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theogonies · 1 year

Text

All Yours

prompt | yamato x f!reader + snow day

summary | yamato shows you a slice of life outside the walls of the flower capital.

word count | 2k

content warnings | reader is implied to be a geisha in orochi's court, some slightly suggestive conversation but nothing explicit

winter holiday event masterpost

You carry the note close to your chest all morning.

A thin slip of parchment tucked beneath the neckline of your hikizuri: meet me in the gardens this afternoon? I’ll make it worth your time.

It bore no signature, but it’s not hard for you to know who the sender was. Yamato’s hand, so careful and delicate, an endearing contrast to his sometimes-brutish appearance and temperament. He’s written you letters before, during periods when the shogun kept you too busy to slip away; always extensively wordy, his written language so much more refined and florid than when he speaks.

And yet, this little note is so short that it’s almost curt–a small mystery that’s left your heart thrumming with anticipation from the moment you found it, slipped beneath your door in the early hours of morning, to now.

The winter months always leave you hard at work, as the shogun buries himself in the warmth of sake and women. Yamato knows this, and you know that he would be understanding if you didn’t make it to your rendezvous. But as you can feel the paper, pressed warm against your bare skin as if it were Yamato’s own hand, you can hear the shogun’s lecherous laughter down the hall, and you know that whatever risks you may have to take to make it to the garden are worth it.

Thankfully, with the shogun already waist-deep in sake by noon, it isn’t difficult for you to excuse yourself under the pretense of fetching another bottle and slip away.

Your skirts trail through the snow as you pass down the twining paths of the garden, taking a bridge across the frozen creek to your usual meeting place: a bench beside the property’s walls, tucked safely out of view from the rest of the gardens. It’s surrounded by cherry trees, their branches now bare with winter but still enough to provide shelter from the snow.

Yamato is waiting for you there, hands fidgeting with a bundle of fabric on his lap.

“(Y/N)! You came!” he calls out as soon as he sees you.

Used to his unguarded enthusiasm and energy by now, you lift a finger to your lips, reminding him that you’re still supposed to be working, and he nods, flushing a little with embarrassment.

“Put these on,” he says, voice softening a bit as he holds the bundle out to you.

“What is it?” you ask as you inspect the fabric: quilted cotton, printed in a rippling pattern of pale blue and white.

Yamato’s fangs peek out from behind his lips when he smiles at you, his expression one of utter excitement. “You’ll be too cold, dressed like that.”

You hesitate, considering the potential repercussions of disappearing in the middle of the day like this, but Yamato’s enthusiasm is so irresistible, and you know that if worse came to worst, he could pull the strings to keep you safe.

“Don’t look,” you instruct him as you place yourself between him and the wall.

Obediently, Yamato fixes his gaze straight ahead, broad back shielding you from view of the rest of the garden as you unfold the bundle to find a shirt, trousers, and hanten. A less trained eye than yours would only see simple garments, made to withstand the cold and not much else, but you can tell by the weight of the fabric and the fine stitching that Yamato must have spent a fortune on these–possibly even had them made specially for you.

It’s not the cost that surprises you–he is Kaido’s son, after all, he could likely buy you a whole new wardrobe if you asked–as it is the care evident in the fact that he put so much thought into something as simple as keeping you warm.

Once you’ve changed, folded your court clothes, and stashed them safely in an alcove on the wall, you wrap your arms around Yamato’s neck, snuggling up to his warm body.

“Ready?” he asks, nervous energy clearly apparent in his voice.

“Ready,” you nod.

You keep your arms wrapped tightly around him as you feel his weight begin to shift beneath you, shoulders and back expanding as white fur sprouts from his arms and the nape of his neck to tickle your nose. While it’s not the first time you’ve seen his Zoan form, you’re still unsure whether you’re ever going to get used to the feeling of his muscles shifting and contorting until all that you can recognize is his eyes: beyond his innocent demeanor, they're so wise beyond their years, and so headstrong.

He waits for you to securely wrap your legs around his waist before he gathers his weight on his back haunches and leaps, clearing the wall in one easy stride. And then you’re bounding down the path that leads from the palace, through the streets of the Flower Capital, the whole world flying past you with a kind of confidence and ease that you can’t help but envy.

When he finally stops moving, far from the city, you find yourselves in a snowy grove hemmed by cypress trees and dusted in powdered white snow. Across the clearing is a small wood cottage, soft light flickering behind the paper windows.

Yamato waits for you to slip from his back before he returns to his human form, unbothered by the way you stare as he stretches and rolls his shoulders like he’s settling back into his human skin.

“What do you think?” he asks, tipping his head to the side curiously.

“It’s beautiful,” you answer, not bothering to hide the awe in your voice.

It’s like he knew exactly what you needed: picturesque and wild, nothing like the neatly trimmed gardens of the shogun’s palace. And even better, completely closed off from the rest of the world, like it was made just for the two of you.

“Come on,” he says, waving to you over his shoulder as he turns toward the cottage. “I want to show you something.”

You’re not entirely listening, though; he’s already set your mind wandering back to the days before you became a kamuro, when dignity and elegance were the last things on your mind. Memories of your childhood, playing with your friends in forests not unlike this one, and Yamato’s back turned to you as he walks away give you an idea.

Before you’re entirely sure what you’re doing or why, you’ve begun rolling a small ball of snow between your hands, pressing it together until it holds.

And then it’s sailing through the air until it lands in the middle of Yamato’s back with a satisfying smack.

For a moment, he just stops moving and stands completely still, leaving you worried that you’ve somehow offended him even though that seems near-impossible. But then you see him bend over, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

In one movement so fluid that it doesn’t leave you time to react, he swoops low, pivoting on one foot as he gathers a ball of snow in his own hands and slings it in your direction. The snowball bursts against your shoulder in a puff of white.

“Revenge!” Yamato crows, raising his fists to the sky as he grins at you.

“You know what they say about an eye for an eye, right?” you giggle, dodging to the side as you duck down to roll another snowball and toss it at Yamato.

The moment the words leave your mouth, it’s all out war. For once, your smaller frame gives you the advantage; while he may have better aim than you thanks to all his time spent training, his broad frame and towering height mean that Yamato is practically a walking target. Still, he manages to land a couple good hits of his own until you’re both panting, the fronts of your hanten flecked with snow.

“Are you ready to surrender yet?” you say, placing your hands on your hips and smugly puffing out your chest.

“Never!” Yamato proclaims, rolling a fresh snowball between his palms in preparation for the end of your ceasefire.

Knowing Yamato well enough to know that he’d never give up so easily, you’ve got another trick up your sleeve. Before he can react, you’re barreling forward, leaping toward him as soon as you’re close enough to tackle him.

Yamato playfully stumbles back, clasping a hand to his chest as if he’s been stabbed, and collapses back onto a snowbank, your legs straddling his waist.

You lean in close to Yamato’s ear, relishing how easily he flushes as you whisper, “what about now?”

His voice has gone uncharacteristically shy when he concedes, “I’m all yours.”

“And how should I use my spoils of war?” you ask, leaning forward to rest your head on your arms, folded over his chest.

Yamato blinks and glances away as he thinks, cheeks flaring even brighter against the white snow. “However you’d have me.”

Ever since you first met Yamato, you’ve been charmed by how delicately he tries to treat you, even when it’s so clear that he’s naturally much more physical and uninhibited. It was a welcome reprieve from men like the shogun, with their entitlement and possessiveness. But sometimes, you wish that Yamato was more willing to take what he wanted from you.

So you take what you want instead: a kiss.

His lips part so easily for you, as if he’d been waiting for this moment since you first met. Then again, you muse, perhaps he has. The soft groan he releases when you place your hand on his chin, tug of his fingers running through your once-carefully arranged hair as it tumbles around your shoulders, the fervor of his gentle nips at your lower lip; all charged with the hunger of a starving man.

Unfortunately, even with Yamato’s warm body as a barrier between yourself and the snowy earth, it’s too cold for the two of you to stay that way forever. Eventually, you have to pull back, running your hand along Yamato’s jaw as you ask, “you wanted to show me inside?”

He has to take a moment to collect himself, lucidity returning to his eyes, before he nods wordlessly. As he stands, he scoops you up in one arm as if you weigh nothing and carries you through the snow, past the sliding doors of the cottage, to find a small room, cushioned with pillows and blankets and warmed by a fire in the hearth.

“Whose–” you begin to say, but Yamato cuts you off.

“I had it built.” Then, shyly avoiding your gaze, “for you. If you ever need–a break. To get away.”

“It’s–” Your voice cracks, forcing you to take a brief pause before you’re able to finish the thought. “Yamato, this is too much.”

“It’s nothing,” he shakes his head obstinately. “If I must live with my father’s wealth, I may as well use it for the ones I care about.”

And it’s true, Yamato has been generous with his wealth for as long as you’ve known him–not just with you, either, but with all the people of Wano, whenever he’s able. So you pause, biting back further protests, before pressing a gentle kiss against his cheek.

“Thank you. It’s perfect.”

“It’s nothing,” he repeats, cheeks reddening as he carefully sets you on the ground. “You must be cold.”

Eventually, you find yourselves nestled before the fire, dressed in fresh, dry clothes and mugs of tea cupped between your hands.

“Someday I’ll liberate this land from my father,” Yamato promises, absentmindedly curling your unbound hair around one of his fingers. “And then we’ll both be free.”

“What then?” you ask, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

“Tell me what you want, and I’ll take you there,” Yamato answers, the simplicity of his promise and the sincerity of his tone yet another reminder of why you’ve chosen him, why you’d choose him again and again if given the chance.

You think for a little while, watching the steam rise from your teacups.

“I want to see the world outside Wano. Want to travel by your side. That’s enough to make me happy.”

He presses an affectionate kiss to your temple. “Then that’s what we’ll do. I’m all yours.”

#word count on this one got away from me lol but hopefully it's worth it <3 #yams ended up being so fun to write!!#not sure i got his characterization nailed as well as i'd like but i definitely wanna do more for him in the future #one piece #yamato #yamato x y/n #yamato x you #yamato x reader #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece fanfic #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece reader insert #op fics #ronan writes

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