Roronoa Zoro - Blog Posts

Egghead Island Zoro

When I say I ship Zoro with Luffy I don't mean in a sexual way. They're both asexuals, I think that's obvious. I don't mean in a romantic way either. They're not the type to kiss in the moonlight, have romantic dinners or talk about their future plans. But not in a platonic way either. When I say I ship them, I mean by that they're soulmates. They're destined to be together in every universe. They don't need to use words, they don't need to even be in the same place at the same time. They know they'll meet each other again. They know they would sacrifice themselves without hesitation to each other. And I don't mean they wouldn't do the same for the rest of the crew, of course they would, that's how Luffy and Zoro are. But they're the Captain and his first mate. The King and his right hand man. But at the same time they're the opposites that need each other. Light and Dark. God and Devil.

Luffy: YO! WHAT'S UP ZORO!

Zoro: WHAT THE HELL LUFFY?!

That's how I ship this autistic asexual dumbass duo

THAT'S ALL FELLAS!

Capitulo 1: Inicio del sueño

Para serte sincera, en ese momento no estaba pensando en nada. Mi cabeza estaba casi tan vacía como aquel impoluto lugar. Un lugar tan blanco que hasta llegaba a dañar los ojos, si es que los tenía, no estoy segura de haberlos tenido esa vez.

   No recordaba mi nombre, o siquiera si tendría que recordar algo, la blancura etérea me mantenía absorta en un trance del que no había razón para salir.

   Es que... había tanta paz allí. Todo resultaba tan simple, tan tranquilo. La paz reinaba y estaba realizada con ello.

  Hasta que aquella flama surgió.

  Al principio fue un leve destello que detecté con el rabillo del ojo, luego una llama que se encendió con brío como deseando ser admirada. No tardé mucho en salir de mi calmado ensimismamiento y dirigir mi mirada a ese suceso atípico en aquel escenario.

  Poco a poco me acerqué a esa flama que flotaba sola en la inmensidad.

  Y desapareció.

  Sorprendida me desplacé más rápido a donde había estado el curioso fenómeno.

  Nada. Allí no quedaba nada.

  Por fin desde que estaba allí sentí una emoción negativa: decepción.

  Hasta que de pronto, una llamarada incandescente apareció frente a mí. Tuve que levantar la mirada para ver que llegaba un poco más los encima de mí. Retrocedí de la sorpresa pero me detuve cuando comencé a dilucidar como entre el cálido brillo de las llamas una figura parecía formarse. Indomables flamas ascendentes buscaban juntarse para crear algo semejante a un vestido largo ceñido al cuerpo, eso o solo una figura humana femenina, los brillos bailaban tanto que era difícil discernir con claridad. Lo último que se formó fue un rostro joven,que con ojos llenos de emoción me miró y dijo:

—¡Eres tú!

"¿Quién soy yo?" Pensé.

—¡Aquí estás!

"¿Dónde estoy?"

—¡Al fin te encontré!

"¿Quién eres tú?"

  Todas esas palabras nunca llegaron a salir de mí. Además, por alguna razón, aunque me miraba, sentía que no era a mí a quien iban dirigidas esas palabras. Era como si su mirada me atravesara o viera otra cosa junto donde yo estaba. . .

:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。

Si leíste hasta aquí muchas gracias por leer! <3

Comenta y dale al corazón si te ha gustado.

Hay más capítulos publicados en Wattpad, es por donde subo normalmente.

P.s. ¿Shipean a Nami y a Zoro del Live action?

Me da curiosidad jeje.

Remember that Zoro, Kuina and Sanji au, well, I liked drawing a picture of them.The context is that Kuo was the only one who noticed this "sisterhood" between his daughter and the pair of quarrelsome kids, so he wanted a photo for the memory,I knew that Sanji would leave and never return to that island one day. Kou told Kuina that he wanted a picture, Kuina agreed and when he told the pair of children, they flatly refused to take a picture.with the other, starting to make excuses for some displeasure towards the other, thus escalating from excuses to argument and from argument to fight, kuina, annoying,I left each of them with a bump on their heads to calm them down, a comical moment that Kou and Zeff now each have framed.

HEY, A NEW AU! Zoro, Kuina and Sanji trio?! Siblings?

Well, this is an AU I've been wanting to draw for months.

It's about how, Zeff seeing that Sanji still didn't value his hands as a cook, punished him, forcing him to go to a dojo so that when he hurt his hands, he would really value them.

The blessed dojo is Kou's, where Zoro and Kuina are. Upon arriving, Sanji expresses his displeasure at being there, which annoys Zoro.

Over time, Zoro, Kuina and Sanji begin to get along better, to the point that the three of them began to train hard, unaware that they've gone from strangers to siblings. Kuina and Zoro almost always defend him from ridicule for his very thin body.

Sanji was present but hidden when Zoro and Kuina made their promise. On the day Kuina died, Sanji and Zoro bumped fists before Sanji said that he should fulfill Kuina's dream. at all costs, and Zoro told Sanji that he should become strong so that he would not be underestimated for his thin body. Two years pass, Sanji must return to the baratie, while he is on the return ship, Zoro yells at him from the coast to fulfill his dream and promises, Sanji yelled the same thing back.

Something I didn't mention was that the three of them had told each other their dreams, plus Sanji cooked for everyone at the dojo. Sanji uses two swords, but he uses them for blocking, not attacking. L The bandages on his legs are from kicking a rock for years until it broke. Sanji and Zoro fought a thousand times, Zoro won 501 times and Sanji 499 times, Sanji against Kuina simply didn't, Kuina won. the 800 fights they had. Sanji spent 2 years in the dojo.

Years later they met again in the baratie according to the original story and the rest, well, One Piece 👍

Fact that made me laugh but seems true and correct: I think Zoro was very short as a child which is why I said that Sanji beat him by 10 cm even though Sanji is originally taller than Zoro, and of course,Kuina is a little taller than Sanji, so you can imagine Sanji's teasing of Zoro, which is ironic since Sanji is currently 1 cm shorter than Zoro🤣

When Love Grows Quiet

Four different loves — each unraveling in its own way, where silence cuts deeper than swords and love isn't always enough to stay.

shanks x reader | zoro x reader | law x reader | mihawk x reader | ONE SHOT tags: angst, sfw, heartbreak, emotional neglect, falling out of love, hurt/no comfort, isolation, miscommunication a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff a bit cringe, akward, and confusing word count: 2.5k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

SHANKS

The bar was loud, filled with the buzz of half-drunken laughter, tankards slamming against tables, and music that you once loved but now loathed. You sat in the farthest corner, away from the warmth of the crowd, clutching a half-empty glass of something you didn’t order. The ice was melting fast — like the slow disintegration of what used to be your heart.

Shanks was at the center of it all.

Again.

He always was.

“Another round!” he bellowed, raising his cup high in the air as the Red-Haired Pirates cheered. The crew adored him. They should — he was charismatic, fierce, warm, and generous with his attention.

Just not with you. Not anymore.

Your gaze lingered on him. His hair, a fiery halo in the dim light, his grin — that same one that once made you feel like the most important person in the world — now belonged to everyone else.

He didn’t even notice you when you walked in.

“Y/N, there you are!” Lucky Roux called from across the bar, waving at you with his usual cheer. “C’mon, join us!”

Shanks looked over his shoulder, eyes falling on you for a split second. There was recognition — maybe even guilt — but it was gone too fast. He raised his cup in your direction. No words. No movement. Just a lazy toast.

You forced a smile, then looked away.

You’d been with him for two years. It had started with stolen moments under stars, whispered promises between waves. “When this is all over, I’ll settle down. With you,” he’d say, voice dipped in warmth, hand on your cheek. You believed him.

But it never ended. And you stopped asking.

There were always more islands to visit, more allies to meet, more enemies to fight, and more nights he stumbled back to the ship reeking of rum and adrenaline, too tired to remember your name.

You stayed because you loved him.

Or maybe you stayed because you were afraid of what your life would look like without him in it.

But tonight felt different.

You pushed your glass aside and stood, your legs numb from sitting too long. You crossed the room, weaving through sailors and crewmates until you reached him.

“Shanks.”

He looked at you, surprised. Like he hadn’t expected you to speak first.

“Can we talk?”

His smile faltered. “Now? Can it wait? We’re just—”

“No,” you said, quieter, firmer. “It really can’t.”

He followed you outside without protest. The night air was cool, the moonlight bathing the ship in pale light.

You turned to him. “Do you remember what you promised me?”

He blinked. “Which one?”

You almost laughed. “That says everything, doesn’t it?”

“Y/N…”

“You told me we’d settle. That you’d come back for me. That I wasn’t just another stop along your journey. Do you even realize how long I’ve been waiting?”

“I know,” he muttered. “But it’s complicated.”

“No. It’s not. Not really. You just never made space for me.” Your voice trembled. “I don’t need riches or islands. I don’t even need peace. I just needed to know I mattered.”

He took a step forward. “You do matter.”

“Do I?” You looked up at him. “When was the last time you asked how I felt? When was the last time you chose me over adventure? Over your crew? Over another drink?”

He opened his mouth, but no answer came.

You continued, softer now, each word heavy. “I used to believe I was lucky to be loved by you. But now I realize… maybe I was just convenient. Someone to come back to when the world wasn’t enough.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, jaw clenched.

“Neither is loving someone who only loves you when it suits them.”

A silence settled. Heavy. Final.

He looked away. “What are you saying?”

You took a shaky breath. “I’m leaving.”

His eyes snapped to yours. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do. I have to. Because if I don’t now, I never will.” You paused. “I loved you so much, Shanks. But I’m tired of waiting for you to love me back in the way I deserve.”

You turned before he could say more, before the tears spilled.

The crew watched you go. No one stopped you. Maybe they knew too.

Shanks didn’t follow.

Maybe he couldn’t.

Maybe deep down, he knew you were already gone.

And this time, no promise would bring you back.

ZORO

The clatter of blades in the training room echoed through the ship like thunder.

Again.

You stood outside the door, hand hovering just above the wood, listening. Zoro had been in there since sunrise. The sun was beginning to set.

You pressed your palm flat against the door. It was warm.

He didn’t hear you. He never did when he was training.

You opened the door anyway.

He stood in the center, shirtless, sweat clinging to his skin, his chest rising and falling with exertion. His swords were laid neatly on the rack nearby, save for the one still in his hand — his favorite. Wado Ichimonji. His first love.

You didn’t speak right away.

He noticed you after a few seconds, green hair clinging to his face. “Oh. Hey.”

“That all you’ve got for me?” you asked, arms crossed.

He shrugged. “Been training.”

“You were supposed to meet me. Two hours ago.”

Zoro blinked. “Shit. Was that today?”

A beat passed. You tried not to let the disappointment crack through your voice. “Yeah. It was today.”

It wasn’t the first time.

Zoro wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t dismissive in the way that most would notice. He was just… focused. Sharpened, like his blades, honed only for one goal: to become the strongest swordsman in the world.

And you had once admired that. Loved it, even.

But lately, it felt like you were always chasing his shadow, always making room for his dreams, even if it meant shrinking your own.

You walked into the room, picking up the cloth he used to wipe his sweat, tossing it to him. “You forgot again.”

“I didn’t mean to,” he said, running it over his forehead.

“I know,” you whispered.

And maybe that’s what hurt the most.

The days blurred.

Dinner conversations turned into one-sided stories from you. Nights became silent, save for the occasional grunt as Zoro collapsed into bed, already half asleep. You missed the way he used to fall asleep beside you — not just near you — like you were a harbor in his storm. Now, he drifted in and out like a ghost, always just beyond reach.

You finally snapped one quiet night.

“Zoro, do you even love me?”

He looked up from cleaning his blade, brow furrowed. “What kind of question is that?”

You sat on the bed, fingers twisting in your lap. “One I keep asking myself.”

He stood up, face unreadable. “Of course I love you.”

“Then why don’t I feel it?”

The silence that followed was thick. Not awkward — just empty. Like a room without furniture.

“I’m doing this for us,” he finally said. “Everything. My training. My dream.”

“No, you’re doing it for you. And that’s okay, Zoro.” Your voice broke. “But stop pretending I’m part of that dream when I’m just an afterthought.”

“That’s not fair,” he said.

“I used to think that too,” you whispered. “But you keep showing me otherwise.”

The next morning, you packed.

Not everything — just what you needed. You didn’t want to make a scene.

When you turned to leave, he was there. Leaning against the doorframe, arms folded.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, voice rough with sleep and disbelief.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He stared for a long time. “Why now?”

“Because if I stay, I’ll start hating you. And I don’t want to hate you.”

Zoro opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know.”

He took a step forward. “Don’t I get a chance to fix it?”

“You’ve had a hundred chances,” you said, gently. “I gave you all of them.”

He looked down, the tension in his body visible.

You moved past him. He didn’t stop you.

Not physically.

But god, you wished he would.

You heard the sound of blades again as you walked down the corridor, echoing from the training room.

Zoro was already back at it.

Maybe it was easier for him to fight with steel than with words.

And maybe that’s why you couldn’t stay — because you needed someone who could choose you the way you kept choosing him.

Even if it broke your heart.

LAW

The Polar Tang was quiet at night.

Most of the crew had gone to sleep, their laughter faded into distant echoes through the metal halls. You sat alone in the infirmary, the light above flickering in tired pulses, casting shadows across the empty bed beside you.

It used to be your place. Your shared space.

Now it was just another cold room.

The door slid open with a mechanical hiss. Law stepped inside, coat trailing, his presence commanding — but not unkind. His face was the same as always. Calm. Collected. Impenetrable.

You didn’t turn to greet him.

“You’re still awake,” he said, voice low.

“So are you.”

He paused. “Long day.”

“Every day is a long day with you.”

That made him pause longer than usual. You saw it — the subtle twitch of his hand, the way his gaze lingered on you before shifting to the medical charts on the wall, as if reading them gave him a reason not to face you.

You finally stood, arms crossed. “You didn’t even ask how I’m doing.”

“You’re not injured,” he replied, like that explained everything.

You laughed bitterly. “You think that’s all that matters?”

He looked at you now. Really looked.

“You’re not bleeding,” he said, “so I assumed you were fine.”

“And that’s the problem, Law,” you snapped, “you only know how to fix things you can see. But what about everything else?”

He was always distant. He didn’t mean to be — it was just how he survived. You knew that going in. Law was brilliant, brave, and wounded in ways most couldn’t see. He didn’t wear his pain on his sleeve; he buried it deep, under layers of strategy and silence.

You once thought love could bring him peace.

Instead, it made you feel invisible.

He sat on the edge of the bed, removing his gloves with surgical precision. “If you’re upset, just say it.”

“I’m always saying it,” you said. “I say it in every look you don’t return, every time you walk out without a word. I’m screaming it, Law, and you don’t hear me.”

His brow furrowed. “I’m trying.”

“No, you’re managing. There’s a difference.”

You took a step forward, throat tight. “Do you even want me here?”

He didn’t answer.

Not for a long time.

When he did, it was quiet. “I don’t know what I’d be without you.”

“That’s not the same as wanting me.”

You turned away, swallowing the burn behind your eyes. “I need more than this. I need to be seen. Heard. Held.”

“I’m not good at that.”

“I know,” you whispered. “And I’ve been patient. God, I’ve been so patient.”

He stood. “Then what do you want from me?”

You turned back to him, tears finally slipping down your cheek.

“I want to stop being the person waiting for you to feel something.”

There were so many things he could have said. So many things he didn’t.

No promises. No pleas. Just silence.

You left the room, footsteps echoing down the corridor. He didn’t follow. You didn’t expect him to.

Law wasn’t cruel. He was just… unreachable.

And you couldn’t keep drowning in his silence.

Later that night, he stood in the infirmary, alone, looking at the chair where you always sat.

He didn’t cry. He didn’t break.

But he whispered your name once — as if it would echo back.

It didn’t.

MIHAWK

Perched on the windowsill of Kuraigana Island's cold, stone castle, you watched the sun slip beneath the horizon. Even the sunset here felt distant — as if the colors were afraid to bloom fully, like the love you once thought lived within these walls.

Behind you, the quiet hum of Mihawk’s sword being cleaned was the only sound.

You didn’t turn. You didn’t speak.

Neither did he.

You’d once thought the silence between you was peaceful — now it felt suffocating.

When you first arrived, you mistook his quiet for serenity. Mihawk was a man of discipline, of stillness, and you found comfort in his control. He didn’t make empty promises, didn’t raise his voice, didn’t falter. It made you feel safe.

Until the days stretched long and the silence became unbearable.

You would speak to him at dinner, only to be met with the clink of cutlery. You would try to initiate conversation, only to find him more engrossed in wine than words.

You once thought you were an oasis for his loneliness.

Now you realized you were just another presence he tolerated.

“You haven’t looked at me once today,” you said finally, staring out at the orange light dying over the sea.

Mihawk paused, the cloth in his hand stilling on Yoru’s blade. “I saw you this morning.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

No response.

You stood slowly, turning to face him. He was sitting in that grand, throne-like chair by the fireplace. His posture was perfect. Controlled. Remote.

“Do you even care that I’m unhappy?”

“I care,” he replied after a beat. “But unhappiness is inevitable.”

You blinked. “That’s your answer?”

“I do not pretend to be something I’m not,” he said, voice even. “You knew who I was when you came here.”

“I knew who you seemed to be,” you said sharply. “But I thought — I hoped — that underneath all of this control, you might want to be known. That you might let me in.”

“I have let you in.”

“To your house. Not your heart.”

The air crackled.

Mihawk stood, moving with quiet authority. “I do not offer affection like others. I offer stability. Loyalty.”

“I never wanted gifts. Or flattery. I just wanted to feel chosen.” You laughed, bitter. “But all I’ve felt is... tolerated. Like I’m just another item in your collection of things that don’t rust or change.”

He said nothing.

You stepped closer. “You haven’t said you love me. Not once.”

“I do not speak lightly,” he said, almost offended.

“I’m not asking for flowery words. I’m asking for anything that tells me you feel something when you look at me.”

He stared at you — intense, golden eyes sharp as any blade.

“I would not have allowed you to stay if I did not value you.”

A pause. And then your voice, quiet, almost broken:

“That’s not love, Mihawk. That’s possession.”

The silence that followed was vast.

And it said everything.

You turned away, heading for the door.

“You’re leaving.”

“Yes.”

“You may find no comfort in the world beyond this place.”

“Maybe not,” you whispered. “But at least I’ll feel something.”

He did not follow. He did not stop you.

And that hurt worse than any goodbye.

Later, long after you’d gone, Mihawk stood alone in the great hall, Yoru resting silently on the stone altar. A storm gathered beyond the window, wind rushing over the sea like a howl.

He did not weep.

But he looked at the spot where your chair had been pulled out, slightly askew — and he didn’t move it back.

One Month With You

In the final month of your life, you cherishes fleeting moments with your crew, hiding a terminal illness until only memories—and a letter—remain.

red hair pirates x reader | whitebeard pirates x reader | strawhats x reader | ONE SHOT tags: angst, sfw, ooc, major character death, grief, terminal illness a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe and akward word count: 2.6k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

RED HAIR PIRATES

The sea was calm that morning, the kind of quiet that made even the waves seem to hold their breath. The deck of the Red Force was alive with chatter and light laughter, but you stood by the railing, letting the wind sweep through your hair. Your fingers curled around the wood, your gaze far off—not at the horizon, but somewhere past it.

One month. That’s what Hongo told you when he unknowingly confirmed your own suspicions. You’d been hiding the worsening symptoms for months—fatigue that sank deep into your bones, the relentless pain in your chest, the occasional blood you’d spit out into the sea, unnoticed.

You knew he’d figure it out eventually. He was too good not to.

But you hadn’t expected him to burst into your quarters the night before, shaking with barely restrained panic.

“What the hell is this?!” Hongo had yelled, thrusting a tattered medical report into your hands. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you say something?!”

You couldn’t meet his eyes. “Because I didn’t want to be watched like a ghost who hasn’t died yet.”

Silence. Deafening.

“...You have a month, Y/N, maybe less. You’re—” His voice cracked. “You’re dying, and you're acting like it's nothing?”

“I have a month, Hongo,” you had said quietly. “Please… just let me have it. Don’t tell the others. Let me spend it with them. Please.”

He didn't answer for a long time. When he finally did, it was with a whisper: “You’re a fucking idiot.” But he pulled you into a hug and didn’t let go until your shoulders stopped shaking.

From that day, you lived more fiercely than ever. You laughed at Shanks’ dumb jokes and drank with him until the world blurred. You challenged Benn to silent stargazing contests, betting on how many shooting stars you’d catch. You dragged Limejuice to island carnivals and flirted shamelessly until his face burned red. You played cards with Hongo, even when your hands trembled too much to hold them.

They all noticed. The Red-Haired Pirates weren’t stupid.

“You’re real clingy lately,” Limejuice teased one night, bumping your shoulder with his. “You sure you’re not sick or something?”

You smiled, heart twisting. “Would you be mad if I said I might be?”

He laughed, oblivious. “Nah. I’d carry you myself if you keeled over.”

You didn’t say anything. Just leaned into his warmth.

Shanks was the hardest. He noticed too much. Noticed how often you disappeared below deck when the coughing fits hit, how your eyes stayed on the ocean longer than they should have.

“You thinking of leaving us?” he asked once, half-joking.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “No,” you lied.

Benn just watched. Always watched. He didn’t say much, but you could feel his eyes lingering on you, searching. You gave him your brightest smiles.

The day you left, the crew didn’t know.

You made breakfast with Chef-level effort, joking with the kitchen staff, slipping kisses to Limejuice's cheek and hugging Shanks tighter than ever. You sat with Benn for hours on the deck, your head on his shoulder, watching the sun creep across the sky.

“I think you’re my favorite,” you whispered, teasing.

He snorted. “Don’t let Shanks hear that.”

He didn’t know that was the last time he’d feel your heartbeat against his side.

That night, you slipped away. A letter for each of them tucked under your pillow. A note for Hongo too:

"Thank you—for letting me pretend I wasn’t dying. I love you all too much to say goodbye."

Morning broke in chaos.

“Where the hell is Y/N?!” Limejuice shouted, tearing through the ship.

“They’re not in the galley, or the crow’s nest!” Benn called out, panic rising in his usually calm voice.

Shanks was quiet, unusually still, staring at the empty hammock where your scent still lingered.

The notes were found soon after. One by one, hands shaking as they read your last words.

You didn’t say goodbye, but each letter bled with love.

“To Shanks — Thank you for making me feel like I belonged in the stars.”

“To Benn — You saw through me. Thank you for not saying anything.”

“To Limejuice — Thank you for reminding me how fun life could be.”

“To Hongo — I’m sorry I made you carry this alone. Thank you for letting me be selfish.”

They thought you ran. Were taken. Benn demanded a search party. Shanks was pale, silent, gripping your letter so tight his knuckles bled. Limejuice punched a wall. Hongo said nothing—for two days.

And then, he snapped.

He threw your medical file onto the table during a heated meeting, eyes wild. “They didn’t leave!....They died. And...I let them.”

The room fell to a breathless silence.

“You knew?” Benn whispered.

“They had a month. They begged me to let them spend it with us, like nothing was wrong. And I let them lie.”

Shanks stumbled back, as if struck. “No. No, they were… they were fine.”

“They were dying, Shanks! They couldn’t breathe without pain, they were—” Hongo’s voice cracked. “They spent their last strength loving us.”

No one spoke.

Limejuice fell to his knees. “We didn’t even say goodbye.”

Later that night, Shanks sat by the railing where you always stood.

“I hope you’re watching the stars from up close now, Y/N,” he murmured, tears streaking his face. “Because we’ll never stop looking for you in them.”

WHITEBEARD PIRATES

You’d always imagined dying quietly, maybe on an empty shore, wrapped in salt and wind. But fate had other plans. Your end would come not with isolation—but surrounded by laughter, drink, and the stubborn, unbearable warmth of the Whitebeard Pirates.

The diagnosis came on a cold, cloudy day—so ordinary it felt like a betrayal.

You'd passed out during training. Woke up with Marco’s worried face looming over you. He’d examined you in complete silence. But his shaking hands and tight jaw told you everything.

“It’s not good, is it?” you asked, voice barely a whisper.

“No,” Marco had said, the word cracking as it left him. “It’s... terminal. A rare degeneration of the lungs and heart. I don’t—there’s nothing I can do.”

You didn’t cry. Instead, you laughed. “So, what—you’re saying I won’t outlive my goldfish?”

He didn't laugh. He looked like he’d been stabbed. “You have a month. Maybe.”

You made him promise to keep it secret.

Just him and Whitebeard.

When Oyaji found out, he sat beside your bed and gripped your hand with those massive, shaking fingers. “You are my child,” he rumbled. “And if this is your last voyage… then let it be the greatest of your life.”

You had never cried before. But you cried then.

From that day, you threw yourself into every moment.

Ace was all fire and impulse, but when he was around you, something softer flickered beneath the surface. He took to dragging you along for sparring matches, even when you claimed your muscles ached.

“I need a challenge,” he’d smirk, sweat glistening down his neck.

“You just want to show off,” you’d tease, raising your fists anyway.

He was always careful not to hit you too hard. Not that you said anything—but he seemed to know. When you tripped one day, coughing blood into your sleeve when he wasn’t looking, he’d jogged over, helping you up without a word. His hand lingered on your arm just a second too long.

That night, you sat beside him, both of you perched on the edge of the ship with your legs dangling into the air.

“You’re weird lately,” he mumbled, eyes on the moon.

You bumped his shoulder with yours. “Just thinking how lucky I am.”

He blinked at you. “To be with us?”

“To be with you,” you said, gently. And he froze, eyes wide, like he didn’t know what to do with that.

“…You’re gonna break my heart, aren’t you?” he whispered.

You smiled, because you already had.

Izo became your confidant without even knowing it. With every eyeliner flick and matching kimono, you gave yourself permission to feel alive. They would hum as they painted your face, hands warm against your cheeks.

“You’re glowing,” they said once, adjusting the red ribbon they tied in your hair.

“Death becomes me, huh?” you joked, and they slapped your arm, scandalized.

“You joke about dying too much.”

You didn’t mean to, but your voice cracked. “It’s easier than pretending I’m not scared.”

Their fingers paused, lips parting. “…Are you scared?”

You looked at them in the mirror, the shimmer of gold powder across your eyelids catching the light. “Yeah,” you said. “But not when I’m with you.”

They smiled then, a bit sad, and leaned in to kiss your temple. “Then let’s live like hell until we drop, dear.”

Thatch was joy personified. It was impossible to be sad around him for long, and that’s what made it hurt worse.

He caught you sneaking dessert at 2 a.m. once and acted like you’d committed a crime.

“Oh-ho! So this is where my pudding went!”

“Your pudding? I thought it had my name on it.”

“I’ll accept bribes in the form of kisses or cleaning dishes.”

You kissed his cheek, and he nearly dropped the bowl.

Every stolen moment in the kitchen became a memory—dancing while covered in flour, whipped cream fights, drunken baking experiments that ended in fire. You’d laughed so hard your sides hurt, even as your lungs begged you to stop.

“You’re making memories,” he said one night, tousling your hair. “That’s what this is. You’ve been clingy lately. Like you’re trying to make every second count.”

You froze, the spoon halfway to your mouth. “…Would you hate me if I was?”

He blinked. “Nah. I’d probably try to hold on tighter.”

You didn’t tell him then. Just leaned into his side and let him talk about his dream of opening a cake café after he retires.

You knew you’d never see it.

Marco was the one who saw the cracks, and it destroyed him. You kept him close because you trusted him most—and that made it hurt more.

You caught him once crying at your door. He didn’t think you were awake.

You opened it, silently wrapped your arms around him, and whispered, “I’m still here.”

“You shouldn’t be this calm,” he rasped into your shoulder.

“I’m terrified,” you admitted. “But I’d rather spend what time I have being loved than dying slowly in a bed.”

He pulled back, staring at you with reddened eyes. “You could have told them.”

“They’d look at me like I was already dead.”

He said nothing, and you reached up to cup his cheek. “Promise me… promise you’ll wait. Let me leave on my own terms.”

“…Okay,” he whispered. “But I’ll hate you for it.”

You kissed his forehead. “I hope you do.”

You left them on a quiet morning.

Then you slipped away, leaving only a bundle of letters on Marco’s desk.

Your final message was simple:

“Don’t let them hate me for this. Please. Just let them think I ran.”

The ship erupted into panic by nightfall.

Ace punched through a wall. “They’re gone?! What do you mean GONE?”

Izo ran through the corridors, calling your name until their voice broke.

Thatch turned the kitchen inside out like he expected you to be hiding in the cupboards, laughing.

Marco couldn’t speak.

He stood at the rail, gripping the wood so hard it splintered beneath his fingers.

Whitebeard stood behind him, silent, his massive shadow cast across the deck like a shroud.

“Do I tell them?” Marco rasped.

“No,” Whitebeard rumbled. “Not yet. Let them rage. Let them mourn in their own way.”

“But—”

“They wouldn’t understand it now,” he said. “Wait.”

A week passed. Then two.

No sign of you.

Your room remained untouched. Your absence echoed louder than any cannon fire.

They scoured islands. Questioned strangers. Considered kidnappers, Marines, even betrayal.

Ace refused to accept it. “They wouldn’t leave us! Not without a word. Not without—something.”

He went to Marco, desperate. “You know something. Tell me.”

Marco finally broke.

He gave Ace your letter.

Ace read it once. Then again and again. Then crumpled to the ground, screaming into his fists.

“They died?! All this time—they were dying?!”

Marco stood frozen, guilt crawling like acid beneath his skin.

“They didn’t want you to mourn them before they were gone,” he whispered. “They wanted to be loved, not pitied.”

Ace couldn’t answer. He just sobbed, curled around your crumpled letter like it could still warm him.

That night, Whitebeard gathered his sons and daughters.

He read your letters aloud. One by one. Each one aching with truth, memory, and love.

“To Ace — You made me feel alive, even when I was already halfway gone.” “To Izo — Thank you for making me beautiful when I felt invisible.” “To Thatch — You made every day sweeter, even the ones I didn’t think I’d survive.” “To Marco — Thank you for holding my secret when it crushed you. I love you most for that.” “To Oyaji — You gave me a family when I had nothing left. Thank you… for letting me die a Whitebeard Pirate.”

By the end, the deck was silent.

No sobs. Just breathless grief.

They didn’t throw a funeral.

They held a feast.

Not because they weren’t mourning—but because they knew you’d hate to see them broken.

They told stories. Passed your favorite drink around. Laughed, cried, and danced with ghosts.

And when the fire died down, Ace stared at the embers and whispered, “I hope you found peace, flame-heart.”

STRAWHAT PIRATES

You didn’t plan on dying at sea, but the Grand Line has a way of making plans for you. The first signs were subtle: a lingering fatigue you chalked up to busy days, aches you blamed on training, the dull pain in your side that you laughed off when Chopper asked if you were okay.

You knew before he did. Deep down, your body had been whispering the truth long before the words made it onto paper.

It wasn’t until you collapsed in the hallway between the kitchen and the infirmary that Chopper realized something was seriously wrong. When you woke up, it was to the sterile smell of the medical bay and his wide, terrified eyes.

“I ran every test,” he said, voice trembling. “And then I ran them again. It’s… it’s bad. Really bad.”

You nodded. Your throat was too dry to answer.

“I—I can’t fix it. Not with what we have on board. Maybe if we got to a major medical port, but even then, I don’t know if—”

You reached out, resting a hand on his tiny shoulder. “How long?”

He hesitated, ears flattening. “A month. Maybe.”

You didn’t cry. Not then. Not even when he begged to tell the others.

“No. Please. Let me have this. Just a month, Chopper.”

“They’ll never forgive me.”

“They will,” you said. “If they knew now, it’d ruin everything. I don’t want pity. I want memories.”

So you began to live. Fully, recklessly, as if the pain eating away at you was just a shadow at your back.

You started with Sanji. He was the easiest to be around, the one whose affection was loud and constant. Every meal became a moment: you insisted on helping in the kitchen, even when he protested. You chopped vegetables until your hands hurt, stirred sauces while leaning against him, snuck little bites when he wasn’t looking.

“You’re here a lot lately,” he said one afternoon, handing you a bowl of soup.

“I like watching you work,” you replied.

He grinned. “You trying to steal my heart, love?”

You leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Maybe.”

He went quiet for a beat. Then, more softly, “You look at me like you’re memorizing my face.”

You didn’t answer. Just smiled.

Zoro came next. You sparred with him almost every day now, ignoring the way your lungs burned, the way your legs shook. He didn’t say anything the first time you collapsed mid-match, just silently carried you to the infirmary.

“You’re pushing too hard,” he said.

“I need to,” you whispered.

“Why?”

You looked at him, really looked. “Because I don’t want to forget what it feels like to fight beside you.”

He frowned. “You’re acting like you’re running out of time.”

You forced a smile. “Aren’t we all?”

That night, he found you on the deck, staring at the stars.

He sat beside you, arms crossed. “You’re not saying something. I don’t like it.”

“I’m just tired.”

“I’d carry you, if you asked.”

Your heart ached. “I know.”

Luffy was harder.

He didn’t notice at first. You were careful around him—too careful. You laughed with him during meals, ran across islands with him, challenged him to stupid games on the deck. But he began to notice the way you lingered during hugs. The way you stared at him too long. The way your smiles didn’t quite reach your eyes.

One evening, you lay beside him on the figurehead, watching the horizon.

He turned his head toward you. “Are you gonna leave?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You look like you’re saying goodbye.”

You looked away. “I’m not. Not yet.”

He was quiet for a while. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t want to either.”

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and didn’t let go until you both fell asleep.

ou made time for everyone else too.

With Nami, you spent lazy afternoons in the library, pretending to study charts. She taught you how to draw maps. You traced the oceans of the world with your fingers and imagined places you’d never see.

“You’re getting good at this,” she said.

“I want to leave something behind,” you murmured.

She didn’t understand then. But she would.

Usopp was a light in the dark. You asked for bedtime stories, exaggerated tales of heroism and romance. He performed them with full sound effects, arms flailing, voice booming.

“You always laugh now,” he noted one night.

“It’s easy, when I’m with you.”

He blushed, scratching the back of his head. “You’re acting like I’m the best part of your day.”

You smiled. “You are.”

Robin gave you quiet comfort. She didn’t ask questions. She simply read to you, let you rest your head in her lap, brushed your hair back from your face.

“You’re calm,” you told her.

“You’re storming,” she replied.

You didn’t deny it.

Franky built you a swing on the back of the Sunny, facing the sea. You spent hours there, feet brushing over the waves, eyes on the endless blue.

“Super chill, right?” he said, adjusting the ropes.

You nodded. “It’s perfect.”

He caught your hand before he left. “You’re not okay.”

You looked up at him. “No.”

“Okay,” he said, voice tight. “You don’t have to be.”

Brook played lullabies for you. Sweet, simple things. You danced with him once, slow and clumsy.

“If I still had a heart,” he said softly, “I think it would ache.”

You rested your head against his chest. “Mine already does.”

Chopper was breaking. Every day, he looked at you like you were already fading. You caught him crying in the storage room once, holding one of your jackets.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered.

“You’re stronger than me,” you said, hugging him.

“I hate lying.”

“I know.”

You waited until they docked at a small island for supplies.

You left at dawn.

Left behind the stargazer chair. The flowered book. The slingshot. The meals. The love.

Left behind a stack of letters in Chopper’s room.

When the crew realized you were gone, Luffy panicked first.

“They wouldn’t leave! They’d never leave!”

Zoro was already on the dock, scanning the shoreline. Sanji lit a cigarette with shaking fingers.

They searched the island. They waited at the ship. They called for you until their voices cracked.

You didn’t come back.

That night, Chopper gathered them in the infirmary.

“I didn’t want to break the promise,” he said, voice trembling. “But… they’re gone. They were dying.”

No one moved.

“…What?”

“They only had a month. They asked me to let them live… without pity.”

Nami burst into tears. "They should’ve told us,”

Zoro punched the wall.

Luffy stood in stunned silence, until he screamed your name into the ocean wind.

They read your letters together. All huddled in the infirmary, hearts shattered.

“To Sanji — You made me feel wanted, even when I felt like a ghost.” “To Zoro — You were my anchor. I always knew where I stood when I was beside you.” “To Luffy — Thank you for being the sun. I needed the light more than you’ll ever know.” “To the Crew — You made me part of a family. You made me more than a dying story.”

They held a quiet vigil on the deck.

Brook played your song one last time. Robin scattered petals into the sea. Chopper lit a lantern and let it drift across the water.

They stayed on that island for days.

Then, they sailed forward—quieter, heavier—but with your memory in their hearts.

You were their nakama.

You were their heart.

You always would be.

Hi! Can you please do a reader that has a beauty at the same level as Hancock, and like some big names in pirates and marines are in to her. ( It's like a harem) And by the way she's a straw hats. That's all, thank you 😋

ohh! this is a nice idea! i hope u like this!

Queen of Chaos?

At the Grand Pirate Festival, your legendary beauty turns the entire world — pirates, warlords, and marines alike — into a chaotic, simping mess.

var! one piece x reader | ONE SHOT

tags: fluff, oocs, sfw, harem, chaotic

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe

word count: 1.7k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The Grand Pirate Festival, held once a decade on the neutral grounds of Fullalead Island, was in full swing — a dizzying mess of fireworks, endless banquets, and drunk pirates staggering from booth to booth.

The Straw Hat crew strolled through the chaos, you right at their center, laughing at Usopp's drunken juggling and dodging Sanji's hearts floating around his head. Your beauty — infamous across the seas — was enough to stop even the wildest pirates in their tracks.

Tonight was no different. If anything, the chaos was worse. Because everyone was here.

And everyone was looking at you.

“Oi, Y/N, stick close, yeah?” Zoro muttered, eyes sweeping the crowds warily, hand lightly resting on his sword hilt. Even though he was notoriously laid-back, there was something in his gaze that said I’ll end you to anyone who dared look at you for too long.

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “Relax, Zo~. They’re just looking. Nothing to worry about.”

“You act like she's not the most gorgeous thing on the island,” Sanji swooned, literally spinning around you in a circle like a lovesick fool. “My sweet Y/N-chwaan! Let me be your guard, your knight, your eternal—”

You gave him a small, amused smile but said nothing. Zoro, however, wasn’t having it. He shoved Sanji aside, muttering something about “too much sugar in your system.”

“Back off, curly-brow,” Zoro grunted, tugging you closer by the wrist almost possessively.

You just laughed, amused by their antics.

But then the real chaos started.

“Oi, Luffy! DAHAHAHA”

A loud, cheerful voice called out. You turned — and saw a man waving a sake bottle.

Shanks.

The Red-Hair Pirates were approaching.

And Shanks' eyes, bright and mischievous, were fixed directly on you.

“Well, well, well,” he grinned lazily, stepping close enough you could smell the sake on his breath. “You didn’t tell me you had someone this stunning on your crew, Luffy.”

He bent down slightly, his gaze sweeping over you with clear admiration.

“You free later, sweetheart? I think the stars would look better with you under 'em.”

“Hey, that's not fair, captain, you’re hogging her already!” Lime Juice complained, elbowing past, his grin just as shameless. “Let me have a shot!”

“Feh,” Benn Beckman exhaled smoke, giving you a long, appreciative look. Even the normally stoic first mate cracked a half-smile at you. “Gotta admit, even I’m tempted to ditch the booze for a dance.”

You blinked, caught between laughing and being slightly overwhelmed.

Then it got worse.

From the opposite end of the plaza, a booming voice interrupted.

“MAMAMA~MA! WHO IS THAT BEAUTIFUL GIRL?!”

You could hear Big Mom’s voice booming from across the plaza, followed by the thunderous approach of her children. Perospero was the first to make his way over, his usual air of arrogance only intensified by his infatuation.

“Charmed, darling~! You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he purred, reaching out to offer you an impossibly large tray of sweets. “Care for some delicacies?”

“I’m good,” you said politely, although you couldn’t help but chuckle as he continued to follow you like a lost puppy.

Katakuri, who stood behind him, was much less vocal but clearly just as entranced. His gaze never left you, and even his calm demeanor was cracking. He awkwardly cleared his throat, still not able to tear his eyes away from you.

You caught his gaze and smiled playfully. “You’re not bad-looking either,” you teased, giving him a wink.

His face turned red for a brief second, before he turned sharply and walked away in a hurry, leaving a very confused Perospero behind.

You gave a tiny, apologetic smile, scratching your cheek. You didn’t mean to be a magnet for attention.

But it wasn’t over yet.

The Warlords were here too.

Mihawk, Doflamingo, Crocodile, and…

Boa Hancock.

You felt the intensity immediately.

Hancock’s stare burned holes through your head.

"Who dares…" she hissed, crossing her arms, glaring at you like you'd personally offended her. "Who dares to outshine me?! Do you know who I am?!"

You tilted your head, smiling lazily at her — completely amused.

You had no intention of competing with her.

But it was hilarious how serious she took it.

Hancock bristled visibly.

Meanwhile, Mihawk approached, his cape billowing dramatically behind him. He simply stood in front of you, staring, hawk-like eyes unreadable.

“You,” he said at last, voice deep, almost admiring.

“You have a dangerous aura, There’s something about you."

You tilted your head, giving him a soft, mysterious smile. “Maybe that’s just my natural charm.”

Doflamingo was far less subtle. his hands on his pockets as usual, eyes scanning your figure with a look that could only be described as both calculating and interested.

He threw an arm casually around your shoulders, laughing, ignoring Sanji’s shriek of rage from somewhere behind you.

“Fufufufu~… How about ditching the kiddie table and coming with me, babe? I’ll show you a real good time.”

He got a faceful of Zoro’s sword hilt and a furious Nami slapping his hand off you before you could even respond.

Crocodile stood back, eyeing you thoughtfully from under his cigar smoke, offering you a slow, thin smile like he was plotting something dangerous.

“Not interested in brats, huh?” he said smoothly. “Good. You deserve someone…seasoned.”

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from bursting out laughing.

The Whitebeard Pirates weren’t to be left out, and soon, the unmistakable figure of Whitebeard himself appeared at the edge of the festival. His massive frame was a sight to behold, and behind him, his crew was just as loud and rowdy as ever.

“woah~ look at this beauty-yoi” Marco said, a playful glint in his eyes. “You’ve certainly got everyone’s attention tonight, haven’t you?”

You smiled, giving him a knowing look. “I guess I can’t help it.”

Ace, ever the charmer, spotted you almost immediately and made a beeline for you. “Well, well, looks like my brother's crew have a beauty among them,” he said, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “You’ve got everyone at this festival wrapped around your little finger.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Seems like it. And I’m only getting started.”

“I can see why everyone’s after you, but they’d better step aside. I’ve already got dibs,” Ace continued, clearly enjoying himself.

Whitebeard himself gave a hearty laugh, slapping Ace on the back with enough force to send him stumbling forward.

And then there were the Beasts Pirates — or, more accurately, King and Queen, both leering from a distance.

“Pretty thing like that… should be on our side,” Queen slobbered, nudging King.

King just grunted, his red eyes glinting — but the stare he gave you was intense enough to count as flirting.

Heart Pirates weren’t any better.

“Trafalgar Law” tried to act cool, leaning against a wall, arms crossed.

But when you smiled at him, he actually choked on his own words and looked away, cheeks turning faintly pink.

Bepo padded up helpfully.

"Captain thinks you're very pretty!" he said loudly.

Law smacked him on the head, mortified.

"Shut up, Bepo!"

You covered your mouth to hide your giggles.

Even Eustass Kid, the angry, metal-covered mess, stomped over and glared down at you.

“Tch. Pretty people are annoying,” he grumbled.

But then he shoved a flower (a very crushed, mangled flower) into your hand and stomped away, muttering under his breath.

You stared at it, utterly bewildered.

Luffy howled with laughter.

And of course, your own crew was a disaster.

Sanji, in his usual fervor, was flipping out, his eyes barely visible behind his hearts. “Y/N-chwaaan! Please tell me I’m the only one worthy of your love!” he wailed dramatically, ignoring the fact that everyone was staring at you with hunger in their eyes.

Zoro just stood there, arms crossed, glaring at anyone who dared to approach you. His hand was on the hilt of his sword, ready to defend you at a moment’s notice. “You’re not getting anywhere near her,” he muttered under his breath.

Usopp was bouncing around, chest puffed out as if to say “I’ll protect Y/N from all these fools.” He was quick to start claiming that he, as the “Great Sniper Usopp,” was the only one worthy of guarding your heart.

Luffy — bless him — just laughed and slung an arm around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"She’s our nakama! You can't have her!" he declared proudly.

Nami, on the other hand, had already started haggling for a better deal on all the gifts you were getting. “Wow, you must be so useful,” she said to Mihawk, smiling as she held up a massive diamond necklace you’d just been handed. “Do you have more where this came from?”

Brook tried, too — asking you for your panties in his usual way — but you only patted his head like a grandpa, much to his disappointment.

The Marines were no better.

Smoker had a cigar nearly falling out of his mouth, jaw slack as he stared at you.

Kuzan gave you a lazy half-wave, actually bothering to open one eye and give a faint, approving “ararara~… a pretty girl...with bazookas.”

Kizaru practically teleported next to you, grinning like a devil.

“Whew~ you’re quite dazzling, aren’t you?~”

Koby, bright red from the ears down, could barely stammer out a hello without squeaking.

And from the shadows, a few SWORD agents watched you intently, whispering hurriedly to each other like gossipy schoolkids.

By the time night fell, you were absolutely buried in gifts: flowers, jewels, sweets, swords (from Mihawk?!), a flaming guitar solo (from one of the Red-Hair pirates), and a drunken marriage proposal (from Queen, who got punched by King before he finished the sentence).

You sat on a bench at the festival's edge, exhausted but laughing, surrounded by a mountain of unwanted trinkets.

Luffy flopped down beside you, grinning.

“Everyone’s weird. but you’re just Y/N, right? SHISHISHI”

You smiled at him — a real, warm smile.

“Right,” you said.

“Just Y/N.”

Across the festival, you caught Hancock staring at you still — seething, furious, clutching her fists.

You gave her a lazy wink.

She shrieked and turned to stone three random pirates by accident.

You just laughed and stretched your arms over your head, feeling the salty sea breeze wash over you.

It was chaotic. It was ridiculous. It was perfect.

Exactly the kind of night you wouldn’t trade for anything.

© ᵈᵒˡˡʸʷᵒⁿˢ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᶦᵛᶦᵈᵉʳˢ <³

CLINGY MUCH? | ONE SHOT

Shanks x GN!Reader

Zoro x GN!Reader

Mihawk x GN!Reader

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc

tags: sfw, fluff, soft, ooc(?)

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

SHANKS

You were many things aboard the Red Force—calm, sharp-tongued, and painfully unbothered by Shanks’ endless antics.

You were also completely unaware of the fact that the most feared (and flirted-with) captain in the New World couldn’t seem to stop touching you.

Not in a creepy way. Not even in a romantic way… at least, not that you noticed.

He’d toss an arm around your shoulders like it was a habit. Rest his hand on your waist when laughing. Tug you into his side when something “dangerous” happened, like a slightly aggressive breeze or a seagull flying too low.

You just chalked it up to him being Shanks.

Until, one bright morning, the crew decided enough was enough.

It started with Benn Beckman sighing dramatically as he walked onto the deck.

“Do you two need a room or something?”

You blinked from where you stood, arms crossed. “We’re not even doing anything.”

Benn pointed. “His hand has been on your lower back for ten minutes.”

Shanks blinked down at his own hand like it betrayed him. “Huh. Didn’t even notice.”

You raised a brow. “Are you okay? Do you have tactile issues?”

Lucky Roux snorted as he passed by with a turkey leg. “Yeah, it’s called ‘falling for someone and not knowing what to do with your hands.’”

Shanks turned red. You remained… utterly unaffected.

“Touch-starved pirate disease,” Lime Juice muttered, jotting fake notes like a doctor. “Tragic. Symptoms include: prolonged physical contact, excessive grinning, and spontaneous cuddling in public.”

Hongo popped his head out of the crow’s nest. “I saw him brush your hair behind your ear during the storm last week.”

“That was because it got in their face,” Shanks defended.

You nodded. “He didn’t want me to get stabbed by my own bangs. Very heroic.”

“You’re wearing a braid,” Yasopp called from the helm.

A long pause.

“…Okay, I’m not good with excuses,” Shanks muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. His hand bumped yours in the process.

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing. “Captain.”

“Yes?”

“You’re touching me again.”

“...I genuinely didn’t notice DAHAHAHA.”

The crew erupted into laughter.

You blinked slowly and glanced down at your joined hands, then back up at him. “You’ve been holding my hand for a minute now. You good?”

“Maybe.”

You stared.

He stared.

“…You’re kinda warm,” he added, grinning.

“I’m wearing gloves.”

“Exactly. Impressive.”

You didn’t smile, but your voice was flat with dry humor. “You wanna marry me, too? Get it over with?”

Shanks choked. “Whoa—what?”

“You’re already touching me like I’m your lover. Might as well commit.”

The crew howled.

“I’m starting to like them more than you, Cap,” Benn said, lighting a cigar.

“They’ve got more bite,” Lime Juice grinned.

Lucky Roux offered you a celebratory turkey leg like a sword. “You just proposed better than he ever could.”

You calmly took it, giving a single nod. “Thanks. I accept my own proposal.”

Shanks was still frozen. “Wait, are we actually engaged now?”

You took a slow bite of the turkey leg, deadpan. “Keep touching me like that, and you’ll owe me alimony.”

ZORO

You were minding your own business—arms crossed, eyes half-lidded, back leaned slightly against the Sunny’s railing—when a familiar weight thunked into your side.

Again.

You didn’t flinch, didn’t glance, didn’t even blink. Just spoke.

“Zoro.”

“What.”

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what.”

“Treating me like a living chair.”

He grunted. “You’re stable. And not annoying.”

“That’s a compliment?” you asked, still deadpan.

“Take it or leave it.”

The crew had noticed. Of course they had. This was the sixth day in a row Zoro had casually latched onto you like a sleepy barnacle.

“Oi, mosshead!” Sanji snapped, appearing from the galley with smoke swirling and a righteous fury in his eyes. “Get off them, you clingy cucumber!”

Zoro cracked open an eye. “Make me.”

“Oh, I will!” Sanji stomped over dramatically. “Y/N-chwaann shouldn’t have to carry your freeloading swordsman body weight! If anyone deserves to be close to them, it’s me!”

You raised an eyebrow. “You literally tripped into my lap yesterday trying to ‘tie your shoe.’ You were barefoot.”

“It was a metaphor!” Sanji cried. “For falling head over heels!”

Zoro scoffed. “That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Says the mossy limpet glued to their side like a touchy fungus!”

Zoro didn’t move. “Jealousy’s not a good look, curly.”

“You—!!”

“Guys,” Nami sighed, “can’t we go one day without turning affection into a shouting match?”

Brook leaned on his cane, chuckling. “Yohohoho! Young love… or something!”

Usopp squinted. “Wait. Has Zoro always been this clingy with Y/N?”

Robin smiled mysteriously. “Since thriller bark, at least.”

Franky nodded solemnly. “Saw him fall asleep on their shoulder mid-battle once. SUPER unconscious.”

“I thought he was dead,” Chopper added, horrified. “Turns out he was just really comfy.”

Zoro’s grip on your shoulder tightened very slightly, and you finally glanced sideways at him.

“Do you know you’re this touchy?” you asked.

He looked like he wanted to evaporate into the deck. “I… just don’t mind you being close.”

You blinked slowly. “Is that samurai code for ‘I like you’?”

Sanji audibly gagged. “Oi! Don’t flirt in front of me!”

“We’re not flirting,” you said.

Zoro mumbled, “Might be.”

Sanji died inside.

“Y/N-chwann” he said gravely, dropping to one knee. “I beg of you—pick me instead! I would never lean on you like a sweaty tree log!”

Zoro growled. “Because you’d faint from being close.”

“AT LEAST I’D DIE HANDSOME!”

You looked between the two of them and sighed.

“I just want to drink my tea without being fought over,” you muttered, walking off—Zoro immediately following, like a shadow with swords.

“You’re still touching me,” you noted.

“Didn’t say I’d stop,” he replied casually.

You stopped walking, turned, and looked him square in the eye.

“You’re aware this is very couple-coded, right?”

He blinked, then grunted. “Guess we should make it official then.”

You blinked right back. “That was fast.”

“Why waste time.”

You smirked just a little. “Romantic.”

He shrugged. “You’re warm. And you don’t talk too much.”

“That’s your idea of a proposal?”

“Worked, didn’t it?”

From behind you, Sanji dramatically screamed into the ocean.

MIHAWK

Kuraigana Island was a wasteland of stone, wind, and uncomfortable silences. You didn’t mind. You were the type to thrive in eerie places — quiet, observant, and allergic to nonsense.

Which is probably why Mihawk didn’t bother with small talk.

Or... so you thought.

Lately, the world’s greatest swordsman had developed a habit of materializing wherever you were. You’d be cleaning a blade — and there he was, pouring tea. You’d sit on the crumbling stone wall for some air — and there he’d be, suddenly trimming the overgrown vines right next to you.

At first, you thought it was coincidence.

Until today.

“...You know you don’t have to sharpen every one of my knives,” you said flatly, watching him work silently at the bench beside you.

“I didn’t,” Mihawk replied, still honing the blade. “Only the dull ones.”

You blinked. “That was my butter knife.”

“Then it was very dull.”

From the far side of the ruins, Zoro grunted as he finished a set of squats. “He refilled their canteen twice this morning.”

“Once,” Mihawk corrected, still not looking up.

“Twice,” Zoro insisted. “Once after breakfast. Then again after they just looked at the sink.”

Perona floated down with a snort. “He also folded their coat. While they were still wearing it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Wait. Is that why my sleeves were shorter for a second?”

“You had a wrinkle.”

“I always have a wrinkle.”

Mihawk looked up with that unreadable expression. “And now you don’t.”

Zoro huffed. “What even is this? He acts like a butler. But like, a scary one.”

Mihawk narrowed his eyes at him. “I’m not a butler.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Perona muttered, arms crossed. “You fixed the strap on their satchel too.”

Mihawk didn’t respond to that.

Perona raised a brow. “You gonna deny it?”

“No,” Mihawk said coolly, “because it was crooked.”

Zoro leaned against a stone pillar, towel around his neck. “He also moved your seat at the dining table.”

“That was my seat,” you said.

Mihawk finally gave you a long, side glance. “You’ve sat on the left for the past four mornings. I simply ensured it remained consistent.”

You deadpanned. “You rearranged the furniture.”

“Briefly.”

Zoro stared. “And when they tripped over that vine—”

“I cut the vine before they fell,” Mihawk snapped with a tone just shy of defensive.

“Bro. You lunged across the courtyard.”

Mihawk sipped his wine calmly. “It was in the way.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And when you pulled me by the hood into the shade the other day?”

“You were overheating.”

“I wasn’t sweating.”

“You were blinking slowly.”

You stared. “That’s just how I blink.”

There was a long pause.

Then Perona gasped. “Wait, wait — you also fixed the strap on their scabbard!”

“I adjusted it. The weight distribution was uneven.”

Zoro clapped once, grinning. “So you are clingy.”

Mihawk’s eyes narrowed, the glint in them sharp and dangerous. “I am not.”

You leaned your chin on your hand, amused. “Then what would you call this?”

He paused. “Awareness.”

Perona lost it. “You mean hyper-awareness. Of one (1) person.”

Mihawk ignored her. “It’s strategic. I simply ensure you're at your most efficient.”

“That’s not efficiency,” Zoro said, wiping his forehead. “That’s doting.”

Mihawk arched a brow. “You think a swordsman cannot be observant?”

“You folded their laundry in order of fabric weight.”

“They prefer it that way.”

You blinked. “I never said that.”

He side-eyed you, expression cool. “You didn’t need to.”

You blinked again.

Zoro grunted. “You see? He’s acting like we’re all weird for noticing.”

Perona jabbed a finger toward him. “He's totally doing the ‘if I act calm, no one will notice I'm obsessed’ thing.”

Mihawk finally gave a soft, tired sigh — the kind that said you people are exhausting.

Then, turning to you, he asked, “Would you like tea?”

“I haven’t said I was thirsty.”

He didn’t blink. “You will be.”

You stared. “Are you psychic?”

“No,” he said simply. “You’re predictable.”

You squinted. “...That sounds like flirting.”

Mihawk blinked slowly. “I don’t flirt.”

Perona groaned. “OH MY GOD—”

Mihawk stood up, cloak sweeping behind him, expression unreadable as always. He held out the canteen like he’d already won this conversation.

You took it with narrowed eyes, muttering, “Thanks... I guess.”

He nodded, calm as ever. “You’re welcome.”

Zoro crossed his arms. “Still denying it?”

Mihawk looked at all of them — then at you — and with perfect poise said,

“I’m just efficient.”

And with that, he turned and walked away.

You stared after him, took a sip from the canteen, and sighed.

“…Efficiently annoying.”

The Lost Reader

A mysterious reader of Poneglyphs finds a new home among the Straw Hat Pirates, slowly becoming an irreplaceable part of their crew as their love for them grows.

READER WHO CAN READ AND SPEAK PONEGLYPH

Strawhats x Poneglyph gn!reader ౨ৎ💗 ONE SHOT

main characters: luffy, zoro, sanji, nami, robin

tags: fluff, sfw, harem(?), soft

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ffs cringe and oc

words count: 1.9k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

It started with silence.

Not the heavy kind that suffocates—but the quiet peace of wind brushing through trees, waves lapping against the sand, and birds singing above crumbled ruins. Your only companions were time-worn Poneglyphs, mossy stone relics, and the hollow ache of knowing you shouldn’t exist.

You didn’t know what you were—only that you could read them. The Poneglyphs. Their words came to you like breath, like blood. It wasn’t learned. It just… was.

And then one day, the silence broke.

“WOOOOAAAHH! What a weird island!!”

You looked up from a worn page, blinking at the explosion of sound.

A rubber man had landed face-first in your tomato garden.

You blinked again, rubbing your eyes to make sure you weren’t imagining the scene before you. The man—his limbs were stretched at impossible angles, and his face was, well… currently smushed into the dirt of your carefully cultivated tomato patch.

“Luffy!” a woman’s voice shouted from the shore. “Stop crashing into things!”

You stared in disbelief, watching as a circus of chaos disembarked from a sunny, lion-faced ship. At least, that’s what it looked like to you.

“Wha—?” You stumbled back, half-wondering if you’d stepped into some sort of dream. But no, the crew’s laughter was real. Loud, boisterous, utterly chaotic, and very much present.

Before you could comprehend the whirlwind that had just descended upon your quiet life, a figure bounded toward you. The rubber man—Luffy—was grinning at you like you were the most interesting thing he’d seen all day. And, for all you knew, you were.

“Hey! Who're you? you live here? cool! SHISHISHI” Luffy asked, already sitting cross-legged on the ground as if he hadn’t just completely flattened your garden. “Wanna eat with us?”

You blinked, still too stunned to form a coherent sentence. “I… guess?...Im Y/N”

And so began your first real encounter with the Straw Hat Pirates.

Nami, with her keen eyes and sharp questions, immediately assessed the situation, interrogating you about your maps and supplies like she was about to audit your entire existence. Sanji, the ever-romantic chef, started cooking a feast so lavish that you were half-tempted to check if the food had its own backstory. The man even had heart-shaped eyes every time you praised his cooking.

Usopp, ever the over-the-top self-proclaimed hero, proudly handed you a coconut with a grin that could only be described as a “friendship orb.” “From me to you,” he declared, as if he had just made the world’s most profound offering.

And then there was Chopper, who took your pulse the second he saw you, declaring that you had “island person syndrome” and needed immediate attention.

Robin, however, watched you closely. Her gaze sharp but gentle, as if trying to figure out a puzzle no one else could see.

“You can read those stones, can’t you?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You stiffened. The question sent a shiver through your spine, a fleeting reminder of the secret you kept buried deep within. You didn’t answer. Not immediately.

She smiled, soft and knowing, her eyes never leaving yours. “We’ll talk later.”

Zoro, ever the brooding figure, glanced at you and muttered under his breath, “You don’t look dangerous.” It seemed like a funny thing to say, considering he had just been trying to slice a boulder in half mere moments earlier.

It didn’t take long for you to realize what was happening: You were trapped in their orbit. In their madness. In their chaos.

And you couldn’t have been more content.

The Thousand Sunny became your new home—bright, loud, and utterly unpredictable.

Sanji insisted on cooking you all your meals. Breakfast, lunch, dinner—each time, his cooking came with a full-on serenade, and if you didn’t finish your plate, he might just shed a tear. “It’s not just food,” he’d say. “It’s love. It’s my soul in a dish!”

Nami dragged you into shopping sprees with no regard for your dwindling supplies or your protestations. “You need to look fabulous, Y/N. Don’t you want to blend in with the rest of us?” she’d tease, while tossing a dozen new outfits into your arms. You always ended up spending more than you intended, but there was something so infectious about her enthusiasm that you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Robin was the one who quietly fascinated you. You’d find her at all hours of the day, absorbed in reading a book or studying the surroundings with quiet intensity. There was something about the way she looked at you, like she already knew your secrets but would never pry.

And then there was Luffy. Always smiling. Always laughing. He treated you as though you were already part of the crew. No pretense, no hesitation. You didn’t even need to be invited. You were just… in.

“Wanna ride on top of the mast?” Luffy asked one morning, as casually as if he were asking if you wanted a snack.

You stared up at the towering mast, then back at him. “Is that… safe?”

“Nope! shishishi” he beamed, looking excited about the prospect.

Somehow, that made it make sense to climb up there with him. He helped you up like it was nothing, laughing all the while. The wind whipped through your hair, and for the first time in a long while, you felt alive. You weren’t just existing anymore.

Zoro, ever the silent guardian, began training near you. You noticed him constantly observing your movements, his gaze intense but not unwelcome. One day, you lost your footing on deck, but before you could even react, his hand shot out and steadied you.

He didn’t say much, just stared at you for a moment, before clearing his throat and muttering, “Watch your step, dumbass.”

Romance, clearly.

It crept in slowly. Unnoticed, at first.

Sanji’s compliments, light-hearted at first, began to hold a different weight. “You look beautiful today, Y/N~chwann” he’d say with a soft smile, not just as a joke, but as something that meant more.

Nami’s teasing turned into lingering glances, moments where her eyes softened when she thought no one was looking.

Robin’s hand on yours during those quiet late-night reading sessions made your heart skip a beat, like it was a shared secret, a connection you didn’t have the words to describe.

Zoro’s silence, once intimidating, became your comfort. When he was near, you didn’t need to talk. You didn’t need to explain yourself. He was just there, a steady presence.

And Luffy’s laughter—oh, Luffy’s laughter. It started to feel like home, like the sound of safety, of warmth. A constant reminder that with him around, there was nothing to fear.

But you kept your secret.

That was until one night, when you and Robin stood over a relic you had no business being near. It was buried deep beneath the cursed island’s soil, half-buried like a forgotten truth. Robin stood behind you, arms crossed, waiting for you to decipher it. You already knew what it would say, but that didn’t stop the rush of dread that surged within you as your fingers traced the ancient glyphs.

“You know what it says, don’t you?” Robin’s voice was barely a whisper. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

You stiffened.

“It’s just a story,” you muttered, voice low.

Robin smiled, a soft and knowing smile, one that suggested she understood far more than she let on. “Then you should know—they’d kill you for it.”

You didn’t answer, didn’t have the words. You just continued to trace the lines, the ancient language flowing effortlessly from your mind, sinking into the earth beneath your fingertips.

Everything changed when you found the half-buried Poneglyph on a cursed island.

It was a trap. Not for Luffy. Not for the Pirate King in the making.

For you.

You read the stone aloud, your voice quiet, shaking slightly. And for the first time in your life, the stone responded.

The words were not just etched into stone, not just an inscription—it was a message. A message that burned through the world like a beacon.

“The last of the Whisperers,” it said. “Hunted. Hidden. Forbidden.”

The ground shook. The air turned electric. The Poneglyphs around you shimmered, the glyphs becoming light, illuminating the island with a soft, ethereal glow.

The Straw Hats arrived just as you stumbled backward, your eyes wide, heart pounding, the power coursing through you like an uncontrollable force. The glyphs pulsed, and the power in your veins burned bright.

“What’s happening?!” Usopp screamed, looking ready to fight a ghost.

You looked at them—at your crew—and whispered, “They were hunting us. People who could read these stones. I shouldn’t exist.”

There was silence.

Then Luffy stepped forward, his voice unwavering, “You’re not alone.”

The Marines came shortly after.

You fought, of course you did.

For the first time in your life, you let the power in your blood surge freely. The words of the stone became light, flames of energy erupting from the ground as you slashed through the battlefield, carving the very earth with your newfound strength. You cracked the island’s crust. You didn’t even know you could do that.

Sanji’s hand grabbed yours as the ground beneath you cracked, pulling you from the collapsing cliff. Zoro fought beside you, silent and determined. Robin’s steady hand on yours kept you grounded in the chaos.

When the battle was over, and the last Marine had been driven back, you passed out.

You woke in the infirmary, Chopper hovering over you, his worried eyes darting around like he was waiting for you to disappear again. Franky was sitting beside you, sobbing into a bowl of soup.

“You scared us, you moron,” Nami whispered, brushing your hair back from your face. Her voice was soft, a rare tenderness that made your heart ache.

Robin kissed your temple as she hovered over you, whispering, “You’re more than your gift.”

Sanji didn’t say anything, but his presence was unmistakable. He curled up beside you, pressing his forehead to your shoulder, a silent vow of protection.

Zoro sat across from you, cleaning his swords. “Don’t ever do that alone again.”

And Luffy… Luffy beamed at you, that infectious smile lighting up his face as he exclaimed, “You’re stuck with us forever now!”

The tension unraveled like fraying rope.

Nami kissed you when you least expected it, quick and teasing, a spark of affection.

Robin kissed you in the library, with parchment between your hands, and the world felt like it stopped turning for a moment.

Sanji kissed you with all the intensity of someone who had been waiting for years, every touch filled with longing.

Zoro kissed you like it was the only thing that made sense, his hands warm and steady.

And Luffy—Luffy’s kiss was upside down, playful, and completely unexpected, but perfect in the way only Luffy could be.

Usopp ran away screaming, “AAAH! ROMANCE ATTACK!”

Chopper fainted. Twice.

Brook played a love song with three verses about your “sultry stare” that made everyone uncomfortable except Sanji, who wept.

Franky asked if you wanted to build a heart-shaped cannon to “blast your feelings at the world.” You said yes. It now sits in the garden.

Jinbei just gave you a nod and said, “It’s about time.”

You weren’t a secret anymore.

You were theirs.

Not claimed, not owned—but cherished. Loved, wholly and fiercely.

And though the world may hunt you, you had a crew that would burn it down before they let anyone take you.

Say something

Straw Hat Pirates with a newly recruited reader who has selective mutism, appears unassuming but is secretly op

Strawhats x psychic!femreader ౨ৎ💗 ONE SHOT

tags: fluff, sfw, bit of angst(?)

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ffs a bit cringe

words count:968

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

You weren’t used to crowds.

And right now, that was a problem—because you were very much in one. A particularly sweaty, loud, and increasingly hostile one. The Straw Hats had docked at a lively but rough port for supplies, and in an unfortunate twist of fate, you’d gotten separated from the crew while browsing a small weapons stall.

Now you were surrounded by a group of sneering pirates, each one more obnoxious than the last, forming a loose circle around you like a pack of hyenas smelling blood.

“Aww, what’s wrong, sweetheart?” one of them leered, waving a cutlass lazily at your side. “Cat got your tongue?”

“She ain’t said a word,” another said, voice thick with mockery. “Too scared, huh?”

“She’s shaking,” a third laughed. “Bet she can’t even hold a sword properly.”

They were right about one thing: you hadn’t spoken. But it wasn’t fear that silenced you—it was them. Strangers. Eyes. Loud voices demanding a reaction.

Your throat felt tight. The words—simple ones, just leave me alone—were locked behind a door your mind couldn’t open. So you did what you always did when this happened.

You stared.

Expression blank. Shoulders loose. Breathing calm.

The mask of silence you wore never failed to make people underestimate you.

And right on cue, the biggest of the group stepped forward, cocky and smug. “C’mon, sweetheart. Say somethin’. Just one word.”

You tilted your head and blinked at him slowly.

He leaned in closer, thinking you were cornered prey.

And that’s when he made his mistake.

He reached out—fingertips brushing your collarbone, tugging at your cloak—like you were some kind of doll to poke and prod.

You whispered, barely audible: “Don’t touch me.”

He blinked. “What was that—”

And then you moved.

—

The first crack was his ribs.

You didn’t look strong. That was your favorite part about this whole thing. Small frame, loose clothes, no visible weapon. You’d always been dismissed as fragile, silent, soft.

But that was before your elbow shattered the man’s chestplate and launched him backward into a fruit stand. The market screamed and scattered. In seconds, chaos erupted.

Two more charged at you from either side. You twisted—agile, fluid—and drove a sharp heel into one’s temple while catching the other’s blade between your fingers. Not even a scratch.

He stared at you in shock.

You smiled sweetly.

Then bent the sword in half like it was tinfoil.

“Oh, she’s weird,” one pirate shrieked.

“Demon!” another cried.

You crouched low and pressed your palm to the ground. There was a faint ripple of energy, subtle and shimmering. A deep hum thrummed beneath the earth. Then the cobblestones exploded, launching your remaining attackers into the air like popcorn kernels.

Psychic force, compressed and sharp like a blade of wind. You didn’t need to speak to cast—just focus. Just want.

—

Across the square, the Straw Hats had heard the explosion before they saw you.

“What was that?!” Usopp shouted, ducking behind Franky.

“I think the market’s being destroyed!” Nami yelled.

“Could be marines,” Sanji muttered.

“Could be her,” Zoro said suddenly, eyes narrowing.

“Huh?” Chopper squeaked.

Zoro didn’t answer. He was already walking toward the noise.

—

When they arrived, the square was in shambles.

Stalls crushed. Dust everywhere. Six pirates knocked out cold. A seventh trying to crawl away with only one shoe and his pride in pieces.

And you—standing alone in the middle of it all, clothes scuffed but otherwise untouched, casually spinning a small rock above your palm with lazy telekinesis.

You looked up when they approached. Your eyes locked with Luffy’s first.

You expected him to be surprised.

Instead, he beamed.

“THAT WAS AWESOME!” he yelled, running up to you like a kid seeing fireworks for the first time. “You exploded the GROUND!”

You blinked, unsure how to respond.

Zoro whistled low. “You’re stronger than you look.”

Nami was wide-eyed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You shrugged, still spinning the rock.

Robin tilted her head, looking more curious than shocked. “Psychic ability,” she murmured. “Very rare. You must have excellent control.”

Sanji, meanwhile, was clutching his chest. “Mon dieu… she flipped a man with her foot. I am in love. I am ascending.”

You rolled your eyes.

Chopper scrambled up your shoulder, stars in his eyes. “Can you teach me that thing you did with the sword?!”

You raised a brow, then made the rock hover in front of him. He squealed in delight.

Usopp ducked behind Luffy. “Can she read minds?! Wait—can she read MY mind?!”

You smirked. Then deliberately looked at him and said nothing.

He screamed and ran behind a barrel.

And through it all, Luffy never stopped smiling.

—

Later, back on the Sunny, Luffy found you sitting at the railing, watching the sea. The sun was setting, sky turning to amber and pink. You didn’t hear him approach, but you felt him sit beside you.

You glanced at him, then looked away.

He leaned closer. “You okay?”

You nodded.

“You don’t talk a lot,” he said, not as a complaint, just a statement.

You shook your head.

“But you can.”

You hesitated. Then leaned in, gently cupping your hands around his ear.

“I only speak when it matters,” you whispered.

He grinned. “It mattered earlier?”

You nodded again.

He sat back, still smiling. “Good. Then I’ll wait. ‘Til it matters again.”

You stared at him for a second longer. Then reached out, flicked his forehead gently with a little psychic zap.

He flinched. “Hey!”

You didn’t reply. Just smirked.

He grinned wider.

“You’re cool shishishishi,” he said.

And you finally let yourself laugh—quiet, barely audible, but real.

They’d seen your power now. The cat was out of the bag.

But you still had a hundred secrets left to keep.

And the crew?

They were just getting started.

a/n: idk if its just me but i love an overpowered reader, especially if theyre psychic ><

Night Owl- ii

(Roronoa Zoro x f!Reader)

University AU - A barista waits for a text back, eventually becoming impatient.

1.7k Words

You spent the rest of your shift frantically checking your phone, distracted from the onslaught of customers.

Usually your lazy coworker would be on your ass about this, you did almost everything as she just took orders most days. This time, she left you alone in your haze. You worked much slower than you usually would as you tried to process the brave move you'd just made on a customer.

Of course, your definition of brave was a bit tame. A phone number on the side of the cup wasn't exactly peak romance, but it was pretty damn good for how tired you were. As the end of your shift creeped ever closer, you thanked the stars for the simple fact that you had the whole day off tomorrow.

By the time tomorrow rolled around, you wished you had something, anything, to do. You had been glued to your messages, waiting for one incoming message that never arrived. At least you got a bit more work done for your classes, phone balanced on your knee as you typed away on the laptop sat comfortably in the crook of your criss-crossed legs. You denied all your roommates’ offers of going out or doing anything at all, nestling in your room to laze the day away.

Next shift, your coworker prodded at your nerves, trying to ease any more information out of you concerning the mystery man who you now knew to be named Zoro.

She didn’t believe he hadn’t even texted you yet, claiming she saw the ‘way he looked at you.’ She had always been a hopeless romantic so you shoved her words aside in your mind, until she suggested going back to the same bar that night.

“He might not even be there, what then?”

“We drink and have some fun, duh~”

She teased and pestered almost relentlessly, now 100% set in the idea while you just made yourself another coffee. The energy she had was almost too much to keep up with, the only way you’d manage was the bitter espresso you now realized needed to be dialed in a bit more.

The evening came around, as did a seemingly infinite barrage of texts from anyone but Zoro. You dressed up a little more than you usually would, and your coworker came over to help with makeup. Soon enough the Uber was at your door, and then at the bar.

You silently prayed he wouldn’t be working, but your prayers were answered with a laugh from fate when the first bartender closest to the end of the bar was green-haired and muscly. That was him, you thought, watching how efficient he could be. It wasn’t overly busy but he still worked like a machine, leaving the only other bartender without much to do at all.

Your coworker groaned at me when I immediately sat at the end of the bar farthest from Zoro, waiting for the other bartender to come take our orders. Mind spinning with all the reasons this was a bad idea, the simple fact he hadn’t texted meant he wasn’t interested… right?

Zoro finished whispering something to the other bartender, too far for you to pick up over the music and shouting, before getting back to work. Their eyes widened at the man’s words, obviously timid and new to the job. A beer was ordered and paid for by your coworker before he disappeared into the back, not paying you any mind before just leaving.

She stuck her tongue out before sipping the frothy drink, smirking. “That’s what you get for being a chicken…” she teased, nudging your shin with her heel from her seat beside you. “Oh, shut up. If this Zoro guy was any interested, wouldn’t I at least get a text back?” “Irrelevant, go make your move girl!” She giggled, now leaving you alone at the bar still with no drink.

You sat waiting, suddenly feeling very awkward. The other bartender didn’t return, and Zoro began working his way down the bar to cover all of his customers. “Oh, it’s you.” He said, a light smile on his features. “Same drink as before?” He began to fill a shaker with ice, pulling out a lime.

“Depends, is it paid for like before?” You quipped back, trying to shake your nerves as he worked away at the drink. This made him chuckle as he finished his pour, topping with the same lime garnish. He was extremely skilled with a knife, captivating my mind as he sliced it so meticulously with ease.

“This one’s on the house, but don’t push your luck…”

This had you grinning, sipping away at the drinks. He was still acting interested, not like someone who would avoid sending you a text. Even being as busy as he was, he still made time to check on you. “Need anything else?” He asked, taking your now emptied glass away. “It’s a shot kind of night, vodka please!”

The plan was to get so drunk you gained some sort of inebriated charisma you were severely lacking. Over the next hour you downed a few shots more than you should have, loosening up and turning into a gigglier, flirtier version of yourself. A few guys had come up to you, and you hadn’t paid for a single drink this far.

Still, your green-haired bartender took their money with a glare. He didn’t seem happy with the attention you were getting, but he still made all of your drinks without any verbal complaints, scaring guys off with no more than a menacing look.

“You’re gonna ruin my scheme here, y’know? I’m gonna drink for free all night, so long as you stop glaring at all the morons trying to woo me~” You teased, bringing your drink to your lips. “Say, you sure this one has no name?” It was another of the lime drinks he made for you, sweet and refreshing on your palate after the nasty shots you’d done.

“Maybe it does, you aren’t hearing it though…”

“And why’s that?” You questioned, curious to know his motive.

“That way I'm the only one makin’ it for you.” He admitted coolly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. You were left speechless as he began to help another group of customers, pouring frothy mugs of beer and shots of cheap liquor as you couldn’t do anything but stare. He was so casual, so nonchalant, but he had you blushing like a grade schooler with a stupid crush.

You decided, in your drunken stupor, that you wouldn't let him keep this constant upper hand. The next time he made his way over to where you sat, you immediately asked him the question nagging your mind. “Why haven’t you bothered to text me if you’re gonna flirt with me like this?” You slurred out, thinking you’d finally caught a slip in his confidence.

“Easy, I was asleep all day. After my shift I stopped in for that coffee, and you just happened to be the one who made it. I drank it trying to get some work done, but ended up passed out before I could even start to think. I at least remember the drink being good, so thanks for that.” He smirked, knowing he’d won your little challenge as you sat without words once again. “I can text you later, if you really want. Or, even better.”

He slid a napkin over and pulled a sharpie out of his pocket, scribbling his own number down in quick, messy handwriting. “I’ll be sure to text you if I can read this,” you joked. “I’ll count on it, unless I'm asleep.” He replied with a smile.

You felt a little dumb after his explanation, it was so simple and you’d made such a fuss over it. Your coworker soon snuck up behind you to tell you she was leaving, but you opted to stay and further pester the bartender, he was far more patient than you felt you’d deserved but you still enjoyed talking his ear off.

The two of you flirted and bantered until the early morning, him far more energetic than you since he was used to this schedule. At this point your head rested on the bar and he would only serve you water no matter how much you begged for even a little more booze.

None of the men from before even bothered with trying to take you home, it was obvious you’d captured the bartender’s attention and he wasn’t going to let some creep steal you away. As you rested your head on the bar, humming along to the quieted music, a gentle hand squeezed your shoulder.

When you lifted your head, you were met with those deep, dark eyes. Intoxicating moreso than the generous pours of alcohol you’d consumed, albeit looking at you like you were delicate, something to be handled gently. This was reinforced with the softness of the touch on your shoulder, barely there as he stirred you to be a little more awake. “You have a ride home?” He asked, his deep voice rumbling and scruffy as he attempted a whisper. You shook your head, and he nodded. While you had been face down on the bar, humming and snoozing, he had cleaned up for the night. 

He rounded the bar, offering his arm for support when you stood. You were still quite tipsy, clinging to the forearm presented to you like it was the only thing keeping you upright. Being a bartender, Zoro had plenty of experience with helping drunk people around, which was very apparent in how patiently he handled you.

You ended up in the passenger seat of his car, typing your address into his phone and leaning back into the comfortable seat. It felt like only a blink until you were home, he watched you carefully as you unbuckled your seatbelt, you didn’t even think before leaning over the center console of the car to leave a kiss on his cheek. “Thanks, for the ride I mean…” You mumbled, half-asleep and drunk.

This was finally the way you got him to blush, cracking his hard exterior just a bit as you got out of his car and took a second to admire the dopey grin on his face. By the time you’d gotten back inside, you had a text from an unknown number.

‘When you aren’t so drunk, I'll treat you to dinner. I’ll even give you a real kiss this time ;)’

Night Owl

(Roronoa Zoro x f!Reader)

University AU - A bartender and a barista have a lot in common, except working hours.

1.5k Words

You couldn't help but flop right onto the nearest barstool, much to the amusement of your friends.

It was a long shift at the cafe this morning, rush after rush of students ordering complicated drinks, and on top of it all you had run out of the house coffee beans mid-shift. It was overall hectic, and thinking about it made your head hurt.

You let out a deep breath, trying to relax and join in on the conversation your friends were taking part in, waiting (slightly impatiently) for the busy staff to take your order. Soon enough, a glass with a colourful drink and lime-peel garnish slid in front of you across the bar, prompting your eyes to rise up and meet that of the green-haired bartender who had made it.

"Sorry, I uh- this must be someone else's. I haven't ordered anything yet..."

"Someone bought that for you, looks like you could use it."

Usually someone speaking to you like that would be an insult, but the stress of the day combined with free booze soothed your nerves as you took a sip. Sweeter than what you usually went for, but obviously very strong. Nice. You looked back up to the bartender, who was now making a drink for your friend, to ask him about it.

"Who do I have to thank? And what is this?"

He shrugged his shoulders, quickly replying before flying down the bar to serve another patron. All he gave was some half-assed excuse of being too busy for chit-chat, which got on your nerves just a bit.

No matter, the night was still young, and whoever it was that had bought the drink could reveal themselves if they really wanted to. After that, you bought your own drinks, all from the slightly grumpy green-haired bartender who seemed to be manning your section.

You couldn't lie to yourself, he was quite attractive. The way he worked the crowded place seemed almost memorized, moving robotically and making drinks in an extremely efficient way, albeit less polite than what was usually expected from the profession. When he caught you staring at his arms while shaking a martini, you quickly looked down at your drink again to avoid his cold eyes.

Soon enough, you had drank enough to really loosen up after the hard day. Now you were the centre of attention in your group, making everyone laugh seemed to come easy after a few drinks.

A few of your friends teased you about the secret admirer, but you simply brushed it off. Buying just one drink was no big deal, especially if the reasoning the bartender described was true. Simply a pity drink, courtesy of the bags under your eyes. This had nobody else in the group convinced, still teasing as they all left to dance.

Your sore legs begged you not to join, as did your terrible coordination. You were perfectly content to stay seated at the bar, less busy thanks to majority of the drunk college students taking to the dance floor. You smiled a bit at the sight of the bartenders relaxing a bit after surviving the rush, seeing the same look in their eyes that you had held in your own just earlier that day.

"So, are you free enough to tell me what kind of drink that was- ...?" You searched for a name tag on the bartender's chest, met with nothing but faded old t-shirt to stare at. "Not a drink with a name, really. Just the result of an experiment, was it any good?"

The bartender seemed much more willing to chat once the orders had died down significantly, still not giving his name. "If it isn't a real drink, how did someone order it?" You challenged, leaning onto the bar with a smile. The drink had been quite good, and while you were only looking for the name so you could order another, you weren't the type to turn down a playful remark after a drink or two.

"Nobody ordered it from me." The bartender stated, plain and simple. He turned his back, face unbothered as he hauled a giant, heavy tray of dirty dishes into the back before you had time to ask any more questions. In the time he was gone, you managed to put two and two together that he was the one who had bought that drink.

As you began to blush, taking a second to fix your hair, you wondered his reasoning. He had been so nonchalant about it, you didn't even know his name! Then again, he didn't seem like the type to be buying girls drinks at all. The dumpy bar was affordable for college students, but you were sure they couldn't be paying the student bartenders anything better than minimum wage right now. That doesn't budget into buying drinks for people just because, but before you could think any harder about it he emerged from the back room again, to which you quickly spoke.

"I'd like another of whatever that was, with the lime peel."

"Sure thing."

He didn't even bother to look up. No smile, no flirt, not even a glance. Usually when someone bought you a drink, they had some sort of motive, but this guy just seemed to be focused on what he was doing. While you could respect it as a drink-making employee yourself, it was just... perplexing.

Part of you was slightly disappointed at the lack of attention. Your heart had skipped a beat when you figured out the gesture originally, especially after checking out the bartender before you had even known he was the one behind the gift. When he slid the new drink over, you flashed him a smile of your own.

"I'll cover this one," you joked, taking a sip. This got a small smile, one side of his mouth pulling up, before he looked down again to polish some glasses. Damn.

To hell with being subtle, you thought, asking outright. "Why buy me a drink, then?" At this, he met your gaze. This wasn't a cold look, it could even be mistaken as... soft. Kind.

"Like I said, you looked like you needed it. Tough day?"

While you knew the words really should have pulled some kind of hurt feelings from you, they came off too genuine to be offended by. Instead you went along with his question, giving him the details of your shitty work day and even making him laugh a few times at your overdramatic recount.

By the time your friends returned from the dance floor, his attention had completely moved from his work to fully being invested in you. Still making drinks and cleaning the bar up, but his eyes met yours instead of whatever his hands were doing. He stayed close to where you sat, nodding along as you spoke. Before you could ask for his number or even remember to get his name, your friends had dragged you out to catch the uber with more than enough suggestive teasing about your chit chat with the hot bartender.

In the uber back home, you couldn't help but rest your head in your hands. You had gotten lost in talking, and he seemed so happy to listen. So much so you'd forgotten to get his name or really any information about him at all. The pounding in your head from earlier was back, no longer from the stress of work but at the pathetic lack of charisma you had.

That, along with the opening shift at the cafe the next morning.

You would think that being a barista would get someone into the early-bird mindset, but that was never the case. Shots of espresso had both built your tolerance to the bitter, strong coffee and kept you awake through countless mornings, your coworker the only other lifeline through those 5am shifts.

Today, she was happy to listen to your overtired babbling about the bartender you'd fumbled last night, giggling at your description of the man's green hair and strong, toned arms. You wished you could hate her for how peppy and energetic she could be this early, but the positive attitude had definitely grown on you over the time you'd worked together.

This sentiment was lost, though, when she disappeared into the back room. It was the weekend, which meant less students bombarding the shop to fuel their before-class coffee addiction but still enough people that it was quite the nuisance to run solo.

You grumbled, annoyed at the girl before realizing what she had done. The man waiting at the counter looking confused at the menu was the very same green-haired bartender from last night, looking just as tired as you felt.

Without hesitation you brewed up a latte, pulling out all your little flavouring tricks. Double shot, syrups, even the good cinnamon to dust on top of the perfect milk-froth heart. You approached the register, sliding the cup over to him.

"Someone bought that for you, looks like you could use it."

You grinned, using the very same line from the night before as you saw the recognition cross his features. This time, you had the home base advantage and would not be fumbling this again. "Could I get a name for the order?" You asked, pulling out a sharpie.

"Oh- yeah sure, it's Zoro."

The name burned into your memory, repeating over and over again.

You popped the lid off of the sharpie before scribbling away. What he found while walking out of the shop wasn't his name on the side of the cup, though. It was a phone number, along with a doodled-on heart.

:)

trying my hand at writing. idk, just a zosan one shot. i just love these cartoon pirates man, and i wanna make them pathetically in love with one another.

i would kill for you - i would die for you

inspired by @/problemnyatic 's post (dont want to bother them w a mention)

I have a headcanon that Sanji struggles with wanting/asking for non-sexual intimacy from Zoro. So if he's having a rough day or just wants to be held by the man he loves he'll initiate sex in order to feel that connection, regardless of whether he's actually in the mood. But Zoro's gotten unnervingly good at telling when he's doing this and redirecting to give him what he actually needs in that moment.

im loving lusan and sanji

I got bored and decided to draw all my head cannons for their body types and faces

Random ramblings under the cut

Notes

Zoro

- Soft features, makes him look a bit baby faced

- dark skin, many scars

- lots of creases in his brow from frowning, and dimples

- if his hair was long, it would be slick and straight

- wide nose with a slight hook to it

- wide and strong body, little to no hair

- sharp eyes that always look tired

Sanji

- angular, heavy upper eyelids and sad looking eyes

- sometimes his sharp cheek bones can make him look malnourished--kind of stayed that way after his childhood

- very few scars, all small and faded

- tattooed number 3 on his right shoulder blade

- wavy hair and strong, thin nose

- many small freckles and moles from the sun

- lean and slender body, lots of hair

- trans scars (depends)

Scars

Sanji

- Sanji's skin hardly ever scars due to his Germa genes. When he does scar, it's usually from a severe injury of some kind.

- There's a tiny scar on the small of his back from where he broke his back on Drum island, small scars on his wrists from a combination of his childhood and Whole Cake Island, faint burn scars on his feet from using Diable Jambe, and a well hidden scar on his forehead that hides in his hairline from the iron mask he wore when he was young. Sanji hasn't ever really spoken about his scars to anyone, and he isn't sure he'll be able to for some of them. If asked though, he might offer a little bit of insight.

Zoro

- Zoro has plenty of scars. Whether it be significant like his chest scar or eye scar, or as insignificant as faint scars on his hands from training, Zoro views each one as a promise to get stronger.

- There's obviously the scar on his chest from his duel with Mihawk, though that one isn't the only one of its kind. Zoro gained a few more from that specific duel on his chest, though they weren't nearly as bad as the big one. The scar over his eye is something he will never elaborate on, though if you ask Perona she will say he fell down the stairs and his sword caught him in the eye. He has plenty of scars on his arms and hands from training, and two rather nasty ones on his shins from where he tried to cut his legs off to escape Mr.3's wax trap.

he’s like a grumpy cat i need to kiss him NOW!!!

this single zoro drawing i did that i’m for some reason obsessed w and put a billion insta filters on bc i thought it was really funny LMFAOOO. ZORO MY LOVE❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

MY HUSBAND, GIRLFRIEND, BOYFRIEND, WIFE, BOYTOY, SWEETHEART, MALEWIFE, POOKIE, LOML — RORONOA ZORO!!!! ❤️❤️❤️

one piece garbage HELP ME I CANT ESCAPE FROM THEM

I have made the colours softer to highlight his moss.

frankly...he is one of my less favourite characters, but my friend keen on him so much that at least 80% of my sketches and arts is Zoro.

ironically, I like Sanji more (we don't fight over it, but ahahahaha).

I'm gonna send him to outa space, to find another race...

I know Christmas is coming...however, I wish it were summer time.

color spread fashion i really liked

someone had to do it

(alt. version under the cut)

Big 'Megas

You know, I think it would be fun to have an Omegaverse concept where an Omega's height is based entirely on how safe their environment is when they present.

Like, yeah, most Omegas are small and delicate, but it's not just because they're Omegas that they're short, it's because they were safe when their first Heat came along and smacked them in the face. They're small because they didn't need to be big.

But the world is fucked up and sometimes, kids just have shit lives. And kids with shit lives who present Omega get fucking big, because they body recognises that they're in danger and grow as big as they fucking can to keep themselves safe, plus get their instincts rewired to focus on protection and aggression rather than being nurturing and submissive or whatever other stereotypes there are.

I just really want an Omegaverse fic somewhere where, instead of whichever big person is an Omega getting mocked or looked down on or thought of as less desirable for being a big 'mega, everyone looks at them and immediately knows not to fuck with them, because that right there is an Omega who's wired to attack first and ask questions later, so get the fuck out of their way before they get hurt.

The perfect protector, basically :D Or, you know, an excellent setting for angst, whichever floats your boat >:3

OP/One Piece

Straw hat Pirates

Monkey D. Luffy

Roronoa Zoro

Vinsmoke Sanji

Others

Trafalgar D. Water Law

Dracule Mihawk

Red hair Shanks

Sabo

Charlotte Katakuri

Gol D. Roger

Portgaz D. Ace

Marco

Whitebeard

Koby

Status: The request box is open only for the monthly one-shot voting if the characters are chosen.

Why this moss head looks so mad 😭🙏🙏

Second part here

Jealous types.