4rticbolt - Oh!

4rticbolt - Oh!

More Posts from 4rticbolt and Others

5 months ago
Atje Voor De Sfeer

atje voor de sfeer

5 months ago
Tony Tony Chopper My G 🫡

tony tony chopper my g 🫡

1 month ago

Glimpse of Us

Glimpse Of Us

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Zoro can’t stop seeing Kuina in you—her voice, her stance, her likes and dislikes. As the subtle comparisons mount, you’re left feeling like a shadow, never fully seen for who you are. Can he ever truly see even a glimpse of you, or is it always a glimpse of her?

Word Count: ~4,000

tags: angst, emotional distance

my masterlist here ♡

You joined the Straw Hat crew just after Dressrosa, your sword at your hip and fire in your veins. Zoro was the first to spar with you, his eyebrow raising as your blade nearly nicked his sleeve.

“Not bad,” he muttered. “What’s your name again?”

You told him, and when you smiled, something in his eyes flickered. You didn’t know it then, but he was remembering someone else.

Your face, the way your expression softened when you smiled, reminded him of her. The way your eyes sparkled with that fire, it was too familiar. It wasn’t just your face; it was the way it was framed with your hair, the way your lips curved when you laughed—something in your features felt like the ghost of someone long lost.

“She was strong,” he said under his breath, not to you—but to the ghost behind your shoulder.

Still, he trained with you every morning. He watched you eat three bowls of rice like it was nothing. He called you annoying when you talked too much and interesting when you didn’t back down. You’d catch him staring sometimes—his gaze unreadable.

You thought it was the beginning of something.

⸝

It was late, and you were both on watch. The Thousand Sunny rocked gently beneath your feet, stars swimming above you.

“You always stay up this late?” you asked, sitting beside him on the lion’s head.

“Yeah,” he said. “I like the silence.”

You looked at him, and he didn’t look away.

“I never asked,” you said softly. “Why did you become a swordsman?”

There was a pause. Then: “A promise.”

“To who?”

He was quiet again, gaze drifting to the sea. “Someone who meant a lot.”

You nodded. You didn’t press. But his hand brushed yours—rough fingers curling slightly—and when he didn’t pull away, neither did you.

You thought that maybe this was how it began: gently, gradually.

⸝

It started with little things.

Zoro offered you her favorite drink from the fridge. He mentioned her name once by mistake—Kuina—and froze like the air had been knocked out of him.

You pretended not to notice.

But then came the slip-ups.

“She used to hold her sword like that,” he said mid-training, watching you adjust your grip on the blade.

You paused, sword in hand, before nodding lightly. “Guess it works for me too,” you replied, though it stung.

“She hated fish too,” he noted over dinner one night, pointing at your plate when you hesitated to eat. “You like it, but… she never could stomach it.”

You gave him a forced smile, trying to ignore the coldness creeping into your chest. “I guess I’m different.”

At first, you smiled. You laughed it off, letting it go.

Until it kept happening.

“Kuina always said that.”

“Kuina used to hum that song.”

“Kuina—”

You slammed your fork down one night at the table, but you didn’t say a word. He didn’t notice your silence. Or maybe he chose not to.

⸝

Nami found you in the hallway after another awkward dinner, your arms folded tight across your chest.

“He doesn’t mean to hurt you,” she said gently. “It’s just… grief. Sometimes it sticks.”

You stared at the wall, trying to find something to focus on, but the words kept repeating in your head. Grief. Grief. Grief.

“I’m not her,” you said quietly, though you weren’t entirely sure who you were trying to convince—Nami, or yourself.

“I know.”

“I don’t want to be her.”

“You’re not.”

You bit your lip, voice breaking. “Then why does he keep looking at me like I am?”

⸝

You found him in the crow’s nest, sharpening his sword.

“Zoro,” you said quietly.

He looked up, pausing mid-stroke. “Hm?”

You stepped closer, heart in your throat. “What did you see when I joined the crew?”

He blinked. “What?”

“Was it me?” Your voice trembled. “Or was it just someone who reminded you of her?”

Zoro sat up straighter, eyes narrowing like he couldn’t believe you were saying this. “Y/N—”

“You talk about her like she was everything,” you said, a soft ache rising in your voice. “And maybe she was. I understand that. But you can’t keep looking at me like I’m her. I’m not a ghost. I’m not your memory.”

He stood slowly, arms hanging at his sides. “I know you’re not—”

“Do you?” you snapped, stepping back like his presence burned. “Because every time you mention her favorite food, her stance, her voice—it feels like I’m being folded into a mold I never agreed to fit.”

Zoro’s mouth parted, but no words came.

You bit out the words, sharp and shaking. “I’m not Kuina.”

His voice came low and rough. “Yes. You are not.”

There was a pause, sharp as a blade between you.

“So then,” you whispered, “what about the people who are here? Who want to love you now? Do they even stand a chance?”

He closed his eyes like your words had split him open. “I never meant to make you feel that way.”

“But you did,” you said, voice cracking. “You made me feel like I was someone you were trying to remember—not someone standing right in front of you.”

Zoro opened his eyes again, pain flickering behind them. “That’s not fair.”

“No, what’s not fair is that you keep carrying her into every room we’re in and then wonder why I feel invisible.” You stared at him, your heart pounding. “Do you even see me for who I am? Or is all you see the parts of her that I happen to resemble?”

He looked stunned.

“Do you even know what I like? What I hate? What I’m afraid of? Or have you only been memorizing Kuina all over again through me?”

Zoro’s voice dropped. “I see you.”

“Then tell me something about me,” you challenged, stepping closer. “Not something I remind you of. Something real. Something only I would say or do or think. Tell me you see me.”

He opened his mouth—but nothing came out.

His lips parted, his brow furrowed, eyes darting like he was searching for the right words in the fog of his guilt.

But there was only silence.

Just that.

Your breath hitched.

“See?” you said, and your voice cracked like glass. Disappointment twisted your expression as you stepped back, something fragile and unspoken crumbling inside you.

⸝

You stopped training with him.

You laughed a little less. You avoided late watches.

He noticed. But he didn’t chase.

Sanji filled the silence in the kitchen. Luffy never asked why you stopped joining Zoro on the deck. The crew carried on. And maybe you did too. Maybe that’s what survival looked like.

But some nights, you stood at the rail of the ship, wind cold on your cheeks, and wondered if you’d ever been seen for you—not her echo.

⸝

One morning, he stood beside you. Quiet. Not saying a word.

You didn’t turn.

“I remember her,” he said finally. “Every day. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t see you.”

You stayed still, unsure if it was comfort or cruelty to hear that.

Zoro’s voice was rough. “I saw how you always double-check the anchor chain before we dock. How you clean your blade like it’s a ritual. You hate lychee, love thunderstorms, and you always look out for Chopper when he’s scared. You stand with your weight slightly to the left when you’re lying. And when you’re angry, you chew your words like you’re afraid they’ll hurt.”

You swallowed hard.

“You were never a shadow,” he said. “You were vivid. And I—I was just too lost to hold you properly.”

A long silence stretched.

You breathed, voice soft. “I wish I’d been someone else.”

Zoro’s eyes lowered. “I wish I’d been someone better.”

You turned to face him for the first time in days. The space between you pulsed with the weight of everything you both had carried.

You turned to him, eyes rimmed with quiet hurt. “You said you see me now. But when I needed you to, you didn’t. And now… I don’t know what’s left to see.”

Zoro reached for a word, a gesture—anything—but nothing came.

You stepped back. “Maybe all we ever were was a glimpse of something that never had time to become.”

And then you walked away.

He didn’t stop you—not because he didn’t care, but because he finally understood.

Sometimes, love comes too late.

3 months ago
Bitterspicy? |Master-List|

Bitterspicy? |Master-List|

Sanji x !Fem!Reader, fluff, crack, swearing, bubbly clumsy reader, cuteness aggression, one-shot

You check out what Sanji’s making and get a little too curious…

Like stuff like this? Check out my masterlist, there’s one much similar but a little spicier. Also please check out this amazing artist! She does awesome commissions: @salibadati

•-•-•—•-•-•-••-•-•-•-•—•

You glided down the hall, hopping down the stairs as you excitedly made your way to the kitchen. You were eager to tell the cook you’d caught a fish. Or—well, somewhat, it was a flounder of the sorts, a mixed half-seabeast that left the scaredy cat trio utterly petrified.

Regardless, it’d been a fight to reel in, but thanks to the boys it hadn’t been too much of an issue—to you at-least. Your pole had been the lucky one, and you’d gladly handed it over to Luffy who’d been happy to eat it.

The sea-beast was large, large enough to keep a steady food supply for a week—that is if the captain didn’t eat it.

Swiftly passing the kitchen doors, a heavenly smell drafted through. Something similar to curry, maybe with peppers, left a comforting sense to your nose along with the herbs. You smiled, swinging yourself around the service hatch.

“Sanji! Guess what I caught,” you pipped, hanging on the corner.

“Hm? What’d you catch love?” his tone was gentle, using something he only used for you.

Sanji’s back was turned, and you couldn’t help but notice how nice his tux carved to his shoulders. His sleeves were rolled, accentuating his fore-arms that left your mouth watering.

Gosh, he could be so clueless. Or he couldn’t. You could never tell with him, from teasing to showing off to acting oblivious and naive he was a mix of the three.

“I have no idea,” you muttered, coming up behind him. Along the counter, your attention drifted to the organized ingredients he’d aligned in black and white bowls.

“It’s big and scaly though,” you shifted a bowl to check its contents, curious to what it was. “I’ve never seen anything like it, it’s weird. It has whiskers like a cat—but it looks like a pufferfish mixed with a halibut.”

He hummed softly in response.

“Oh, and it was really snappy too. You shoulda’ seen Usopp, he was terrified,” you laughed, leaning over to smell some of them. Your nose was immediately assaulted with spice and warmth, and you careened back.

Sanji nodded, listening with a smile. Your laughter was music to his ears, and he’d wished he could replay it over and over.

“Big and scaly? Did you catch a sea king?”

“No, I don’t think so, Robin said it’s high in protein though. She even pulled out a fancy fish-log to make sure.”

“Hm, well that sounds promising, good job Love we needed that,” he praised, stirring a pot he’d only break out for stews and curries.

The acknowledgment flew over your head as you sniffed a bowl’s contents, grown oblivious to the use of his affectionate tones. He threw love and praises like a child blowing dandelion seeds, leaving fluttering white fuzzlies of positivity you’d sprout from.

“Thank you,” you chirped, popping carelessly beside him.

“Zoro’s cutting it down for us now actually, so you don’t have to. I figured you were busy making something,” you jumped, leaning into his side, creeping slowly to check the food you so craved. You always knew it’d look good, but that didn’t change the fact you still wanted to see it.

The steam hit you like a burning fog, making your eyes water.

“Finally, moss-head’s actually pulling his weight,” he snarked, hovering his hand to quickly shield your face.

“Careful it’s hot sweetheart.”

“Yeah I know, it just smells good.” you shrugged, wandering back over to the small dishes.

The mindless compliment sent his heart racing, and his eyes turned to hearts. “Why thank you my Angel, you’re too kind.” He swirled, mixing the turmeric colored dish.

“Of course,” you muttered, sniffing a spoon of something you expected to be sweet, but it stung, yet again leaving your eyes to water.

You dropped the spoon, leaning back, coughing slightly.

“Phew, the fuck is that?”

“Oh? Those are the chillies,” he laughed, adding some cloves to the pot, keeping casual in your presence. You joined often in the kitchen, appearing time and time again and it’d just become a norm between you too. He watched as you inspected, he told, and you helped. It was a sweet balance, teetering on the edge of chaos with your clumsiness. Rather blunt recklessness in his opinion. But he’d loved you the same.

He found it endearing.

Though, this time you’d inspected a bowl of something sweet. Stark contrast to chilies and cayenne peppers from before, you simply wanted to taste. And the thought had been to quick to stop.

Your eyes wandered, purely drawn to Sanji’s fluent skills. Chopping vegetables and chicken so perfectly, it put his knives to shame.

You’d ironically been mesmerized, due to the fact he was so slim and tall, manly, and the literally epitome of a gentleman. Yet he worked with knives and food like a ballerina to her shoes.

Lost in the maze of your admiration, you’d mindlessly put a bit too much on the spoon to try, and the bitterness hit hard. You hadn’t paid attention, and now you payed the price.

A muffled cough sounded throughout the kitchen, and a hand flew to cover it, but it was too late. Your eyes watered and you immedialty regretted the impulsive decision.

Poofft . . .

Sanji paused. His cutting slowed, and he’d gently placed the knife down to wipe his hands. Maybe you’d sniffed the wrong bowl again? He thought, slowly turning around. But gods was he wrong.

Oh. Oh. Okay.

There was cinnamon everywhere. A clouded dust of brown had covered the counter, and he couldn’t even see your face. Had you—?

He urgently called your name, keeping ease.

“Mon Amour? Are you—is that the cinnamon?!”

He rushed to your side, eyes filled with concern as he finally met your teary ones. You turned to him in a coughing fit, splashing cinnamon painfully after. You owlishly blinked up at him, and his heart exploded at the sight.

His instincts told him to not make fun, but a light-hearted laugh escaped him before he’d grabbed a dampened towel for you.

His arms tenderly outstretched, wiping your face, chuckling, “Sweetheart what’d you even do?” he chided, sweeping his thumb over your chin.

“I didn’t mean’thu, I thought it—pff—“ another rasp of cinnamon launched between you, and you coughed. And he only laughed more.

Which turned to contagious giggles.

Sanji gingerly held your face, bringing your hand which held a cloth—close to your face.

He was truly your savior. Because you urgently spit it out, wincing.

“____, hun, here, there you go.” he said, pushing your brown tinged hair out of your face.

“Sorry,” you finally mumbled, surrendering in complete defeat and humiliation.

“I thought it was, I don’t know, like, edible—“

“It’s okay, you were just curious…though why you thought eating a spoonful of cinnamon was a good idea? I will never know,” he mused, looking quietly down to you. His thumb caressed your cheek and he fawned again. He squeezed your cheeks, and he was gone.

You looked absolutely adorable like this, and your perfume? Now infused with the spice? Did wonders.

This had to be what cuteness aggression was. Otherwise he wouldn’t be squeezing you so tight.

“Sanji let me go,” you muttered, struggling in the tight clasp of his hug. He only mumbled something whiny and incoherent in your ear, and your face felt like the burner of the stove.

“Just let me hold you, you’re too cute.”

You blushed, grumbling. What got slipped in his breakfast this morning? You rested your head on his shoulder and he tightened his grip, twirling you around.

You relaxed, giving into his affection. But smoke caught your glimpse.

“Uh, baby—“

“No. Let me hug you.”

“No you—Sanji!” You groaned, “The foods burning!”


Tags
2 months ago

oh my goddd I just read the Monster trio & pregnant reader fic and i loved it.

Could you write about them as baby dads?

🫵 Made Him a Dad

Oh My Goddd I Just Read The Monster Trio & Pregnant Reader Fic And I Loved It.

after the pregnancy and labor let's see their reaction to you going into labor?

a/n: tried to not be repetitive but it was hard lmao

also a special thanks and credits to @katsukis-foxie6 for giving me some ideas, espcially for sanji's ❤︎❤︎❤︎

characters: luffy, zoro, sanji

words count: around 0.9k - 1.3k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

Oh My Goddd I Just Read The Monster Trio & Pregnant Reader Fic And I Loved It.

── .✦ Monkey D. Luffy:

The Straw Hat crew was anchored at a small island, taking a rare break after a long stretch of adventures. The sun was setting, casting an orange glow over the ship as you cradled your baby girl, Dawn, in your arms. She was only a few months old, but her presence already seemed to brighten every corner of the Thousand Sunny. Her tiny hands wrapped around your finger, and the sound of her soft giggles filled the air.

Luffy, his usual exuberance toned down just a bit, sat across from you, his eyes locked on Dawn with a mixture of pride and awe.

“She’s so cute, y/n,” Luffy said with his signature grin, his voice filled with warmth “Look at her! She’s already so strong! I bet she’s gonna be a great pirate!”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at Luffy’s enthusiasm “She’s barely even walking yet, Luffy. Maybe let’s wait a few years before we start recruiting her into the crew.”

Luffy’s face lit up “Oh, at her age I already wanted to be the king of pirates!" He turns to look at you and your serious face kinda scares him "...Y-yeah, we should let her grow a little first! But she’s gonna be the best, I just know it! I’ll teach her everything I know!”

Suddenly, a loud voice boomed from the shore, and you looked up to see none other than your grandfather-in-law, Garp, strolling toward the ship with a big grin plastered on his face.

“Oi, Luffy!” Garp shouted, his signature Marine coat fluttering behind him “I heard you had a kid! About time you stopped being such a carefree idiot and started taking responsibility!”

Luffy jumped to his feet immediately, his eyes widening with excitement “Grandpa! You’re here!” He grabbed Dawn from your arms before you could even protest, holding her in front of Garp with the same proud grin he always wore “Look! This is my daughter!”

You stood up and approached them with a smile, watching Garp’s reaction carefully. Garp stared down at the tiny bundle in Luffy’s arms, his usual gruff expression softening as he regarded her.

“She’s tiny,” Garp muttered, squinting at Dawn, but his voice held a strange tenderness “I didn’t think Luffy could make something this cute.”

Luffy puffed out his chest with pride “She’s gonna grow strong, just like me! And she’s gonna be a great pirate!”

Garp grunted, crossing his arms “A pirate, huh? You’ve got a long way to go if you’re gonna make her one of your little nakama, brat.”

Luffy beamed, clearly not bothered by the teasing “I’ll make sure she’s ready! Right, Dawn?” He shook her gently, making silly noises that caused her to giggle. Dawn’s tiny fingers grasped at Luffy’s hand, and it seemed like the whole world stopped for a second.

Garp let out a low chuckle, his usual gruff demeanor melting a bit as he saw the deep love in Luffy’s eyes “Well, kid, looks like you’re serious about being a dad. I can’t believe it, but I guess you’ve really grown up. She’s got your stupid grin, that’s for sure.”

Luffy looked over at you with wide eyes, his face flushed with excitement “Grandpa likes her! He said she looks like me!”

You smiled softly, your heart swelling with affection for both your husband and daughter “She has your smile, alright” you said gently, brushing a strand of hair from Dawn’s face.

Luffy beamed, clearly feeling validated by Garp’s approval “I’m gonna teach her all kinds of stuff! How to eat a ton, how to never give up on your dreams, and how to make sure the meat’s always cooked perfectly! She’s gonna be awesome!”

Garp raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching upward into a smirk “Well, she’s not gonna be a pirate, that’s for sure.”

Luffy blinked in confusion “Huh? What do you mean? She’s gonna be the greatest pirate ever!”

Garp crossed his arms, grinning mischievously “No way. I’ve seen what happens when you let brats like you run wild. She’s gonna be a Marine, just like her old grandpa.”

Luffy’s eyes widened, and he took a step back, shaking his head in disbelief “What?! No way! She’s gonna be a pirate! You can’t stop that!”

Garp laughed, thoroughly amused by Luffy’s reaction “Oh, I can see it now: ‘Little Dawn, future Marine Admiral!’ No pirates for her! She’ll be the one taking you down one day.”

Luffy’s face scrunched up in determination “No! You’ll see! She’ll be a pirate! And she’s gonna be the best one there is!”

You chuckled softly at their bickering, watching as Garp playfully ruffled Luffy’s hair and then glanced down at Dawn.

“She’s got a strong spirit, though,” Garp admitted with a sigh, softening just a little “I can tell she’ll be a handful, just like her old man. But I’ll make sure she knows the proper way to punch things if she ever tries to follow in your footsteps.”

Luffy grinned, not giving up on his dream “I’ll make sure she’s ready to punch things too—pirate things!”

Garp snorted and let out a deep laugh “Well, kid, you’ve got a good one here. Just don’t be surprised when she ends up in a Marine uniform one day.”

Luffy huffed but looked down at Dawn lovingly “We’ll see about that.”

As the sunset painted the sky with hues of orange and pink, you felt the promise of a new journey unfolding, one with your family at the heart of it all. With Luffy by your side and Garp giving his usual advice, there was no doubt that little Dawn would grow up surrounded by love, adventure, and laughter, her own future as bright as the sun setting before you.

Oh My Goddd I Just Read The Monster Trio & Pregnant Reader Fic And I Loved It.

── .✦ Roronoa Zoro:

Your daughter, barely a few months old, has her tiny fingers wrapped around his index finger, her grip firm, almost unrelenting. Zoro raises an eyebrow as he tries to gently pull away, but she refuses to let go, her tiny face scrunching up in determination.

“Damn,” he mutters, glancing at you as you sit beside him, amused “She’s strong.”

You laugh softly, leaning against his arm “Like her dad.”

Zoro doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he watches your daughter with an unreadable expression, his free hand absentmindedly running over her soft, wispy hair. The moment lingers, quiet, thoughtful, before he finally speaks again.

“No,” he says, voice low “Like her mom.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. When you look up at him, you see the way his jaw tightens, the way his fingers twitch slightly against your daughter’s back. He’s thinking about something serious. Something deep.

Zoro’s gaze flickers to you, intense in that way only he can be “That day…” He exhales sharply through his nose. “And not just that day. The whole damn time. Pregnancy, labor... all of it. I thought I knew what strength was, but I didn’t. Not really.”

Your chest tightens. Zoro isn’t one to put things into words often, but when he does, he means every syllable.

“I couldn’t do anything at all,” he admits, still staring at your daughter’s tiny hand around his finger “I just had to sit there and watch while you went through all of it. No fight I’ve ever been in, no injury I’ve ever had... it’s nothing compared to that.” He finally looks back at you, eyes dark with something raw “You’re stronger than me, y/n, believe me.”

You feel your breath catch.

It’s not just the words, it’s also the way he says them, with complete sincerity. Zoro, who has trained his entire life to be the strongest swordsman, means it. He believes it.

You squeeze his arm gently, your voice soft “Zoro…”

He huffs, shaking his head as if the thought still overwhelms him. Then, his expression softens just a little as he looks down at your daughter again. She’s still gripping his finger tightly, completely oblivious to the weight of the moment.

Zoro smirks faintly “She’s lucky to have you as her mom” he mutters.

You smile, warmth blooming in your chest “She’s lucky to have you as her dad.”

He doesn’t answer right away, but you catch the way his grip on your daughter shifts slightly, gentler, but still firm. Protective. Always.

She might have his strength, but Zoro knows exactly where it comes from.

And he’ll never forget it.

Zoro started to be protective towards her since you first announced your pregnancy.

He’s that type of super stressed dads who keeps running around following every single thing she does so that he can catch her if needed. All this with always a big blush on his face.

But it’s not that bad that he controls her bec, in fact, right now, your one-year-old daughter is standing in the middle of the deck, holding onto Luffy’s index fingers as he swings her back and forth like a human jump rope. Every time he lifts her up, she squeals in delight, kicking her little legs mid-air before landing on the deck.

“Again! Again!” she demands, her tiny fists gripping Luffy’s fingers with ridiculous strength.

Zoro, standing nearby with his arms crossed, scowls “Oi. Don’t drop her.”

Luffy grins, stretching his lips wide “Don’t worry! I won’t!”

You, sitting on a crate just a few feet away, shake your head with a sigh “She’s fine, Zoro. Look at her, she’s having fun.”

Zoro doesn’t budge, arms still crossed “She’s one wrong step away from flying into the ocean.”

Luffy gasps, looking at Kazuki with sparkling eyes “You wanna fly?!”

“Luffy, NO.” you and Zoro shout at the same time.

Kazuki claps her hands “Fly!”

“NO,” Zoro repeats firmly, glaring at Luffy “You are not throwing my kid.”

Luffy pouts “But she’s got a strong grip! She wouldn’t even let go—”

“Luffy,” you say, rubbing your temples “let’s not test her durability today, please.”

Luffy sighs dramatically but doesn’t argue. Instead, he lifts Kazuki up and plops her on his shoulders, holding onto her tiny hands so she doesn’t wobble off.

Zoro mutters under his breath but doesn’t stop it. At least Luffy’s holding onto her.

Sanji chooses this moment to stroll onto the deck, cigarette between his lips but dropping it as he walks towards Kazuki “There’s my little princess,” he coos, hands in his pockets “You hungry, sweetheart?”

Kazuki, who has long since associated Sanji with food, beams “Yummy?”

Sanji grins “The yummiest. I made you something special.”

Zoro immediately frowns “What did you make her?”

Sanji raises an eyebrow “Relax, moss-head. Just some soft fruit and rice balls.”

Zoro doesn’t move “You sure there’s nothing weird in it?”

Sanji bristles, instantly getting in his face “Weird? She’s a baby, you muscle-brained swordsman! What the hell do you think I’d put in her food?”

You sigh, standing up to intervene before they actually start fighting “Okay, okay, both of you calm down. Sanji, thanks for making her food. Zoro, you really do look stressed, why don’t you go take a nap? I’ll stay with her.”

“I’m good, I’ll go later… don’t worry” he says softly but still watches like a hawk as Sanji hands Kazuki a tiny rice ball. She immediately grabs it with both hands and shoves it into her mouth, cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk.

“Good?” Sanji asks, kneeling to her level.

Kazuki chews, sways on her little feet, then beams “Good!”

You smile and ruffle her hair “Say ‘thank you,’ Kazu.”

Kazuki tilts her head, then garbles around the mouthful of rice “Fanku.”

Sanji clutches his chest like he’s been shot “Ohh, my sweet little angel, you’re so polite—”

Zoro scoffs “Don’t act like you raised her.”

Kazuki points a chubby little finger at Zoro and proudly declares “Dada’s idiot.”

Silence.

Then the crew loses it.

Luffy collapses onto the floor, clutching his stomach. Nami has to lean against a barrel, wiping tears from her eyes. Sanji turns away, shoulders shaking with laughter. Even Robin chuckles from where she’s reading in her chair.

Zoro stares at Kazuki, completely betrayed.

You, barely containing your laughter, kneel beside her “Sweetheart, don’t call your daddy an idiot.”

Kazuki tilts her head, as if deep in thought. Then, just as serious, she looks back at Zoro and says—

“Dada’s big idiot.”

Zoro groans so loud it nearly rattles the ship.

Luffy wheezes. Nami nearly falls over. Usopp actually falls over.

You bite your lip, but it’s no use, you’re laughing too.

Zoro glares at all of you “I blame all of you for this... y/n, stop it”

Kazuki, sensing she’s won, lifts her arms up to Zoro. He sighs, scooping her up, resting her against his chest. She immediately nuzzles into his shoulder, letting out a happy little hum.

“Dada” she murmurs.

Zoro exhales, the corner of his lips twitching despite himself. He presses a kiss to her hair, murmuring, “Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky I like you, brat.”

You step closer, resting a hand on his arm “You love her” you tease.

Zoro scoffs “Obviously… unlike you, she doesn’t know what she’s saying”

You go and leave a quick peck on his lips “You’re my lovely big big idiot”.

He blushes like crazy.

Kazuki looks up, sleepy “Dada?”

“Hm?”

She grins “Dada’s big big idiot.”

The crew howls with laughter.

Zoro sighs so deeply, but even as the teasing continues, he holds Kazuki a little closer.

She’s happy, safe, and in his arms. That’s all that matters.

That afternoon, you find them sleeping adorably together, in the same napping position. Smiling, you take a blanket and gently cover them both. Zoro stirs awake, thinking the baby has moved, something that makes you smile even more, knowing how hard it usually is to wake him. When he sees it’s you, he reaches for your hand and quietly invites you to join them, pulling you in for a cuddle.

Oh My Goddd I Just Read The Monster Trio & Pregnant Reader Fic And I Loved It.

── .✦ Vinsmoke Sanji:

Sanji is soft with her.

Softer than you ever thought possible.

You watch from the doorway as he sits on the edge of your shared bed, cradling your daughter so delicately, like she’s made of glass. His thumb gently strokes over her tiny fingers, his breath slow, steady, controlled. But his eyes hold something else.

Something hesitant.

Something uncertain.

Your heart tightens.

“She’s sleeping,” you whisper, stepping closer “You don’t have to be so tense.”

Sanji barely glances up “I know.”

But he doesn’t relax. Not even a little.

Instead, he just keeps staring at her, as if waiting for something. As if at any moment, she’ll change into something unfamiliar, something he won’t know how to handle.

You sit beside him, curling close, resting your head against his shoulder. One arm wraps around his waist, the other reaching out to trace the soft fabric of the onesie your daughter is bundled in. She shifts slightly, making a tiny sound, and Sanji freezes.

You feel the sharp inhale he takes. The way his fingers twitch, just barely, as if bracing himself.

And suddenly, you understand.

“Sanji.” You keep your voice gentle “What’s wrong?”

He exhales slowly through his nose “Nothing.”

You don’t let that slide. Not with him. Not when he’s never been able to lie to you.

You shift, pulling back just enough to see his face “You’re scared.”

His jaw tenses, his grip on your daughter tightening the smallest bit “Of course I am,” he murmurs “I’ve never done this before.”

You shake your head “No, I know it's not just that.”

He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to. You can see it all over him, the weight of his past, the fears he won’t say out loud.

So you say them for him... “You’re scared of being like him.”

Sanji flinches.

It’s barely noticeable. A fraction of movement, a flicker in his expression. But you know him too well.

“I’m not,” he starts, but his voice falters “I mean—I would never—”

“I know,” you cut in softly “And she’ll know too.”

His breath shudders “But what if—”

“She won’t be like them, Sanji.” You rest your hand over his, where he’s still holding her so, so carefully “And even if she was, she’d still be ours.”

Sanji swallows hard “I don’t want her to be cold,” he whispers “I don’t want her to feel like she has to earn love. I don’t want her to think—” He stops, jaw clenching “Like I did.”

Your chest tightens.

You knew. Of course you knew. You knew how deep his scars ran, how much he still carried, no matter how much love he poured into everyone else.

You squeeze his hand “She won’t.”

Sanji shakes his head “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” you insist, voice steady “Because you are her father.”

That makes him pause.

“She’s going to grow up knowing love, Sanji. Because you give it so easily, so naturally. Because you would rather die than see her cry. Because when she wakes up at night, you hold her before I can even sit up. Because you—” Your voice wavers, but you press on “Because you are already the best father she could ever have.”

Sanji exhales, shaky, uneven. His grip on your daughter loosens just slightly, his thumb resuming its soft strokes against her tiny hand.

“She’s so small” he murmurs, almost to himself.

You smile, leaning into him again “Yeah. But she’s yours.”

That does something to him.

You feel the tension in his body shift, melting just a little. He looks down at your daughter again, something lighter in his expression now. Something less like fear and more like wonder.

“She’s beautiful” he breathes.

You kiss his shoulder “Like her dad.”

Sanji huffs, but you can hear the warmth creeping into his voice “I hope not. She deserves better than a troublesome cook.”

You nudge him playfully “She has a father who will love her unconditionally.”

Sanji doesn’t answer right away.

Instead, he shifts, adjusting his hold on her, drawing her closer. And when he finally speaks, it’s barely above a whisper, so quiet you almost miss it.

“Yeah, she has that.”

Your throat tightens.

You don’t say anything, just slide your arms around him, tucking yourself against his side, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw.

Sanji rests his chin lightly atop your head. He’s quiet for a moment, but you can feel the way his heartbeat slows, steadying.

Then, just as softly, almost like an afterthought, he murmurs, “I was easy to love. My father was just really bad.”

Your breath catches.

It’s not something he’s ever said before, not so plainly, not so simply.

But now, with his daughter sleeping in his arms, with you curled up beside him, with love so clear and so real around him, he finally believes it.

The fears won’t vanish overnight. The scars won’t disappear. But right here, right now, in the quiet of your room, with your daughter safe in his arms Sanji finally lets himself believe it.

He is more than enough.

And he always will be.

The next morning you wake up to chaos.

“Oi, oi, oi, CAREFUL!” Sanji nearly vaults over the table as Luffy lifts the baby girl high into the air, laughing as she squeals in delight “Luffy, she’s not a sack of flour, PUT HER DOWN!”

“She likes it, though!” Luffy beams, spinning in a circle with her in his arms “Right, mini-cook?”

His daughter giggling is the only reason Sanji doesn’t immediately drop-kick his captain into the next century. Instead, he clenches his fists and growls, “If you drop her, Luffy, so help me—”

“Oh, come on, love-cook,” Zoro snickers, leaning back against the railing “You’re acting like she’s made of glass.”

Sanji whirls around to glare at him “You grip your sword too tight, you sit too close, you BREATHE wrong, and I swear—”

“Oh no,” Nami sighs, crossing her arms with a smirk “We’ve lost him.”

Usopp nods dramatically “RIP Sanji. He used to be cool.”

Franky wipes an imaginary tear “Another victim of dad syndrome.”

Sanji ignores them, practically vibrating with anxiety as Luffy tosses the baby just slightly in the air before catching her again.

“LUFFY, I SWEAR TO ALL THE—”

You snort. Loudly.

And just like that, Sanji freezes.

His brain short-circuits because—oh.

You’re laughing.

Not a little chuckle, not a polite giggle. Full-on, tears-in-your-eyes laughter.

Sanji forgets about murdering Luffy, forgets about all the dumbasses around him, because you’re happy.

His shoulders drop. His fists loosen.

Then, as if sensing his shift, his daughter suddenly reaches her arms out for him.

Sanji immediately swoops in, taking her from Luffy and holding her close to his chest, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead “That’s enough flying for today, sweetheart.”

Nami smirks “Aww, the overprotective dad act is over already?”

Sanji barely reacts. Instead, he turns to you, watching the way you’re still wiping laughter from your eyes, and—

God.

If this is what family feels like, if this is what love feels like, then he never, ever wants anything else in the whole world.

5 months ago

Overused Words & Alternatives

Said: replied, asserted, concluded, explained, articulated, retorted

Moved: maneuvered, shifted, walked, shuffled, turned, pushed

Amazing: unbelievable, wonderful, remarkable, startling, unusual, neat, marvelous

Very: greatly, eminently, terribly, absolutely, decidedly, remarkably, notably

Love (noun): affection, fondness, devotion, infatuation, appreciation

Love (verb): admire, cherish, treasure, prefer, be fond of, be attached to

Look: glance, notice, peer, stare, study, view, watch

Source ⚜ More: Word Lists ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs ⚜ Said ⚜ Very ⚜ Love

1 month ago
Complications |Master List|

Complications |Master List|

Ace x Reader, fluff, crack, sfw, minor swearing

Summary: School stresses you out, and Ace is there to motivate you!

A/N: Yeesh . . . college isn’t easy, and it definitely isn’t everyone’s thing. I hope this fic reaches those who need it, and you’re motivated! Best wishes to the person who requested this, and best wishes to those who have an upcoming test/exam/quiz!

•-•-•—•-•-••-•-•—•-•—•-•

Working in your room, unbothered, your journal lies in-front of you.

The clock reads: 2:25pm, by your side, and you know you’ve already wasted half the day. You’d been procrastinating since this morning, changing up tasks, and different schedules—to avoid this very moment.

But, you couldn’t ignore it forever, so here you were now. Begrudgingly studying.

SLAM

“____!” Ace swung your door open, peeking in.

You flinched, throwing your pencil up as you shouted. “Oi! Don’t scare me like that!”

“Oh, there you are!” he piped, smiling as he came in, completely disregarding your startle. He through his arms around your shoulder, holding you as he looked to what you were working on.

His head rested above yours, and a look of disgust crossed his face. “Ew. What is that?”

“What’s what?” You sighed, sinking into your chair.

“What do you mean what—oh my god,” he gasped, “Are you working on math?”

“Yes?”

“Ew.” he deadpanned, scrunching his nose.

“It’s not ew, go away if you’re just gonna be annoying.” you grumbled, pulling your journal to hide it as he inched closer.

“Ace—“

Curiously, Ace reached to grab the journal, flipping through the messied pages. He raised a brow, seeing organized definitions . . . to the very un-organized ones.

The hot-head read it as if he could, nodding in understatement before he set it down. He leaned against your chair, flipping to a certain page.

“What’s this mean?” he asked, pointing to a scribbled equation with a poorly drawn ‘fuck this!’ with arrow beside it.

Along with a few other curses and symbols.

You cleared your throat, averting your gaze.

“Look, I’m trying here, don’t judge.” you crossed your arms, averting your gaze.

“I’m not judging,” he shrugged, flipping to a page—where you’d actually gotten an answer.

“Hey, you got this one.” he smiled, patting your shoulder, encouragingly rubbing it to your neck.

“Yeah, and I barely understood it.” you grumbled.

“But you still got it.”

“Barely.”

“But . . . you still got it.” he repeated.

You scoffed, looking away.

Yeah, it was true, you’d got it.

But you didn’t understand it. You’d didn’t get all the material. Maybe in sections, but once you put everything together and you were under-pressure? You’d flunk it. You’d mess it up again.

And in a few weeks, there’d be expectations and things you were ready for, expected to understand, but couldn’t.

“Yeah, barely.” you whispered, growing quiet. Your eyes glossed with tears, and you lowered your head.

“Hey.” Ace nudged, “What wrong?”

“Nothing.”

You shifted up, closing your journal, letting it glide towards the others. You let out a shaky breath, holding your tongue.

Great. That was just more things you needed to study for.

Tears welled.

“____,” he murmured, grabbing your arm.

“Hey, look at me.” Ace pulled you to face him, plopping you to the chair as he kneeled in-front of you. He rested his arms on your thighs, leaning in.

“Hey, you’re doing good. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“I’m not.” you answered, rubbing your face.

“I’m just frustrated and stressed out.”

Ace paused, not expecting you to answer, but agreed. “Yeah, you are.”

“What? Don’t look at me like that, you’ve been stressing over this thing forever.” he grabbed the journal, placing it in your lap. “I’m not completely clueless.”

“I know you’re not, I just. . .”

“Yeah, I know, but look.” he grabbed your chin, tilting it down.

“See this thing here?” Ace gestured to the book, hitting it against your leg. The paper snapped softly throughout the room, and you paused before answering.

“Yeah?”

“You’re trying, ____, and that’s a lot more than other people can say.” he smirked, letting it drop in your lap.

“Look, I know that test—or exam, or whatever the hell you’re working so hard for is important, but you don’t need to worry so much.”

Ace leaned closer, smiling. “You’re smart, really smart, even if that stupid test says otherwise. I know it, deep down you know it, so stop freaking out.”

“You got it, you always do.” he smoothed, poking your forehead.

“I know, that’s why I’m studying but it still doesn’t make sense.” you tried.

“Because you’re thinking too much.” he poked you again, harder this time—making you wince.

“That’s not even a thing,” you muttered, grabbing the journal, but Ace took it right out of your hands.

“Oh—trust me, it is.” he laughed, pulling back.

“You’re doing it now, sitting here crying, and I’m not saying you shouldn’t, get frustrated all you want, but this?” he shook the paper, “doesn’t decide your worth. Even if people say it does.”

“You’re working hard, hard enough anyone out who’s smart enough to realize it, will. So don’t beat yourself up about it.” he smirked, pulling you up.

“You’ll get there, I know you will.” he cupped your face, smoothing over your tears.

You sniffled, lowering your gaze. “You think so?”

Slowly, Ace leaned forward. “I know so, and I’m proud of you for trying, even if it’s hard. You’re getting closer—trust me on that, and you’re getting better without even realizing.”

Gently, his lips met yours. Ace’s kiss was soft, reassuring, and sweet. His hands traveled to your waist, and his forehead leaned against yours.

Steady, and calming.

“You’ll get it right, I know you will. You’re gonna do great.”


Tags
5 months ago

you know you’re a writer when…

you spend 30 minutes choosing the perfect synonym for “said” only to change it back to “said.”

you google “how long does it take to bleed out” at 3 a.m. and now the FBI is probably watching you.

you write one sentence, stare at it, rewrite it 14 times, and somehow end up back at the original version.

“this scene is so important” but you have no idea what the scene actually is or why it’s important.

you come up with the best story ideas… in the shower… with no way to write them down.

your characters feel like real people but also you’re like “who are these guys and what do they want from me?”

your brain says “start writing!” but instead you reorganize your desk, reread your notes, and spend two hours naming a side character who shows up once.

you’ve cried over your WIP exactly 67 times and will do it again because the pain is the point.

you reread something you wrote and think, “wow, did i peak as a writer three months ago?”

every writing session begins with the sacred ritual of scrolling social media, opening unnecessary tabs, and procrastinating until panic sets in.

you have no idea how long a chapter should be, so you just… vibe.

you can’t watch tv or movies without mentally critiquing the plot, dialogue, and pacing.

your writing playlist is 98% vibes, 2% songs you’ll actually listen to while writing.

you keep a “murder notebook” but swear it’s not suspicious because it’s for your novel (probably).

the phrase “just one more draft” is your eternal mantra, even though you’ve rewritten this thing more times than you can count.

1 month ago

You know the song? "My heart will go on" imagine how the monster trio (separately) would react to reader singing that song and they've never heard of the song before so it's completely new to them.

Yesyesyesyesyes—I would LOVE to do this. This is adorable. It’s the Celine Dion one right?? There’s so many I’m thinking of right now lol

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