#this was longer than i meant for it to be but i'm longwinded i can't help it

[soleilnomoon]

hey kaia ! i’m new to sending in requests so please bare with me.

would you be able to write a roronoa zoro x female gunslinger reader. i’ve had the thought in my mind now for quite sometime. i really want to see zoro paired with a very strong woman whom utilizes guns as a weapon and implements them into her fighting style. i imagine she’s a part of the straw hats too, maybe a strategist.

i would love the fic to be centered mainly around an angst theme ( i am a sucker for angst lol ). maybe the reader gets severely injured during an important fight and zoro sort of pops off. i have it in my head to where i think he’s very protective over people he loves / cares about. so the reader being injured would definitely set him over the edge.

i also think zoro in particular is an individual whom doesn’t do well conveying emotion or feeling when it comes to romance. he’s not the best with affection either. so i would imagine his and the reader’s relationship is sort of strained because of this. on the one hand we have zoro who makes it obvious he’s interested in the reader but won’t say anything in regards to the relationship, and the off hand the reader who possesses the capability of doing something about her feelings but zoro’s reluctant-ness is stopping her. this definitely attributed to the angst too, i think. as it sort of creates a very unhealthy and emotionally draining relationship. but anything for love, right? lol.

anyways thank you so much for taking the time to read this! i really love your writing style and think you portray zoro really well. <3

ahh your mind is wonderful, and it’s funny because i was thinking abt smth similar the other day; i love this so much <3 i had so much fun suffering as i wrote this, so i hope you do too (suffer with me, that is). also you’re very sweet thank you!

2.2k words, fem reader, just one big angst-fest courtesy of yours truly. cw: blood mention, guns, a hint of knife violence, but nothing too gruesome (idt so anyway)

if you could go back in time, you’d do so in a heartbeat. there’s a poignant moment in your past that you want to revisit, maybe even change a little; there’s so much that you didn’t know, so much you still don’t know—and despite you doing your best to move forward, you always find yourself ten steps back. 

your mind moves like quicksand, with hurried thoughts tumbling around; your sanity sifts its fingers through the sand, searching for a way, unable to grasp anything concrete. it’s during moments like these, that your crewmates worriedly point out how frequently you stay in your head. and it’s true, you do. you’re not so much lost as you are hesitant to be found.

or, rather, it’s likely that you’re still waiting for a particular someone to wise up and see just how much he affects you. but, if anyone can bring you back, it’s him—an irrevocable truth that neither of you can run from. 

when you think you’ll finally teeter over that edge, choking on various memories, disrupting the way of life you’ve come to love, you manage to make it out alive. every time you think about your first meeting with him, it hurts so badly that it’s impossible to sleep at night. because this thing? those thoughts? the way you desperately want to confess? they’re a part of your nightmare.

it’s a vicious, endless dance that you do with him day in and day out; and where your fatigue has stolen most of your pride, you still manage to keep your head up, determined to not get swept up in his orbit once again.

for him? it’s a different kind of story.

he knows that you’re in your head again; your aim is off, your breathing uneven, it’s not a sight that he's used to. you’ve always been able to analyze situations, come up with the best tactical plans, bring logic back to your crew mates—that, alongside with your strength is part of what drew him to you in the first place. and while it’s not too far from the truth, it’s hardly anything that he should ever try to tell you if he hopes to salvage his relationship with you.

what he really wants to say—what he needs to say—he can’t quite put into words. they cling to the back of his throat, tongue somehow suddenly much too large for his mouth when he tries to speak with you about it. you know you’re not imagining things; it’s much too obvious from how much attention he pays to you, how he always finds a way to be nearby—just in case—how he insists on being the one to spar with you for months on end to ensure your form is as good as you say it is. sanji and usopp like to tease him about you whenever they can, brook and robin eventually join in, making it embarrassing and unbearable. almost, anyway.

it’s irresponsible of him to think about that now, in the midst of a fierce battle, when he should be watching out for enemy attacks. you, on the other hand, do everything in your power to keep moving; the more you do, the less you’ll think about him and his inability to tell you how he feels. it’s stupid, really—downright pathetic, in your opinion, that the two of you can hardly get it together to save your lives.

this is your first mistake.

when you pull out your gun, pointing the barrel at an enemy pirate—the one that stays on you the entire fight, that you’ve shot at multiple times only for her to dodge every. single. damn. bullet. you can’t say for sure that your aim was true, when the last thing you remember is seeing the back of zoro’s head, specks of blood splattered on his cheek. you tell yourself it’s not his—and there’s not even that much on him when you think about it; but you still get distracted. worry eats away at you, causing your grip to falter, your favorite gun slipping from your dominant hand. 

that’s the only opening she needs. 

with an insidious smirk and a shriek that will haunt you for eternity, she moves quickly, jamming a serrated, bloody knife into your shoulder. holding in a scream and clenching your teeth so hard, because yes it actually hurts that damn much, only makes things worse. the fear you feel isn’t because of her, but it’s from the realization that she’s essentially taken away the mobility in your arm. once she pulls the knife out of you roughly, she shoves you aside as if you aren’t someone who’s made a name for yourself in the pirate world. you drop to your knees, the wound in your shoulder so deep that blood just won’t stop oozing out of it; the pain reminds you that you’re alive, but the rest is a blur. 

the fragments you do remember consist of a lot of shouting, strong arms picking you up effortlessly, as he takes you to safety; a slight moment of clarity tugs at you, and you swear you hear him berate himself over not making sure you were safe. you want to shake your head and tell him you were plenty safe, that it was your mistake that nearly cost you your life—but, you also blame him too. it’s not exactly fair, but he’s consumed so much of you without remorse that it’s the only form of self-preservation that you have currently at your disposal.

you sleep deeply for days and refuse your meals. on the fifth day he’s had enough. really, he wanted to see you right away, but given the severity of your wound, chopper shooed him away. however, it’s not chopper who prevents him from seeing you, it’s not chopper who tells franky to tell usopp to tell him that you’re not in the mood for visitors.

it’s you.

so when he pries that little secret out of usopp bright and early one morning, he stomps over to your room and barges in. he always does; it’s that level of comfort that’s keeping you in the situation you’re in with him right now. you hate it; absolutely, with your entire being. you also hate how you don’t actually hate it; how you don’t actually lock your door, because you know he’ll somehow come in regardless; and how you really wished he’d insisted on seeing you days ago.

childish and proud, you sit up on your bed, propped up by fluffy pillows. sunlight grazes the side of your face, casting a warm glow, reminding him of just how beautiful you are. not that he’s ever forgotten—and never will no matter what happens later on. but even from the doorway, he can sense your annoyance, which only annoys him too.

after closing the door, zoro places his swords on your desk and makes his way over to you. he pauses briefly, eye taking in your attire, surprise taking hold of him because he recognizes that shirt. he gave it to you years ago, something he currently can't fit into now even if he tries. you’ve made alterations to the shirt, of course, as is your nature—and he momentarily finds himself distracted by how tight it is around your chest, accentuating the curves along your breasts and waist. 

but, your frown confuses him. and you too for that matter. you’re not sure what you’re mad at exactly, but you’re not that happy to see him either. the lie is bitter, forcing you to look away once he’s at your bedside.

“why aren’t you eating?” his first question almost makes you laugh. your lips twitch and he frowns deeply, unamused. 

you lift your shoulder—the good, uninjured one—lazily, a motion that causes a vein to bulge on his forehead. “not hungry, i guess.”

“bullshit,” he says a little louder than he means, but zoro really can’t keep his voice down when he gets like this anyway. “i don’t buy that at all.” 

his insistence startles you, forcing you to turn your head again, tilting it a bit as you watch him. “why do you even care?” you don’t mean to come off harsh, and initially want to say it as a joke, but once your mouth moves, a sliver of your pent up frustration slips through.

it’s not the first time you’ve sent a callous remark his way, but after all that’s happened, it affects him differently—and shoots an impassioned fury through his body. it’s not anger at you, though; no… it’s anger at himself. he doesn’t consider himself a coward, but he bites back his words, trying a hand at restraint and failing miserably.

“what the hell were you thinking? you could’ve gotten yourself killed!”

you cut him with a sharp glance and count backwards from ten. with your eyes closed, you focus on your breathing and not on the fact that you desperately want him to hold you like you want him to; it pisses you off, the way you’re acting. you don’t know what else to do, and maybe if you stay quiet long enough, he might take the hint and just…leave.

of course you forget one important detail; he’s just as stubborn as you are.

“you’re never that careless, you should’ve been able to handle her without any problem,” he says, continuing his diatribe. and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re tired of him talking to you like you haven’t already given yourself the same damn speech over and over and over, but you finally answer him—your resolve to keep composed completely flies out the window, so to speak.

“first of all,” you say with an accompanying groan; chopper warned you several times to not move around so much, but you just don’t listen. “it’s your damn fault, you distracted me.”

he narrows his eye at you, unable to really tell if you’re pulling his leg or not. “that doesn’t even make sense.” he hates the idea of him being the reason you got hurt; it’ll siphon bits and pieces of his soul until he’s nothing but an empty husk, only good for fighting.

you sigh, and sigh, and sigh—and he’s tired of you pushing him away, tired of not having the courage to do what you both want him to do. he grabs a chair and sits right next to you, long legs bumping against the edge of your bed. the proximity is making you feverish, and since he’s on the side of your injured arm, you can’t move much.

“you need to be more careful,” he says after a long stretch of silence, tone a little weary, voice much lower than you ever imagined it could be. you roll your bottom lip in between your teeth, biting down to keep yourself from reaching out to him. zoro, however, doesn’t wait for you to do anything; he brushes the tips of his fingers against your palm, as if he’s memorizing the lines that are etched along it. 

a tiny fluttering, like the wings on miniature butterflies, pounds around your chest; your heart is unfortunately a helpless little thing, and no matter how much you try to pull away, you always find your way back to him. chopper’s prognosis gave you a 3% chance of recovery—rehabilitation, medication, taking a backseat to the fighting—but you still can’t feel much sensation in your hand, let alone the rest of your arm.

but—

it’s strange, isn’t it? the skilled, hard-headed, surprisingly sincere swordsman, who wouldn’t know intimacy if it bit him in the ass, touching you like that. even more strange—your fingers move a little in response. it’s the most you’ve gotten all week, and he watches as the wariness leaves your face and is replaced with a subdued adoration. and if you think it can’t even any stranger, he surprises you again; it’s reckless and chopper would probably kill him if he finds out, but he just can’t help it.

slowly, but surely, he lifts your hand, cradling it carefully—gently, even—before leaning down to press his lips against your palm and kissing it tenderly. it hurts. your shoulder, your heart, your head—everything fucking hurts. but, even through all of that, even when he places your hand back down, making sure your arm is properly elevated as per chopper’s instructions, you can’t help but wonder if this is the sort of fresh start that you both need.

“pass me my tray,” you say under your breath, cheeks flushed, unable to look at him. zoro raises a brow questioningly, as if he didn’t just shatter your entire world with that one gesture, but you repeat yourself again, a little louder. he arranges it so you can balance it on your lap without issue and you offer him the other half of your sandwich. “you look hungry,” you say casually, and while he also hadn’t eaten much over the past few days, it’s not the sort of hunger that he’s experiencing—not that he’ll ever admit that just yet, deciding to approach that on another day. he sits a little closer, eating the portion of his sandwich in only a few bites, and you smile at that—at the moment you’re having with him.

 if you hold onto it tightly enough, it might give way to a form of real love some day. you hope.

[emerald-dragonflame]

The Captain and the Courier

~Longwinded explanation starts here~

So... I've recently watched a stream PointCrow made of an old game I used to be obsessed with when I was around 13 years old, and certain memories came flooding back to this game: the Legend of Zelda: Phantom Hourglass, and with my very first OC, Hanna.

Now, in technicality, my persona was my first OC, but I don't count her cause she's just a personification of me, and I've already done a redesign of Hanna before for Breath of the Wild (I'll put that under the cut), buuuut, she was originally meant for Phantom Hourglass so I'm having her in multiple Zelda games, fight me.

I don't have pictures of Hanna when I was 13, but I do remember what she sorta looked like. Taller than me (which isn't much cause I'm 4'11" and was even shorter back then) white as a sheet, I think light brown hair, blue eyes and was half rito, which was only shown by the wings on her back. A "totally no me guys" OC, who was just a 16 year old pushover who had a job as a mailman.

And did I mention that she was supposed to be Linebeck's love interest? Totally nothing creepy going on here, no sir! Though, to be fair, I had no idea at the time that a teenager and a middle aged man getting together was ✨problematic✨.

I was stupid, what can I say...

Now, Linebeck (the character on the left in this picture) was a character that 13 year old me was absolutely infatuated with. He was my 3rd fictional crush and a character that, to this day, I have no idea what preteen me was thinking. I mean, I get it now but 9 years ago, girl I had some weird taste in men.... I say that as I'm simping over Owen-

~Longwinded explanation ends here~

Anyway!

Now that you know my story of how I got here (I am so sorry with how long it is >_>), here's Hanna's actual story. After accedentally flying into a flock of seagulls, Hanna, the half Rito, half Hylian. manages to lose control and fall towards the dock that Link, Linebeck, and Oshus are having a conversation on, breaking her wing in the process. Because of this, it can't transform back into a hand, and she can no longer continue her duties as a courier if she can't fly, she begs Linebeck to let her on board so that she can continue her work.

Linebeck is openly against this at the start, until Hanna says that while she may not have the money to pay him, she is a pretty decent cook.

To which Linebeck does a complete 180 and say that she's absolutely welcome aboard! However she must do 2 things: Be the ship's cook, and call him "Captain".

Agreeing to these terms, Hanna, Link, Linebeck, and Ciela (the fairy Link had chilling with him) set off towards adventure! Romance and chaos ensue.

BOTW!Hanna