writing-haki

[writing-haki]

Clever, Kind, Handsome Fox

katakuri x reader (3rd person POV; fem!reader) reader is a bit mischievous. katakuri is a tad shy but gruff.

Story in which a baker earns a reward by way of reaching quota. Katakuri is gracious enough to fulfill her request. Part 1/3

in the darkness, my heart trembles at the sight of you

trembles and quakes within sight of you

in the darkness

The room was quiet in that cricket accompanied way late night tended to be. A dim light cast by a soft-glowing snail lamp on the bedside table, illuminated white, lacy curtains that fluttered with sweetly scented winds.

She was already nestled snug beneath the cotton quilt, curled on her side, cheek half-buried in plush pillows embroidered with wheat motifs. Her hair clung slightly to her, partly from the evening bath but also the recent humidity of Komugi Island's air. She smelled faintly of honey and oats.

Katakuri stood awkwardly at the bedroom doorway, his broad figure swallowing up most of the entrance. He didn't move until she peeked at him with one eye open and said, in an almost coy tone, "Well?"

"...well?," he echoed, his gaze shifted to anywhere but her though his eyes were not necessarily registering the decor inside.

"You promised."

She was right. He couldn't deny that. Still, it didn't help the stretch of silence between them.

He sighed, the sound muffled by his thick scarf, and dipped his head under the doorframe before shimmying into the room. She giggled at the sight of it and he shot her a pointed look. Her teasing stopped when she pressed two fingers to her lips but he could still see the corners lifted up into a smile.

"You met your quota."

He was now fully in the room and thankful the ceiling here was higher than the one in her mudroom. "You could have asked for anything", he continued, "a week off, a new wardrobe, whatever else."

She smiled knowingly.

"And yet...this." His tone wasn't hostile; the man was genuinely perplexed. What could have possibly been her reasoning to have monopolized his time in this way?

"We've all read Flampé bragging about your storytelling ability in the monthly fan letter...plus, I just like your voice," she admitted.

He blushed, shifting deeper into the haven his scarf offered, before the explanation had fully left her lips; he'd already seen it with his Future Sight.

She noticed the effect she had on him but she was, regrettably, just as shy as he was. A woman only emboldened by the lack of energy her work left her with. A feeling akin to apathy but not quite devoid of lust for life.

"And I'm tired," she continued truthfully before tugging the top of her comforter higher, "so, please, tell me my story before I fall asleep without my reward."

He considered her for a long moment, mulling over her intentions. Was she a fan? Was that really so suspect? Nearly half the island was a member of Flampé's club...

Then, with all the reluctant grace a man of his stature possessed, he unfolded his arms and crossed the room to sit near her at the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped beneath his weight. It was comical, really, the size difference between them―a hulking giant beside her slight form hunkered down beneath layers of cotton.

Her legs and feet lay against his back and now he felt her scooting closer. Was she doing this on purpose?

He cleared his throat.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

She shifted again, running her smooth shin over where his lower back lie bare above his pants. His legs crossed and he immediately turned his face away, scarf tugged higher still, out of reflex.

This was torment.

"I'm not used to...performing," he muttered, after catching his bearings.

She clapped her hands together twice in time with her words to usher him on, "Story! Please!"

He grunted and regarded her as if to chide her without speaking. "Comfortable?" he asked and she picked up the double meaning of his words. He was still her superior, after all.

"I'm comfy," she said, though her eyes were still twinkling with mischief.

He exhaled, the unexpected weight of this task bearing down on him. Then, he began. With a voice, low and rich, steadying as it strolled forward:

"There was once a fox who lived at the edge of an expanse of fields, ending just where golden stalks of wheat met the border of pine trees.

This fox was clever but lonely, misunderstood. Each night, he watched the other animals nest together under the same stars as he; all the badgers curled tight, families of mice tucked beneath the brush, and a myriad of birds buried in feathered warmth," he paused here and then, "but the fox always slept alone".

"One day, he met a baker. She smelled of spelt flour and firewood. What a delightful combination", he mused, his eyes holding a hint of twinkle above her. "Her sleeves nearly always rolled to her elbows, dough beneath her nails...The fox thought she was a strange creature. One who wasn't afraid of him, when she very well should have been, even when his shadow towered over her bakery floor. She fed him scraps and told him stories while she kneaded dough."

She blinked up at him, slower now, her eyes following the shadow of him cast off his massive frame. His voice was like being wrapped in a soft blanket too warm to resist.

Katakuri continued, his words more smooth and natural now:

"He began to bring her things. First, small trinkets. Like berries, smooth stones and bits of twine. Then larger more majestic and impossible things like a fallen star found in a marsh, a little lost lamb needing to be returned home and a pouch of saffron swiped from a careless traveler. The baker never scolded. She only smiled at him and said, 'What a very kind fox you are '

-and so he stayed. Not just for scraps and stories. But because, for the first time he could remember, someone made a place for him beside the fire."

By now, her eyes were fluttering closed; lashes teasing cheeks. He softened his voice even further, just until it was a near-rumbling whisper.

"And eventually, she made a bed for him fashioned of spent flour sacks and stuffed with herb-scented cotton.

'You don't have to sleep outside anymore,' she promised. So, he didn't. He curled beside the wooden stove, warm and safe. And every night, the last thing she heard before drifting off to sleep was her voice. 'Goodnight, clever fox.' "

He paused. Her breathing was even now, lashes casting small shadows over her cheeks. "That's the end?" she murmured drowsily. Sleep was here to take her wherever he wandered when dark began.

"Yes," he replied softly. Filled with pride to have kept his word, "the end."

A hum of satisfaction and then a whisper, "Clever fox."

He rose slowly, careful not to jostle her, slipping the comforter back over her naked leg. He had almost made it back to the door when her voice, sleep-thick and hesitant caught him.

"Katakuri?"

He turned to her, though not fully.

"May I have a goodnight kiss?"

Time stalled.

He'd seen this coming, full-glad he hadn't turned to meet her sleepy gaze before.

Slowly, he stepped back towards her. He knelt beside the bed, just so he wouldn't tower as much, mindful of his spikes.

Peering at him from under the sheets, he realized she dared turn sheepish; how uncharacteristic of her now, he would think.

"I'm not teasing."

"I know," he replied more gently than either expected.

He leaned in, ever so carefully, and pressed a gloved hand to the mattress for balance. The kiss landed softly against her temple, his scarf remaining a barrier between them.

Katakuri lingered a moment and it was now he realized he'd been holding his breath. Then he whispered, "Goodnight."

She was asleep before he stood.

And he stayed in the doorway for a while after that, watching her breathe, the tension in his shoulders finally beginning to loosen. He slipped through the door, off into the darkness outside, happy to have kept his word.

'in the darkness' -dead by sunrise

note: inspired by 'the little prince', my insomnia and wishing katakuri would read me a story. graphics by: @saradika-graphics

wc: 1950

[writing-haki]

Katakuri SFW Alphabet

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He isn't the most outwardly affectionate nor a huge fan of pda. If events had happened differently in his youth then he would be a bit boastful and proud of his affection towards you with a touch of tsun behavior-- but only when you embarrassed him by trying to hold his hand or placing a small peck upon his cheek in front of his brothers. And only then because he'd have to fight them over their incessant teasing.

As an adult, with how things played out, he might set some ground rules for your protection. You might be his only but he still has entire islands, as well as a dozen or so younger siblings, vying for his attention.

He would also consider you a weakness of his and might try to hide you away in that regard. He has a large bounty and being a top Sweet Commander he's sure to have made some enemies.

Has moods where he's very affectionate behind closed doors. Otherwise shows his love for you in small, intimate gestures.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

You're someone he doesn't know and that makes you someone he can trust at the start. Not with anything that truly matters, mind you, but he could drop little bits about himself that others, people with expectations, would find uncharacteristic of him. Maybe a crumb of authenticity here and there. But you'd have to prove yourself in some way; break the pattern he recognizes in a majority of people to pique his interest.

As a best friend, you're like family. He's protective and silently stands by your side against your enemies, whether they be tangible or imagined.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

A resounding yes. He loves to scoop his partner up and hold them close to his chest or nestled in his upright palm. You using his scarf and hanging in it like a hammock is also something he would like, unless he leaves for a dangerous mission. He can't remain calm and effectively use his Future Sight while knowing you're in danger.

A part of him longs to be the little spoon from time to time.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He took many duties as the second eldest brother upon himself once he realized how much his younger siblings would depend on him. Perospero may have mediated disputes with words and candy but Katakuri handled things like basic cleaning duties and cooked simple meals for dozens of siblings, at least until Big Mom settled into her empire and arranged for servants to do so.

He begrudgingly accepts the help of his servants and only finds them necessary when busy with more important engagements, like defending his home or landing fresh from a mission. He hates to admit he's gotten a bit used to it. Treats his staff better than most of the Charlottes. He is cherished by his people and they insist upon serving him; more genuinely than a few of his more cruel siblings.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Oh, goodness. He would be devastated if you managed to put in the work to tear down his walls and then left.

The most heart-wrenching, guttural cries from a grown man lost in the sanctuary of his sister's mirror dimension.

But he would "recover" quickly with a drink or three courtesy of a night with his brothers.

If he had to do it then it would probably be at the behest of Big Mom. (If she saw you as a threat to her control over him or if he seemed a little too comfortable with the thought of replacing the current hierarchy), Linlin could forever threaten him with erasing you from his mind or vice versa.

Perhaps the pain of losing you is so great that he welcomes it.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

If it were up to him he'd want to take it slow. He would enjoy the luxury of falling in love and courting you. He's secretly a bit of a romantic.

Seeing as how Linlin controls her children's lives even past their prime, he doesn't see it as meaning much. A quiet, small part of him is hopeful that you would genuinely love him but his experience with marriage is his mother using others for political and breeding purposes before tossing them away.

To feel control or maybe to remain hopeful, he would send letters to you, his betrothed, with the intentions of understanding you in writing. He is braver with showing his inner thoughts on paper and knows that he offends others by speaking too few words.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Physically? Katakuri handles you as if afraid you might break because he could crush you with one wrong move or flick of the wrist.

Emotionally? He is emotionally distant at first, distrustful, because one wrong move could ruin his entire life's work. If he sees that the distance hurts you he'll feel guilty but the time for apologizing for that comes after making sure you're safe to love.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Not many people can fit their arms around him but he enjoys them. He might blush and look away but he would never allow someone to get that close if he didn't want them to nor would he push them away.

His hugs are warm and soft. On particularly hot days he might be a little sticky and goopy to the touch. This embarrasses him.

A hug from him would be you held firm to his chest, his hand cupping your whole being. He enjoys how you latch onto and squeeze his shins, but be mindful of his spikes!

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Slow as molasses. He doesn't take these words lightly and he has to be sure you're his.

In his most vulnerable state when you let him rest his head on your thighs and comb your fingers through his hair. Bonus when you praise him and tell him you love him.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He gets jealous, even when he tries to be calm and rational. You're not his to own, he has first-hand experience with feeling owned, but he still hates the thought of losing you to another.

He wouldn't show it at first. He'd stuff it down, veins popping in his forehead being the only sign to show his frustrations, until he inevitably bursts from bottling it up.

A silent guard dog to scare off intruders. If his status and title isn't enough then he'll mark his territory with his teeth.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He loves to be kissed near his teeth, particularly the bulge of skin surrounding his protruding canines. It makes him weak, like he's borderline about to whimper.

The biggest sucker for temple kisses. Kisses on his face in general, maybe a bit too sensitive about his scars for you to kiss them. Loves kisses on his hands, it's the smallest part of him that he can share with you, particularly that small area between the underside of his wrist and thumb.

Asks permission and surprised when you say yes the first several times. Apologized for his teeth more times than you'd like. Often feels the insatiable urge to randomly pick you up and kiss your tummy.

His lips taste sweet, and you'd blame his sugar obsession, but his powers are to blame.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

You experience this first hand when accompanying him on his when time permits quarter annual Big Brother Island Tour (trademarked Flampé) wherein he visits several larger islands, or hosts an event on Komugi, and spends time with the younger siblings.

He reads to them, does tea time, trains them in the art of war if old enough, listens to their woes, admonishes them, etc..

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Rushed!

Though he would kill for a slow morning one of these days.

He wakes up before the rest of the house, careful not to disturb you, and leaves you a note or small token of his appreciation in the morning.

Mochi, perhaps?

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

He's usually tired after work and missions. You'll spend some nights without him but he'll be sure to make it up to you when he can.

He'll walk you, propped up on his forearm, to the rooftop garden to stargaze.

Reads books to you or tells you unembellished stories from trips. He may be prone to accidentally babying you at times as it comes as a habit to him.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

As slow as one would expect.

He'll reveal a bit of himself here and there, wait for your reaction and decide to tell you more later if he feels validated.

Expressive eyes.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Oh, easily annoyed especially with people who don't respect his time (keep it punctual) or when an event/conversation doesn't go the way he assumes it will (repeatedly). His patience is the key. Holding his tongue is something he's had to train and develop, quickly, in his younger years.

Bulging veins present on his neck and forehead betray his inner emotions. His jaw clenches too, not that anyone could see, but when he inevitably bursts it's for a damn good reason.

Gets hangry.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He would rather not feel like he needs to be quizzed to prove his love to you.

Katakuri remembers what he perceives in passing. Always on alert, always watching others around him. He remembers what he's sure is most important to you.

And he remembers things you randomly speak into the aether. Did you mention offhandedly that you've been craving a highly specific candy found only in the North Blue? He remembers it and finds a way to procure it.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

He distinctly remembers the first time he realized he was in love with you.

He was somewhere far off, islands away from you, and grappled with an ache in his chest that wouldn't subside.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Protect his secrets.

Protect his family and never betray them.

That's the very most he would ask of you.

He is incredibly protective of you, possibly overprotective at times if you're not a fighter. Personally vets your guard but would rather not leave your safety up to others.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Katakuri isn't one for opulent, public displays of love. So don't expect that. He'll try his best if it's an event you're excited for but ..

But he will remember important dates, even if he can't make them on time and will return home to you doggedly--swearing he'll make it up to you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

In his whole being he knows he would always choose his mother and his family's safety over anyone he loved. This might be the biggest reason he hesitates to pursue romantic interests.

Drools and chews with his mouth open when in pure, carb-induced bliss.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

At his core? Not very. (At least in the preening, peacock sense)

But he knows first impressions in the world of pirating means life or death. And he knows he intimidates people. He's come to rely on this to help defeat the enemy before even seeing them.

He wishes he would be accepted for how he looks but he doesn't think himself ugly (his whole reasoning for hiding away his face had to do with the guilt of his sister being scarred).

Does it hurt his feelings when people shrink away and call him a monster? Of course but he doesn't think he should feel that way.

Pretends it doesn't hurt, especially in his youth, but it does.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He managed to exist just fine before you showed up.

Or, at least, that's the best his brothers could manage to say while drinking with him after a breakup. He doesn't let just anybody in so it would be difficult for him to move on and not feel like a part of him is missing.

He'd never admit to it out loud but he would muse on how similar he is to a donut now.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

His tattoo reaches mid thigh.

The inverted, broken wing symbolizes the loss of freedom. (which he reclaims for a brief moment in his fight with Luffy)

The bars on his chest represent repression and detention, sure, but serve as the individual bodies of a flock of Sennenryu he spied in his youth when first made a Minister at age 10.

The first is the father with a crest, then mother, and lastly children.

He would've liked to be as free as them.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Any severe enough sleight against the safety of his crew/family is enough to make him detach from you.

An offhanded negative comment or two is understandable but he'll still warn you to watch your words and tone; they're still his family.

Underhanded tactics and unnecessary cruelty bother him. It could simply be a matter of efficiency and honor.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He snores, lightly.

a/n: pretty sure tumblr eats my posts

[writing-haki]

'cause i'm only a crack in this castle of glass

hardly anything there for you to see

Knight!Katakuri x Healer!Reader

He prayed you were only kind; prayed that you wouldn't fall for a beast such as he.

He convinced himself that you touched him because you touched everyone. That your hands on his wounds, your gaze resting gently on his marred face, and your silent offerings of honeyed tea after cold missions were nothing more than routine.

But gods help him, the part of him still cursed by youth and wishful ruin wanted you to mean it.

He didn’t tell you that every time he found himself in your presence, he felt that same ache in his ribs as he did when a sea prism lance struck too deep.

He didn’t tell you how often he dreamt of your laugh, of your hands pressed to his scarred jaw, of a life he would never dare reach for.

And when you leaned over his shoulder and whispered something teasing, gentle, harmless—how could you have known?—his restraint, always taut and carefully measured, cracked wide open.

Fragile as tempered sugar, it splintered beneath your smile and left him aching in the quiet.

for you to see

-linkin park

note: based loosely on @zorosangell knight!katakuri prompt list. a series of these exist; unconnected.

wc: 230

[writing-haki]

There is a mirror down a long, narrow corridor that only he may pass downーit has been trespassed upon only once. At the end hangs an enormous, ornately decorated mirror of polished silver roses.

When the stress of his duties reaches a point that even emotional eating does nothing to placate his rising tensions he knocks twice on the mirror's surface and Brûlée appears, ever ready to console or sit quietly with him.

Sometimes she pulls him in wordlessly and they sit in her cottage, mostly without words or her false praises. She knows when to lay it on thick, in front of strangers, and when to hold her tongue (in private with him).

He will say it's routine quality time doled out equally amongst all siblings but they both know it to be untrue. She won't call him out. He doesn't suspect that she knows better.

Other times she will allow him to walk the vast halls and destination devoid staircases in search of amusement. He will say it's reconnaissance and necessary for him to gather information but she knows it's because he enjoys watching others be happy. He's a bit of a worrywart with his siblings, after all.

wc: 330

[writing-haki]

Murako

nickname: Mura (katakuri only); meaning village as written, pun for purple, depending on kanji means uneven, fickle

epithet: Murako the Unseen (?); undecided

race: Human; nekomimi (original idea was half Mink lol)

height: child-4'8"; adult-5'1" (malnourished or genetics, hard to tell)

age: 6 (first meeting); 22 (current)

affiliation: Big Mom territory inhabitant; Independent?

devil fruit: neko neko no mi-nekomata type-special mythical (originally planned as a black cat but couldn't flavor it the way I wanted)

abilities: dark vision, enhanced hearing, silenced movement, minor bad-luck aura (a gimmick), shifts through dimension (rumored), cat surveillance system, minor shape-shifting

weapons: swallows (undecided, truthfully)

Appearance:

long matted hair due to neglect; later cut to a short manageable mane. sloppy, crooked bangs

purple eyes w/ black slits or rounded pupils; bored look/borderline "INTJ stare"

small rounded eyebrows; chestnut hair

wears faded oversized sweaters, childhood outfit was dirty yellow dress with a stained peterpan collar

short, hunched over at times, due to hiding and fruit

scar spanning chin to clavicle, right side (teen-adult)

manageable claws, teeth as child. cannot handle shifting well at first so stuck with ears and tail

hides the fact she has two tails for as long as possible

purple ribbon in hair, gift from katakuri

when transformed-purple tipped tails and flamed brows; purplish black sheen on her coat

Personality:

withdrawn, highly observant to an unhealthy degree, emotionally deep but ill-suited for a soapbox

avoids confrontation unless survival demands it. distrustful, hates being surrounded, looks for exits.

prone to bouts of hyper focus, sensory sensitivity

dry humor, often a cynic. silly in private.

loyal to her own detriment. quick to admire, quicker to admonish.

fears abandonment and baths

loves purple

wants to be a child like this forever

Relationship w/Katakuri:

offers emotional security while kata ensures physical safety

trauma bonded at a young age

calls her Mura--even into adulthood

Quotes:

"You think if you stand still and frown enough, nobody will see you bleeding."

"It's mean that your Mama makes you hurt people."

"I think I was like this before. Before I could understand what they were doing to me."

Backstory:

grew up, as far as she remembers, on an island later absorbed into big mom's territory when she was still on Rock' crew

endured neglect/abuse at the hands of her caretakers. believes them to be her parents but her true ones sold her at an undetermined age. abuse inflicted upon her was to test how "strong" the fruit could become vs how much a body needed to endure before the tails split (a misconception). based slightly upon bakeneko lore.

kids mocked for her clothing and appearance so she's a bit more accepting of ppl who look and act different.

katakuri, aged 8, finds her hiding under a porch and offers food. she does well hiding from others and remaining unseen but not against trained haki users

Tidbits:

eventually acquires and maintains a surveillance system of stray cats. becomes their guardian

enjoys making small crafts out of scraps

wears the ribbon gifted as a child somewhere on her person at all times

cannot stand upright very well in hybrid form until teen-adulthood

ship name katamura 🍩🐈‍⬛

unrelated but I'd like to claim the child name Bran

*disclaimer: I fused bakeneko lore and nekomata. I liked the concept of twin tails and purple flames. And I liked the idea of a vengeful protector of strays 🤷 this page is open to my editing at any time

[writing-haki]

yeah these are fallout new vegas soundtrack inspired titles

[writing-haki]

'Crumbs'

cw: implied child neglect, implied trauma

themes: childhood friends, hurt/comfort,

word count: 2k

note: I tried to be as accurate to canon and the timeline as possible including the births of the Charlottes. I only changed the age he eats his fruit. Other events haven't happened yet. This will be approx 12+ chapters detailing their youth to adulthood. Eventual romance. A majority of this is already detailed, written and planned.

Special thank you to @quinloki for inspiring me to write again after...years. and to my irl friend if you see this

Katakuri (8) pre-scarf, Murako (6) 🍩🐈‍⬛

'Mama always does this.'

She would stuff her maw until icing and crumbs tumbled out and filled the world with too many babies to properly love all while asking her children rhetorical questions she expected an answer to. There was never a correct answer and silence was regarded as disobedience.

So, he stood there surrounded by the smell of newborn, ocean and freedom teased just beyond his fingertips, while enduring the feeling of his skin growing hot and his eyes prickling at the corners. A hint of weakness wasn't allowed to be detected lest he be compared to the babes fighting over her too-few bosom--she had birthed triplets this time.

"Yes, Mama." His words were plain, even and obedient.

Linlin waved him away, nearly dropping one of her fresh brood in the process, and he excused himself with a short bow.

After disembarking his mother's ship, he hurried over to the inn that his eldest sibling commandeered for the lot of them. The building was noticeably weathered but stood as a proud red-bricked creation from a local mason worker some few generations back. Yet another family legacy erased overnight but this time to house a dozen or so pirate bastards.

His thumb rubs the brass doorknob of the inn, the patina reminding him of a time when his brother could still swim, before his eye caught a glimpse of something fluffy and black akin to a tail slip back beneath the stairs.

'Must be a cat.'

He wasn't interested in investigating now. Mama had given them new orders.

The shadows under the tilted porch of the inn harbored dirt, broken leaves and one very still child.

Murako lay with her cheek pressed to the cool, packed earth with her body curled into a tight ball. Her breathing became increasingly relaxed as her nose filled with dust; she could endure the irritants. The air around her smelled mostly of dirt, stale seaweed and the alcohol that seeped through the floorboards to her den below. Somewhere above her came the origin of the noise that woke her from her light nap. The loud thudding of anonymous boots, various men brawling and singing annoyed her today, as evident by her feline ears flattening against her head.

The sounds of laughter from above made her stomach twist sharp while the dread of being seen anchored her in her haven.

"Oi "

A shadow flickered between the wooden slats of the porch; the body beneath locked in place with a well-practiced and desperate stillness.

'No sound. Don't breathe,' she thought.

"I can see your foot," the boy said. He sounded bored, though his voice was flat but not cruel.

She didn't reply.

Then, suddenly, an oddly shaped package wrapped in a clean linen was tossed near her dirty toes. The smell of the contents hit her nose first. The sweetness guiding her nose to it like a beacon.

"I've seen you three days in a row," the boy said while crouched down, trying to meet the gaze of whatever creature lie hidden. "You're always here around lunch. Don't you have a home? You're too skinny."

Murako shifted just enough to get a decent look at him but she did her best to remain far out of reach. He was tall, naturally a little bigger than the other boys she had seen on this island, even. His eyes were red in color and intense but his lower lashes were long and pretty. They made him look kinder than he sounded.

The twin scars starting at the corners of his lips and reaching to each ear unsettled her more than the rows of alternating fangs filling his mouth. He held nothing in his hands now but carried himself with the kind of weight that told her he could definitely catch her if she attempted to run.

But he didn't look cruel nor angry. That put her at ease.

Murako licked her cracked lips, "Did you put anything in it?"

"No."

"Not even a rock?"

He blinked at her, seemingly annoyed by the line of questioning. "Why would I waste a perfectly good rock on you?"

That made her squint at him.

She tested him by slowly reaching her hand out and when he made no noticeable movements to lunge at her once distracted, she quickly snatched it up and devoured half of it in seconds. It was warm bread, still soft in the center, holding a thick cut of tender meat and a generous helping of jam. She didn't bother to look up from her pity meal.

"You're really weird," he told her.

Murako only chewed in a wary silence.

The boy stayed near her for a few minutes longer and when he finally stood to leave he didn't say goodbye.

The next day he brought two heavily buttered rolls, a couple strips of fruit leather and a hunk of cheese. A small smirk tugged at the corners of his scarred lips when he spied the now-dirtied linen from his last visit folded neatly near the edge of the steps.

He never asked for her name but he offered his. "I'm Katakuri. You've probably heard what people are saying about me."

No response.

She started to wait for him. When his footsteps, his footfalls unmistakable to her now, reached the front of her claimed den she primed herself to snatch whatever treats he offered. The boy, Katakuri he called himself, always included at least one sweet to enjoy. Sometimes he spoke and sometimes he only crouched there, in the boot-packed earth like some sort of living statue, and watched as she ate.

On the fifth day, he watched as she slowly emerged from her sanctuary and sat beside a support beam, just far enough from him that she was sure he couldn't grab her easily. He looked her over carefully when he was sure she was too busy stretching her legs out in the bright sunlight to notice. The pale bruising on her thighs and arms were the first to be noted. Her hair was matted into two long lumps that stretched the length of her torso and was coated with a layer of grey dust and cobwebs. Nothing on her form seemed pleasant to experience and, for a brief moment, he was grateful for his own tyrannical mother.

Katakuri handed her today's portion--an assortment of dried fish, fruits and nuts. "You smell like the shed," he stated bluntly. Honestly, he thought she smelled much worse but knew better than to voice it.

She bared her teeth at him, pointy little kitten fangs, "So do you."

He tilted his head at that like it was a fair assessment. "We took over the inn over a week ago. You can wash if you want."

The girl's eyes narrowed and her tone was laced with suspicion, "What's the catch?"

"You have to wait until Brûleé is done. She's four and a handful." He scratched absently at the side of his head and broke eye contact like he was ashamed to admit to saying that. "Screamed the last time I tried to brush her hair.."

Murako scowled at that. "What's wrong with her?"

"She misses Mama."

"Oh .."

He sat back, letting the heels of his boots kick up dirt. It was now that he noticed her eyes were purple. "You gonna run away?"

For a moment she thought he meant from home, which she had already accomplished, but when she realized he meant from him she lied. "I might. I'm really good at running."

Katakuri stared at her. "Your parents suck, huh?"

That silenced her and the tension spread out the quiet a moment longer than he liked. He didn't pry. He knew.

Instead, he muttered, "Mine left me here. She's off with the captain. Only comes back to drop off new kids."

"Why?"

The boy looked up at the setting sun, the irony of his eyes following a bird to their nest to feed chicks not lost on him. "To make a perfect family."

"Is it working?"

"...No."

They both sat in silence as he watched her toes draw small patterns in what little loose layer of dirt there was and it was now that he realized how dirty her feet were.

Then, boldly, she asked, "What happened to your face?"

Unsure of which caught him off guard more, her speaking unprompted or the boldness of the question she asked. He sputtered and his inability to find the words annoyed him further. He numbed himself to the disappointment he felt in her and grew bold himself.

"If you mean my mouth, " he opened his mouth wide for her to see, baring his fangs at her and wriggling his tongue like a mock monster. "I was born this way."

She rolled her eyes and with a childish, disinterested tone, "Okaaaay...well, I meant because you have a black eye. I don't care that you're a fishman."

He caught her scanning over his fingers, probably to check for webbing, and his initial anger dissipated. His laughter was so sudden, so loud that it spooked her and several locals closed their shutters in response.

He laughed at his own feelings. He laughed at her weirdness. He laughed at the situation. And finally, before he lost himself to the absurdity of their misunderstanding, he regained his compsure.

"I got into a fight with my older brother over something Mama said," he explained. And then, almost as an afterthought, "I'm not a fishman."

She took a bath later that night. It was a soapy disaster.

Brûleé screamed the moment Murako nearly clawed a hole through the wall trying to escape. It was Katakuri who lifted her by the back of her stained yellow cotton dress and plunked her into the steamy water like an angry kitten. She hissed until the water drained her energy and she reluctantly agreed to clean herself while he waited outside.

Afterward, he offered to brush her hair with a stolen wooden comb but found her hair was too matted.

"This needs to be cut," he remarked, comb snagged on another impossible knot.

"I will die before I let you cut it!" She snarled.

Katakuri quirked a brow at her. He wanted to laugh at this wet beast in front of him. Katakuri opted for promises of sweets and a warm cot afterward.

Her chestnut hair now bounced in shiny curls although her bangs lay crooked and uneven upon her forehead. When she reached to feel for her hair, her fingers were met with a bare neck; the candy made her feel nominally better though her eyes still watered at what was lost.

Later that night, she sat on the edge of the roof allowing her legs to dangle slowly. The stars slowly flickered above and the ocean breeze carried sand from the beach closer to town. Katakuti climbed up beside her but didn't speak yet. She passed him a handful of candy she pocketed from a vendor once he made himself stable and they sat in silence for a while.

"My name is Murako," she said finally. Her voice cracked as if rusted from disuse. "But kids here used to call me Mura."

He looked over at her, tossing a piece of candy into the air before catching it. "That's not a bad name."

"It means imperfect," she explained. "Uneven. Like a cracked dish. At least, the way they meant it."

He popped a candy into his mouth, tucking the ball into his cheek, "Sounds right."

She swiped at him for his cheekiness. She missed.

"Too slow," he teased. And then, as if to assure her, "It's okay that you're not perfect."

Mura didn't respond, only looked down at the stolen candies in her hand.

"Can I call you that? I think it sounds pretty," he admitted.

"I guess...." She smiled softly though still pouting.

They stayed side by side like that, too young to be broken, in the cool of night. Two children no one claimed, held together by a budding friendship, scars and crumbs of kindness.

[writing-haki]

About me:

꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚︶꒷꒥꒷ ‧₊˚ ꒰ฅ˘ω˘ฅ꒱ ˚₊ ‧ ꒷︶꒷꒥꒷˚‧₊꒷꒥꒷

Obsessed with One Piece

18+ blog. Underage DNI

I'm cool with whatever but if I don't wanna look at or write it then I won't. That's the end of it. What other people wanna do is not my concern.

My laptop is hot ass garbage so I have to type fics out on my phone

Multiple requests are okay. I don't usually bite

I can talk about Katakuri all fucking day

I've never really written x reader fics so I'll stick to 3rd person POV with minimal descriptors (I guess that counts as x reader?)

Interested in writing:

Headcanons

Character x Reader

NSFW (undecided but open)

Open to trades

Anything about Katakuri probably takes priority

Ships

Not interested in:

Blank blogs will be blocked

Incest or Underage ships

Political posts, e-begging or ship discourse

OCs:

Murako 🐈‍⬛

Purl 🧶

Orielle 🪽

WIPs:

Katakuri x Reader- in which he comforts 3rd person pov with a bedtime story. 3 parts, quarter typed

Letters from Katakuri to his betrothed

Katakuri x Reader-multi chapter fic in which he slowly falls for a baker. Memory wipe, descent into obsession- ch1 reworking

KatakurixFairy!Reader-oneshot. Pining, regret

Knight!Katakuri; possible series of very loosely related chapters.

🍩🐈‍⬛ Katakuri/Murako OC (mapped out in full, partially written) approx 80k+ chp2 half typed

🍩🧶 Katakuri/Purl OC (brainstormed and partial plan) approx 6k+

♠️🪽 Ace/Orielle OC (might be friendship idfk)

Obsessive!Katakuri (like soft/pining yandere)

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖