Just Pick Him Up And Place Him Somewhere Else

monito d. luffy <3

"I know adverbs are controversial, but "said softly" means something different than 'whispered' and this is the hill I will die on."

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

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

── .✦ 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.

── .✦ 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.

── .✦ 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.

zzz

HELP WHY DID I MAKE THIS

saw a woman comforting her sobbing child saying “i already told you, you have to keep looking forward, looking back just gets you hurt” and i thought she was sharing a beautiful life lesson about the importance of letting go of regret and resentment. but it turns out the kid just wasn’t looking where he was going and ran into a wall

atje voor de sfeer

SILLY GIRL

synopsis: after injuring yourself in the abdomen while attempting to clean zoro's katanas, you try to conceal the horrifying slash that you have caused.

contains: fem! reader, blood, pure fluff, teasing.

author's note: y'all, should i start writing for squid game characters?? i fear i can't go a day without watching edits of lee byung hun & lee jung jae 🚶

a horrendous, lengthy slash decorates your lower abdomen, crimson red liquid continuously seeping out from the thin scar. "s-shit.." anxiety takes over you as you gaze down at the bloody mess before your eyes. the tiramisu of tissue that is being clutched tightly over the stinging scar is coated in blood, making it difficult for you to even try and cover it up.

this is what had led you to the consequences.

the mint-haired man let out a soft huff as he examined the cut. It was a deep gash, and it definitely hadn't been treated properly. gently running his fingers around the edges of the wound, doing his best to handle it delicately. "you should have come to me or chopper sooner, silly girl. you could have made it worse if it got infected."

he sighed as he felt your death grip on his arm. it was like you're afraid that he's mad at you for laying a hand on his swords. "i'm sorry.." you mumble remorsefully.

he could feel you tense up at his touch, but he did his best to be as gentle as possible. you can't help but squirm under your boyfriend's firm, yet gentle hold as your small hands bunched up the white bed sheets from the intense ache. "z-..zoro.." the man ignores the whine that had just slipped out of your lips. when he holds down the piece of material ever so slightly, the tears that has been threatening to spill out for the past few minutes are now rolling down your cheeks non-stop.

he didn't like you putting your health at risk.

you could feel zoro's hand reaching under your shirt to gently rub your back in circular motions with the pad of his thumb to soothe you.

he paused in his treatment when he notices your body go limp against him, your breathing becoming more steady now.

he patted your head softly before running his fingers through your hair, his hand large enough to almost cover your entire head. he shifted you on his lap, allowing you to rest comfortably against his broad chest, head tucked under his chin as he treats your wound.

Writers on a random Tuesday: Sits down, locks in, giggles, writes 10k, does not sleep

Also writers on a random Tuesday: writes one sentence and then stares into the abyss for five fours

Anxieties |Master-List|

!Multiple parts! <1 (Here)>

Platonic, Fluff, hurt/comfort, swearing, happy ending trust, 1st/2nd POV, y'all I yapped, sappy, wise crew I guess, tried to make it cannon to their character

Characters in this chapter: Robin, Sanji, Brook

!TW Anxiety/Panic Attacks!

THIS FIC IS UNDER-CONSTRUCTION AND WILL RE-MADE. I did this around 7 months ago, and my writing has much changed since then.

•-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-•

|Intro warning|

As someone who struggles with anxiety, it is hard. Like...very hard. My greatest wishes go out to the people who struggle with it, and obviously those who don't! Regardless we're all just human trying to get by.

And I am proud of y'all... though that sounds weird coming from a stranger on the internet who knows nothing about you... it's true. I really do mean it. Things are just getting tough, and they probably will continue to, so all you can do in the time being is just hang in there!

Especially when your anxiety is being a bitch. Which isn't always easy.

It's a struggle. And you are very strong for dealing with it--even if not.

Just take it easy on yourself, and make sure to hydrate and grab a snack! A small change goes a long way.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

On the Strawhat Crew, anxiety is probably a sensitive topic, though it isn’t uncommon. It’d never be overlooked or ignored, given the crew has their own struggles.

I mean, take one good look at their character, ONE good look at their character and tell me they don’t have some kind of crippling fear...

The Straw hats would always be incredibly understanding with you, more so than others—but they’d would know how it feels, and they’d help you in their own lovable way.

There is NO difference if you’re a man or woman, or girl or guy or whatever you want to call yourself, because everyone is equal.

Everyone deserves to be treated with the same help AND respect another can get.

Which the Straw hats would strictly stand by, given they're morals, and not to mention they are literally sweethearts...

And at first, you might not think of it that way. You'd obviously trust them, but your anxiety was different. It felt…burdening. Knowing you're safe and loved, but it’d still eat at you.

However, the crew would see that as they are all emotionally intelligent, so it’s pretty much impossible to keep something from them like that. Even if some are more dense than others. Cough cough emotionally constipated.

Regardless, Robin was the first to figure it out. She’d caught your anxious mannerisms out of the corner of her eye. The way your knee would restlessely bounce, the fidgeting, the nervous stumbling... she knew.

She never caught it in the act, but she had always been your silent support.

Robin is more of the gentle type—motherly if anything as she had always been the person to quietly hold your hand, pull you aside, or ground you with her soothing words.

Reminding you there was always someone there.

No matter where or why you'd panic, she wouldn't judge you. The thought could have never possibly crossed her mind.

And it was no different when she'd come across your trembling form, leaning against the deep red seats in the aquarium bar—later into the night.

. . .

“____?” Robin asked quietly, knocking on the door to attempt to alert you of her company. Her heart wrenched at the sight of your tear streaked face, bathed in the blue light from the tank.

Your skin was discolored, even more exposed and vulnerable in the subdued lighting—struggling to catch a damned breath; limbs sludge as a result.

You felt as though everything weighed you down, converting you into something you'd hate to recognize. The familiar feeling of everything crashing atop you, reminding you no matter how much anything changed—you were still you.

Robin repeated your name, leaving it echo louder throughout the room, snapping you out of your daze. The storminess of everything filtered away, replaced by a sharp jolt to your heart as she'd startled you.

The archeologist quietly apologized, carefully stepping into the room waiting for a sign to continue forward. Her mind was alert, troubled by whatever seemed to have plagued you—reducing you to this. Diminishing your loved smile into a water work of tears.

Having to watch the way your hands dug into your sides, embarrassingly turning away from her—it was unfair. It was cruel to think someone as kind as you suffered so much.

Even if it was life, it seemed it’d been especially hard on you

Robin slowly came to your side, letting you adjust as she placed a comforting hand to your back, pulling you in for a hug.

She wasn’t necessarily sure what to say, or what to comfort you with, but she’d try. She had too.

She couldn’t bare seeing you this way.

“It’s okay, ____. I’m right here.” Robin whispered, letting her arms tighten around you, hoping to aid your distress.

You practically melted into her touch, surrendering yourself. Everything had been tormenting you for the last hour—and you couldn't bare it any longer.

"I'm sorry," you choked, your breath hitching as your chest tremored.

“Don't be, there's nothing to apologize for, you've done nothing wrong." She hummed, her hand gently rubbing into your back.

"Just breathe ____, you’re okay.”

Robin let you rest in her arms however long you needed. No matter the hour, no matter the cause, she was there for you. She didn't leave you to your silence for a moment, as she knew the feeling of it. The loneliness, the memories, the pain...

She always chose to look out for you, as you were her dearest crew-mate. Her dearest friend, and dearest family.

•-•

Sanji and Brook were the next to see it in action.

A pair you wouldn't think would go together, but does. They were a underrated duo to say in the least, both of course perverts—but you knew they meant well. And you know that hat they say: great minds think alike.

Or maybe that’s just an excuse idiots use.

However, Sanji was surprisingly well with you. He wouldn’t bombard you with his lovey dovey tendencies, nor mix his flirty temptations with your troubles. He was always incredibly gentle with you, as your state would affect him greatly.

He could always empathize with you, given his own cumbersome experiences.

Sanji often tended to read you when in distress, picking up on your small cues, or just having a hunch. He might not exactly know what caused it, but he could sure as hell sense it, much like the others do.

It's just a feeling he had, a slight pinch in his skin, a reminder. A reminder of how protective he could be with you and his crew.

He’d be the type to assure you, tell you it wasn't a burden to reach out, and depending on your preferences, he would hold you close.

Sanji would always ask you if you needed anything, and if you did—without hesitation he’d get it for you. The cook would do anything for the ones he loved, much more cherished. Especially when it came to you, someone who hit a little too close to home.

Now, when Brook came into the knowledge of your anxiety, it’d kinda just clicked for him. The gears in his skull would comically grind and turn—leaving a solemn feeling to wash over him.

He would silently realize why you acted the way you did, why you had your questionable habits, and why you had your required ‘alone time.’ And he'd understand all of it.

He’d gone through the feeling of it for more than 50 years alone. So he could sympathize, even if he didn’t know what you went through—what mattered now, was helping you out if it.

The skeleton had always been fond of you, as he was with everyone, but this was under different circumstances. It was at your own expense, and he quickly wanted to help you.

Which he did, as Brook gave out surprisingly good advice as well as an easy means for distractions.

From liners of comedic relief to your favorite tune—he'd have your back. Even if he didn't have his.

His musical talent would be a blessing in the frantic moment, and the calming notes of his violin eased your inner torment. He brought a calm to your storm, and his corny jokes never failed to make you laugh—so you had nothing to lose if you'd ever gone to him. Brook would always be more than happy to support you.

•-•

Nevertheless, even with the exception of their help it never felt like enough, your anxiety simply wouldn’t budge. It was stubborn, and it tormented you.

You were triggered off an on and it was set off by the littlest of things, amplified to the point of bringing yourself down. The constant stress weighed, and it frustrated you to no end. Ultimately making you feeling like a bigger burden, so you simply avoided yourself. And the others around you.

When in need, you stopped going to Robin as you tried to just shut it off completely. You didn’t mean to, but you tended to push away the ones you loved away, further adding to your apprehensions.

And as a result; it took you down.

It’d been late at night when you had another panic attack, left exhausted on the kitchen floor, chest heaving as you quietly cried. You’d yet again given up, far too weak and tired to trek back to your room. So you succumbed to your exhaustion there, deciding it was a good place to sleep it off.

Which you later found out it wasn’t, but you were too groggy to care.

•-•

A light quietly flickered on in the un-assumed room, and Sanji casually walked in to prep breakfast. Accompanied by the joyful company of brook while the two had light talk, speaking of an island that was soon to come up based off Nami’s observations. Which had everyone in high hopes and in dire needs since Luffy had raided the kitchen the night before.

Brook casually leaned against the kitchen’s sidewall, letting out a dramatic yawn as he reached down to play his violin, a peaceable tune filling the room.

"I feel as if today will be…special," He hummed, mindlessly scanning the room, opting to watch cook as he prepared the much needed morning coffee.

"Mm, and why is that?"

"I can feel it in my bones."

"Of course you can." Sanji sighed, bringing the water to a boil as he grabbed some ground coffee, adding in the essential ingredients.

"The ratio has to be perfect or Robin's coffee won't taste right." He muttered, not bothering to question the musician’s gaze.

“Hah quite so, the dedication of a true chef! Do you think she notices your efforts?" Brook replied, casually looking up to the cook.

“. . .” Sanji’s felt his eye twitch, glaring up to Brook—but something was caught in the corner of his eye.

"I'll take that as a maybe then yohoho!" He laughed, muttering something incoherent about losing his breakfast.

Sanji only ignored him, focusing his attention to the cartoony pair of socks that lied awkwardly behind a chair’s legs.

“Looks like someone camped out in here…” he turned off the stove, opting to check on the sleeping figure.

“What? Who? Where?” Brook blurted, immediately scanning the room. He jumped when he finally spotted someone’s feet, letting out a high-pitched girlish scream as they twitched. His hand clasped over his ‘heart’ and he quickly hid behind the kitchen’s service hatch, peeking through.

Ironically enough Brook’s mind flickered to the thought of a zombie, or even worse—a ghost.

“Shh!” Sanji hissed, flipping around to send the man another glare, “Dammit don’t go waking up the whole ship, It’s probably just Luffy or something—the idiots probably ‘starved’ by now.” He drug a hand down his face, walking around the table towards your unsuspecting form.

He knew he couldn’t full-proof it was Luffy—given those ridiculous socks he’d caught a glimpse of, as he knew deep down his idiot of a captain barely ever wore socks—always raw dogging it in those god awful shabby sandles.

So when his gaze finally land on you, he paused. He suspected it, but it uneased him to no end, and his irritation vanished completly replaced by a creeping sense of worry.

“____?!”

Sanji knew you never came to the kitchen this early—you always slept like a rock in your room, and you didn’t show yourself till late afternoon. If they were lucky.

Another holler finally seemed to stir you awake, and you let out a sleepy groan sorely rolling to your back to meet their concerned faces.

You could see Sanji’s mouths moving, but you couldn't bother to hear his words as they were far too faint, and you were much too tired to care. It felt painfully early, and you'd maybe gotten a few hours of sleep.

Reaching your arms over your eyes, you wiped away any crispy tears that had dried from the hours before.

“S’too bright,” You mumbled, rolling back to your side as you hid your expression in your arms. You felt like a slug, so slow and grimy, and you’d slept at an awkward angle which killed your back.

“____? Are you alright? Why are you up so early?” Brook leaned over you, his worry growing as more time without answers went by. This wasn’t necessarily a normal occurrence for you, as he didn't often see you this... peachy.

And the two hadn’t missed the way it’d been evident you had been crying—given the puffiness in your eyes and the faint tear marks.

“More importantly why are you asleep on the floor in MY kitchen huh? What’s gotten into you,” Sanji gently patted your shoulder as he tried to get your attention.

"Nothing," You muffled, regretting not forcing yourself to walk back to your room last night.

"It doesn't seem like nothing." He chided, knowing you were going to be stubborn about this. However, he'd never force you to do anything you didn't want to, and the last thing he wanted to do was pressure you.

"I'm just tired," you excused, knowing it was a lame throw, but you didn’t know what to do. You didn’t really want to talk about—it was the same ol’ same ol’, and you only felt it burden them the more it occurred. And knowing the two, you knew they could already tell something was up, and exactly what.

Though roughly enough it had to get worse as an awkward silence washed over, and without your knowledge—Sanji and Brook shared a look.

You heard one of them let out a sigh and Brook suddenly laid down on the floor beside you, his bones clunking against the floor.

"Is the floor really that comfy?”

Sanji hummed, "Must be," he agreed, coming to a causal sit at the other side of you, leaning against the table's leg.

There actions were kind, but for some reason it made your eyes water. You hesitated to say anything, even move you didn't really know what to do now. How to continue, or what words to say, but deep down you knew they only wanted to be there for you, and that was enough to try. The thought of knowing some would be confirmed in stone to be there for you, put you at further ease.

You let out a soft sniffle, leaning up to sit with a knee against your chest as you wiped your oncoming tears with your sleeves.

"Yeah, it's pretty comfy," you murmured, cursing the way it weakly came out and broke.

"Could use a few blankets though," Brook adjusted, also coming to a sit as he let out his classic laugh beside you.

"Mm, let's just stick to our own beds for now," you could hear Sanji grimace, before he gently placed his hand on your head, easing your tears by far. He softly patted your hair before his hand trailed off and he offered for you to stand.

"How about I get you something to eat or drink?” He waited, but you didn’t reply as you didn’t feel in the mood to take anything in. You felt sick enough as is to just throw it up.

“I don’t think I can stomach anything right now, sorry Sanji,” you said quietly, lowering your gaze as you felt more tears surface.

“That’s okay, you can always snack later,” Brook assured.

“If there’s anything left of course,”

“There will be.” Sanji glared, kneeling beside you again—knowing it’d take a little more than a nudge or simple ask.

“____.”

. . .

Silence washed over the three of you again and you could only shrink further in on yourself. You gently shook your head hiding your face in your arms.

“It’s okay to cry. And it’s okay to rely on us, you know that don’t you?” He affirmed, patiently waiting for you. His gaze softened as Brook silently watched, and could only agree—he couldn’t have said it better himself.

“He’s right you know, we’re here for you, we’ll always be.”

Your shoulder’s shook, and you felt your lips tremble, and you could only nod your head in response.

“You don’t have to hide you know.”

“I know that.” Your voice broke.

. . .

“Then why do you?” Brook wondered. He knew you struggled, but not to this extent. You were always so quiet about your troubles, and he wished you wouldn’t feel the need to keep them at bay.

“B-because I—I don’t know. I just, it feels like I’m too much.” You struggled out, “It won’t stop sometimes and everything just feels so constant, I cant get ahold of myself and I feel like I’m burdening you all with it.”

“What? How could you ever burden us with that?”

“Oh ____ ,”

You finally lifted your head, tears streaming down your face as you frustratingly wiped them away, “It’s just never ending, and no matter what I do, or what anyone else might—it still hurts me. Everything feels—just so intense. I don’t know how to explain it. It just feels so weird, and I can’t ever fucking stop it.”

. . .

Brook leaned forward slightly, his skeletal fingers resting lightly on his knees as he looked at you with a rare solemnity. “____ ,” he began softly, “do you know what makes a symphony truly remarkable?”

You sniffled, shaking your head as your eyes continued to stream, silently waiting for him to continue.

“It’s not the constant perfect harmony,” Brook said, his voice unusually tender. “It’s the ups and downs, the quiet moments, the dissonance that resolves into beauty. The silences between the notes are just as important as the notes themselves. Without them, the music would be overwhelming—chaotic.”

Your lips parted, but no words came. You understood his metaphor, but regardless you didn’t feel entirely different, and you lowered your gaze letting tears spill into your hands.

“And life, ____ ,” Brook continued, “is no different. Sometimes, the melody feels too fast, too loud, like you can’t catch your breath. But do you know what makes it bearable?”

You hesitated, then whispered, “What?”

Brook leaned closer, his empty sockets meeting her teary eyes. “The orchestra,” he said gently. “A symphony isn’t carried by one instrument. When your melody falters, the others step in to support you. The violins soften when you’re tired. The percussion steadies you when you’re overwhelmed. Together, we make something beautiful—even when the song feels messy or broken.”

“But it feels like I’m always off-key,” you whispered, “Like I’m dragging everyone down.”

From your other side, Sanji’s calm voice interjected, breaking through your anguish.

“____ ,” he said firmly, “Even if your rhythm falters, we’ll match it. We’re not here to judge the song you’re playing. We’re here to play it with you.”

Brook nodded, his hand gently tapping the floor as though playing an imaginary tune. “That’s right. And no matter how many times you lose the beat, we’ll be here to guide you back. Even dissonance has its place in a masterpiece, ____. It doesn’t make the music less beautiful—it makes it human.”

Your tears finally came to a stop, for the first time in a while—a glimmer of relief shown through your expression. You swallowed hard, your voice shaky but audible. “But I don’t want to ruin the song.”

“You could never ruin it,” Sanji said with a soft smile. “You make it better just by being part of it.”

Brook sighed, coming to a stand as his tone lightened with a small laugh, “And if you ever need a duet partner, I’ll always have time for an encore. Yohoho!”

You smiled, wiping the remnants of your tears, chuckling a bit--feeling much lighter.

Sanji came back to a stand, gently pulling you up with him, “I’m not a musician but I will gladly be listen to you anytime.”

“Yohoho good, now I need some tea, my throats feeling rather dry.”

“Oh get it yourself!” Sanji snapped, averting his attention from you, to yet again send the skeleton a glare. And for once, you felt as ease, it felt...easy to breathe, not forced--but casual. And you knew you'd be okay, because you had them. As the two would always be there for you, even if you're stubborn.

You could never be a burden for your struggles, and they'd always welcome you with open arms. You just hoped you could uphold that front and be true to yourself--to be true to them. To trust the crew and let a bit loose.

Though even if you didn't it'd be okay. Because, being on the straw hat crew wouldn't mean specifically to be strong, but to stick together, to help each other through the thick and thin of life. To have adventures and live life to it's fullest. To live and help each other achieves their dreams, to hang in there, and protest and push through with each other not matter what.