#robin op | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inseobts · 4 days ago

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Clues Between the Lines

nico robin x fem!reader

on your first anniversary, you scramble to surprise nico robin with the perfect gift—but you make a disaster.

a/n: happy pride month, my sapphics ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊

words count: 3.6k

tags: established relationship, fluff, slice of life, first anniversary, soft teasing, subtle romance, light humor

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The day starts slow.

You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, fingers tapping on your chest. One week left. One week until your anniversary with Robin.

Your first one.

You groan into your pillow “What do I even get her?”

She has books. She has clothes. She likes quiet mornings, coffee, flowers sometimes… But nothing feels right. Not for your first year together.

You sit up, run a hand through your hair, and make a plan.

Subtle questions.

No suspicion.

Easy.

You find her in the library, sitting by the window. Her dark hair glows gold in the light. She’s reading, of course. Her eyes shift slowly across the page, calm and steady.

“Hey” you say, leaning against the doorframe.

She looks up and smiles “Good morning.”

“Whatcha reading?”

“A history of the West Blue. I’ve read it before.” She closes the book halfway, giving you her attention “Need something?”

“Nope” you say way too fast. Then you clear your throat “Just… curious.”

She tilts her head “About?”

You walk in slowly, sit in the chair across from her “Just thinking. If you could go anywhere right now—like, anywhere—where would it be?”

She blinks once. You swear you see a smile tug at the corner of her mouth “Hm. An island with warm springs, maybe. Somewhere quiet. With flowers. And a garden.”

You nod like it’s just a random conversation “Cool. Sounds peaceful.”

“It does,” she says, her voice soft “Why do you ask?”

You fake a shrug “Just wondering. Y’know. Getting to know you better.”

Robin rests her chin on her hand “After a whole year together?”

You freeze. Then laugh, awkward “Hey, people are deep. You’re deep. You never stop knowing people.”

She smiles wider “Is this an interrogation?”

“No” you lie.

She chuckles “Mm.”

Later that day, you try again.

You’re both in the kitchen. She’s slicing fruit. You’re pretending to look for a spoon.

“So, uh… what do you think about jewelry?” you ask, real casual.

Robin pauses “Depends on the piece.”

“Like, what kind?”

She doesn’t look at you. Just slices another strawberry “I like things with meaning. Stories behind them.”

You watch her fingers, so careful, so precise.

“Not too flashy,” she adds “And not gold. I prefer silver.”

You nod again “Cool, cool, good to know.”

She turns slightly, eyes twinkling “Still just ‘getting to know me’, right?”

You grin sheepishly “Exactly.”

That night, you find a pressed flower on your pillow.

A deep purple violet. Soft and dried, carefully placed.

You stare at it for a long moment.

Robin walks in behind you “Found that in the garden this morning.”

You hold it up “It’s pretty.”

She nods “They say violets mean loyalty and devotion. Fitting, don’t you think?”

You swallow “Yeah.”

Robin walks past you, her fingers brushing your hand “I’m sure whatever you’re not planning will be perfect.”

You groan “I’m being obvious, aren’t I?”

“Very.” She’s laughing now “But I like it.”

You make the mistake of walking into the kitchen during dinner prep. Steam, shouting, clanging. A dangerous place to be, especially when you’re about to ask for a favor.

Sanji spins around, chopping vegetables like it’s a sport. He sees you.

“You’re either lost or about to ruin my rhythm,” he says “Which is it?”

You hold your hands up “Peace offering.”

You reach into your pocket and pull out a folded napkin with a doodle of a cake on it “Actually, bribe.”

He frowns, wipes his hands on a towel “That better not be what I think it is.”

“I need a cake.”

He groans like you just insulted his entire bloodline “For who?”

You raise an eyebrow “You know for who.”

He sighs, dramatic “Why must I suffer for the love story of others? Especially when it doesn’t include me?”

“Because you love love, you love us.” you say, giving him your best puppy eyes “And because you’re the best chef and I trust you more than anything.”

Sanji pauses.

“…Okay, maybe not more than anything, but you’re up there.”

He rolls his eyes, but you can see the corners of his mouth twitching.

“You want me to make a cake for your anniversary with Robin.” He says it like it’s a crime.

You nod “It has to be pretty, but not too pretty. No gold or anything fake-fancy. Something natural. Maybe violets? She left one on my pillow. I think it’s a hint.”

He frowns in thought “Violet cake?”

“With berries, maybe? Something light. She’s not big on sweets.”

He taps his chin “Maybe something with lavender… lemon… I could make a violet jam glaze.”

You clasp your hands together like you’re praying “Please, Sanji. You’d be saving my life.”

He turns away like he’s deeply wounded “You two… celebrating your perfect little romance, while I—”

“Alone by the sea,” you say, joining his fake dramatics “A lonely prince in an apron.”

He glares at you “Mock me again and I’ll make it heart-shaped just to embarrass you.”

You blink “Wait, that actually sounds kinda cute.”

Sanji gags.

But after a second, he laughs and waves you off “Fine. I’ll do it. But you owe me.”

“Name it.”

He points a spoon at you “You let me read the card you write her.”

Your soul leaves your body “Absolutely not.”

He grins, walking back to his stove “Then no cake.”

“Fine!” You huff “You can read half of it.”

“Deal.”

Later that night, you see Robin reading again, quiet in her corner. You smile to yourself.

Step one: Cake? In progress.

Three days.

Three long days.

You ask everyone for help with the gift.

Franky? “How about a miniature model of the Sunny? Made of cola cans?”

Usopp? “Slingshot, but like… romantic.”

Zoro? “Give her a nap.”

Luffy? “MEAT! Wait, no, give it to me!”

You consider jumping off the ship.

You’re back in your room, hunched over your desk. The room smells like glue and metal polish. Your fingers are covered in tiny cuts and sparkly dust. Your back aches.

You’ve made four versions already. All in the trash bin.

None of them feel right.

None of them are her.

But you look at the pressed violet she gave you, still tucked safely in a book on your shelf. That little moment. That soft smile. You pick it up like it’s sacred.

And finally something clicks.

You work in secret. Every night. Every spare hour. No one comes in. No one disturbs.

But what you don’t know is that Robin sees everything.

She sees the glint of metal in your trash bin one morning, a broken chain, bits of purple glass.

She sees you bent over your desk, chewing your bottom lip, tongue poking out in focus.

She watches you test beads against the light, run your fingers along delicate silver wire, smooth out paper, carefully fold and seal a violet into a crystal-clear bookmark base.

And she says nothing. Not even when you prick your finger and hiss.

Not even when you mutter, “Stupid chain won’t stay…”

She just watches. Quiet. Soft-eyed. Heart full.

You finally finish it on the fifth try.

The bookmark is slim, clear, and delicate. The violet is perfectly preserved, pressed inside like it’s floating. The chain dangles from the top, silver, detailed, looped with small purple beads that match the flower. It shimmers when you turn it in the light.

You hold it up, breathless.

She’ll like this… right?

You hope so.

That night, you sit in bed and stare at the ceiling again.

Cake: check.

Gift: done.

Flowers: soon.

You don’t notice Robin peek into your room as she walks past. She sees the bookmark on your desk, wrapped gently in purple paper.

She smiles to herself.

She doesn’t need to ask anything.

She already knows.

You stare at the blank card for twenty minutes.

Just… stare.

Pen in hand. Brain? Gone.

You’ve fought sea monsters, survived storms, and once ate something Sanji warned you not to, but this tiny piece of folded paper has defeated you.

You sigh, put your head down on the table “This shouldn’t be so hard…”

Eventually, the words start coming.

Not all at once. Not easily.

But they come.

You write slow, careful.

Dear Robin,

I’ve rewritten this twenty times in my head, but none of it feels enough. You make things quiet when they’re loud. You make complicated things feel simple. You make me feel seen.

You’re the calm in the chaos. The reason I breathe a little softer. Smile a little easier.

Thank you for a whole year of knowing your laugh, your books, your voice, your warmth. I want more years. I want all of them.

And I hope this tiny gift tells you what my words can’t: I’m really, really in love with you.

— Yours.

You stare at it for a while. Then you tuck it in the envelope and slide it under the bookmark’s ribbon.

Your hands are shaking.

The next morning, you wake up early. Really early. Before Sanji’s even had coffee.

The ship has docked on a quiet little island, green hills, wildflowers, a few birds singing.

You peek over the rail. The shore’s empty.

Perfect.

You pull your bag tight, check your pockets, and RUN.

“WHAT THE—?!” Luffy jumps back, mouth full of toast.

“Why’s she sprinting like that?!” Usopp yells “She possessed or what?!”

Sanji leans over the railing, baffled “Oi! What the hell—?!”

You’re already halfway down the dock. Hair flying. Boots slapping wood.

Mission: Flowers has begun.

You have to get them now.

Before Robin sees you. Before she follows with that knowing look in her eyes.

She can’t know yet.

You dive into the trees, heart pounding.

Somewhere out here violets wait.

The flowers are beautiful.

You find them in a little clearing beyond the trees, tucked in the shade, wild and purple, just like the one Robin gave you. You kneel down gently, careful, careful, snipping them with the small scissors you stole from Chopper’s drawer.

You’re smiling.

This is it. The last piece.

You’ve done it.

And then Snap.

You hear it before you feel it.

Your ankle twists beneath you as you stand too fast on uneven roots. Your foot slips sideways, and you fall hard, pain flashing up your leg like fire.

“Shit—!” You grab your ankle, squeezing your eyes shut.

You’re alone.

You sit in the clearing for what feels like forever, trying to breathe through it.

The flowers rest gently in your lap, undamaged.

Of course they’re fine.

You try to stand.

Bad idea.

You nearly scream.

Then leaves rustle behind you.

“Oi!”

Zoro’s voice breaks through the trees like a sudden gust of wind.

You don’t even look up “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, sure you are,” he says, appearing in front of you “Sitting in the forest, holding flowers like a broken Disney princess.”

You glare “Shut up.”

He crouches down, eyes narrowing “What happened?”

“Twisted my ankle.”

He clicks his tongue “Idiot.”

“Helpful.”

He sighs, runs a hand through his hair, then without asking, slides one arm under your knees and the other behind your back.

“Wait, what— Zoro, don’t—”

“Too late.” He lifts you easily.

Your arms shoot out around his neck, flowers clutched tight in your hand “Bridal style? Seriously?”

“You wanna crawl back?”

“…Carry on.”

The journey back is… rough.

Zoro gets lost. Twice. And blames you.

“I told you it was left—”

“You pointed at a tree, Zoro!”

“They all look the same!”

By the time you make it out of the trees and back toward the dock, you’re exhausted, sweating, and the pain is making your eyes glassy.

But then you finally see the ship and the crowd waiting for you.

Luffy’s eyes go wide.

Sanji drops a ladle.

Usopp gasps like a telenovela character.

“She’s injured!”

“She’s DEAD!”

“She’s not dead!” Chopper yells, running down the ramp.

Robin is already moving.

She doesn’t run but she walks fast. Eyes sharp. Voice calm but urgent.

“What happened?” she says as soon as Zoro steps on deck.

“Twisted ankle, the idiot…” he says, like he’s annoyed for you.

Chopper is already at your leg, poking and inspecting. Robin crouches beside him, her hands hovering but not touching yet. Her face is unreadable.

But her eyes… you’ve never seen her eyes like this. Worried. Soft. Scared?

You feel a lump in your throat.

“I’m sorry…” you whisper, not really sure why.

Robin finally looks at you, really looks “What for?”

You hold out the bouquet of violets, now a little wilted from the heat and being pressed between your chest and Zoro’s arm.

“I ruined the surprise,” you mumble “And I made you worry. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

There’s a silence.

Robin’s hand moves gently to your cheek.

Her thumb brushes away a bit of dirt.

“You’re more important than a surprise” she says quietly.

You try not to cry. You fail.

It’s supposed to be your anniversary.

But instead of flowers and stolen kisses, you’re lying in bed, ankle wrapped, body aching, and heart sinking deeper by the minute.

You stare at the ceiling.

Blankly.

Silently.

The gift is wrapped on the nightstand. The bouquet’s in a cup beside it, petals still pretty but you can’t even look at them now without guilt curling in your chest.

You hear soft footsteps.

Robin appears in your doorway.

You try to smile. You fail.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice cracked “I ruined everything.”

She steps closer. Doesn’t speak yet.

“I had this whole plan,” you keep rambling, “and now I can’t even get up. I didn’t want you to have to take care of me today.”

Robin sits gently on the edge of the bed, her hand finding yours “You think I’d want anything else?”

You look away “It wasn’t supposed to go like this.”

She leans in, presses a kiss to your forehead.

Then she stands. Smooth, quiet, like she already knows something you don’t “I’ll be back soon.”

And just like that, she leaves you.

Still guilty.

Still stuck.

Still thinking about what should have been.

An hour later, you hear the door creak open again.

Robin enters with something in her hands.

And behind her Sanji. Arms full. Slightly sweating. Muttering to himself about “ungrateful romantics who don’t know how lucky they are.”

You sit up, confused, blinking.

Robin gives Sanji a small nod. He places two covered plates on your desk. She wheels the desk closer, lines it up perfectly to your bed.

Then she sets down a little folded cloth napkin.

“I asked Sanji to help me cook,” she says, as if it’s just a casual thing “Nothing complicated, but maybe it’s not what you imagined… Still romantic, isn’t it?” She smiles, tilting her head slightly “Just the two of us.”

You stare at her.

At the food. The soft candle she lit. The cloth she laid out with silverware. Two glasses of water with thin slices of lemon in them. Everything thoughtful. Everything gentle.

Your eyes sting already.

Robin settles in beside you, plate in front of her, legs crossed neatly on the side of your bed. She starts eating like this is normal. Like this is good.

And maybe… it is.

You take a bite. You laugh softly, “It’s warm.”

“Of course it is” she says, smiling.

After you finish, another knock, Sanji again.

This time he walks in with a familiar glass-covered tray.

“I, uh… thought you might want this after,” he mumbles “Even though you were busy—getting lost in the forest—injuring yourself—”

He reveals the cake with a dramatic flourish.

And you freeze.

The violet glaze. The soft pearls. The little sugared flower.

Exactly how you imagined it.

Exactly what you forgot.

Your brain can’t even catch up.

You cover your mouth and you cry.

Not loud. Not ugly.

Just quiet. Grateful. Trembling. Real.

Sanji blinks “I—I didn’t think it was that bad—”

“She’s just happy,” Robin says calmly, her eyes still on you. Like she knows every single thought in your head “And grateful.”

You nod hard, wiping your cheeks “Yes. That.”

Robin takes your hand under the table and you squeeze it.

Maybe it’s not the day you imagined.

But it’s yours.

And hers.

After the cake is eaten (well, half-eaten… Luffy tries to sneak the rest but Robin stops him with just one look), the room grows quiet again.

Robin’s still sitting close, one hand resting on your bed, her calm presence grounding you. Your cheeks are warm, your eyes still a little swollen from all the crying, but you feel lighter now. More sure. More ready.

Your heart is beating fast.

Because now comes the part you’ve been waiting and panicking for.

You reach over to your nightstand.

“I, um…” You hold out the wrapped bookmark and the little letter tucked under its ribbon “I know it’s not fancy. I messed up a lot before I got it right. But… I made this for you.”

Robin tilts her head, gently accepting the gift. Her fingers are soft, slow, unwrapping the paper like it’s something delicate. Like it matters.

She pulls out the bookmark.

The pressed violet, perfectly preserved. The slim silver chain, glinting with purple beads. Her eyes linger on the flower.

“This is the one I gave you” she says softly.

You nod “I kept it. I wanted to give it back… but not just as it was.”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment. Just looks at it, turning it in her fingers, eyes gentle.

Then she opens the letter.

You don’t breathe.

She reads it all. Word by word. No reaction on her face. Just silence. Until she looks up and meets your eyes.

And smiles.

That small, real smile. The one that reaches her eyes.

“I love it” she says.

And then, with the same care, she leans forward and kisses you. Slow. Warm. Like a promise.

After, she stands “I suppose it’s my turn now.”

You blink “Wait, you have something for me?”

“Of course.” She walks to the shelf by the door and picks up a small, thin box. It’s wrapped in dark blue paper, tied with a ribbon “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

She places it on your lap.

You unwrap it, slower now, heart racing again.

Inside: a book.

But not just any book.

Your breath catches.

The title is simple, your name.

You open it and realize what it is.

It’s a journal.

Written by her.

Memories. Notes. Moments.

The first time you made her laugh.

The time you fell asleep on her shoulder.

The flower you gave her.

The way you pout when you focus.

Pages of her handwriting, beautiful and smooth.

One page is a drawing. A pressed violet sketched in soft ink.

Another is a quote “I’ve studied many stories. But you’re my favorite one.”

You’re not even blinking anymore. You’re just staring, overwhelmed.

Robin’s voice is quiet beside you “I started writing it after our first few weeks together. I wanted to remember everything. Every small piece.”

You cover your mouth again.

“Too much?” she asks, teasing gently.

You shake your head, tears welling up all over again “No. It’s perfect.”

She smiles “Then it’s yours.”

You pull her into a hug, the book clutched to your chest.

Maybe you didn’t have the perfect day.

But she saw you, just like always, and gave you something only she could give.

Something that said: You matter. You’re loved. I remember everything.

You spent the day reading the journal together and reminding of your time together, as the sun starts to dip low, spilling golden light through the small window of your room.

The ship is quiet for once.

The others are giving you space, either because they’re thoughtful, or afraid of Robin’s Look.

The journal still rests in your lap, fingers brushing over the edge of the page where she wrote:

“You make the world feel softer.”

You look at her.

She’s beside you again, leaning back on one hand, watching the sky change color through the open door. That little smile plays on her lips, thoughtful, content.

“Robin...” you say softly.

She turns.

You reach out, fingers brushing her hand. You thread them together.

“You’re not just the best part of this day. You’re the best part of… everything.”

She laughs gently, tilting her head.

“You’ve gotten more poetic since I met you.”

You smile, cheeks warm “It’s your fault. You got me reading.”

She leans closer, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear “Maybe. But you’ve always had the words. You just didn’t know where to put them yet.”

Her hand stays on your cheek now.

And then, finally, you kiss her.

It’s slow. Soft. The kind of kiss that says everything without needing any more letters.

Her hand slides behind your neck, yours curls around her wrist. You tilt your head just slightly, and she meets you again, this time deeper. Warmer.