that.

While some adaptation is necessary, it feels like the TV show is kind of relying a lot on the audience having some previous knowledge of the source material, which isn't good.

Before I forget, the CGI is looking great actually. Every city and ship feels real. The fights can be a bit wonky sometimes but not in a bad way, it really does feel more like something of the universe, which is good.

I feel like Luffys backstory should have been told all at once, or in two episodes instead of three. However, the way it was done isn't necessarily bad, just feels a bit dragged out. They tried juxtaposing his past with his actions from the present, which, cinema, I guess, but also feels a bit unnecessary and a bit on the nose. The fight of the red hair pirates vs the mountain bandits was top notch tho!

#one piece #Opla #Netflix op #Live action #Opla spoilers

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strawhatsoraya · 2 years

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hi love!! first of all how are you? how are things going? Hope everything’s okay. so, I’ve been reading your fics for a while now and I absolutely adore your style so I decided it was time to ask for one and hope for the best. it’s a NSFW with Zoro and a F! Reader, it would be about her joining the crew around skypiea and them pining for each other but being so good at hiding their feelings both them and the crew have no idea (Robin would still notice somehow ahhaha) but that only leads to the feelings become unbearable so I would say after the events of thriller bark (specifically Zoro taking Luffy’s pain) they just explode and they have a hot steamy session LMFAO (you have all the freedom to decide the details of how and why exactly they just say ‘fuck it’). hope you will enjoy this request and if not there is absolutely no pressure for writing it, of course. <3 byeeee

Hey lovely! It's been a week but I have this fic for you!! And man, am I happy to present it. I love Zoro, and I love pining, so while this was a very LONG labor of love--I had a lot of fun. This piece is a bit massive. It has 7.9k word count so it is not for the light of heart lol but if you read it to the end you get to reach the center of the tootsie pop *wink wink*. Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

The Pull, the Moon & a Wish Upon A Star

ZORO X FEM READER | NSFW / Soft Smut ™ WORD COUNT: 7.9k CONTENT WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, nudity (duh), unprotected sexual intercourse (just don't do it folks, only works in fiction), biting, scratching, kissing, lots of angst and sexual tension, if you're looking for light and fluffy this isn't it, excessive mentions of the moon (so if you're anti moon gtfo), groping, nipple play, zoro talking too damn much and being a little nasty, for ZORO this is pretty TAME because he is like....enamored, so just let him be, allow this moment of softness because it doesn't come often, so, SOFT ZORO, and like this is zoro being soft so if you don't think it's soft enough...idk what to tell you, it's zoro, i proof read it twice so if you find a typo ignore it, if you tell me there is a typo you need to suck my dick first, thx A SUMMARY: I don't have one. Read the request lmao.

I - NEW MOON

A dreamer has no home in Mock Town.

Dreams were for children. Quaint little stories made of glittering sand sprinkled into their eyes, blinding them to the harsh truth of the world. The sting would force their eyelids shut, and they’d drift off into lands made of fantasy and fluffy clouds, carrying them off to somewhere peaceful; somewhere they would never be hurt, a haven safe from pain.

They’d lay in their bed woven from lies while the moon spills its light through the window.

It had been a long time since there was any moon watching over you. You slept in darkness, holding the lies you told close to your chest. A romantic heart held prisoner in a chest constructed by cynical chains. You spoke like a realist, even when it split your tongue in half. The taste of copper grounded you to your reality, and you swallowed it down, finding it a fitting exchange.

Your blood for the chance to avoid their scorn. It was the price you paid to live in anonymity.

Loneliness went down easily when you drank it with whiskey. You had learned this years ago, so you consume it daily; a necessary evil. It is smooth on your tongue as you watch them from your corner of the establishment. The back of their heads are unfamiliar as they sit at the bar. You think you imagine it, the way your heart seizes at the sound of his voice. A gruffness so rugged it cuts into your skin, spilling everything you held inside. You scoop it up immediately as you throw the rest of your drink back into your throat. The burn in your chest is antiseptic.

Dreams had nowhere to run in Mock Town. This is where dreams came to die.

It is a mantra you repeat, with every blow they deal on the loud captain and his swordsman. It is a mantra you clamp down on with aching teeth, when their navigator begs them to fight. Your fingers twitch around the etched glass in your hand. You grip it so tightly it cracks, like fault lines across the illusion you had been hiding behind. When they leave the bar, everything shatters.

You wake up, at last, from the nightmare you had built yourself only to plunge into a different colored one.

They’ll never come back. It is a lie you feed yourself, cram it into your mouth and down into your stomach, until everything overflows. Until you believe it. You pick up the fallen pieces left in their wake and start gluing them back together, before your heart can escape again. But he does come back, and a hammer swings into you when his fist flies into Bellamy’s face.

You chase after him as he takes his prize, your oversized kusarigama attached to your back. The chain links clink as you run, its sound chasing your steps. His name is stiff on your tongue but you cast it out, a coin entering a fountain–one last desperate wish. Luffy finds your proposal comical, and so is the weapon on your back. He smiles until the corner of his eyes crinkle, a smile so radiant you swear you’ve only felt the same warmth under the sun.

“Please!” your voice pleads, hands grasping at invisible strings. “I want to see the sky island too!”

His hum is contemplative. You feel time stop. You don’t breathe, you can’t, until he answers you at last: “Sure!” His laugh is infectious and odd. “You seem pretty strong, Kusari.” It isn’t your name. It never has been, but it sounds right when he says it.

It still sounds right when he introduces you to everyone; feels right in your bones. The swordsman’s eyes connect with yours–his gravity too large for you to avoid its pull. Inside you, the ocean’s tide begins to change. A smile graces your lips, congenial and friendly. One that was practiced and rehearsed, like every lie you told. Pretending was a curse you had been tasked with. It was easy and it was necessary. The method that always kept you safe.

Zoro shakes his head at everyone’s enthusiasm. Luffy’s impulsiveness was something he was used to, but disagreed with, time and time again. You were a risk he would have never taken. There were too many dubious variables, your background as a bounty hunter made you skilled and dangerous. His doubts on your genuineness are cast aside by excitement of a new adventure. Zoro lived on the edge of his swords, betting his life at every hurdle, his destiny always held firmly by his own capable hands. Sky island or you, it didn’t matter what the peril was. If it was in his way, he’d cut it down without mercy.

It would be a shame, he thinks–an afterthought polluting his resolve–if he would have to make you his enemy. Your weapon intrigues him, at least that’s his reasoning. There would be no other behind his curiosity. You had a face he could forget, if he really wanted to try.

He’d just have to want it badly enough.

II - WAXING CRESCENT

A persistent irritation, like a rash from a poisonous leaf, plagued him. You were too familiar, too quickly ingrained in his routine. Your sense of humor reminded him of Robin. Your mouth was always twisted, in a cynical kind of smile–but only with him. It annoyed him. You had no riddles for Sanji or Luffy or Usopp, but when you’d speak to Zoro–he was constantly baffled.

What was your insistence on befuddling him? He figures ignoring you would do the trick but your presence is unforgivable; a sin, like a nick on his blades, a scar on his back, a sake poured on dirt. He wanted to obfuscate your existence, like a dark cloud in a night sky, hiding the moon from sight.

Robin and you quickly become a pair, synchronized jokes, and synchronized looks. You team up and prepare riddle after riddle that Zoro can’t seem to solve. He contemplates leaving you two with Nami to your devices but there are so many unknowns in the jungle his conscience doesn’t allow it. His worries become unfounded when he watches you wield your weapon with ease. There was no sign of hesitation when you acted on Chopper and Nami’s behalf–placing their safety as a priority. His shoulders relax, but doubt still circles–a fin in the water–reminding him that it was still too early to tell if you were friend or foe.

Friend or foe, he can’t deny it.

Your face was one he could forget, if he really wanted to. The problem was, he was starting to believe he didn’t want to. In the brief free moments, his eyes would search for it–like a dry tongue seeking water. The softness of your cheeks beguiled him, made him wonder, like a fool, if they were soft as they looked. But your smile was a blade whose sharpness he knew too well. He couldn’t allow himself to be cut. It was a shame he could never live down.

III - FIRST QUARTER

An adventure on Sky Island had been one you never even had dreamed of. An island in the sky was something only children thought of. It had been a long time since you basked in innocence.

The thrill of surviving by the skin of your teeth still thrummed through your body. You giggled, a drink in your hand as you enjoyed the kitchen to yourself. The crew had gone to explore Water 7 and while you were happy to be part of the team–it was still something you were getting used to. Working by yourself, for yourself, had been something you’d done for years and were good at. Now, there were others; people you had started caring about.

He finds you in the kitchen, and immediately is envious of the glass in your hand. Not because the dark amber contents swirling around two blocks of ice is alluring. Not because of the way condensation clings to the glass, a sign of deliciously cold temperature enough to soothe most kinds of thirsts. He is envious of the glass, how you cradle it possessively when Zoro steps closer. He is envious of the rim, how your tongue flicks out to lap at a stray drop, sliding down–how it is graced by your lips when you bring it up for a drink.

“Looks good,” he says with strain. Tension pulls at his neck, making it difficult to talk. “Is there more of that?”

You gesture at the table, where you had left the bottle of whiskey. He intends to move, truly, as he is mere steps away from your body but your eyes are bright and mystifying. They jumble his thoughts and it takes a quirk of your brow to kickstart his brain once more.

As the moon commands, the tides obey, and a series of events unfolds that can’t be stopped. There’s so much to think of, you almost forget how much Zoro ails you. You forget how you think of him at night while you try to find a comfortable spot to sleep in. You forget the way his eyes pierce you during dinner, how they steal your breath. You forget the strange moments his hand brushes against yours when you pass him by, and the strange way he says your name as if it was a kiss given in secret.

You forget until Sanji is irate, top lip curled in anger. His words bounce off you, and you frown with a small shake of your head. You shake it, not because you find the accusation incredulous–you and Zoro had fought the best you could to protect the money–but because it feels as if you should care more. Zoro–usually calm, composed, quick to avoid drama–always flies at the handle at Sanji’s provocation. This time it’s no different. He comes, not to his own defense, but yours. The cloud over your mind lifts, and there’s a light beaming into your chest. Your mouth twists into a grimace.

You try to keep the light out by bringing a hand to your chest. Beams slip right through the cracks of your fingers.

Your hand is still over your chest when Robin goes missing. You seek her out, desperate for an ally to make you forget–to remind you of the dangers of letting others in. There was an unspoken understanding between you two; a darkness shared and understood. You understand this even when you find out about Robin’s possible betrayal. In your heart, you try to reason, in your mind you find enough to doubt. When Zoro speaks up, like the devil on your shoulder, and makes it clear he isn't holding his breath when it comes to Robin, coldness sets in. People were complicated. You had learned that lesson with blood in your mouth. You wonder if Zoro has learned this as well–or was he the darkness too? Did he find it hard to trust? Had he been forced to cement walls around himself?

You begin to sink in, hiding behind your usual facade. Lies slip out of your mouth, one after the other, snakes with two and three heads. It was better this way, fabricating a self so different from your true source that nobody could ever hurt you. Desire could only lead to disappointment. Whatever embers he had left behind on the back of your hand, you try to smother it out, covering it with your free hand.

IV - WAXING GIBBOUS

Raucous laughter meets shadows and light.

Luffy could never pass up a party, and after saving Robin there was so much to celebrate. The taste of sake on his tongue was familiar; a pleasant burning whose limits he knew all too well. This was something he could control, a phenomenon that did not incite fear or anxiety.

He could not say the same about the phenomenon of your skin under the light of the moon. A throat so dry he feels choking seizes his words, so he drinks and drinks and drinks. Relief never comes, sentences he repeats in his head as he circles around you fester in the pit of his stomach. You are so happy–elated even, that Robin is back. You haven’t left her side, cracking joke after joke.

It’s sickening how much it irritates him that you refuse to be alone. If it’s not Robin, it’s Nami clinging to your hand, offering you another drink. If it’s not Nami, it’s Luffy trying to shove more food at you–food you gently refuse. If it’s not Luffy, it’s the stupid cook, hearts shooting out of his eyes as he touches your hand.

Your hand–the one he hasn’t touched.

He bites down so hard he thinks he’s cracked a tooth, so he spits at the ground, expecting blood. He sees nothing, and chooses to believe that this means nothing. The sake is rotten, and he is tired, so so tired. Zoro doesn’t pray, he has never prayed in his whole life but he considers it that night when he closes his eyes. So he hopes instead. He hopes he’ll be over it in the morning and you’ll be nothing–a long forgotten moonbeam in a distant night sky.

He wakes up, and realizes quickly that you are still not nothing.

He swings his swords repeatedly, motions that he is familiar with. He focuses on the strain of his muscles, the ache slowly setting in. He focuses on the sweat on the back of his neck, the one dripping down his rippling muscles. He focuses as much as he can, but your gaze on him is fastidious.

He senses you watching him, a strange lecherous feeling that twists his stomach. He refuses to meet your gaze and bites down again. If his teeth cracked then so be it.

You are shameless, he thinks, as he swallows his drink. Your dark eyes are unwavering, focused on his neck. Zoro swallows, heart beating in his chest like a wild animal. His foot is under the table, tapping away as he tries to keep the rest of him still. Nami is arguing with Luffy, and Zoro shakes his head slightly, trying to wake up from the spell you have casted on him. He should laugh with the others, he should ignore Sanji’s pointed stare, he should ignore the cold sweat on his forehead and the sudden dip at the pit of his stomach when you lick your lips.

When you finally drag your eyes away from his neck, in a way that looks like it pained you, Zoro takes a sharp breath. He thinks you have set him free from this twisted prison but you ensnare him again when you meet his eyes. Zoro brings his glass to his mouth once more, and swallows the remains of the whiskey.

It burns his chest on the way down, but there is a fire more heated and consuming at the bottom of his stomach. One that builds higher and higher when you smile at him.

Later that night, when he’s prowling the newly constructed Thousand Sunny like a restless large feline, Zoro has to remind himself why he even set out from his hometown. He reminds himself that he has to become the strongest swordsman, as he fights the urge to slide his hands down his stomach, to reach further down for the arousal that bothers him. His forehead pressed against the cold wood of the training room, he tries to reason with his breathing. He thinks about the new bounties announced, the thrill of new adventures. There is no room for deviation in his goals. He knows this. There is a set path to follow–the one the moon has been guiding him to all along.

Turning to you would just lead him to darkness. Zoro refused to be swallowed up by it, no matter how alluring the flash of its teeth were.

V FULL MOON

A life for a life.

He thought nothing of it at first. He thought it necessary. At first he had lived selfishly, seeking to keep a promise given a long time ago. Somewhere along the way, his Captain’s dream had become as important as his. Somewhere along the way, he had friends he cared about, friends he wanted to protect. His strength alone had not been enough, and so for this sin: he offers his life.

If there was anyone who could protect the rest, it would be Luffy.

He tries to hold on to this hope as pain cuts into him. It rips at his skin, making tatters at what keeps him together. Blood splurts, hot and searing. A pain that burns so deep he thinks it’s in his soul. He clenches his teeth, willing for them to crack and splinter off, if it means keeping quiet. A man should not cry when his mind has been set up. His eyes are open but he sees nothing–not in particular, except his own blood clouding his vision.

He tries to focus on other things, when a pain so blinding and deep makes him want to drop to his knees. He thinks of Nami and Usopp, and hopes they’ll be okay. He wonders if Chopper will grow happier. He wants to believe Sanji will get stronger, enough to continue protecting everyone. That stupid, idiotic cook who had tried to offer his own life in his place. Zoro grimaces, a pained groan almost leaving his mouth so he bites down on his tongue–metal taking over his taste buds.

He had no regrets. He never had any but as his vision becomes blurry there’s a face that fills his eyes. A different kind of pain booms in his chest, until it fills everything, until it pushes out the air from his lungs. He takes a ragged breath, and feels fear for the first time in a long time. He fears regret. He fears never seeing her face again. He fears never knowing.

He should have held her. He should have kissed her. Just like he always wanted to.

He curses the sound of your voice, the same that cuts through the pain, and reminds him to hold on. He curses the softness of your skin–the back of your hand, the only sensation he knows of you. He curses how he craves to know more even in the face of this endless pain.

He curses you over and over again, until it is done, until all he knows is the pain you leave behind.

Sanji annoys him. Zoro tries to not lash out. His body feels heavy but he feigns it. He tries to keep it together for as long as he can. He has to make sure they’re all okay. Once he is convinced that it was all worth it, once he sees your face wearing an expression he doesn’t want to think about, he allows himself to rest. It takes all the energy he has left to leave you–to walk away from you without touching you, to not run his fingers through your hair, to press your body against his.

As consciousness fades, he wonders how much longer he can hold back. Would he regret it later? If he died? Would he regret never telling you? His inner voice becomes slurred, incoherent, distant until darkness takes him under.

Robin tries to tell you, even though Sanji tried to stop her. She tries to tell you the truth about Zoro but you dismiss her. You insist it is none of your business. Your voice is calm, flat even, as you fold laundry in an attempt to hide your trembling hands. In your mind, you’re screaming. In your mind, you want to run and grab him by the neck. In your mind, you want to understand what possessed him.

But in your heart you know why. In your heart, you know that Zoro wouldn’t have had it any other way, so you try to pretend you don’t know. It was the least you could do to pay him back for what he had given you all.

You know he will be fine. You know he will recover. He just needs time. You want to give it to him, and you do, as you try to stay busy. Still, your feet are treacherous. They keep taking you back to him. You watch him sleeping, a sickness weighing you down. Your eyes feel full, a heart so heavy you think you might collapse under its weight. Heavy feet root you to the spot by his bed. Trembling fingers reach out, so hesitant they can only touch lightly. You softly brush fingertips across his forehead; your silent prayer for him to wake up soon. The sight of his battered body makes you sigh, and your tear filled eyes rest on his hand. Those hands that had protected everyone time and time again. They seemed so strong every time he wielded his swords. Not once did you think they could look this frail. You reach out to touch the bandages, and gently squeeze his wrapped index finger.

Just as gently, you reach down and kiss his temple.

“Wake up, idiot,” you whisper, lips brushing against his clammy skin. “I miss you.”

Your confession feels like a knife you pushed into your own chest. You move quickly, almost run out of the room. Blood gushes, and you hold up a hand, trying to push it back in; the feelings, the words, that kiss.

When he wakes, it takes a moment to feel like he is awake at all. It isn’t until the straw hats leave Thriller Bark that he feels more like himself. Per Luffy, there’s a celebratory dinner. Brooks–someone Zoro was still getting used to–had taken it upon himself to be the night’s entertainment. Fish-Man Island was the next destination and Zoro’s excitement was slowly overtaken by hazy thoughts of you. The more he drank, the more he thought he should finally tell you. The more he watched everyone laugh, eat, sing, drink—the more he thought he should just accept it.

He should accept the pull you had on him. He should accept the command, the order of things; like the moon and tide.

He follows this pull up to the crow’s nest, newly remodeled by Franky. There’s little time for Zoro to admire the modifications. He is too busy trying to find a way to breathe again after the sight of you left him breathless. You’re bent over the telescope, gazing at the sky–he figures maybe the moon, maybe the stars. He’s not sure. All he’s sure of is that his heart might burst if it beats any faster. All he is sure of is that if he doesn’t find a way to silence it, you might hear it past the bones, and flesh entrapping it.

A fluttering of anxiety fills him with dread. A strange feeling he isn’t familiar with. It feels as if it was imperative he touches you; as if he didn’t, only death would follow, as if he didn’t hold you, the world–his or everyone’s–would end. It was such a dramatic, sickening feeling he wanted to rip his own heart out. If that was the solution, he’d do it but he had a feeling at the pit of his stomach that even that wouldn’t work.

He tries to quiet his breathing, not wanting to disturb you, too mesmerized by the sight of your round and plump ass. There’s fire over his skin, blistering and searing the hairs on his arms. He clears his throat, alerting you to his presence.

You turn around, embarrassed that you didn’t feel him entering the room. It’s a fleeting emotion, quickly overtaken by something much more complicated; heavier, infinitely more deadly. It is sickening, really, how insanely attractive he is. You swallow with difficulty, suddenly annoyed that you didn’t bring a drink with you; anything to whet your appetite if it meant keeping your hands off Zoro.

“Hey,” you say softly, trying to buy time for your mind to kick into gear. The cogs in your brain are sluggish. You blame the alcohol, and not the fire in your belly. You want to tell him you’re glad that he’s awake. You want to tell him how scary it was, but you know he wouldn’t want to hear that. “I’m sorry I drank all your sake while you slept,” you tell him instead, your mouth stretching into a crooked smile. “I figured someone should.”

He scoffs, matching your grin.

“That’s a poor excuse. You’re such a liar,” he tells you, and you take a sharp breath. You’re not sure if he meant it–that you were a liar–or if he just said it in passing. You blame the alcohol for your confusing thoughts, and you blame it again when you don’t notice the way he has quickly breached the distance between you two.

The moon is full and bright, hanging high in the inky night sky. Its light is bright and it shoots through the window, spilling over the floor. Zoro is mesmerized by the way it glistens on your brown skin. You look so small against the window, with your back to the moon, it makes him want to crush you against his chest. His mind is hazy, his tongue heavy. He blames the sake. He blames the sake and the moon. He blames them as his hand reaches out to brush a curl out of your face. He tucks it behind an ear, his eyes memorizing the roundness of your cheek, the shell of your ear. He blames the moonlight on your skin, when he cups your cheek to see if he can trap it there, between your skin and his calluses.

He blames the night sky, the smell of the sea when he reaches down to softly brush his lips against yours.

You can’t breathe when his nose brushes against yours. You still can’t breathe when he pulls back, enough to look down at you. His eyes stare into yours and you still can’t find your breath. You think you’ll die now, by Zoro’s mouth, by his hand on your cheek. Your heart pounding against your frail ribs reminds you that you’re still alive. It is a resounding call to arms. You think you should pick up your weapons, but the fire in his eyes burns your resolve to ash.

His heart is on fire. Zoro knows that is a ridiculous thought. He knows that’s not even correct or possible, but the longer he looks at you, the more he feels it to be true. He hears it in the distance; the sound of war—drums, and screaming, blades scratching against each other, sinew tearing, blood gushing; throbbing in his ears and in his veins.

The sound echoes in his body, a rush of adrenaline lighting small fires throughout his being. This moment feels infinite, as if he is frozen in time. A want so desperate pools inside him until it ignites.

He comes tumbling down when he kisses you again. A ravenous mouth open and seeking against yours. His large hands hold your face, as he brushes his tongue against yours with the sole purpose of consuming; conquering. Your tongue is warm and soft, slippery, a sensation he can’t get enough of. He hums when you give in, when you let him suck on it without inhibitions. His breathing is harsh through his nose, and it becomes quicker when you place your hands over his, when you move them down his arms onto his chest.

You grasp on to his shirt, as you return his kisses. His teeth are unforgiving. They bite down on your bottom lip, on the corners of your mouth. He is insistent on discovering everything about it. He runs his tongue against your bottom lip, his forehead pressed against yours. He wonders as he sucks on it, how many times have you bitten down on it, how many words have you swallowed in place to offer lies instead. He’s never told you how often he sees right through you. He sees it even now, as you struggle for control.

“Don’t fight it,” he breathes against your cheek, his fingers tangling in your hair. “Not now. Not tonight.” He kisses your closed eyes; one at a time. He kisses your cheeks, lips blistering hot. You feel him brush his mouth against your jawline. “Don’t think. Not until tomorrow,” he asks you against your neck, trailing kisses down the column of it. You think about this offer, consider rejecting, but when his teeth snags against the soft flesh on the hollow of your neck you forget everything. Your arms wrap around his shoulders as he follows your collarbone to one shoulder. He bites down with enough force to make you cry–one that turns into a soft moan.

It is enough. That is the sound that snaps his resolve. He wanted to be gentle. He wanted to make this moment last, as if he would never have it again, but you are something he was never prepared to fight against. When you moaned, with your nails digging into his back he was left with no choice. He had to have you, tonight, at all costs.

His hands are as unforgiving as his mouth. They rip into your clothes, ignoring your protests. The sound of tearing fabric is accompanied by the sound of your gasps. His breathing is harsh against your ears, causing a wetness between your legs you try to take no responsibility over. It is the sight of his chest, wide and thick when he rips his own shirt that makes your mouth water. Your hands reach out immediately, just as you always dreamed of. You run your palms over his muscles, memorizing every dip and sharp angle, as you press your open mouth to his neck. You suck on a spot, determined to leave a mark–any. It was desperation. One that was fed by fear. You feared this moment not lasting. You feared never again touching his skin, kissing him, holding him.

His own desperation was evident by his greedy hands. They way he seized your hips, to press his erection against you. His hands slide over your hips to your ass, and he digs his fingers into the supple flesh. He’s kissing you again, a clash of tongue of teeth; sloppy, and messy, a wetness on your chin he licks up before sucking on the spot. Zoro’s eyes take in the sight of the floor, as you kiss his chest. He moans when you bite down over a nipple, and he pulls on your hair.

“Stop that,” he hisses, pushing you back towards the benches. “Or I’ll fuck you on the floor.” It doesn’t sound unappealing to your ears, so you try to bite his other nipple but he is faster than you. He picks you up by the ass, forcing you to shout in surprise. Zoro carries you to the bench, and he sits down after placing you back on the ground.

You look down at him, and his naked chest. His pants are still on and you feel extremely exposed. Zoro had, in his efficacy, ripped every single article of clothing you had on. Leaving you naked, and heated. You scoff.

“So you get to keep your pants on?” you ask him, pointing with a frown. Zoro laughs at you, as he reaches into his trousers with one hand. He pulls out his hardened cock, and strokes it gently. There’s a lump in your throat, one with no name, so you swallow it quickly. The sight of his pink tip is enticing. He smears the precum over his slit with his thumb. You think it a shame, and almost tell him so but he’s speaking trying to get your attention.

“Pay attention,” he tells you with a raised brow, his hand settled now at the base of his cock. You raise a brow to match his. Zoro smiles, and pats his lap with his free hand. “Come here,” he commands you to move towards him, heart hammering away at the prospect. You had thought of this moment before. You had no shame admitting it now. You had thought often of how it would feel to have Zoro inside you, so deep you could feel like dying. It seems Zoro had other plans when you approach him as he spins you around by the hips. “This way. Your back to me.”

You swallow and sit on his lap, feeling his cock pressed against your ass. He kisses your shoulder, your neck as his hands roam over your thighs. There’s a slick coating your folds. You’re more aware of it the more he touches your skin. His breath is hot against your ear when he speaks again: “I’m going to spread your legs,” he tells you, and follows through quickly on his statement, spreading them by grabbing your thighs. You gasp, cool air touching your heated core. Zoro runs his tongue along the shell of your ear. He nips the top of it, teeth sharp and digging hard enough to leave an imprint. You feel yourself getting wetter.

“You’re wet,” he breathes out–a heated whisper, almost trembling. His fingers rifle through your folds, slickness covering his fingertips. Zoro presses his mouth against your ear, his eyes closing at the pleasure. It feels so silky and soft in his fingers. He craves more. “I’m going to make you cum,” he tells you, slipping one finger in slowly, one knuckle at a time. “I’m going to make you cum over and over again. I want to touch you everywhere, deep inside.” He slips in another finger when you moan, curving them in search of that spongy spot. His desire builds the wetter you get, the more you moan and whimper in his hold. His cock is hard, and it leaks again against your back. You feel it there sticking to your skin. “I want you,” he growls against your shoulder, as he picks up the pace, scissoring his fingers inside your squelching pussy. “I want you so badly. This isn’t enough.” His teeth sink into the soft flesh of your shoulder. You cry out, as he clamps down harder, leaving a mark on your skin. He kisses the blooming bruise, hand moving desperately as you clench around his fingers. The soft pad of his palm beats against your clit, his calluses eliciting a pleasure you never knew could be possible every time they brush over your sensitive nub.

He leans over you, his broad chest making you feel vulnerable and small. Your thighs are aching as he continues to push his fingers in and out of you. “Maybe another one,” he grunts in between pants, peering over your shoulder. He watches himself insert a third finger into your soaking pussy. You cry out, at the sensation of being stretched. He is watching himself work, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. Sweat clings to his temple, and runs down his cheek. You’re doing your best to hold back, the fear of being heard keeps you from giving in entirely but the sight of him so enthralled with the way he’s beating into your pussy makes you want to fold. “Do you like it?” he asks you, panting against your ear. You whimper and bite down on your lip, almost drawing blood. “You’re so wet and so tight. I think you do,” he insists, licking your ear, and sucking on your earlobe quickly after. “But why are you holding back?” His mouth is flushed against your ear, his breath humid. “Are you scared they’ll hear you?”

Zoro chuckles lightly against your ear, picking up speed until it becomes a brutalizing pace. The sounds in crow’s nests are lewd enough to make you blush. You hear the wet sound of your pussy, the way you keep whimpering and gasping. Your body is shaking.

“Come on, babe,” he asks you in almost a whine. You gasp, and moan, surprised at the visceral reaction your body had to the sound of his soft voice. “Let me hear you. The real you. Or do I have to fuck you harder?”

The moon continues to hang high in the sky as he works his fingers inside you. Its beams scatter in the room, casting shadows over the side of your face, and over your breasts. He wishes he could see more than he does. He wishes he could memorize the sight of you, falling apart to his touch, and never forget it. The scent of your shampoo haunts him, so he scissors his fingers inside you in a desperate attempt to even the odds.

He kneads one breast with his free hand, squeezing its nipple between index and thumb. When you cry out, he gasps loudly against your ear, surprised at how much that turned him on. He wants to hear it again, again, and again; so he repeats the motion, twisting and pulling until you’re moaning and whimpering in his embrace. Your skin looks so soft under the moonlight. He brushes his lips over your neck and shoulders trying to taste you. It isn’t enough so he tries again, chasing the essence that makes you who you are. He nips at the flesh of your back as you bend over, a particular strong jolt of pleasure forcing your tummy to contract. No matter how many times he digs his teeth into your skin, until you’re covered in crescent shaped marks, he can’t seem to get his fill of you. You feel so good around his fingers, your arousal dripping down his wrist and his forearm.

Your orgasm catches him unaware, and he slows down his fingers, surprised at the loudness of your voice. He finds himself laughing against the hair above your ear, pleasure making him shiver. His fingers slow down slightly before he pulls them out entirely. “About time,” he whispers before he has you flip over to face him. He adjusts you on his lap, until you’re grinding your soaked pussy on his cock. “But we’re not done. I need more.” He brings your face to him, a hand on the back of your neck. The kiss is forced, mouth pressed tightly against yours. You whimper softly under its weight. Whatever tenderness that kiss held evaporates when his attention moves downwards to your breasts.

He sucks on your breasts, as he grips your hips. His fingers hold you so tightly you’re compelled to move them against his length. He leaves bites over the swell of your breasts, and the fire inside you continues to burn. You had stopped trying to hold it in, your moans cast into the shield of darkness like stars on the inky sky. Zoro seizes them with his mouth, teeth bearing down on them. He pins them to his body like decoration and seizes to find more, conquer another every time he nips at your sensitive nipples. You hold on to Zoro, desperation forcing you to dig your nails into his back. Every time he kisses your breasts you feel like melting, disappearing into the heat of his mouth.

Your hands reach out to his face, trembling. Your hips move still, the heat of Zoro’s hands keeping them steady. His eyes on your face send a shiver down your spine. Your breath feels so out of reach, as if you’ll never catch up to it, to place it back in your lungs. You trace over the angle of his cheekbones, try to memorize the sharpness of his jawline by going over it with one index finger. Although pleasure continues to build, you’re distracted by the sight of his ears. His earrings trap the light of the moon, and they blink repeatedly, little stars hanging from his earlobe; a mesmerizing sight that makes you want to make a wish. If you wished with all your heart, would it come true? If you wished for a dream, would it be fulfilled?

Your breath hitches, eyes glued to his swinging earrings. Their beautiful golden color is made all the more striking against his tanned skin. You touch them, fingers playing with them. Zoro takes your hand and kisses the inside of your wrist, the pool of your palm. He moves your hand to his chest, and presses it there. The feel of his heartbeat steals your breath. You gulp, trying to shake the dizziness, but Zoro is kissing you, taking your bottom lip into his mouth gently. You hold his face between your hands when he pulls away, feeling like you’re holding on to water. His hands are back on your hips. He lifts you up, as the fingers of one hand drifts to his earrings again. You brush your fingers against them, and they make a soft tinkling sound–a quick little song–as he buries his cock inside you.

It is better than you could have ever imagined. He fills you in an instant, provoking moan after moan to flood your mouth. Soft, and steady, you tell yourself, pressing your forehead against his. He lets you lead at first, his fingers tapping repeatedly against your hips. He’s counting, for who knows what, timing an entrance.

Zoro thinks he's finally lost his damn mind. He was determined to savor this moment—like an expensive whiskey, consumed in small sips, swirled around the tongue before swallowing, but you’re so wet, your arousal coats his belly, and sinks into his pants. You’re hot inside, fiery, and smooth. Every swirl of your hips reminds him of how desperately he wants to ram into you, again and again. He thinks about you clenching around his fingers as you moan against his mouth. He sets his jaw, trying to tighten his grip around his willpower but your pussy is even tighter. His breathing is ragged, he shakes his head, trying to cast off the sudden heat in his eyes making him see red.

But he can’t help it. He can’t fight it any longer.

“Okay,” he says against your neck as you continue to bounce on his cock at a slow pace. His hands are on your hips, they grip tighter. It should have been your warning but you’re so caught up in the feel of him, eyes shut as your face is turned to the ceiling, that you don’t realize what’s happening. “I’m sorry but I need to do it my way now.” He holds you still, and starts thrusting up into your pussy at a maddening speed. You cry out at the sudden change of pace, fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders. He hisses, but he doesn’t let up, selfishly chasing the high of your tight pussy.

“Oh my God,” you cry out, eyes shut tightly, as pleasure courses through your body.

Zoro laughs against your pulse. He sucks on it even as laughter rumbles in his chest. When he comes up for air he asks you: “Who’s that? Don’t know him.”

You laugh but it turns shrill, morphing into a cry of pleasure. Zoro feels you clench around him, faster and faster. He moans, and bites your chin. He picks up the speed, angles his hips with his eyes on your face, determined not to miss a single thing. When you cum, fall apart around him, he watches you with his mouth open–barely staving off his own orgasm. You fall into him, and he holds you, your body twitching in his embrace.

“No,” he says, pushing your back on the bench. You look up, eyes fluttering close, your body feeling heavy and sore. “A little bit more. I need just a bit more.” You shake your head, weakly pressing a hand to his chest. Zoro takes your hand, wraps the arm attached to it around his neck. “Don’t act weak with me. I know how strong you are. So just take it. You can take it.” He takes one of your legs and places it on top of the backrest of the benches, your ankle bumping into the wall. Zoro stares down at you, and you’re caught again–by the heat of his gaze. Dark green lashes fluttering under the moonlight, his swinging earrings blinking at you, his mouth parted, a flush on his cheeks. It all looks so divine, you think this a sight belonging to the gates of Heaven. You think you’re close to dying.

And death comes calling when he enters you again. You have nothing left inside you to fight it. You moan time and time again, with every brutish slam of his hips against yours. His balls sound loud and impossibly perverse every time they slap against your ass. There are bruises forming, you’re sure, but you don’t care. You hold on to him, wrap your arms tightly around him but he pushes you down, determined to watch your expression. You cling to his hips instead, the ones that keep pummeling into you, harshly, his cock ramming into your puffy and overstimulated pussy. He thinks the sight of your face, twisted in a mixture of pain and pleasure is the sharpest knife he has ever been cut open by.

Zoro staves off a cry of pleasure by diving in for a kiss, desperately sucking your tongue into his mouth. He kisses the corner of your mouth. From his mouth, he hears stupid promises but his mind can’t believe it even through the haze of lust. He tries to take them back but he whispers into your ear again, soft and sweet things he wouldn’t dare speak in the light of the sun. You know he’s only saying this because he is not thinking straight, because like you, he is consumed by this burning lust. You know when a new moon comes, when this has waxed and waned, that he would forget the words uttered in a moment of madness.

He loves the way you feel, the way it’s so easy to kiss you. He loves the way your voice catches on his skin, slipping into the little cracks to stay forever. He hates it too. Hates how he thinks he’ll carry you always. Even in the light. Even in the dark. He thinks he should take it all back, the kisses, the words. He thinks this even buried to the hilt, your pussy fluttering around his length again. He thinks this even as he gasps and moans, cuming with you.

His body shudders as he spills inside you. You feel it start to ooze out of you, but you ignore it, just like you ignore the sudden flush of your face.

Zoro crumples over you, and covers you in kisses. Your hands are shaking as you seize his shoulders, trying to find the sense to speak about what just happened but he is gone the moment you grasp him. There are towels nearby, and he drapes one between your legs. He lowers himself over you, trapping your body between his arms. His mouth is still relentless, kissing your bruised lips over and over again. You see the moon caught in his earrings again, and you reach out for it.

Someone once told you, a dream was a wish you made on a star. Your fingers dance along his earrings. The gold blinks back at you–twinkling stars hanging from his ear. You wish, on all three, for the same dream.

You wish that maybe when the new moon comes, the pull it had on you two would bring you together time and time again.

#fic request #zoro x you #zoro x y/n #zoro x reader #zoro smut #zoro angst #zoro soft smut #Soft Smut ™#one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece smut #one piece soft smut #for the cummunity!

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soleilnomoon · 2 years

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hello! I saw from your writings that you love doing angst.. so i have a request if you don't mind! But I don't know your "level" of angst tolerance so u can tell us later if u want!

So it's a scenario where Law falls for a s/o that's a strawhat, classic right?

But what if s/o has a devil fruit that makes it impossible to touch people cuz it sucks their energy or sum, it's very dangerous and so in her childhood she couldn't play with kids cuz they feared her, but she's at the same time a little goofy ball of energy and with a lovely personality?

Law at first (like always) didn't fall for the charms but after finishing Kaido and returning to the crews, he notices for the first time s/o's clothes and how she's all covered up wearing long kimonos with long sleeves (so that she doesn't accidentally hurt someone)

He feels a bit weird and dismisses the feeling as pity but it just makes him remember the amber disease and how he would hide the white spots sometimes when it was necessary and then he realizes again that s/o's case is worse than his cuz that's definitely not a disease and she can't remove her devil fruit... And also he 'Respectfully' thinks she's kinda cute tho (like Bepo a bit).

In his awkward ways he tries to make conversation with her about her DF but it comes of suspicious to the crew and he nearly gets cut off by Zoro the first time and Luffy in the second attempt, so he just does his 'research for SCIENTIFIC reasons' with the info he has, and in that period it takes like one to one and a half year (in wich he STUPIDLY feel in love even more with the strawhat) to realize that the more she uses her powers the less years she will live and... THAT just DEVASTATES him, cuz he read just some days ago that Luffy found the One Piece and actually became the King of the Pirates but also that two of his crew were in critical life or death condition and he immediately knew who: of course the right hand swordman and his strategist aka s/o.

But he searched for treatments to help her and actually found a very rare flower who's nectar is said to 'give life's and sprinted to the strawhats, but.. by the time they arrive the Thousand Sunny is silent like never before and they tell him s/o is dead and is not just the fact that he didn't even have the chance to express his feelings to her before it was too late it was that he couldn't save a person that never wanted anything in life but to genuinely smile and enjoy her time with her friends.

The only time he was genuinely interested and in love with someone voluntarily..

Sorry if there are any mistake or bad written sentences cuz English is not my first language lmao! I hope you understand the scenario! And Thank you so much if you're willing to write it! 💚

I'll be 🍥 anon in case u have questions?

Have a wonderful day!!

hiiii ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡ it's finally done, i hope there's enough angst in here for you; i took a few liberties, and it got a little more morbid than i anticipated, but i had fun in the end 💕

2.5k words, fem reader, angst angst angst, cw: death, nothing gruesome but it does happen, there's alcohol at a certain point, also a plot twist dun dun dun. law's a coward and a dumbass & y/n needs to stop lying to herself

lying became your profession after you turned three years old; no you didn’t make the neighbor’s child cry on purpose, yes you did push her but it was because she said you were a freak that deserved death, no you don’t want to reflect on your actions, yes you’d do it again. you oscillate between both extremes so much that it becomes difficult to tell the truth from fiction. it suits you just fine, life is much better when you don’t have to think about things like that.

you wear dishonesty like a shawl, draped over your shoulders protectively, as if you can’t bear to walk around without it. it’s your dishonesty that leads you to eat a strangely shaped fruit, propelling your childhood into something twisted and complicated; and it’s your dishonesty that gets ostracized from the other children in your village. you learn to mind your business, you take to playing alone, to talking to yourself, and are more or less quiet until provoked.

people learn fairly quickly not to make you angry.

it’s when you accidentally siphon your cousin’s energy by grabbing her tightly, fingers sinking into her thin arm, your palm warming, a deafening silence filling your ears, making it hard to concentrate on doing the right thing. you don’t understand what’s happening, but you know that you don’t want her to keep messing with you — so you hold onto her. you feel full somehow, like you desperately needed to do this, and now that you have… you can’t stop.

when her skin pales, when her eyes lose their shine, when her breathing slows, a voice — faint, trembling, sobbing — makes its way through the silence and tells you to stop.

so you do.

your cousin spends weeks in the hospital recovering, and your parents are besides themselves trying to figure out how best to deal with you and your growing powers. after a few more incidents, your family packs up and moves to the countryside; away from most of the populace, in the hopes of keeping you away, as hiding you is their best option. you’ve always wondered if they loved you, and now you have your answer. it’s not love, it’s fear; they tiptoe around you, talk in whispers, lock their bedroom door at night.

because of this, you develop complex feelings about yourself — and about the world. it also leaves you vulnerable; all of the negative emotions that fester inside of you, like angry dark scribbles, blotting out any feelings of happiness, and you almost lose sight of everything, but another voice — a familiar, one, the one that told you to grab your cousin — reminds you that you’re stronger than you think, that you shouldn’t let the others dictate how you live your life. that you alone should come out on top, while everyone else is left behind in your shadow.

you don’t quite understand; your insomnia worsens over time, so you pour the remainder of your energy into reading, into learning more about the human body — about its limitations, about ethical and unethical medical practices; your parents do just about anything to keep you busy, so if it’s books you want, you get them. no questions asked. you mess around with various fabrics until you find one that’s thick, but breathable, and make a pair of gloves. they fit around your hands snugly, and you test them out, touching your parents’ hands and watching them for any changes.

when it seems like they’re still all in one piece, you’ve found a solution that might help you reintegrate into society. your parents feel it’s a little too soon, but they also know they can’t keep you locked away forever.

as time goes on, you learn to mask your true emotions, filter your personality so that you’re seen as approachable, amiable, safe. when you’re old enough, you work part-time at various medical clinics, before interning at the main hospital. your proclivity for retaining information and your insatiable curiosity works to your benefit, and you become a staff favorite.

it’s comical, really, almost as if they forgot that you’d been, essentially, chased out of town years prior.

however, as fate would have it, your body has other plans; you’ve been mindful, you limit your devil fruit use, you don’t get too close to anyone. somehow, you’ve convinced the world around you that it’s absolutely necessary for your arms and legs to be covered as well. even in the heat, you wear long sleeved outfits, hiding yourself more and more from outsiders, much to the chagrin of your parents. they don’t necessarily understand your reasoning and don’t press you for more details. it’s a defense mechanism of sorts that protects you from yourself, really.

it doesn’t prevent the voice from being the proverbial devil on your shoulders, instructing you to eliminate those who get in your way, growing much more rash and ruthless as the months go on. you ignore it as best as possible, chalk it up to not having socialized with other children your age while growing up, or perhaps fatigue, or both. you don’t imagine your delusions have gotten stronger, but sometimes they’re tangible enough to feel real.

and sometimes, on the really, really bad days, it’s almost as if your devil fruit takes flight, commanding your body, playing you beautifully, like the instrument that you are. one days like those, you try to keep away from others, feeling less and less like yourself, like a darkness has settled deep inside of you, ready to come out and suck in everything in its path.

it keeps you up at night, and it’s precisely the reason why you take luffy up on his offer, when he sees your powers in use. he’s the first person you come across that isn’t afraid of you; if anything, he sees it as a nonfactor, wanting you to join specifically because you fit in with his zany crew mates. you feel much more at ease, as if you can be yourself, like you don’t have to hide all the time — even though you’re not entirely honest with them, they don’t pester you over it. instead, they allow you to come to them in your own time.

the alliance with the heart pirates is a fruitful endeavor, as it puts you in law’s path. you find him absolutely fascinating, but his reticent persona makes it hard to get close. you know better than to push, so you leave him be. incidentally, it’s specifically because he cannot figure you out that he refuses to talk to you properly. bepo notices right away that his captain is captivated by you — by your uncanny ability to detect bullshit, by the fierce way you defend your friends, by the way you don’t seem to take life as seriously as you should.

he always seems to find himself surrounded by those types of people, so this shouldn’t come as a surprise to him, but it does. what he really wants to know, is why you insist on wearing gloves, on covering up your arms and legs; it would be rude of him to ask, but the way you’re careful not to stand too close to people, how you don’t really touch anyone, it makes him think there’s something deeper going on than you’re willing to admit. on one of luffy’s whims, you all throw an elaborate banquet, and it’s when you’re four drinks in that you babble on and on about the incident with your cousin and why you refuse to touch people out of fear of harming them.

there’s more to the story, he knows that; he can see it in the way you pause and consider your words, and in how you look away in order to avoid his scrutinizing gaze. when you leave in the middle of your conversation, law tries to follow after you but is stopped by zoro, who simply reminds law of his place. it’s not a threat, of course, he knows that, but the swordsman makes it abundantly clear that law is not to keep prying, no matter how much he wants to.

not one to be commanded, the pirate captain disregards zoro’s warning, and pursues you anyway. in time, he finds bits and pieces of the truth, strings together theories, and comes to the conclusion that your recklessness, your reluctance to receive help from others, and your inability to open up is because of your past experiences with your devil fruit.

if anyone can understand the darkness that accompanies that level of trauma, it’s trafalgar law. for that reason, and that reason alone — at least, that’s what he tells himself — he finds himself tethered to you, unable to leave you alone, convincing himself that it must be out of an unexplainable morbid curiosity to understand you better. bepo says otherwise, but he ignores his friend, not wanting to listen and deal with the implications of possibly having romantic feelings.

what you did not tell law — what you haven’t told your friends, too — is that you already feel that you’re losing more of yourself every day. despite having a devil fruit that extracts energy from living creatures, the continuous use puts a strain on your body; and, because of the way your body has been on survival mode most of your life, it feeds on all of your anxious feelings, on the negativity that seems to surround you, and grows stronger. the voice gains a bite, has a vicious way of tempting you into removing your gloves and accidentally touching a stranger, just to do it.

you hate it so much you wish you could pull it out of you forever.

a memory is triggered and law searches through the various books in his library, until he finds one on obscure devil fruits; he finds the entry on yours — a short one at that — and frowns at the words. it barely gives him any clue as to why you’re not adapting to it, although the last line of text does strike him as odd. it makes mention of the user needing to want to use the energy, and since you reject every aspect of the fruit, your body can’t keep up. there’s no way to really neutralize those effects; it’s all mental, you see, but there’s no reason why he shouldn’t try to help you, right? because law is the sort to pour his all into whatever mission or project he works on, his crew indulges his selfish whims and assists him in locating a particularly rare flower, one that may help you.

in the interim, you find his letters comforting, and write back to him as much as you can. you tell him that he doesn’t have to keep searching, that you’ve made your peace with things. and he wants to tell you that it doesn’t have to be this way, that you can still live a long, fulfilling life — but that’s where you disagree. you know yourself; you know your bones, you know your soul, and you know that you’ve fought that voice for much too long to be able to keep living with it.

and after a year of searching, of experimenting, of diligently working to find a cure, he comes to find you. except, he’s too late.

the sunny is anchored on the coast of your favorite island; in your last moments, you make mention of wanting to be somewhere sunny, where the trees can provide endless shade, but where the warmth will always make you feel like you’re alive. because nami and robin are so apt at locating islands, they find one close by, and your smile is enough to break their hearts. while their time with you was short, you enjoyed it immensely.

law’s cowardice prevented him from talking to you properly, and when he arrives and he’s burdened with the truth, he’s left confused. you should be alive; you should be laughing as you normally do, you should be getting on his nerves with your outlandish ideas and your incessant talking. there are things he regrets in life, but this is at the top of the list. is it impudent of him to say that you look beautiful lying there, even in death? he doesn’t think so, but he keeps the thought to himself, resigned and ready to go.

but, before he can get off of the ship, he hears several gasps behind him, hears luffy shouting, hears usopp shrieking, which makes him turn around, confusion taking hold of him when he sees you sitting upright, stretching your arms over your head, yawning as if you’ve just woken from a long, long rest.

except, that’s not really true, is it?

he knows you’re dead, you have to be — but he also can’t discredit what he sees. you certainly move around as if you’re alive, although something feels off, raising the hairs on the back of his neck in alarm. everyone is wary, but you tilt your head at them, prying those silly gloves off of your hands slowly, a slow, sly smile growing on your face.

“you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

that’s your voice, he’d know it anywhere. except, it isn’t. blinking several times, law is the one who asks the question that everyone is, surprisingly, too afraid to ask. “who are you?”

swiveling on your heels, hair whipping around your head wildly with your movements, you march up to him, grab onto his face with your bare hand, much to the shouts of the others behind you, and smirk.

“i’m death, don’t you know?”

his eyes narrow sharply, but you don’t let go of him, almost as if you’re proving a point. but what’s most astounding isn’t that you said that, it’s that he feels absolutely fine. your touch hasn’t affected him, and in turn you also seem just fine too.

“how?”

it’s the only other question he thinks to ask, but you just laugh and laugh, pat his cheek in a patronizingly sweet way, and move away from him. “that silly girl didn’t know how to use my power, so i took it from her completely.” before the others can voice their complaints, you hold a hand up, and roll your eyes. “easy, easy, she’s still here somewhere.” not that you care; it’s your turn to have fun. “i know how not to kill people,” you boast proudly, leaning against the railing, admiring the ocean as if it’s the first time you’re actually seeing it. “but, don’t think that you’ll be able to get rid of me easily.”

it’s the haunting look in your eyes that law recognizes, the one that says you’re ready to set the world on fire, to let chaos reign; he knows that look because it’s the same one he has. if he thought he liked you before, you intrigue him even more now. a savage, untameable beauty, one that chills him to the bone.

the question is, will you let him live, or will you take from him as you’ve already taken from others time and time again?

#one piece imagine #one piece angst #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #law x y/n #law x reader #law angst #law needs to do better and stop waiting 2 confess #fic request #🍥 anon.

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