Help A Family In Need

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.

The Archive is currently down and we are looking into it! We'll update you when we know more.

Posted: 02:05 UTC December 27, 2024

headlock

roronoa zoro x reader —ᡣ𐭩 blurb c/w: suggestive a/n: lol

“my eyes are up here.”

a quick snap of his fingers has you peering up at him with warm cheeks. you smile sheepishly at him.

“sorry.”

zoro hums, arching an eyebrow. you're not sorry.

"what's so interesting down there, huh?" he already knows, he just wants to hear you say it.

shaking your head, your eyes don't dare waiver from his. "nothing as interesting as the weather outside."

he purses his lips, a scoff catching in his throat before he tightens his grip on the barbell and brings it up to his chest for another rep. when zoro's gaze drifts from you and lands on the floor beneath him, you flicker your eyes back down to where they were trained before.

his biceps bulge as he flexes them, veins prominent under his tan skin. the defined muscles are your favourite sight, and like a dog, eyes locked on a bone just out of reach, you can feel an urge building in your chest, a twitch of your muscles begging to spring forward, but you refrain.

instead, your mouth moves before you can stop yourself.

"would you put me in a headlock?"

zoro's eye darts to you, his cheeks tinted pink as he falters with the exercise. the barbell falls to the ground with a thunk, and you're surprised it doesn't fall through the wooden floor of the crow's nest.

"what?"

you smile, a challenging glint in your gaze. "you heard me."

"you're a freak."

shrugging one shoulder, you stand. "ok, and? you scared?"

"never," he scoffs, running his hand over his hair. "c'mere then."

you're shocked he'd even consider the idea, but skip over to him anyway. zoro watches you the whole time, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he saw this coming. he hasn't missed the way you stare at his arms like you want to bite them, and whether that's the reason he's been focusing on training them more than any other body part is something he'd never admit.

zoro is quick to spin you, back against his chest. the heady, musky, man smell he emits makes you dizzy and does little to deter you.

"you sure?"

you roll your eyes and crane your neck to look at him. "would i really tell you if i didn't want to?"

zoro's eyebrows jump and then he brings his elbow under your chin. he hovers around you like he's scared to go further, and you push the deep 'v' of his arm around your neck. his other hand flies to your hip to steady you, his arm sliding over your stomach to press you harder against him.

the hard plain of his abdomen on your back knocks the breath out of you, but it's nothing compared to the pulsing of his bloodstream against your ear. his skin is smooth where you trail your fingers on his bicep, and you know when zoro is comfortable when he starts flexing, an easy laugh falling from his lips.

"weirdo," he mumbles when he feels his skin growing warmer with every passing second. you giggle and turn your head to kiss his muscle.

"you love it."

zoro sighs, one of contentment and desire, and you don't miss the traces of a groan when you sink your teeth into his flesh, the pain minor but forever etched into his skin. he shifts his hips and pulls you impossibly closer.

"easy," the swordsman mutters, voice low. "we've got all night."

Girl time

When your Character...

Gets into: A Fight ⚜ ...Another Fight ⚜ ...Yet Another Fight

Hates Someone ⚜ Kisses Someone ⚜ Falls in Love

Calls Someone they Love ⚜ Dies / Cheats Death ⚜ Drowns

is...

A Child ⚜ Interacting with a Baby/Child ⚜ A Genius ⚜ A Lawyer

Beautiful ⚜ Dangerous ⚜ Drunk ⚜ Injured ⚜ Shy

needs...

A Magical Item ⚜ An Aphrodisiac ⚜ A Fictional Poison

To be Killed Off ⚜ To Become Likable ⚜ To Clean a Wound

To Find the Right Word, but Can't ⚜ To Say No ⚜ A Drink

loves...

Astronomy ⚜ Baking ⚜ Cooking ⚜ Cocktails ⚜ Food ⚜ Oils

Dancing ⚜ Fashion ⚜ Gems ⚜ Mythology ⚜ Numbers

Roses ⚜ Sweets ⚜ To Fight ⚜ Wine ⚜ Wine-Tasting ⚜ Yoga

has/experiences...

Allergies ⚜ Amnesia ⚜ Bereavement ⚜ Bites & Stings ⚜ Bruises

Caffeine ⚜ CO Poisoning ⚜ Color Blindness ⚜ Food Poisoning

Injuries ⚜ Jet Lag ⚜ Mutism ⚜ Pain ⚜ Poisoning

More Pain & Violence ⚜ Viruses ⚜ Wounds

[these are just quick references. more research may be needed to write your story...]

As The Day Slips By

|Master-list|

Ace x Reader, angst, mentions of depression, suicidal thoughts, soley for comforting purposes, platonic love with the White-beard Pirates.

Summary: Things get rough, and hit by hit you’re just tired of it all.

A/N: To anyone who needs this, I hope it helps. You’re a lot stronger than you think >:) @uramakimochi

•-•-•—•-•-••-•-•—•-•—•-•

It started small.

From a simple mistake, to the tragedies of your life to the very questioning of your future. You were scared. Of living, no, correction—surviving, to just existing to fail.

The lingering question consumed you:

Would it even be worth it?

With all the trouble you’ve gone through now?

The expectations, the asks, the responsibilities—would you ever meet them?

Would you ever accomplish them?

The wind replied, brushing past as you stood on the Moby Dick, stationed near the stern. The sun was setting, and the decks were quiet. The aftermath of dinner flew by, and the crew headed to bed, while others slipped to night-watch.

Crying, you lowered yourself to the rail. resting your head against your arms. An unbearable feeling took over, and it made your chest tight. Numbing, and lost, you now experienced while in the inevitable of your depression.

You knew it wouldn’t be long till someone found you, but you needed to let it out, to breathe. Especially after hours of avoiding a hot-headed pirate.

Ace’s and your relationship had been on a rocky stand-hold. You weren’t opening up, and you were avoiding the topic of obvious like the plague, even if offered help. Anxiety prevented you from speaking out, while the simmering stubbornness left you lost.

You hadn’t realized it, but he’d been watching from afar; lingering as you made yourself small and hidden, left achingly worried.

Ace took a step, but hesitated. He was scared if he made the wrong move, he might just break you.

You’d already drifted so far, to the point Ace, the crew—everyone saw it. The heaviness that surrounded you, a silent weight that held you back, and a mindless stare the left them nervous.

It wasn’t impossible to reach you, the crew understood that, and Ace knew it better than anyone; he just needed to find the right words.

He needed to find the right time, and that was now.

Ace’s steps were quiet, just like the way you cried. He didn’t want to startle you—that was the last thing he wanted, and it was the last thing you needed.

Carefully, he came to your side, just barely brushing your shoulder. Inviting, but not pressuring.

Watching the waves, a moment passed before he spoke.

“You weren’t at dinner.”

You sniffled, wiping your tears to turn away. “I was busy…with something.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “I figured.”

Silence shrouded, and you couldn’t find the courage to speak. You felt weak, vulnerable—incompetent.

Though, Ace never pushed.

Not really, anyway.

“Have you. . .” Another painful moment.

“. . . been thinking about it again?” he asked, leaning against the rail. His tone was soft, not accusing, just questioning… and sad.

Ace wasn’t judging, he’d never, but his comment laced your throat. You were left speechless, drowning in your own shame and his truth, by his blunt words.

You managed a shaky breath, subtly squeezing the rail. You felt frozen.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said, placing his hand by yours. “I get it, I really do.”

His pinky inched forward, wrapping around your own. To anyone, it’d feel small, but to you—in a moment like this?

It meant a lot.

“You don’t even need to give me a reason.”

Wind rustled by, combing your hair and smearing your tears.

“I’m just tired, Ace,” you whispered, turning to him. “I’m so tired of this.” your voice cracked, and he held your gaze.

His expression turned, and he tensed.

Ace’s eyes glossed with tears, and he stepped forward—almost fiercely. But not pushing.

His arms extended, and softly, he whispered your name. “Come here.”

You took a weak step forward, and in an instant he hugged you. “It’s okay,” he muttered, grabbing the back of your head. “It’s gonna be okay. You hear me?”

You collapsed against him, clutching his shirt— as if it was the only thing keeping you there.

Because truthfully, it was.

“Its just so hard.” you choked.

“I know.” he held you, holding you to the point you couldn’t breath. But you couldn’t care, you needed this more than anything.

“I know it is.”

The sky welled blue, stirring in with darker colors and gray clouds. Seagulls flew over-head, nesting in the ship brackets and windows to hide for a storm.

Just like you were in Ace’s arms, sheltered from your mind. Safe.

“I got you,” Ace’s voice wavered, but it was grounding. With pouring emotion he kissed your temple. “I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not letting go, you’re stuck with me.”

“You got that?”

You managed a nod, and he held you closer.

“You don’t have to be strong for me,” he whispered, “you never do, not even for the crew. You just have to stay. That’s it, just stay.”

You cried, tilting your head and he cupped the back of it. “What am I gonna do?” You voiced, looking up to him. “I-I dont, I don’t know anymore.”

“You’ll figure it out.” Ace said firmly, brushing your tears. “You always do, it just takes time. Just a little more time, just me and you, it’ll be okay.”

“What if it isn’t—what if I screw everything up?”

“You won’t ____. You never do. Nothing is perfect, you can’t always expect that of yourself.”

Ace’s finger poked your forehead, making you wince. “Don’t listen to that, whatever it’s telling you—ignore it. It’s just being a pain in the ass, and you don’t deserve it.”

A softer moment passed, border-lining vulnerable. “You hear me?”

“Yeah…” you whispered, wiping your tears.

“Good. You got it, maybe not now, but you will. I know you will.” Ace kissed the corner of your eye, bringing his head forehead to yours. His nose grazed the tip of yours, and his voice sounded below a whisper.

“I love you,” he murmured. “No matter what happens, that’ll never change, okay?”

“Okay.”

For the first time in weeks, maybe even months— you could breathe. Finally breathe. Under the light drizzle of rain, his reassurance, and love, broke through the numb that swallowed you whole.

The wind brisked cold, and you shivered stepping closer.

“Shh,” he hushed, heating his body to warm you. “It’s okay, I got you.”

Like a blanket out of the dryer, the fire of his body heat surrounded you, following to your heart. Completed in his presence, Ace was by your side, and he made it clear he wasn’t letting you go.

Not for a long time.

monito d. luffy <3

Breaking Point Chapter 2

Prev

Whitebeard Pirates x Teen GN Reader

4.9k words

Summary: You awake on an enemy ship after failing to evade them the day before. Your mind is heavy with what is to come, and the actions of the people you know to be your enemies only serves to confuse you further. What have you gotten yourself into?

Warnings: suicidal ideation, mentions of previous suicide attempt, brief descriptions of past child abuse, dehumanization, burns, drugging, being unable to move, unhealthy relationship with food

“S-S-Sir!”

Akainu whipped around to face the marine that dared to intrude upon him. He is able to keep his magma from pouring out, but just barely. “What?! Spit it out! I don't have time to be listening to you trip over your own damn words!”

The pathetic excuse for a marine stumbles back, looking like he's on the verge of pissing himself. Why people like this joined the Marines was beyond Akainu’s understanding. Just as he was considering terminating him permanently, the whelp finally finds his words, “W-We got word that the Whitebeard pirates have picked up the medicine, sir!”

“Have there been any communications from them since the last?”

“No, sir!”

The lack of communication from them was grating on his nerves. He assumed this meant that the original plan was still on, but he would prefer confirmation. He needed to see that you were still alive. Akainu releases a sigh that teeters on being a growl, then waves off the marine, “Understood. Now get out of my sight.”

Fortunately, the marine didn't need to be told twice and promptly made himself scarce. Akainu isn't sure that he would have been able to control his temper if he hadn't left. 

It could not accurately be put into words how much Akainu hated everything about this situation. The fact that a bunch of pirates got their filthy hands on his child was bad enough; that already had his blood boiling. But what was really eating away at him was what he saw in the communication feed that had come through.

Since it was of a visual nature, he could see that this wasn't a bluff. They had you in their custody. There was a horrifying moment in the beginning when he thought they were showing him your corpse. The only reason the Marine base wasn't a molten wasteland was because he saw you blink. From there, he was able to also pick up on the steady rise and fall of your chest as you laid chained to some medical gurney by one of your wrists. Sea stone cuffs, surely. 

The look in your eyes was haunting him. They were completely lifeless. As the pirate, Marco, gave their terms, all you did was stare blankly ahead at nothing. He doubted you were even cognizant of the fact that you were being recorded. 

It was clear to him that those pirates had drugged you. That was the only way to explain why you were just laying there instead of fighting. You had never been the type to give up so easily.

Now it was down to a waiting game. The pirates adamantly refused to hand you over before the medicine was on their ship. He fought hard against these terms, but he ultimately had to yield. They had the more valuable bargaining chip, and they knew it. Sure, it was most convenient to get the medicine in bulk now, but it didn't appear to be particularly urgent. They could find more elsewhere at a later date, but Akainu couldn't do the same. If they killed you, that was it. He was backed into a corner, and he was loathing every second of it. 

The sound of someone clearing their throat comes from behind him. It would have made his temper flare even more had he not recognized it. He takes a deep breath to calm his nerves- as much as they could be- and turns to face the Fleet Admiral properly.

For a moment, Sengoku just stares at him with his usual frown. He then sighs and shakes his head, “Of all the people I expected to make a deal with pirates behind my back, you most certainly didn’t make the list.”

That made Akainu’s eyebrow twitch, and his teeth grind down on the cigar in his mouth, “Do you think I’m happy about this?”

Sengoku was undeterred by his subordinate’s behavior. “I never said you had to be, but accepting those terms on your own was out of line.”

“Time was of the essence, I couldn’t afford to wait for you to get here when my child is actively in a hostage situation.” His temper is already rising despite previous attempts to calm it.

The next sentence out of his superior's mouth only fanned the smoldering flame. “A hostage situation that they got themselves into, need I remind you.”

For a moment, he's too stunned to speak. When he finds his voice, the words are forced out through clenched teeth, “Do you want to run that by me again?”

“I know you aren't stupid, Akainu. You and I both know that (Y/N) was nowhere near where they were supposed to be.”

The vein on his forehead feels like it's about to explode. “What are you implying?”

“Do you really need me to spell it out for you? Are you that blind?” Sengoku pinches the bridge of his nose and heaves a sigh, “That kid has never wanted to be a marine. You know that at least, right?”

That did it. A fiery hole was punched into a nearby wall as what was left of his short fuse burnt away to nothing. “Bullshit! (Y/N) has given everything to the Marines!”

“What they've given is irrelevant to the point. It doesn't matter if they give their all to something if they didn't actually want to in the first place.” Sengoku meets Akainu's furious gaze with one of annoyance, “The point is that they did precisely what I expected them to do.”

The anger cools and is replaced by genuine confusion. “What?” Akainu squints his eyes and steps closer, “Did you plan for this to happen?”

“Not exactly. The Whitebeard's were a wildcard, admittedly.” Sengoku walks past Akainu and stares down at the base below through a window, “I'd had hopes for (Y/N) in the beginning, I really had. They were so promising, and I knew that if they would grow into and accept their role as a marine, that they would be an excellent soldier. Possibly even an Admiral some day. But I never saw that acceptance. They were always only ever following orders. A cog placed into a machine.”

A humorless chuckle escapes the Fleet Admiral as he pushes the window open, “Did you honestly think that I was so desperate for information on Red Haired Shanks that I would send a child after him? Please. It was all a test. I wanted to see what would happen when (Y/N) was cut from their lead and without supervision. Just as I predicted, they ran off as soon as they got the opportunity. It's a shame that so many resources were wasted, but it's for the best that they left now rather than sticking around to cause problems later.”

“Now you wait just a damn minute,” Akainu seethed. “Just because that snot-nosed brat of yours went awol doesn't mean that my soldier did. (Y/N) would never go against orders like that. Something went wrong. Shanks must have caught on to the mission, so they pulled back.”

Sengoku’s reflection betrays the slight grimace on his face at the mention of Rosinante, but it's gone just as quickly as it arrived. Instead, it's replaced by a bitter scowl as he turns around to face Akainu directly, “You can't be this deluded. Not even Garp was stupid enough to force his family to become marines. You-” he lets out a hiss of a sigh, “It's like you're forcing a circle through a square shaped hole.”

“What the fuck do shapes have to do with any of this?” This conversation was going nowhere and getting more and more ridiculous by the second. 

“Just because you can force it to fit doesn't mean that's where it belongs. Was (Y/N) a damn good marine? Absolutely. No one will ever argue that, but they weren't meant to be one. The sooner you accept that, the better off you'll be.” Sengoku makes for the door, but stops just shy of it. “One last thing. If the deal you have with those pirates falls through and they don't hand (Y/N) over… I will not be permitting any further action against them.”

Everything said so far had been one sucker punch after another, but this took the wind from Akainu. His mouth opened and closed several times before he found the right words, “You want me to leave them to the mercy of a bunch of pirates?”

“Yes. They got themselves into that mess by abandoning their mission, they can get themselves out.” He meets Akainu’s shocked gaze over his shoulder, “I expect you to respect this. You're an Admiral, you have to put your position before your family ties.”

With that said, Sengoku takes his leave. Akainu stands alone in his office, thin wisps of smoke still filtering through the air from the smoldering drywall. 

—

It's the sound of turning pages that first starts to bring you out of your stupor. Bits and pieces of your memories seep into your foggy brain. 

Boats… you were looking at boats, but pirates tailed you after you left. The Whitebeard pirates. You got into a… fight? No, there was a chase, but they caught you. You were brought back to the ship and… Oh. That happened. 

When your eyes crack open, you're staring at the ceiling of an infirmary. You're still on the Moby Dick, so that's almost a plus. Definitely not ideal, but at least you haven't been handed back over to the Marines yet. 

God, your head is spinning. What happened to you? Did they drug you? Damn it, you can’t remember what happened. You try to reach up and rub your eyes, but you can't. Neither of your arms will budge. 

It takes a coordinated effort, but you're able to raise your head enough to see why you can't move your arms. Both of them are strapped to the bars on the sides of the gurney by a series of belts. You can't move them at all. 

You also take note of the picc line in your left arm. That definitely wasn't in there when you passed out. Your eyes trace up to the IV bag hanging above your head. Shit. They're probably keeping you on a steady stream of sedatives. That explains the lack of alarm you're feeling despite your current state of affairs. 

With your sleeve being rolled up for the picc line, one more thing was exposed. A large patch of scar tissue covering most of your forearm. A burn mark to remind you of one of the many times Akainu got too carried away while sparring with you. A plethora of similar scars littered most of your body, leading to you having a wardrobe consisting of shirts and pants that covered as much skin as possible. While many of your fellow marines took pride in showing off their scars, yours had always been a source of shame. Resentment. Hatred. Seeing one now only served to further sour your mood. 

“Oh!” 

The voice startles you out of your trance. When you follow it to its source, you spot a nurse sitting not far from you and holding a newspaper. You can immediately tell what her profession is because she has on the most stereotypical nurse's uniform you've ever seen. It's kind of odd to see such a sight on a pirate ship of all places. 

She gets up from the desk she was sitting at and hurries over to you with a smile plastered on her face, “Oh good, you're finally awake!”

Finally? “How-” You stop speaking and cough. Fuck, your throat is dry. Might be a side effect of the meds they have you on. 

Without even needing to be asked, the nurse fetches you a glass of water. She gently tilts your head up and allows the water to flow into your mouth at a steady pace. You greedily gulp it down in seconds. You watch the nurse closely as you drink, taking in her appearance. If you had to guess, she was in her early thirties. Coarse, blonde hair is held back in a ponytail with a few errant curls framing her round face. 

“Better?” The nurse sets your head back down and turns away from you, “You were out cold all night, we were starting to get worried about you. Well… more worried, I should say.” She coughs lightly and returns to your side with a clipboard in hand. 

“All night? What time is it?” Your voice was still a little croaky, but now you were thinking it had more to do with your brief coma than medication. You’re pretty sure it was only roughly midday when you got captured. You find it hard to believe you slept the rest of the day and through the night, but there isn't really any reason to lie about such a thing. 

“It's about a quarter till seven right now.” 

Damn. That shit really did knock you the hell out. You've always risen at five in the morning on the dot. Akainu would physically throw you out of your bed if you ever accidentally overslept, and then you'd have to run a lap for every minute. 

The nurse sat down on a nearby stool and smiled at you again, “I'm Elise. You'll probably be seeing a lot of me from here on out. Can you tell me your name, sweetie?”

Sweetie? The pet name made you cringe. You suppose you might as well answer her, though you can't imagine there's anyone on this ship that isn't aware of you and who you are. 

You tell her your name, making her hum in approval, “Very good! Now, can you tell me how you're feeling? Any dizziness or nausea? Difficulty breathing?”

“I'm… kinda lightheaded, I guess.” It's debatable if that's a side effect of the medicine or not eating for twelve plus hours, though. It could also be the result of prolonged sea stone exposure. Who knows?

Elise nods along and scribbles some notes down, “Good, good… Are you having any thoughts of harming yourself or others?”

For such a heavy question, she says it awfully casually, but the look in her eyes as she peers at you over the clipboard is anything but. You shift under her gaze. As much as you can, at least. The movement makes you realize that there are straps holding your legs down as well. 

What kind of question even is that? You're on an enemy ship, drugged, and restrained. How else does she expect you to feel right now? Especially with the impending doom of what is to come. 

Her stare doesn't let up for even a second. She isn't willing to let the question go unanswered, so you do what you have to. Lie. 

“No.”

It's evident to you that she knows that you're lying through your teeth. Mercifully, she doesn't call you out on it. After jotting down a few more things on the clipboard, it's discarded, and you're the center of her attention again. 

“I bet you're hungry after sleeping for so long. I'll ring the kitchen to bring something for you.” Elise picks up a transponder snail from nearby, “What do you like to drink in the morning? Coffee? Tea? Oh, I know! How about some hot chocolate?”

The response comes out before you can even really think about it, “I'm not allowed to have that.”

Elise gasps softly and brings a hand to her mouth, “Oh no, are you lactose intolerant? I think the kitchen has some alternatives they could use instead of milk.”

“No, I mean that it's too unhealthy. There aren't any benefits to drinking something like that.” Akainu never gave you the chance to form a sweet tooth. All of your meals were nutritionally dense with an emphasis on protein. Desserts were strictly prohibited.

At that statement, Elise frowns and puts her free hand on her hip, “Well that's just silly. Not everything you eat has to be “healthy”. A balanced diet is important, of course, but you're allowed to have treats.”

“But-”

“Ah, ah! No buts. I'm a nurse, so if I say it's okay, it’s okay.” Having made her point, Elise goes ahead and contacts the kitchen to order some breakfast for you. And a hot chocolate, apparently. 

Stubborn woman. But you suppose one has to have a firm foot and a backbone if they're on a pirate ship. Whatever. Might as well make the most of your last meal before you're sent back to hell. And subsequently executed for your misdeeds. 

The infirmary is empty, save for you and Elise. While you appreciate the privacy the vacancy affords you, it does leave you with a question.

“Where's The Phoenix?” You're honestly amazed he wasn't monitoring you directly given your perceived importance for the trade deal they had. 

Elise, having just finished placing the order for food, faces you again. “Marco? He left to supervise the retrieval of the medicine. A precaution in case the Marines try to pull something, I assume. Did you need something from him? He should be back tonight.”

Damn, they already have it? You thought you'd have more time before then. Your head drops down and your hands tighten into fists, “Oh. I'm guessing they'll be handing me over as soon as they're back…”

Genuine confusion flashes across Elise’s face, then realization, “Oh! No, no, no! We aren't going to be releasing you back to the Marines!”

Okay. You were officially lost. “You're… going to try and get more out of having me as a hostage?”

“That isn't it either!” Elise sighs and rubs her temples while quietly muttering, “Must be that medication's doing…”

“Am I missing something here?”

“Yes. One of the side effects from what we gave you initially is mild memory loss. It makes it hard to recall everything that happened right before the dose.” She approaches your bed and starts messing with the levers, “After your… outburst, Marco told you that you didn't have to go back if you didn't want to. Do you remember any of that?”

You wrack your hazy mind for the memory, but you're coming up blank. The last thing you remember is… a knife? Yeah, you got your hands on a knife and tried to stab yourself with it. Everything else seems to be lost. You aren't even completely sure if you just failed to stab yourself, or if Marco's healing abilities far exceeded Marine records. 

The lack of a response is an answer in and of itself. Elise shifts the upper portion of the bed up so that you're in a sitting position. The change makes your head spin a bit, but you keep that to yourself. 

A warm hand settles on your shoulder, and Elise speaks in a gentle tone, “No one here is going to make you go back to the Marines if you don't want to. You can relax.”

“But… if you're not turning me in, why am I still here? It sounds like you've already got what you wanted. I don't see why you'd be bothering with all this,” you nod vaguely at your body, referencing the straps and IV. 

“We can't in good conscience release someone in your state.” Her smile drops, and she stares down at you with what looks to you to be pity in her eyes, “You tried to end your own life, sweetie. That's something we must take very seriously.”

An uncomfortable lump forms in your throat, and your face feels hot with shame. You hated the way she looked at you just now. Like you were some poor, pathetic thing. Like she was looking down at some helpless rabbit ensnared in a trap. Like you were weak.

“I got this ready as fast as I could!”

You’re startled out of your thoughts by the infirmary door slamming open and the proclamation following immediately after. When you look up, you see Twin Blade Thatch entering the room carrying a tray with a mug and a bowl balanced on it. There is a twinge of familiarity in the back of your mind at the sight of him, and you don’t think it’s from seeing his bounty poster before. Did you see him yesterday? Maybe? You can’t be sure.

Thatch hurries over to you and sets the tray on the bedside table before turning to you with a smile on his face, “How are you feeling today?”

His question prompts you to look down at your restrained limbs and the- more likely than not medicated- drip bag, then back at him with an unamused expression, “Guess.”

The smile becomes visibly forced, sheepish even, and he averts his eyes, “Fair enough. Dumb question.” He clears his throat in a dramatic fashion, then recenters his gaze on you again, “I bet you’re hungry after sleeping for so long.” He picks up the bowl he carried in and tilts it toward you so you can see its contents. It’s a bowl of porridge with sliced fruit and nuts arranged on top in a visually appealing method.

But that’s not what you care about, there is a far more pressing issue at hand. You level him with a stern glare, “You better not be planning to spoon feed me. I will bite you.”

Thatch freezes and just stares at you with wide eyes for a moment, and that immediately makes you realize how stupid that was to say. You can’t even move, and you thought it was a good idea to start threatening people? What is wrong with you?! He could slit your throat right now if he wanted to, and you wouldn’t be able to do a single thing to stop him!

Instead of making your thoughts a reality, the pirate does something that shocks you. He laughs. You don’t know what to do with this. What are you supposed to do about laughter? Why is he even laughing? Did he find the absurdity of you spitting out threats despite your circumstances that funny?

“Oh, that’s a relief. You’ve got a sense of humor even after all that.” Thatch chuckles quietly and sets the bowl down before looking over to Elise, “We could take the straps off for now, couldn’t we?”

Huh?

Elise hums in thought, then nods. “I suppose we could, so long as you stick around for a bit to help keep an eye on them.”

Huh?!

They… They’re untying you? On purpose? This must be a trap. It has to be. They’re testing you. That’s the only thing that makes sense.

Your face is grabbed, and Elise makes you look her in the eye. “Do not,” she tilts your head down to look at the picc line, “try to rip this out. Understood?”

“Understood.” You knew better than to do such a thing. That’s a mistake you only make once.

After a particularly brutal training session with your father, you’d ended up in the infirmary. A regular occurrence, if you’re being honest. By the time you’d come to, the sight of the sun being high in the sky sent you into a panic. You were late, and Akainu loathed tardiness. In your rush to get out of there and beg for mercy for such a monumental fuck up on your end, you ripped the picc line out of your arm. Blood went fucking everywhere. On you, on the cot, on the walls. One of the nurses in the room fainted at the sight, followed shortly by yourself because all of your blood was now outside your body. You were out of commission for the rest of the day, and Akainu made certain that you made up for it the following day.

With your confirmation that you wouldn’t egregiously injure yourself, the two set to work on undoing the belts holding you down. Elise was making quick work of them, but Thatch abruptly stopped. You glance at him quizzically, wondering what the hold up was, only to see that his eyes are locked onto the opposing arm. You follow his gaze, and then you get it.

It was the burn scar marring most of your left forearm. Ah. This bizarre situation had distracted you from the fact that it was exposed. You can’t even cover it up because that’s the arm the IV is going into. Not that your other arm is much better. Or any part of your body, really. The skin of your face was the most intact, presumably because Akainu didn’t want to risk giving you the permanent handicap that came with losing vision in one or both eyes.

Elise loudly clears her throat and levels the pirate with a glare that honestly surprised you. How fearless she must be to behave in such a manner toward someone with a bounty like Thatch’s. This tactic, credit where it’s due, was effective. He snapped out of his one-sided staring competition with your arm and freed the other one.

Cautiously, you stretch your arms out now that they’ve been liberated from their confines. Mostly. The left arm stops short. You’d almost forgotten about the sea stone cuffs. It makes sense that they left that on, given that you’re a quite literal flight risk otherwise.

The tray containing your breakfast is carefully placed on your lap. The aforementioned bowl of porridge is on it, but so is a large mug that appears to be topped with a whipped cream. Is this the hot chocolate Elise had insisted upon? Your eyes flit up to the two people looming over either side of you. They’re staring at you expectantly.

All things considered, it seems unlikely that any of this is poisoned. They wanted you alive, that much was clear even if the particular reason behind it wasn’t. Besides, even if it was poisoned, you wouldn’t complain. Being freed from this mortal coil would be a blessing in your book.

Might as well do what they want. Maybe it’ll get them to stop breathing down your neck, if nothing else. You reach for the hot beverage first to see what all the hype is about. The mug is warm to the touch, but not so enough to burn you. Granted, that could just be the nerve damage talking. You’ll find out if that’s an accurate assessment based on whether or not this burns your tongue.

You bring the drink to your lips and sip at it. The cream is cold, but then a warmth trickles through and mixes with it. It’s very sweet. A stark contrast to the black coffee your father would drink and force upon you. The radically different flavor profile is borderline startling… but you don’t hate it. You quite like it.

Instead of savoring the hot chocolate and making it last, you continue tilting it up more and more until the cup runs dry. Okay. Perhaps Elise was onto something with allowing oneself treats such as this one.

“So it was a hit, huh?” Thatch is grinning proudly, “I made sure it would be the best you would ever have after Elise said you’d never had it before. Do you want some more?”

Mild embarrassment spreads into your consciousness at his observation of your enjoyment. This was a quirk of yours you never could really explain. Others seeing you experience contentment felt inexplicably wrong. Like you were doing something you shouldn’t be and being caught red-handed. You shake your head and set down the mug, “No. I’m good.” You promptly take the spoon on the tray into your hand and scoop up a mouthful of oatmeal in hopes of getting him to drop the subject.

The flavors of honey and cinnamon enhance the meal, making it taste far more pleasant than you’re used to. It’s all so good. You can’t stop eating it, and the porridge is gone almost as quickly as the hot chocolate was.

That familiar burn of shame reared its ugly head again. It would be bad enough to be so over indulgent at the best of times. What the hell were you doing doing so on an enemy ship? How disgraceful. 

“Good job! I’m so happy that you were able to finish it all,” Elise claps her hands together, looking weirdly elated over you eating. It’s unclear as to why that would matter to her. She continues, “Since you’re doing so well, how about we take you onto the deck for some fresh air and sunlight?”

“The deck? Like… of the ship?”

“Yeah? What else would it be, silly?” Elise moves behind the bed, clicks something, then begins to push it forward.

She’s trying to take you someplace where there will no doubt be a bunch of pirates. Some of which you may have even crossed paths with before. And you’re completely defensive. You look around at her and plead, “W-We don’t have to do that. I’m fine with staying in here.”

“Oh, hush. This’ll be good for you!” Undeterred, Elise proceeds to wheel you out of the infirmary with Thatch holding the door open.

Good for you? She’s trying to throw you into a den of wolves, and somehow thinks that’s going to be good for you? This was a set-up the whole time. They lowered your guard with a good meal just so they could rip the rug out from under you. Now you’re going to have to face the bulk of the Whitebeard pirates in your current hapless state.

All you can do is hope that pirates of all people will have the good grace to put you out of your mercy quickly.

Taglist: @twotrucksinatree @tigerstarstorm @mu5hro0m @brooks-real @one-piecelover

If it's not too much to ask but could you please do a story of only one of the Monster trio like Luffy or Zoro or Sanji? (Or the whole straw hat crew) with a reader whose birthday it is on the same day as a holiday like valentine's day (even though we've already went past it, or it could be any other holiday that you think?) But only her best friend (one of the crew members) remembers her birthday and now the others feel bad, so they decide to throw an "apology birthday party" to make up for it?

Apology Birthday Party

zoro x strawhat!reader

a/n: I hope this is what you wantedddd, let me know if you want it different tho (づ￣ 3￣)づ

words count: 1.3k

tags: sfw, romance, soft zoro, nico robin bff

masterlist || ko-fi

The Sunny is draped in pink and red decorations, hearts scattered across the deck like confetti. Sanji is running around serving chocolates and heart-shaped treats, Nami is counting stacks of berries won from lovestruck islanders, and Luffy is eating whatever he can get his hands on.

It’s Valentine’s Day. And it’s also your birthday.

But no one seems to remember that last part.

You don’t say anything, of course. It’s not like you expect them to throw a big celebration or anything, but a simple “Happy Birthday” would have been nice. Yet, with everyone wrapped up in the holiday of love, your special day is completely overlooked.

Well, almost everyone.

“Here” Robin says, appearing beside you with a small, neatly wrapped box in her hands. She smiles, that knowing glint in her eyes as she hands it over “Happy Birthday.”

Your heart warms “Robin…”

“I know how it feels to be forgotten” she says gently “But you’re not.”

You unwrap the gift to find a delicate bookmark pressed with dried blue forget-me-not flowers. It’s beautiful. And, fitting.

Before you can properly thank her, a loud, boisterous laugh fills the air “Oi, Robin, what’s that? Love letter for y/n?” Luffy grins, oblivious as ever. That, of course, draws the attention of the rest of the crew. Sanji practically skids over, hearts in his eyes.

“A love letter?! From who?! I’ll destroy them—”

Robin sighs, sipping her wine “It’s her birthday present.”

Silence.

Utter, dead silence.

The entire crew stares at you, then at Robin, then back at you again. The color drains from Sanji’s face. Franky’s jaw quite literally drops. Usopp nearly chokes on his own spit. Nami’s eyes widen, and Chopper gasps in horror. Even Luffy, who usually doesn’t have a care in the world, looks like someone just told him there’s no more meat on the ship.

But the worst reaction? Zoro’s.

His eye snap to yours, and you see something flicker behind them, something that looks suspiciously like guilt.

“Wait,” Usopp wheezes, gripping his head like it physically hurts “Today’s your birthday? Like, right now?”

“…Yeah.”

A chorus of expletives follows.

“We’re horrible!” Chopper wails, flopping dramatically onto the deck.

“How could I forget such an important day?!” Sanji cries, dropping to his knees like he’s been personally betrayed.

Robin chuckles into her drink “At least you all realized it before the day ended.”

That kicks everyone into action. Nami immediately starts planning an emergency “Apology Birthday Party” barking orders while Franky dashes off to set up decorations. Luffy insists on getting you the biggest cake possible, while Sanji declares he will cook a full birthday feast worthy of redemption. Usopp starts crafting a birthday gift at lightning speed, while Chopper is still crying about how bad of a friend he is.

In the middle of all the chaos, you catch Zoro watching you. His arms are crossed, his expression unreadable, but there’s tension in his stance. And then, without a word, he turns and disappears below deck.

You don’t see him for the next hour.

By the time he returns, the impromptu party is already in full swing. The crew has somehow managed to pull together a spectacular celebration, with streamers, food, and a birthday banner that is only slightly lopsided. You’re seated at the center, laughing as Luffy shoves an unreasonable amount of cake into his mouth.

Then Zoro drops something onto the table in front of you.

You blink. It’s a small box, wrapped haphazardly, almost like he struggled with it. When you glance up at him, his face is turned away, slightly pink at the tips of his ears.

“Tch. Don’t make a big deal out of it” he mutters, arms crossed.

Curious, you open it and your breath catches.

It’s a charm. A small, silver sword pendant attached to a simple chain. The craftsmanship is rough, but undeniably his.

“…Did you make this?”

Zoro shrugs, still not looking at you “Had some spare materials lying around.”

Your fingers curl around the charm, warmth blooming in your chest “I love it.”

“…Good.” His voice is gruff, but you catch the corner of his lips twitching, just slightly.

The rest of the crew watches with barely concealed interest “Oi, oi, does this mean Zoro is getting all romantic now?” Usopp teases, wiggling his eyebrows.

Zoro immediately glares, hand twitching toward his swords “Say that again and you won’t live to see tomorrow.”

The laughter that follows is the best sound you’ve heard all day.

Maybe your birthday started off forgotten, but as you sit among your chaotic, wonderful crew, a handmade gift resting in your palm, you can’t help but think this turned out to be the best one yet.

The party goes on for hours. Sanji serves an extravagant feast, each dish crafted with your favorites in mind. Luffy challenges you to an eating contest, one you gracefully decline, knowing it’s a lost cause. Nami surprises you with a beautiful set of earrings, and Usopp proudly presents a handcrafted figurine of you in an exaggerated heroic pose.

Franky insists on a dance party, much to your amusement, and even Robin joins in. Chopper, still sniffling, clings to you, vowing to never forget your birthday again.

Through it all, Zoro remains close, never one for loud festivities, but always within reach. Eventually, when the night winds down, you find him on the ship’s upper deck, gazing at the stars.

“Thanks for the necklace” you say, leaning beside him.

He grunts, but doesn’t move away “Yeah.”

A comfortable silence settles between you. The ocean breeze is cool, but standing next to him, you feel warm.

After a moment, he exhales “…Sorry for forgetting.”

You glance at him, surprised by the quiet sincerity in his tone. Smiling, you shake your head “You made up for it.”

He finally looks at you then, and in the soft moonlight, his expression is softer than usual “Good.”

Zoro stays silent for a while, avoiding your gaze, and then adds, "Actually... I had prepared it for Valentine's Day."

For a moment, you remain impassive, smiling at the sea in front of you, but then your brain connects what he said.

You suddenly turn to him and gasp, "Wait, wh...what do you mean?"

He continues to avoid your gaze, trying to look indifferent, but the redness in his ears betrays him "I admit I forgot your birthday, but I didn’t forget Valentine's Day" he says.

You, even more flustered, reply "So it’s true what Luffy told me earlier, that you worked on the necklace for more than a week??"

Zoro shifts uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck. He looks away, clearly embarrassed but trying to act nonchalant "I... I just wanted it to be perfect" he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blink, still processing the confession. It’s hard to believe this is the same person who usually brushes off any sort of emotional display "Zoro," you start, your voice soft, "You really made all of that... for me?"

He finally looks at you, and for the first time, his usual tough exterior seems to crack. His eyes are slightly hesitant, but there's a genuine warmth there, almost like he’s afraid of your reaction "Yeah, I did. It’s... not much, but I thought you’d like it."

You take a deep breath, your heart racing as everything sinks in. You can’t help but smile "I love it," you say, stepping a little closer "And I... I love that you cared enough to do this."

Zoro looks almost startled by your words, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of red. He clears his throat awkwardly "Well, don’t go getting any ideas... It's not like I’m suddenly a romantic or something."

You laugh, the sound light and genuine "I never said you were. But this is pretty damn romantic, Zoro."

He grumbles but there's a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth "Don’t get used to it."

You both stand there for a moment, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore filling the space between you. It’s not the most conventional confession, but somehow, in that moment, it feels just right.

And just like that, your birthday, and even Valentine's day, is perfect.

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