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soulofapatrick · 5 months

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They Find Out You're Pregnant: One Piece Boys

Summary: How each boy finds out you're pregnant

Words: 5.7K altogether

warnings: unplanned pregnancy but mostly fluff

Y/N's POV

The scent of sizzling spices fills the air as Sanji orchestrated a culinary symphony in the Thousand Sunny’s kitchen. His deft hands move with practiced grace, a dance that spoke of passion and expertise but for once his cooking wasn’t what got my attention. I’m sidling around Sanji, who’s lost in his world of sizzling pans and aromatic spices. The kitchen is his main, a place where he commands both ingredients and flames with the finesse of a maestro. Today, however, my attention isn’t fixed on his culinary mastery. It’s drawn, instead, to the sizeable tub of salted caramel ice cream tucked away in the freezer, calling to me with its irresistible allure.

With a casual lean, I snag a spoon from the drawer and make a beeline for the freezer. The cold air greets me as I retrieve the tub, feeling its frosty chill through the container. My taste buds dance in anticipation; there’s something about this particular flavour that has become inexplicably magnetic.

Returning to the kitchen island, I take a seat, propping myself up on one of the stools, spoon in hand. Sanji, ever engrossed in his culinary creation, doesn’t seem to notice my ice cream indulgence. He moves with a fluidity that’s almost hypnotic, each movement deliberate and purposeful.

I twist off the lid of the ice cream tub, the gentle scent of caramel filling the air. With a satisfying clink, the spoon dips into the creamy goodness, gathering a generous scoop. As I lift it to my lips, the richness of the caramel mixed with the slight saltiness dances on my taste buds, a delightful sensation that brings an unexpected comfort.

Glancing over at Sanji, I marvel at his expertise. Despite my seemingly distracted state, his instincts as a chef seem to extend beyond just the realm of cooking. His attention to detail is impeccable, noticing even the subtlest shifts in preferences. Sanji hums a tune under his breath, his focus unwavering. I continue to enjoy my impromptu dessert, relishing the smooth, cold sweetness against the backdrop of Sanji's culinary artistry.

As Sanji begins to fry food, the enticing aroma of spices fills the air once more. He orchestrates the sizzle and crackle of ingredients in a symphony of flavours, the tantalising scent mingling with the lingering sweetness of the ice cream. But as I sit there, spoon poised for another scoop, an unexpected wave of nausea washes over me. The once delightful taste of caramel now feels overwhelming. With a sudden heaviness, I place the tub of ice cream on the counter, the thud echoing louder than intended.

Sanji glances over, concern etching into his features as he notices my abrupt change in demeanour. "Are you alright, my love?” His voice, laced with worry, cuts through the sounds of the kitchen.

I manage a weak nod, but the queasiness intensifies. Without another word, I push myself off the stool and dash towards the bin, my footsteps echoing in the galley. The retching sounds reverberate in the room, a stark contrast to the harmonious melody of Sanji's cooking. Embarrassment floods me as I lean against the counter, my breaths ragged, trying to steady myself. Sanji, ever the attentive soul, swiftly moves closer, concern etched in every line of his face.

“Maybe it’s… yeah, it’s the combination of flavours.” I manage between breaths, feeling utterly mortified at the sudden turn of events. An anxiety plating in the back of my mind as I’m late for my period and have been for a week now but that’s not that unusual with the resent stresses.

Sanji's worry melts into understanding, his eyes softening with compassion. "It happens," he reassures, his hand resting gently on my back. "Sometimes, tastes change unexpectedly. Let's get you some water.” With Sanji’s comforting assurance, I try to shake off the unease gripping me. As he moves to fetch water, a sudden surge of panic knots my stomach. My mind races, the memory of my late period lingering like an unspoken secret.

“Sanji,” I blurt out, my voice quivering, catching him mid-step. His brows furrow in concern. As he turns back to me, his expression a blend of care and curiosity, “I’m late…” I manage to confess, my words stumbling out in a rush. Embarrassment and anxiety collide, painting a flush across my cheeks.

“Late…?” His voice trails off as he tries to understand me, brows furrowed.

I tug gently at his wrist, feeling a desperate need for support, for someone to share this unexpected worry with. "I don't know what to do, Sanji. It’s been a week, and… and I don't know if it’s just stress or…”

With my confession hanging between us, Sanji's eyes widen in realisation, the pieces clicking together as my distress becomes palpable. Before either of us can utter another word, another wave of nausea overwhelms me, and I lurch towards the bin once more, heaving with a force that leaves me breathless. Sanji’s concern deepens as he rushes to my side, his hands instinctively reaching for a glass of water. "Here, drink this," he urges gently, his voice laced with worry.

Gasping for air, I manage to steady myself and accept the water, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude. Sanji's swift actions and unwavering support feel like an anchor in this sudden storm of uncertainty.

”Come on," he says softly, guiding me towards the nearby couch, his arm securely wrapped around my shoulder. He kneels in front of me, his eyes searching mine with a mix of concern and care. "Are you sure?”

I nod weakly, the weight of the moment heavy on my shoulders. "As sure as I can be," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper, the reality of the situation sinking in with each passing second. Sanji's expression softens, his hand gently resting on mine. "We'll figure this out together," he assures, his voice filled with a determination to be there every step of the way, “I love you so much. We’re gonna be parents.”

Y/N's POV

The sea breeze whips through my hair as I stand on the deck of the Thousand Sunny, watching the waves dance beneath the golden sunlight. Another adventure alongside Luffy and the crew—a thrilling escapade filled with laughter, battles and unforeseen challenges.

But lately, there’s something different. A subtle fatigue creeps in, and I find myself yawning during moments of respite. It’s unlike me, the one who is usually brimming with boundless energy. Yet, I brush it off, attributing it to the rigorous journey. Each day brings its own set of adventures, and with it, an inexplicable weariness that shadows my every step. Yawning becomes a constant companion, stealing moments of wakefulness in between our exploits. Climbing rigging, engaging in battles, and exploring uncharted territories—all thrilling, yet each exertion seems to compound this unexplained exhaustion.

There's a nagging feeling in the back of my mind, a whisper of something unfamiliar. It tugs at my thoughts during quiet moments, a persistent reminder that something isn’t quite as it should be. Yet, I struggle to grasp its elusive form, brushing it aside amidst the excitement of our journey.

The crew carries on, oblivious to my inner turmoil, their spirits high as they revel in the thrill of the adventure. Luffy’s infectious laughter, Zoro’s unwavering determination, Nami’s calculating mind—all paint a vibrant picture against the backdrop of the vast ocean. Amidst the chaos and camaraderie, I can’t help but feel a sense of detachment, a solitary island amidst the bustling sea. My fatigue persists, a constant companion whose origin remains an enigma.

Luffy, with his endless curiosity and knack for noticing the smallest details, seems to pick up on my weariness before I even acknowledge it. He catches me dozing off during our travels, his wide grin turning into a puzzled expression.

"Hey, Y/N! Are you okay?" His voice, filled with genuine concern, cuts through the hustle and bustle of our adventurous escapades.

I nod, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just a bit tired. It's nothing, really.”

Luffy's concern persists, evident in the furrow of his brows as he gazes at me with unwavering attention. His wide, innocent eyes betray his curiosity, searching for answers that even I can't provide. "You sure?" He asks, his voice tinged with a childlike sincerity that tugs at my heartstrings.

Luffy’s concern, like an unwavering beacon of warmth, persists despite my feeble attempts to brush off my weariness. He shifts closer, his arms encircling me in an unexpected but comforting embrace from behind. His embrace is gentle yet reassuring, as if he could shield me from the exhaustion I can't shake. I can't help but chuckle softly at the suddenness of his affection, feeling a sense of ease washing over me as I lean back slightly, finding an unexpected comfort in his embrace. The weariness that had been pulling me down seems to dissipate for a moment, the warmth of his care a soothing balm to my tired soul.

But even amidst this comfort, Luffy’s intuition remains unyielding. His embrace lingers just a moment longer, his gaze still searching for answers, as if he could decipher the unspoken truths hidden behind my worn-out facade. His childlike sincerity tugs at my heart, urging me to share what I can't quite articulate.

"I'll be fine, Luffy," I say softly, trying to reassure both him and myself, though doubt niggles at the edges of my words. His concern is a testament to his unwavering loyalty and care, a reflection of the bonds we share as a crew.

Despite my attempts at reassurance, Luffy's gaze holds a depth of understanding that transcends words. He doesn't press further, but the lingering concern in his eyes speaks volumes, a silent promise to stand by me, no matter what uncertainties lie ahead. And as we carry on with our adventures, I find solace in the unspoken support of a friend who seeks to understand even the mysteries hidden beneath a worn-out smile.

His wide eyes dart between mine, a silent conversation unfolding, his desire to understand evident in the furrow of his brows. And with that unspoken exchange, he reluctantly accepts my explanation, bounding off with a promise to resume our adventure. He heads off in the direction of Nami and Robin who are talking quietly, asking them something that has them squealing and gushing over something and the three begin tot talk animatedly but too far away for me to hear.

It doesn’t take long for me to find out as Luffy’s is calling for my attention, “Hey, Y/N!” His voice is tinged with excitement. His finger points at something I hadn’t even noticed,— my slightly protruding belly, a subtle change that had slipped under my own radar as I just thought I had put on weight from the feasts Luffy makes Sanji make for us, “I think you’re gonna have a baby!” His exclamation echoes across the deck, his unfiltered joy a testament to his unique perspective on life.

The crew halts, their expressions ranging from astonishment to joyous disbelief. I stand frozen, stunned by Luffy’s innocent declaration, a revelation that I had yet to fathom. In the moment that follows Luffy’s proclamation, a bewildering realisation sweeps over me. His words—“you’re gonna have a baby”—linger in the air, and as the crew's astonished gazes shift between us, it finally dawns on Luffy that he's not just declaring my news; he's announcing his own impending fatherhood.

His wide eyes widen further, mirroring the astonishment painted across the faces of our crewmates. And then, in a flash of comprehension, a radiant grin spreads across Luffy's face, an uncontainable joy that sparks a cascade of laughter. "Wait, wait, wait! We're having a baby?!" His voice rings out, his expression a mix of disbelief and unadulterated happiness.

Without another thought, Luffy bounds over to me, his infectious laughter filling the air. He scoops me up in his arms, spinning us both around in a whirlwind of uncontainable joy. Laughter erupts from him, a symphony of excitement and wonder as he revels in the revelation. "We're having a baby!" His exclamation echoes across the deck, a declaration that marks the beginning of a new, unforeseen chapter in our adventures.

The crew, initially stunned by Luffy's proclamation, now erupts into cheers and congratulatory exclamations, their astonishment giving way to celebration. Amidst the whirlwind of laughter and cheers, Luffy's sheer delight becomes infectious, melting away any lingering shock. And as he continues to spin us both around, his joy becomes mine, intertwining our destinies in this unexpected, thrilling journey toward parenthood.

Y/N's POV

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the Thousand Sunny. It's a peaceful afternoon, the gentle sway of the ship lulling me into a sense of tranquility amid our bustling adventures. Zoro, the swordsman of unwavering determination, has always possessed an uncanny ability to notice the subtlest of changes. Today, however, would mark the day he’d discern a change within me that I hadn't yet comprehended.

I find myself sitting at the ship's bow, the soothing melody of the waves a comforting companion as I stare out into the horizon. The day had started like any other, yet a lingering unease gnaws at the edges of my thoughts, a sense of unfamiliarity that dances just beyond reach.

Zoro’s presence, like a shadow eternally by my side, draws closer. He settles nearby, his stoic gaze fixed on the horizon. "Something on your mind?" His voice, gruff yet tinged with a subtle concern, pierces the calm.

I shake my head, trying to dismiss the disquiet that has nestled itself within me. "Just thinking," I reply with a forced smile, hoping to brush off the weight of my contemplation.

But Zoro, with his unwavering perceptiveness, doesn’t seem convinced. He turns slightly towards me, his gaze assessing, as if trying to decipher the unspoken layers of my thoughts. His eyes, a testament to his keen observation, seem to search for answers that even I'm not yet ready to acknowledge.

As the day stretches into twilight, I notice Zoro's observations becoming more pronounced. He notices the slightest changes—a subtle fatigue in my stance during practice, a hesitancy in my movements that betray a newfound caution.

"Training not going as planned?" he asks casually, a hint of curiosity laced in his words.

I chuckle softly, attempting to mask the undercurrent of uncertainty. "Just feeling a bit off today, I guess."

Under the tangerine hues of the evening sky, Zoro’s scrutiny becomes more palpable. Each swing of my practice sword seems to carry an unusual weight, my movements betraying a faltering rhythm I can't seem to shake. Zoro, a steadfast presence beside me, doesn’t miss a beat. His intense focus during our training sessions amplifies, his watchful gaze tracking every subtle shift in my stance, every hesitancy that sneaks into my strikes.

“Having trouble finding your footing?” His question, tossed casually into the air, holds a knowing undertone that catches me off guard. I offer a fleeting smile, a feeble attempt to cloak the turmoil brewing beneath the surface but I wave off his concerns.

But Zoro, with his uncanny ability to read between the lines, doesn’t let the matter slide. His observant nature persists, his inquiries wrapped in the guise of casual conversation, yet laden with an unwavering determination to unravel the mystery veiled within my uncharacteristic unease. As the sun begins its descent, casting shadows that dance across the ship’s deck, Zoro’s gaze lingers, a silent sentinel amidst the encroaching dusk. His dedication to noticing the subtleties, the nuances that escape ordinary observation, serves as an unspoken reassurance in the face of my growing uncertainty.

The day had settled into a tranquil calmness, the colours of the sky merging into a breathtaking canvas of oranges and purples as the sun dipped toward the horizon. Zoro's concern had become a constant companion, a silent understanding that had evolved beyond mere words.

"Feeling better?" He asks one day, his voice holding a touch of solemnity that catches me off guard.

I hesitate, feeling the weight of his gaze. "Not quite myself, to be honest," I admit reluctantly, feeling a sense of relief in sharing even a fraction of my uncertainty.

Zoro’s expression softens imperceptibly, a rare gesture from the stoic swordsman. "If something's on your mind, you know you can talk about it, right?" His words, though simple, carry an unspoken promise of support.

I lean into his touch, finding an unexpected solace in his gesture. Resting my head on his sturdy shoulder, we both gaze out at the horizon, where the sun casts its final golden rays over the endless expanse of water.The tranquility of the moment envelops us, a sanctuary within the tumultuous uncertainty. Words become unnecessary as the serenity of the scene seems to bridge the unspoken gap between us. The weight of my worries feels a little lighter, shared in the unspoken language of companionship and understanding.

“I think I’m pregnant.” I mumble and Zoro's hand, which had been gently clasping mine, tightens slightly at my confession. His gaze, usually steady and composed, flickers with a blend of surprise and an emotion I can't quite place. For a fleeting moment, the tranquility of our shared moment is replaced by a charged energy—an anticipation that crackles between us. His grip on my hand relaxes, only to shift purposefully, cupping my chin with a tenderness that catches me off guard. His eyes, a storm of emotions, meet mine, and without a word, he pulls me closer, closing the distance between us with a possessive intensity.

In that instant, our lips meet in a fervent kiss, a silent affirmation of the unspoken dreams that had nestled in the depths of our shared future. His kiss is filled with a passionate reassurance, a promise of unwavering support and a newfound sense of purpose that we hadn't realised we were seeking.

As the golden hues of the setting sun paint the sky with their final strokes, our connection feels more profound than ever, transcending the unspoken barriers that once stood between us. The weight of my revelation seems to dissipate in the warmth of his embrace, replaced by an overwhelming sense of unity and anticipation for the journey ahead.

When our lips finally part, the tranquility of the moment returns, albeit tinged with an exhilarating sense of possibility. Zoro’s eyes, though still reflecting surprise, hold an unwavering determination—a silent vow that together, we will embrace this new chapter, our shared future now intertwined with the unexpected joy of impending parenthood.

Y/N's POV

The Red Force sails calmly across the cast expanse of the sea, the ship’s sturdy frame cutting through the gentle waves with a reassuring rhythm. Shanks, the legendary and enigmatic pirate, is as astute as he is charismatic. Little did I know, he would be the first to sense the subtle shifts within me that heralded a new chapter in our lives.

It begins with small gestures—a keen observation and a caring intervention—undetectable threats woven into the fabric of our daily interactions. Shanks, with his affable demeanour and keen intuition, notices the nuances I hadn’t yet recognised within myself.

One tranquil evening aboard the ship, I reach for a glass of wine, eager to unwind after a day of adventure. Shanks, however, intercepts the bottle before I can take a sip from it, “Not tonight.” He murmurs with a gentle smile, his gaze filled with a knowing reassurance.

Confusion clouds my features for a fleeting moment, but Shanks’ unwavering resolve speaks volumes. He offers no explanation, but his subtle gesture carries an unspoken wisdom that halts me in my tracks. A realisation flickers within me—an inkling that there might be more to Shanks’ intervention than meets the eye.

As my hand instinctively reaches for the bottle once more, Shanks, with a graceful and deliberate motion, holds it just out of my grasp. His other arm, strong and reassuring, encircles my waist, drawing me closer until I’m pressed against him, our closeness enveloped by the gentle sway of the ship. Before I can voice my confusion or protest, Shanks silences any questions with a tender yet fervent kiss. His lips, a whisper against mine, convey a message that words couldn’t encapsulate—an unspoken reassurance, a depth of understanding that transcends any explanation.

Caught off guard by the unexpected intimacy of the moment, my initial confusion dissipates in the warmth of his embrace. There’s an inexplicable comfort in the way he holds me, in the way his lips mold against mine, as if he’s communicating a profound truth without uttering a single word. In that fleeting moment, amidst the whispers of the ocean breeze and the lull of the ship, I sense the depth of Shanks’ concern—a concern that goes beyond a simple denial of wine. His actions, though unconventional, carry an unspoken promise of protection, a silent vow to shield me from something I hadn’t yet comprehended.

As the tender moment lingers, Shanks whispers against my skin, his warm breath sending a shiver down my spine. "Be a good girl and stick to water tonight," he murmurs, his voice laced with a mixture of playfulness and genuine concern. His words carry a cryptic weight, an allusion to something I've yet to fathom. His nose nuzzles against the curve of my neck, a gesture that feels both protective and intimate. "Don't want to hurt our prodigy," he adds, his tone hinting at a revelation that eludes my understanding.

Confusion and curiosity dance within me as Shanks kisses my jaw once more before releasing me. He walks away, the bottle of wine in hand, leaving me to decipher the enigmatic puzzle he has laid out. His cryptic words linger in the air, stirring a flurry of thoughts and emotions. "Hurt our prodigy?" I mull over the phrase, trying to unravel its meaning amidst the waves of uncertainty that crash within me.

The realisation dawns gradually—a glimmer of understanding emerging from the depths of my contemplation. Shanks’ words, though veiled in ambiguity, carry a hidden truth—a truth that I'm hesitant to acknowledge but can't dismiss. Could it be? The notion takes root tentatively within my thoughts, an unspoken realisation that I might be carrying something precious, something that Shanks, with his astute intuition, has sensed long before I even considered the possibility.

In a whirlwind of emotions and burgeoning realisations, I sprint to Shanks’ private quarters aboard the ship. The air crackles with a blend of uncertainty and a burgeoning anticipation that propels me forward. Racing through the door, I almost tear my shirt off, desperation guiding my movements as I position myself before the mirror.

With an anxious breath, I angle myself sideways, my eyes searching for the slightest hint of change. There it is—a subtle curve, a gentle swell that hadn’t been there before. My hand hesitantly hovers over my stomach, tracing the faint outline, a tangible proof of the truth that begins to solidify in my mind.

Before I can fully grasp the enormity of the revelation, strong and familiar arms envelop me from behind, gently covering my hands that rest upon my stomach. Shanks, with a silent understanding that transcends words, rests his chin on my shoulder, a comforting presence in this whirlwind of emotions. Tears blur my vision, a mixture of disbelief and an overwhelming rush of emotions cascading through me. Shanks' quiet embrace, his unspoken support, serves as a grounding force amidst the storm of thoughts racing through my mind.

In the mirrored reflection, I glance at Shanks, my voice laden with uncertainty, "You're not upset?" His frown, reflected in the glass, catches me off guard, stirring a fresh wave of apprehension within me.

Shanks gently turns me around to face him, his expression softening into a gentle smile. "Upset? Y/N, I've never been more thrilled," he confesses, his voice a steady reassurance that eases the knot of worry in my chest. "I've wanted this with you, with all my heart.” His words, laden with sincerity and unwavering affection, wash over me like a soothing balm. In that tender moment, surrounded by the depth of his love and his longing for a future we hadn't anticipated, the flood of emotions begins to settle.

As I process his heartfelt confession, Shanks’ demeanour takes on a mischievous glint. "Now, why don’t you get undressed?" he suggests, his voice a playful tease, though his eyes burn with an intensity that stirs a different kind of heat within me.

Surprised by the sudden shift in tone, my cheeks flush crimson. "Shanks, I..." I stammer, momentarily taken aback by his unexpected boldness but then again it was Shanks. But before I can protest further, his lips capture mine in a fervent kiss, a passionate affirmation of his desire and unwavering affection. His hands trail down my sides, urging me gently to comply with his playful suggestion.

In that moment, amidst the emotions and revelations, a sense of exhilaration surges through me—a shared understanding that despite the unexpected turn of events, our love and passion for each other remain as fiery and unyielding as ever. And as we lose ourselves in the passionate embrace, the uncertainties and worries of impending parenthood momentarily fade into the background, replaced by an intense and intimate connection that binds us together in this newfound chapter of our lives.

Y/N's POV

The Thousand Sunny basks in the warm sunlight as a peaceful day unfolds on the seas. The tranquility is interrupted by the unexpected arrival of Dracule Mihawk, the enigmatic and formidable swordsman. His presence aboard our ship sends a ripple of curiosity among the crew, but for me, it's a moment of both surprise and delight.

I rush to meet him as he steps aboard the ship, his sharp gaze meeting mine with an inscrutable intensity. His usual stoic demeanour remains unchanged, but a subtle warmth flickers in his eyes as he greets me with a restrained nod.

“Mihawk.” I breathe, a mix of excitement and curiosity lacing my voice, “What brings you here?”

He inclines his head slightly, his tone softening imperceptibly, “I wished to see you, nothing more.” As he speaks, I feel a pang of discomfort building within me—a sudden wave of nausea that threatens to overwhelm me. I try to hide it, but Mihawk's perceptive nature doesn't let it slip by unnoticed. His brow furrows ever so slightly, a minute indication of concern. "Are you feeling unwell?" he inquires, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic gentleness.

I attempt to shrug it off, summoning a weak smile. "Just a passing thing, nothing to worry about.” But Mihawk, with his keen observation skills, remains unconvinced. His scrutiny intensifies as he observes me closely, a silent but unmistakable display of attentiveness. As the discomfort escalates, I find myself rushing to the ship's railing, a sudden urge to empty my stomach. The violent bout of vomiting catches both Mihawk and me off guard.

Concern etches itself onto Mihawk's otherwise impassive features as he moves closer, his hand resting lightly on my back. "This doesn’t seem like 'nothing,'" he observes, his voice tinged with a hint of worry.

I try to downplay it, despite the relentless churning in my stomach. "Just a bug, probably," I manage between strained breaths, attempting to mask the unease bubbling within me.

But Mihawk, with his unyielding intuition, sees through the facade. "It's more than that," he asserts, his gaze penetrating, seeking answers I'm not yet prepared to acknowledge. The silence between us is charged with unspoken questions, an undercurrent of concern that we both struggle to articulate. Despite my attempts to evade the truth, Mihawk's perceptive nature latches onto the possibility that eludes my own awareness. "Have you noticed any other changes?" His inquiry is gentle but direct, his unwavering gaze locking onto mine.

I hesitate, grappling with the enormity of what his question implies. "I... I'm not sure," I falter, the weight of his question sinking in.

Mihawk nods thoughtfully, his expression unreadable yet filled with a palpable sense of understanding. "Let's find out," he suggests, guiding me to a quiet corner of the ship where we can speak privately. The rest of the crew disappearing back downstairs to give us privacy as they can gage the seriousness of the conversation Mihawk and I need to have.

He sits on the bench and I go to join him, sitting next to him, but in one smooth move he pulls me onto his lap with a surprising ease. His arms wrap securely around my waist, ensuring I’m steady against the rhythmic movements of the vessel. His touch, though firm, carries a comforting assurance, ground me amidst the uncertainty that hangs in the air.

In the cocoon of his embrace, I feel a rush of emotions—vulnerability, anticipation, and a glimmer of hope intertwined. Mihawk’s presence, his unspoken support, is a reassuring beacon of amidst the tempest feelings swirling within me. He leans in closer, his voice a soft murmur against my ear, “We’ll figure this out.” His words, through simple, carry a weight of determination and a promise of solidarity that resonates deep within me.

With a steadying breath, I meet his gaze, finding an unexpected solace in the depths of his eyes. The unspoken understanding between us weaves an invisible bond, strengthening our resolve to face the unknown together. As the ship rocks gently with the ocean's sway, our private conversation unfolds—a candid exchange filled with a raw honesty that transcends words. Mihawk listens attentively, his silence a canvas for the emotions and uncertainties I pour out.

“I’ve missed my period Mi,” I tell him softly and Mihawk's demeanour remains composed, yet a subtle shift in his expression betrays a momentary pause, almost imperceptible to the untrained eye. His touch, tender and deliberate as he brushes a strand of hair away from my eyes, betrays the depth of his emotions, concealed beneath his stoic facade.

The weight of my revelation hangs between us, a pregnant silence punctuated only by the soft sounds of the ship slicing through the gentle waves. Mihawk’s eyes, usually enigmatic and inscrutable, now reflect a spectrum of emotions—concern, contemplation, and a hint of something deeper that I struggle to decipher. He exhales slowly, his gaze never leaving mine, the depths of his eyes a kaleidoscope of emotions. "I see," he responds softly, his voice steady but laced with an underlying current of consideration.

As the words linger in the air, a wave of apprehension washes over me, uncertain of how he'll receive this unforeseen revelation. But Mihawk, with his characteristic composure, offers a calm reassurance, a quiet strength that anchors me amidst the tempest of emotions.

“Mi?” I ask quietly, shakily playing with the tufts of hair at the back of his head, twirling them through my fingers and avoiding his gaze as he’s a warlord of the sea, he’s not going to want a child, let alone a child with me.

Mihawk’s hand, strong yet surprisingly gentle, intercepts mine, halting the nervous twirling of his hair. His touch redirects my attention, guiding my trembling fingers away from their anxious fidgeting. With deliberate intent, he lifts my chin, urging me to meet his gaze, his eyes unwavering as they lock onto mine, "Stop those thoughts," he commands, his voice firm but not harsh, resonating with an unspoken intensity. It's as if he can perceive the tumultuous whirlwind of doubts raging within me, and with his unwavering gaze, he attempts to quell the storm of insecurities that threaten to engulf me.

Before I can offer any protest, any further apprehensive whispers, his lips claim mine in a kiss that silences the racing thoughts in my mind. It's a kiss filled with a passion that defies the uncertainties, a kiss that speaks volumes of his unwavering affection and a desire to shield me from my own fears. As our lips meld in a fervent embrace, Mihawk's kiss becomes a testament to his commitment, a reassurance that transcends spoken words. In that moment, amid the tangle of emotions and swirling doubts, his lips become a lifeline, a beacon of certainty in the tumultuous sea of uncertainties.

The kiss lingers, a bridge between our unspoken fears and the unyielding depth of our connection. Mihawk's touch, his fervent kiss, convey a silent promise—a promise that echoes in the depths of my being, a promise that together, we will weather whatever storms lie ahead. As the kiss concludes, a serene tranquility settles within me, a newfound sense of assurance born from Mihawk's unwavering declaration through that intimate gesture. In the quiet aftermath, his gaze holds an unspoken understanding, a mutual acknowledgment that in each other's embrace, we'll find the strength to face the unforeseen challenges ahead.

After the kiss, a soft yet resolute glint flickers in Mihawk's eyes as he gazes at me. His hand cups my cheek tenderly, his touch conveying a depth of emotion that words struggle to articulate.

"Y/N," he begins, his voice a steady reassurance, "I want this. I want this child with you." His words, though measured, carry a weight of sincerity that resonates deeply within me, "You're not alone in this," he continues, his tone unwavering. "Whatever lies ahead, we'll face it together. I'm here, and I'm staying.”

The earnestness in his declaration pierces through my uncertainties, weaving a tapestry of assurance and commitment. His unwavering support, a promise anchored in his eyes and echoed in his words, becomes a beacon of hope amidst the labyrinth of doubts, "We'll navigate this, step by step," he assures, his voice a steadfast anchor in the tumultuous sea of uncertainties. "I'm with you every step of the way.”

In that poignant moment, Mihawk's unwavering commitment and steadfast reassurance carve a path forward—a path illuminated by the warmth of his unwavering support and our shared determination to embrace the unexpected journey that lies ahead.

One Piece Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

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brewed-pangolin · 4 months

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Captain Master Chef

OG Captain MacTavish x Fem Reader

18+ MDNI Sexual Themes

Captain Soap MacTavish is, contrary to popular belief, an absolutely amazing cook.

His mastery at the savory side of the culinary world is unlike anything you've ever experienced. For example, his take on Beef Wellington is bar none better than your mothers (you'll never tell her) and you'd be lying if you didn't fall head over heels in love with him the moment you took the first bite of his Haggis.

Even as he expands his cooking repertoire into more unfamiliar horizons, you're never left unsatisfied or turning up your nose to anything he manages to put on a plate.

"Oh my God, honey. This is delicious."

You praise with a quiet moan. Taste buds blissfully overwhelmed with the succulent flavor of rice, muscles, and saffron as the remaining accents of his newly mastered Paella dance their melody along the length of your tongue.

"Hm. Thank you, love. Quite proud of me self if I'm bein' honest."

You take another bite, eyes rolling back as the taste of the perfectly crusted and savory socarrat hits your tongue like an aromatic tsunami.

Your eyes linger on him, casting him a doey eyed stare that the Captain returns with his own distinctively confident gaze. Silence falling over you both as you take your time enjoying each other's company and savoring the masterful delicacy he so elegantly created.

Reluctantly, your eyes begin to shift. Turning towards the kitchen as you take in the absolute disaster that sits atop your granite counter tops and stove.

A quiet sigh escapes your lips, returning your gaze back to your Captain lover as he wipes his mouth with a flavor filled napkin.

"John, I love you. But goddamn, do you need to learn how to clean while you cook."

"What? It's not that bad, love."

"Not that bad? My kitchen's a disaster, John!"

Soap takes a long glance at the kitchen, surveying the damage before shifting his eyes up to the ceiling.

"Least there's no'a lobster on th'ceiling."

"Nothing will ever beat the lobster, John. That was truly a legendary experience."

"Yer mother didnae think so."

"Yeah. Because you threw the lobster at her!"

"The fuckin' thing pinched me!"

You exhaled an amused sigh, shaking your head with a smile that only he could pull to your lips.

"Thank God she had the pan in her hand, or I feel you'd have been excommunicated from any further family gatherings."

"Aye. Yer mother's got quite the swing, love. Better for me to stay on her good side, yeah?"

"I'd highly recommend so, John."

You gently scrape the last morsel into your mouth with an enamored and muffle moan. Wiping the corners of your lips as you take in one last look at the monstrosity that waits before you.

"Alright, honey. This mess isn't going to clean itself."

"No, it ain't, love. But I was cravin' a bit'a dessert before tacklin' that."

Your eyes narrow, brows knitting together while you shift your gaze over the counter tops for a sign of this hidden last course.

"What dessert? I don't see anything."

"M'lookin at it, sweetheart."

You pause. Rolling your eyes under heavy lids, you're met with the icy blue confidence within his stare that never seems to not have an amorous effect on you. Shifting in your seat to quell the ache already beginning to throb deep within your core.

"John MacTavish. You sneaky little bastard."

"Aye. I am. Now bring that sweet ass over here, lass. Yer Captain wants ta taste ya."

Your body then moved on its own accord. Easily snared into his hungry gaze and rolling timbre like a moth to a flame. The languid come hither of his fingers making your legs weak and breath quicken as you slowly sauntered over to your illustrious Captain.

The kitchen remained untouched the remainder of the night. Left in a culinary mess and disarray as Soap MacTavish feasted on your sweet nectar and filled the need to have your silken walls wrapped around his stiffened cock.

The dishes could wait. Your Captain would not. And you'd be daft if you ever denied Soap MacTavish what he wanted when you treated him so graciously to a feast that only you could provide.

Captain MacTavish Masterlist

@deadbranch @sofasoap @d3athtr4psworld @glitterypirateduck @homicidal-slvt @astraluminaaa @shotmrmiller @obligatoryghoststare @mykneeshurt @jynxmirage @writeforfandoms @simpingoverquestionablemen @thetrashpossum @haurasha @luismickydees @kkaaaagt

#Soft!Soap™️#Soap Squad™️#Captain Master Chef #the brainrot of Captain MacTavish #captain soap drabble #OG Soap #Captain MacTavish #Captain Soap MacTavish #mw2 Soap #john mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #captain soap x you #captain soap x reader #call of duty #cod

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sotwk · 10 months

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Food and Agriculture in Thranduil's Kingdom

It's unfortunate that Thorin's Company was welcomed as dinner guests in Rivendell but imprisoned as invaders in Mirkwood. Had Thorin just shown King Thranduil just a little bit more respect, they could have been fed a whole lot better by the Silvans. And there would most definitely have been meat!

While the Rivendell elves seem to lean vegetarian, and Lothlorien's culinary specialty is the "one bite" lembas, the elves of Greenwood know more than a thing or two about indulgent feasting. These elves consider themselves permanent residents of their land, and with that outlook comes an attitude of celebrating Middle-earth's bounties.

The Silvans of the Woodland Realm have always been fond of feasting, merry-making, and community and family traditions centered around food. Furthermore, they are ruled by a King and royal family who whole-heartedly support this culture, participate in it themselves, and encourage trade that allows the realm to access food from other lands.

When it comes to food, the Greenwood elves are actually more alike Dwarves and Hobbits than they are the lofty High Elves.

Below the cut are SotWK headcanons regarding Food and Agriculture in the Woodland Realm:

Food, Cuisine, and Agriculture in the Woodland Realm

Prior to the establishment of the Woodland Realm and in the early reign of King Oropher (c. SA 700), the Silvan Elves populating Greenwood lived in smaller communities spread throughout the vast forest, but predominantly in the southwest, closer to their kin in Lorinand. Limited subsistence farming was practiced by a few, but by far most food at this time was obtained through hunting and gathering. The rich and bountiful Greenwood had always provided more than enough resources for its dwellers.

GATHERING

Greenwood Elves happily spend most of their immortal lives within Eryn Galen and the lands of Rhovanion, so they are accustomed to living off solely what the forest produces, and their diet is influenced largely by it.

The most commonly foraged edibles are:

Nuts: hazelnut, pecan, walnut, hickory, beechnut, chestnut

Fruit: plum, apple, grape, persimmon

Berries: mulberry, blackberry, currant, elderberry, raspberry

Wild garlic and ramps

Fungi: mushrooms and truffles of many varieties

Eggs: from various wild birds

Herbs and Spices: fennel, corn mint, dandelions, ground elder, pigweed, cicely, sorrel, hogweed, stinging nettle, watercress, wild carrot, rowan, wood avens, sneezewort

Maple: sourced for sugar and syrup

There are also hundreds of plant species native only to Greenwood and Rhovanion that are valued for their uses in healing. However, the Silvan herbalists of Greenwood are usually the only ones able to effectively extract the curative properties of these plants, indicating a connection between Elves and homeland may be necessary for the healing to work.

Art from Fantasy Flight Games

HUNTING

Greenwood Elves are expert hunters and trackers, with unparalleled mastery within their forest and the lands that surround its borders. With careful consideration and instinctual knowledge of the forest ecosystem, they select their prey according to what's most populous, and rotate as necessary to balance out conservation levels.

Among the animals they hunt regularly for meat consumption are rabbit, squirrel, duck, turkey, quail, weasel, racoon, boar, deer, wild oxen, and elk. On rare or special occasions, they hunt less common game such as lion and bear. They also obtain fish and freshwater mussels, clams, and snails from the Forest River and various streams.

It is illegal in Greenwood to hunt or kill specific animals that are declared a protected species, including the King's Elk (the breed of Thranduil's war elk), the silverwolf, and all species of eagle or falcon.

Any fauna or fauna may also be temporarily decreed off-limits for hunting or gathering, by order of the Elvenking and his council.

Any animal taken in as an elf's pet or familiar may also not be killed, so long as it has been properly tamed and does not pose a risk to others.

Throughout the Second Age, the Woodland Realm's population steadily increased under the wise rule of King Oropher and his court. As the communities and villages that made up the kingdom grew larger and more numerous, the practice of agriculture became more widespread to bolster the realm's food supply.

In the Woodland Realm, farming would always remain secondary to hunting and gathering due to the preference of Silvans for wild game and native vegetation. Farmed products serve primarily to enhance cuisine, supplement large feasts, provide reserves in case of war or famine, and as goods for trade with other realms.

FARMING and LIVESTOCK

Tracts of community farmlands were gradually cultivated in the arable fields between Greenwood's western borders (near the capital of Amon Lanc) and the Anduin River.

In order of output, the food crops most commonly grown are: wheat, barley, oats, potatoes, carrots, tomatoes, lettuce, peppers, and peas.

Fiber crops grown for cloth, paper, and rope include: flax, hemp, and cotton.

Domesticated animals are raised in small numbers solely for their by-products and not their meat. In order of importance, livestock that are raised are:

Sheep: source of wool and milk

Chickens: source of eggs

Cows: source of milk and for birthing calves

Animals raised for labor include:

Horses: highly valued and raised exclusively for transport and mounted cavalry

Oxen: used as beasts of burden (large-scale/community work)

Donkeys: used as beasts of burden (small-scale/family work)

When Prince Thranduil built his own palace of Bar Lasgalen just south of the Old Forest Road (which would later become the new capital upon his ascension to the throne), he helped the Silvans residing in the valleys of the Emyn Duir to initiate small-scale agriculture, which encouraged further migration into that area and northward towards the Grey Mountains.

Elvish historians refer to the first millennium of the Third Age as the "Golden Age of the Woodland Realm". During these years, the kingdom enjoyed an unbroken peace under a wise King and Queen who also had five sons actively involved in the governance of the realm.

Departing from his father's more isolationist leanings, Thranduil encouraged trade with realms across Middle-earth. It included all the races except for Hobbits, since the Shire did not yet exist prior to the darkening of Greenwood.

Sadly, most trade came to a stop by the end of the Third Age, with the exception of the nearby Dale, due to the struggles with Dol Guldur. However, after Erebor was reestablished by King Thorin, trade gradually resumed with the Dwarves. After the War of the Ring and the Cleansing of Dol Guldur, Eryn Lasgalen once again thrived with renewed relations with their trade partners--finally including the Shire!

AGRICULTURAL TRADE

The Woodland Realm's three most valuable exported agricultural products are:

Rare spices

Mushrooms and truffles

Medicinal herbs (extremely valuable but highly controlled to prevent misuse)

Imported goods are considered luxuries and not necessities, and are brought in seasonally for community feasts and celebrations (of which there are many). Everything is meant for the consumption of all the kingdom's citizens, regardless of status; there is never anything reserved as "special" for the royals or nobles.

The top agricultural imports, usually from realms/communities of Men, are:

Wine

Textiles (silk, cotton)

Seafood

Sugar

Cheeses

ARTISAN COOKS and BAKERS

Exposure to outside realms and cultures also resulted in an expansion of the culinary arts within Thranduil's kingdom. Cooking and baking became full-blown, respected and sought-after professions instead of tasks done within individual households. With the King's support, talented Elves were sent to other realms to learn their culinary practices; chefs from other kingdoms were invited to Greenwood as royal guests to do the same.

A few culinary feats and innovations the Woodland Elves became known for:

Use of offal (innards) in recipes that actually taste fantastic, thanks to seasonings and skilled cookery

Using literally every single part of a butchered animal with zero waste

Aphrodisiacs in common food recipes, using plant ingredients (partly responsible for their marriage and birth rates and large families)

Salted game meat (jerky) that is highly nourishing and excellent for travel; essentially a meat version of lembas

The use of whipped egg whites to make essentially a type of meringue--which opened up an entire category of desserts that became staples at feasts

Bonus Fun Headcanons! (as a thank you for reading this far)

Mealtimes in Thranduil's Family

No one can beat Ada in drinking contests, ever; it has been attempted hundreds of times--usually with Dorwinion wine--and Thranduil has never been dethroned by his sons.

The King and every single one of the Princes are all heavy eaters, and everyone, including the Queen, eats meat.

While they all observe formal manners at the table, the Princes can get rowdy when not in the presence of their mother--especially when there's drinking involved. (Not quite as bad as Thorin's Company, but close.)

Breakfast: Taken individually in their own rooms, according to each one's schedule/leisure

Lunch: The most commonly skipped meal; usually taken "on the go", and oftentimes with people outside of the family (e.g. business lunches, lunch with friends)

Dinner: The family meal. Everyone is expected to sit down and eat dinner with the rest of the family, unless traveling or there is a prior commitment that takes precedence.

Random Fun Food Facts with the Thranduilions

The Princes regularly compete to see who can eat the most exotic/"disgusting" food items. Turhir remains champion at this (able and willing to eat literally everything), with Legolas frequently trying (and constantly failing) to unseat him.

They have also competed to see who can eat the riskiest (aka poisonous) food items. Arvellas has somehow proven to be the most impervious to natural poisons, much to Gelir's frustration.

Legolas can go the longest without eating food, but no one really cares to try to beat his record.

Mirion is the heaviest eater, but is also the fastest, and because he has flawless table manners no one really notices.

Gelir can find truffles just using his sense of smell--yes, like a truffle pig. He has successfully trained other similarly gifted Elves to do the same.

For more Thranduil/Mirkwood headcanons: SotWK HC Masterlist

Tolkien Headcanon tag list: @quickslvxr @laneynoir @auttumnsayshi @achromaticerebus @tamryniel @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @blueberryrock @aduialel @glassgulls @ladyweaslette @klytemnestra13 @creativity-of-death @heilith @fizzyxcustard @absentmindeduniverse @lathalea @tamurilofrivendell @jordie-your-local-halfling @ladyk8tie @scyllas-revenge @asianbutnotjapanese @conversacomsmaug @lemonivall @ratsys @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @entishramblings @stormchaser819 @freshalmondpandadonut

#sotwk headcanon #thranduil #thranduil headcanon #legolas #mirkwood #mirkwood elves #the elvenking #the hobbit #lord of the rings #tolkien #tolkien headcanons

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superiorsturgeon · 9 months

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When Dad’s Not Home

Pyrrha: *in her spear-patterned apron* Here you go! One of your mom’s favorites!

Arkos Kid #1: Thanks mom, but uh…

Arkos Kid #2: …what is it?

Pyrrha: It’s organic oatmeal, softened overnight with yogurt and some vanilla protein powder for a little extra flavor and to promote strong muscles! 😉

Pyrrha: I call it…Prot-meal! 😁

Arkos Kid #1: *whispering* How long until dad gets back from his mission? I’m not sure how much longer I can eat mom’s cooking…😰

Arkos Kid #2: *whispering back* Another week at least…!

Pyrrha: *grinning proudly at her mastery of the culinary arts* 😁

#rwby #pyrrha nikos #arkos #jaune x pyrrha #jaune arc x pyrrha nikos #rwbabies #I’ve made this exact recipe before and nobody except me found the name funny #Pyrrha’s go-to is health food and protein drinks

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cece693 · 29 days

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Monster in the Making (Will Graham x Male! Lecter)

Hey :) I know I haven't uploaded much, but life has gotten in the way. So, to jump back into writing, I've decided to write something about my favorite murder husband, Will. What was meant to be something short turned into (possibly) my longest post yet.

Summary: The Lecter siblings were obsessed with Will Graham but for entirely different reasons. While Hannibal wanted to deconstruct the puzzle that was the detective, M/N wanted Will to be his.

tags: jealousy, possessiveness, m/n being a little shit, Will indulges him, why can't they just talk it out like normal adults, oh yeah 'cause one's a murderer in the making and the other is related to Hannibal :)

M/N Lecter was a mirror image of his elder brother, Hannibal: with sophisticated tastes and an appetite for human meat, it was their façades that set them apart. While both inherited a charisma unlike any other, it was M/N Lecter whose mask never slipped off. Unlike Hannibal who instilled an unconscious fear in people with his dominating and blunt persona, M/N preferred to play the role of the unsuspecting innocent.

He derived pleasure from allowing others to spin their own webs of deceit, all the while believing they had any significance in his life. Whether they be lovers, friends, or colleagues, no one was immune to his subtle influence. His manipulations were veiled behind gentle words and tender gestures, a feigned desire to enrich their lives until they found themselves isolated and reliant solely on M/N. This artful deception ensnared all whom M/N cast his gaze upon, until the arrival of Will Graham.

A detective with a peculiar gift that Hannibal simply dubbed ‘pure empathy’, Will immediately knew something was wrong with the Lecter siblings. His dark, almost onyx eyes perceived the monsters both Hannibal and M/N were, yet (he hated himself for saying this) there was a complexity to their darkness that intrigued him. So, despite the warning bells ringing in his mind, Will couldn’t help but be drawn to the siblings. Hannibal wanted to bring out Will’s own dark side, seeing a capable partner in the man who cloaked himself with a ruse of normality. But for M/N, he simply desired the man.

He couldn’t explain what about Will attracted him, but for the first time, M/N felt drawn to another being. He wanted to own the detective—his mind, heart, body. It was a puzzling revelation that M/N could even feel these things for another being.

"I assume you're pleased with my surprise," Hannibal whispered to M/N as the familiar sight of the detective's car pulled into their driveway. The siblings had decided to host another dinner party, though with M/N's hectic schedule, the majority of the preparations fell upon Hannibal. This entailed cooking, setting the table, and sending out invitations—invitations M/N was not permitted to see.

M/N should have anticipated that Hannibal was scheming something, but he never imagined this. Developing feelings for the detective was one thing, but inviting Will into their home—a place that would undoubtedly unsettle the detective—angered him.

M/N couldn't pinpoint when his desire to possess Will shifted into protectiveness, but it was too late now. Hannibal had retreated to the kitchen, likely to evade M/N's impending wrath, leaving him alone to greet their newest guest. Slipping into character, M/N forced a smile as the detective's figure hesitated at the open door. "Mr. Graham." M/N greeted, his voice warm and friendly. "It's good to see you. Please, come in."

Will's gaze flickered from M/N to the grand interior of the Lecter residence, taking in the opulent furnishings and the faint aroma of culinary mastery wafting from the kitchen. Despite his reservations, there was a reluctant curiosity in his expression. "Thank you." Will replied, his tone guarded yet polite as he crossed the threshold. "I must admit, I didn't expect an invitation." And why would the Lecters invite him? Will was hardly good company, always managing to unsettle people with his personality.

Catching the subtle self-deprecation in Will’s words, M/N frowned. “Why wouldn’t we invite you, Mr. Graham? I find your company quite pleasant.”

Internally, M/N couldn't help but smirk at the reaction of his detective—the rosy hue that enveloped the tips of Will's ears, and the subtle shift in his demeanor as he lowered his head, avoiding M/N's gaze. M/N couldn't quite discern if Will was simply oblivious to his flirting or intentionally ignoring it, but either way, it stirred something inside him to see the effect he had on the guarded detective.

Not wanting to further embarrass the man, M/N turned on his heel and began guiding Will further into the house, towards the dining room where the rest of their guests were gathered. Some were engaged in lively conversations, their voices mingling in the air, while others took in the opulent surroundings, their eyes roaming over the intricate decorations and paintings adorning the walls.

M/N felt a surge of pride at the sight of the meticulously arranged table, adorned with fine china and gleaming silverware. The aroma of Hannibal's culinary creations wafted through the air, tantalizing the senses and adding to the air of anticipation that hung over the room.

"Please, make yourself comfortable." M/N told Will with a reassuring smile. “Dinner will be served shortly." Leaving the detective was the last thing M/N wanted to do, but he knew he had to fulfill his duties as a co-host and mingle with their other guests. With a lingering glance at Will, M/N reluctantly excused himself, promising to return shortly.

Watching M/N walk away, Will was taken aback by the unexpected pang of disappointment that washed over him. He knew M/N couldn’t stay by his side all night long, but a part of Will hoped he would. He and M/N had been playing a game as of late; one Will had been initially taken aback by but had quickly returned. Flirting—subtle, yet charged with an unspoken tension that seemed to crackle between them whenever they were together.

M/N had a way of getting under his skin, of teasing out the darker, more dangerous parts of himself that Will hadn’t known he even possessed. In M/N's presence, Will felt alive in a way he hadn't in years, his senses heightened and his inhibitions loosened. M/N Lecter had become his downfall—hell, M/N was all Will thought about these days.

As he watched M/N mingle effortlessly with the other guests, a wave of conflicting emotions washed over him. Will knew he should stay away, that getting too close to M/N Lecter would only lead to trouble. And yet, the allure of the forbidden was too strong to ignore, drawing him inexorably closer to the flame.

As the evening wore on, Will found himself retreating into the shadows, avoiding interactions with the other guests. The lively chatter and laughter only served to amplify his own sense of isolation. He didn’t belong here; all he wanted was to return home and snuggle against the warm fur of his dogs. But just as Will debated the possibility of slipping away unnoticed, a sudden burst of laughter echoed from behind him, pulling him from his thoughts.

As if summoned, Will’s gaze landed on M/N, who stood across the room, his charming smile directed towards a striking woman. She was elegant and poised, with cascading waves of chestnut hair that framed her delicate features. Her blue eyes sparkled with laughter and interest as she leaned closer to M/N, her hand resting upon his arm as they continued conversing.

The attraction between them was evident—the way the woman pressed herself against M/N, with the man doing nothing to stop such indecent action. Will couldn't tear his eyes away, a knot of jealousy tightening in his chest at the sight of M/N's easy rapport with the woman.

It was irrational, Will knew. He had no claim over M/N; no right to feel possessive or jealous. And yet, as he watched them, Will couldn't shake the resentment and betrayal that coiled within him, a bitter reminder of his insecurities and desires. For a brief moment, Will entertained the dangerous thought of intervening, of inserting himself into their conversation and reclaiming M/N's attention for himself. But he quickly dismissed the idea, knowing it would only make him appear foolish and desperate.

But that’s exactly what M/N wanted. He craved to unravel the layers of Will Graham's complex psyche, delve into the darker corners of his mind, and explore the depths of his desires. M/N wanted to see this other, darker side of Will, to witness the raw passion and intensity that lay beneath his stoic exterior. So when their eyes met across the room, M/N couldn’t help but smirk as he turned back to the woman on his side.

Helen was beautiful, in a conventional sort of way, but something was lacking in her presence that failed to capture his interest. Her conversation was dull and predictable, devoid of the spark and intrigue that he craved. So even as his whole body wrenched when her hands settled on his forearm, M/N forced himself to maintain the facade of polite interest.

He couldn't help but contrast her with Will Graham, whose mere presence ignited a fire within him that he struggled to contain. Will was enigmatic and complex, a puzzle waiting to be solved, while Helen was little more than a passing distraction—a shallow attempt at filling the void that only Will could satisfy. And as he stole another glance across the room, M/N couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation. Jealousy and anger were swimming in the detective’s eyes; he only needed one final push so they could both indulge in what they desired.

The tension between them crackled like electricity, a palpable force that hung heavy in the air. Will's gaze bore into M/N's, filled with a mix of longing and frustration that mirrored his own. It was as if they were locked in a silent battle of wills, each daring the other to make the first move. But M/N was done playing games. He wanted Will, and he wanted him now. With a sly grin, he leaned in closer to Helen, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he murmured something in her ear. The effect was immediate. As Will stormed towards them, his eyes ablaze with fury, M/N felt a surge of satisfaction.

"Can we talk privately?” The detective hissed, not even sparing a glance at the woman.

“Of course.” M/N's response was measured and composed, his outward demeanor belying the inner excitement that churned beneath the surface. Sensing an opportunity to push the boundaries further, he delicately extricated himself from Helen's grasp and softly pressed his lips to her cheek.

“Please excuse us, darling.” He murmured, his voice like velvet, eliciting a blush from the woman and a frustrated huff from Will. Gesturing for the detective to follow, this exchange wasn’t missed by Hannibal, who smoothly redirected the attention of the other guests, allowing M/N and Will to slip away unnoticed.

The journey to M/N’s office was painful; in the sense that Will’s dark emotions only fueled M/N’s desire for the detective. With every step he took, M/N could feel Will’s presence like a blazing fire at his back, the heat of his breath sending shivers down his spine. Personal space seemed non-existent between them; with Will’s front nearly pressing against M/N’s back as they moved in lockstep. It took all of M/N's self-control to resist the urge to turn around and claim what he had long desired.

As they finally entered M/N's office, the weight of the locked door didn't escape Will's notice, but his focus was consumed by the fury pulsating through his veins. M/N's calm demeanor only served to stoke the flames of his anger further.

"What is it that you wished to speak of, Mr. Graham?" M/N's voice remained cool and collected, a stark contrast to the seething rage burning in Will's gaze. Allowing himself to be cornered against his desk, M/N maintained unwavering eye contact with the detective. Yet, despite the intensity of the situation, the corners of his lips turned upwards ever so slightly, mischief glimmering in his eyes.

Will's jaw clenched as he struggled to find the words, his chest heaving with pent-up emotion. "I want to know what you were doing with that woman," he finally managed to spit out, his voice low and charged with accusation.

M/N arched an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "And why does that matter to you?" he countered, his tone teasing yet tinged with a hint of challenge. His eyes held a gleam of amusement as he awaited Will's response; he might be pinned to his desk, but M/N still held the power. He was the one dictating what their encounter would result. Will’s expression softened, his features momentarily reflecting his more reserved nature. But then, to M/N’s surprise, a smirk ghosted across his face. "You're mine."

"Is that so?" M/N mused, "And what exactly does that entail, Detective Graham?"

Spurred by an unspoken desire, the detective's patience wore thin. Surging forward, Will captured M/N in a searing kiss, his hands finding a place on the other's hips to draw him closer. The kiss was electric, a fusion of pent-up longing and unspoken passion. At that moment, words became unnecessary as they surrendered to the heat of their mutual desire, lost in the intoxicating embrace of each other's lips.

M/N gripped Will’s curls, finding pleasure in hearing the sweet, husky moans the detective emitted. However, the need for air soon became undeniable, and with a deep, reluctant sigh, M/N drew away from the kiss. His chest heaved with the effort to regain his breath as he gazed into the detective's eyes once more. But instead of finding regret, as he had anticipated, M/N was surprised to see a glimmer of giddiness dancing in the depths of Will's gaze. Perhaps now it would be easier for the Lecter siblings to sway Will Graham into joining their murder family.

#x male reader #male reader #hannibal #nbc hannibal #hannibal lecter #will graham #slasher community #slasher fandom #jealousy

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donnabenevientosimpingzone · 3 months

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Could we get a little Beneviento sisters x reader fic please? A little treat

- simp anon

Ahaha I should change this blog to just Beneviento simping zone, I’ve made so many people love Bernadette and Claudia, and I’m so glad they’re getting so much love<3

How about a little dinner time with them?

Dinner time was always the highlight of the day. After a morning of waking up- watching all three of your girlfriends practically tripping over themselves to get to work and joining whichever you were scheduled to be with that day to the very end- coming home to that relief of spending time together as a family was always worth every bitter bead of sweat that rolled down your face. It also helped that cooking dinner together was a major love language for the Benevientos, and while you could never match up to their culinary mastery, you could help out.

This evening, though, you were standing aside while Donna attended to the stove and Claudia set the oven. Bernadette was expertly cutting sheets of pasta, and everyone seemed to be so in sync to the unspoken agreement that lasagna was for dinner. There seemed to be little room for you to lend a helping hand, however, that didn’t stop you from hovering around just in case.

“How was helping Bernadette in the garden today?” The question came from Donna’s lips as she passed by you, pausing just long enough to press her cheek into your shoulder like a cat marking her territory.

“Hot.” You replied without thinking, earning a loud snort from Claudia, reminding you of her gutter-mind. You roll your eyes despite the forming grin across your lips. “Temperature hot, Claudia.”

“Sure.” Claudia replies with a smirk after sticking out her tongue at you. She lets out a few snickers as you give her a wink, earning an audible sigh from the oldest sister. Bernadette shares a look with Donna as the youngest sister is cutting carrots to add to the vegetable stir-fry still in progress on the stove.

“They were wonderful help.” Bernadette states as she steps aside, letting Claudia take over layering the lasagna and putting it into the oven. Her hands find an abandoned hand towel, and the fingers hook on the fabric to wipe off whatever edible debris clung to their pores. “Got a little too distracted with the hose though.”

“To be fair, you were flexing.” You counter, earning a Cheshire smile from the oldest sister as she leans back on her elbows against the counter.

“I was using the wheelbarrow, dolcezza.”

A hot blush starts to form across your cheeks as the Italian rolls along Bernadette’s deep voice like melted metal in a mold. No matter how often the Benevientos spoke their mother tongue to you, it still had you rather frazzled hearing it every damn time.

“You didn’t drown the tulips, did you?” Donna’s voice breaks you out of it, and you frantically shake your head to deny the idea.

“No!” You chirp, your blush darkening now in embarrassment as the dollmaker quirks a brow at you. “I just- uh…”

“Lemme guess.” Claudia says, shutting the oven to emphasize her voice. “You made another pond in the middle of some random plot of dirt Bernadette was preparing to plant.”

Now your face is scolding, and you groan- hiding the hue in your hands- unable to escape the situation now. A round of endearing giggles go around the kitchen as the sisters coo at your adorable display, making it easy to accept your embarrassment and giggle, raising your head from the grasps of your fingers. It’s true that you weren’t as skilled as the sisters in their respective fields. Compared to them, you were decent at things, but knew a lot of skills- a bit of a jack-of-all-trades- but the trade-off was that you didn’t have astonishing knowledge in anything. Well, at least the things the Beneviento sisters were into.

Bernadette was the easiest to work with. You liked days with her a lot, even if it was going to be physically demanding. The oldest sister with her psychology background and job as a therapist meant that she almost always seemed to know what was spiraling in your head, with the patience of a thousand gods, and her choice words always made your chest burst with warmth and eyes explode with grateful tears. If the two of you weren’t labouring away in the gardens around the manor, you were venting your woes to each other somewhere in the forest.

Claudia was the next easiest to work with. She worked as the village doctor and was overflowing with altruism. She fortunately had the energy to match such a demanding job, and most of the time you were basically there to deliver supplies and check inventory, on rare occasions you would help with treatments. Due to the nature of her job, Claudia has a pretty no-bullshit attitude during work, which tends to give you whiplash compared to her silly personality at home. Just another quirky facet of her that you’ve fallen in love with over the years.

Unfortunately, as much as you simply adored spending time with Donna, you were pretty useless when it came to helping her make dolls. Much of the time you were there to parallel work together, or to keep Angie entertained. Nevertheless, the system you both figured out is one that you look forward to each time, and if things get done sooner… well-

“Hey.” Claudia’s voice snaps you out of your wandering thoughts, and you blink back to reality to see her waving a hand in your face. “Back to Earth, idiota.”

She snaps her fingers at you, throwing her arm in various directions as she does so, making you laugh.

“Okay, okay! Back to Earth, I’m back to Earth-” You reassure, raising your hands in surrender as Claudia chuckles, flicking your forehead.

“I’m surprised the gravity can hold down your air head.” Claudia jests, giving your cheek a quick peck before slinking away down the halls. You watch her go, rubbing the spot where her lips graced your skin with a dreamy smile, turning your attention back to the other two.

Donna had finished her dish and was helping Bernadette set the table. The dollmaker gestures for you to sit down and begin eating while the lasagna cooks in the oven, and you happily stride over to the chair. Bernadette takes a seat across from you, sipping her tea while Donna pours your cup.

“Thank you, beautiful.” You praise, raising a hand to cup the dollmaker’s cheek. She leans into the touch with a smile, almost purring as she soaked in your affection like a sponge. The moment doesn’t last long, as Donna pulls away quickly to pour tea for herself, but little moments like that feel so much longer. They replay in your head often. Gosh her smile really did things to your brain chemistry.

The three of you begin treating the vegetable dish and cups of tea while making small talk. It starts with a simple discussion on what the plans were for tomorrow, and derailed into various other topics that somehow managed to come up. Sometimes Bernadette and Donna would exchange words in Italian, bits and pieces you’d recognize, but not enough to piece together what they were talking about. One time, Donna said something that made Bernadette laugh, and you laughed at Donna’s shocked expression. You had said something to affectionately tease her, and Donna stopped chewing her food to stare daggers at you. It would have been scary, if one of her cheeks wasn’t swollen with food like a little chipmunk, making you laugh harder.

The moment is broken when there’s a sudden loud crash in the distance. All conversation comes to a screeching halt as the thud echoes vaguely in the large manor. A moment of silence passes before a loud “DONNNNNNNNNNNNNNA!!” howls across the estate in Claudia’s voice. On cue, Donna sets down her tea and stands up from her chair- the back of her knees pushing it back with a sound of wood scraping on wood- flattening her dress with a brisk few brushes of her hands.

“I’ll be excusing myself.” She says with a huge, shit-eating grin, walking away with a fast clop-clop of her heeled boots.

You and Bernadette share smiles as there’s the sound of approaching footsteps, only a moment later with Claudia bursting into the kitchen, torso soaked.

“Where’d she go?!” The middle child demands, moving wet strands of hair out of her eyes.

“She excused herself.” Bernadette states while taking a sip of her tea. You reaffirm the statement with a nod of your head. Claudia growls and stomps through the room in the direction Donna disappeared down, plotting her prank to get back at the youngest sister.

Once all was silent again, Bernadette took another sip of tea.

“You got plans tonight?” She pipes up towards you, and you shake your head in response. “Donna was asking me if she could have time with you tonight, before you go with Claudia tomorrow.”

“Hm? Oh sure, what for?” You inquire, shoving vegetables in your mouth. You had begun chewing them until Bernadette gave you a sultry smile, causing your mastication to slow until it stopped, paralyzed and unable to swallow.

Now you know what it was. Earlier Bernadette had taken you against a tree when the two of you were supposed to be trimming bushes, and earlier than that Claudia had to do the laundry in the morning after she woke you up with choice placement of her hands.

Right as you were thinking about the evening with Donna, the oven beeps, and Bernadette brightens out of her darkened gaze to an almost child-like grin.

“Be a dear and fetch the others for dinner.” She says, and you’ve finally found the strength to swallow, nodding as you stand up and head in the direction the other two did earlier. You also make a mental note to find Angie, who must still be napping after being continuously interrupted by a “busy” night.

#ask #resident evil village #resident evil #donna beneviento #claudia beneviento #bernadette beneviento #donna x reader #claudia x reader #bernadette x reader #fanfic

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