😋🍴

Luffy loves bugs, yeah?

Love his film red outfits ♡

Oh my god, I love your Katakuri fics so much, they are so good! I was wondering if I could make a request with that same time-line, following reader and her children, but maybe—she’s injured, and she’s pregnant with one of them? And it’s just immediate devastation, but it turns out the kiddo will be okay?

Idk I think Katakuri would just go f-ing ballistic, and you write him so well, especially with a sweet-hearted reader, so I couldn’t help but ask!

(I’m not sure if you’ve done this before, but if you have pleaseeee direct me in that direction.)

⛥ﾟ・。 necklace

SECRET BONUS/prequel to pocus -- (after orchids) katakuri returns from another mission to find that you are with child. but when a familiar face returns to harm you, katakuri goes fucking ballistic.

cw: fluff, comfort, kinda angsty a bit, dad katakuri, katakuri is katakuri, the girls are adorable, he is thirty-, you are thirty-four, soda is eleven, cocoa is eight, the twins are four, chai is two,

"Commander!" Kota greeted, subconsciously holding his breath as he straightened his posture, bowing in respect as the general entered through the impossibly huge doors of the Whole Cake Chateau.

His spurred footfalls were like knives cutting through the silence of the room, his gaze just as sharp as it landed on the boy.

"Welcome back, sir!"

Silently, Katakuri nodded, shrugging off his cloak and allowing the guards to take it as he started down the hall.

"Kota," he replied in a monotone, eyes trained forward and walk powerful. "If you're here, then I take it all the necessary preparations have been made?"

Fervently, the boy nodded, quickly flipping through the pages of his clipboard until he found his to-do list.

"Yes, sir! As requested, a bouquet of orchids has been sent to Lady (y/n)'s bakery along with the necklace you commissioned. And as for the rest of her gifts, they are being delivered to the mansion as we speak."

"And her day?"

"Completely clear. I finished her paperwork and already have her stamp of approval for today's menu. In about an hour, I'll take over the bakery, which leaves her totally free from now 'til tomorrow afternoon."

At the good news, Katakuri nodded, before his tone turned chilling.

"Security breaches?"

Thickly, Kota swallowed, a cold shiver rolling down his spine at the taller man's oppressive aura.

"Not a single one. The gate system at the mansion is functioning at one-hundred percent, and, per instruction, her guard detail has remained around the clock. Though, of course, they've been relieved upon your arrival."

Before Katakuri could say anything in response, a bright, warm presence began to flood his senses, forcing a rather Pavlovian thrum to rush through his veins, already sending his heart into a fluster.

The familiarity of this blissful sensation felt like coming home more than entering a house ever could, and almost always meant that his favorite person in the world was nearby.

His beautiful wife.

Slyly, he glanced out the corner of his eye, his gaze visibly softening watched to come to a stop near a humongous marble column, hands clasped together as you waited patiently for your husband to finish his debrief.

Tranquility could not even begin to define the calmness that washed over his body at the sight of you, the experience like a soft, rolling tide of the freshest water one could dream of.

Hell, the man hadn't realized how much he was dying of thirst until he'd caught a glimpse of the ocean.

"Good work," he commended, already checked out of the conversation as he turned to walk toward you. "You're dismissed."

Respectfully, Kota bowed once again.

"Thank you, sir," he nodded. "Enjoy the rest of your day."

And with that, the boy quickly scurried away, thoroughly understanding that now was his cue to leave.

Katakuri, on the other hand, had no place he'd rather be, managing to cross the width of the large hall in four long strides before finally reaching you.

Even his scarf couldn't muffle his grin as he enveloped your smaller frame in a tight bear hug, relishing your tiny squeal, and the feeling of you in his arms once again, as he swirled you both around without a care in the world.

"Kuri," you sighed, relieved, as you cupped what you could of his face in your hands, pressing two, firm kisses on both sides of his nose before throwing your arms over his shoulders, pulling him closer.

Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he allowed himself to inhale your sweet scent, years of work in your bakery giving you the permanent smell of cinnamon sugar and vanilla.

It was intoxicating, like a drug he could never get enough of.

"I've missed you, (y/n)," Katakuri muttered into your flesh, tightening his hold around your waist.

Pulling back, you held his face in your hands once again, smoothing your thumbs over his cheeks as your eyes rushed to scan over his face, committing his every feature to memory.

"There was word that you'd run into trouble at sea," you stated, breathlessly, your unease finally beginning to make sense.

"I'm all right," he assured, his large hand coming up to cup your cheek, his heart doubling in size as you instantly leaned into his touch.

You stared up at him as if he was the only thing in the world, as if he'd hung the stars and moon right before your eyes.

He wasn't too shy to admit, the sight brought a certain puff to his chest.

"Been ages since I've seen your face," Katakuri stated, taking a moment to marvel. "Would've been longer if it weren't for Custard's wedding."

To your extreme surprise, he hooked a finger into his scarf, tugging it down just enough to free his mouth before pressing his lips firmly against yours, nearly toppling you over.

Off balance, you tightly gripped his shoulders, eyes slightly wide as he pulled back, your mind still reeling at what he just did.

"I don't think Mama would've ever brought me back from that damn island."

With that, he was quick to jump back in, capturing your lips in another heated kiss before you managed to pull away.

"Kuri, not here."

"Yes, here," he purred, chasing your lips as you left him.

That is... until he realized you were shaking.

Instantly, he stopped everything, shifting to rest his hands on your shoulders as he looked you over.

"Are you all right? You're trembling," he asked, brows furrowed with concern. "What's going on?"

Nervously, you glanced down at your feet, taking a second to muster up your courage.

It was now or never.

"Kuri..." you started, a faint glint of fear flashing in your eyes as you stared up at him, only confusing the man more, "...I'm pregnant."

Instantly, his eyes went wide, yours frantically scanning over his face for every minute expression.

"That's—"

He paused a moment, searching for the right word, his hesitation sending a cold pang of terror through your chest.

Noticing this, he quickly corrected himself, pulling you into his embrace and placing a kiss on your temple.

"That's wonderful."

"What are we going to do? With your mother and the bakery, I—"

"We're not gonna worry about anything right now," he assured, carefully lifting your chin, allowing his thumb to glide over your bottom lip. "This is a happy moment... the happiest moment of my life."

The man placed a gentle kiss on your hairline, tightening his hold on you as your body began to slowly melt into his.

"You're making a habit of these welcome-home surprises."

At that, you chuckled, glancing up at him with a knowing look.

"I'm afraid this one's all you, my love... given how much you enjoyed the last surprise."

His cheeks flushed at the reminder, your night of passion two months ago still very much at the forefront of his memory.

One of the best nights of his life... and one you made sure he'd never forget.

"Speaking of, we've got time to take our merienda early," he chimed, hands sliding down to rest on your hips. "I've made sure the both of us are free until tomorrow evening."

"Perfect," you smiled.

Leaning forward on your tippy-toes, you pressed a firm kiss on his cheek before tugging up his scarf with a cheeky grin.

"Let me just go get my things."

As you slowly pulled away, Katakuri's hand persisted, carefully sliding down your arm as you gracefully slipped away.

But, even when you finally left him, his arm remained outstretched, limply reaching for you as he watched your perfect form disappear further into the castle.

God, the things he'd do for you...

Never in a million years would he have ever foresaw himself so helpless at the hand of the woman he'd see around town with her nose in a recipe book.

Never would he have guessed that he'd be at her complete and utter mercy.

The man hung off every silvery word that left your plush lips, your every glance giving his heart new life.

Hell, one would think flowers sprang at your feet the way he revered your every step.

He truly and wholeheartedly believed that you were the embodiment of beauty and perfection, no matter how many flaws and quirks you attempted to point out—to him, your every trait was a pro.

And now, with the wonderful news that you were with child, a certain sense of wholeness began to settle itself in Katakuri's chest.

Of course, you overflowed his heart in every way possible, but this feeling was different.

He was starting a family... not one out of power or obligation but of love.

Real, honest-to-goodness, knock-you-off-your-feet love.

Every decision he'd ever made had led him to this perfect moment of totality, where the world seemed brighter and his stresses nonexistant.

Under his scarf, he couldn't help but don a sincere—honestly adorable—smile, a child-like sense of giddiness rippling through his veins.

He was going to be a father.

Humming to yourself, you gave up on trying to muffle your smile, too busy marveling at the beautiful flower arrangement your husband got as you touched up your hair the mirror.

Leaning forward, you tucked a few unruly flyaways behind your ear, before taking a step back and examining your dress, specifically by turning to the side.

Sure, being only two months along, there wasn't a noticeable bump.

But that did stop you from talking.

"Oh, I can't wait to meet you!" you sing-songed, giddy, as your hand slid over your belly. "My little girl... my baby boy... we're going to have so much fun. We'll tell stories and play, and I'll bake whatever your little heart desires."

Already you were prepared to give this child the world, to shower it with all the love and affection you'd failed to receive during your childhood.

Your father, although present, was quite distant, more concerned with finding a way to worm into the Charlotte family than anything.

Your mother, although warm, had sadly died of a severe cold when you were only eight.

And with no brothers or sisters to speak of, you'd spent the better half of your childhood raising yourself, occupying your time by learning how to bake until you eventually became one of Totto Land's most esteemed chefs—at the ripe age of eighteen, no less.

Things were going to be better for them though... you would make sure of it.

Thoughtlessly, your hand rose to rest over your heart, eyes drifting over to the nearby table only to find that your new necklace was gone.

Concerned, your brows furrowed.

"What the—"

"Looking for this?"

You practically jumped out your skin at the unknown voice, a sharp gasp ripping from your lips as you whipped around and bumped into the vanity, knocking over your new vase of flowers with a loud smash.

(Despite still being all the way in the foyer, Katakuri heard this, his brows furrowing almost instantly as he started toward the dressing room.)

Turning toward the source, your eyes went wide as the man you thought you'd never see again menacingly shut the door, stepping out from the shadows behind it with a sinister grin.

'No... it can't be...'

"Gino..." you exhaled, stomach dropping to the floor as your chest began to rapidly rise and fall, an all-too familiar sense of terror turning your blood to ice.

"Ah, so you do remember me," he grinned, pleased, as he began to stalk toward you, twirling you gold necklace around his finger. "That's good... saves me a whole lot of trouble."

Every red flag one could possibly imagine was waving fiercely as the man approached, an insidious glint in his eye.

You knew better than to try to take him on yourself, and with no nearby weapons, you opted for the smarter option.

"KATAK—!"

With lightning speed, the man surged forward, harshly silencing you with a slap across the face, the force sending you crashing to the ground.

"Nuh uh uh. Hubby's not gonna be here to save you," Gino sneered, grabbing you by the neck before lifting you back on your feet. "God, doesn't this bring back memories?"

Instantly, your mind flashed with images from your relationship with the bastard.

Screaming...

Begging...

Crying... so much crying...

You thought you'd left that life behind you; but, like most things, the past always seemed to come back when you least expect it.

"What... do you want... bastard..." you manged in between breaths, doing your best to keep a steady flow of air despite his bruising grip on your neck.

"I want what's rightfully mine... what I never should've had to give up," he paused a moment. "Though, I suppose things are different now that you're his whore."

Shamelessly, his eyes raked over you, taking account of every inch of your body before finally landing on your face.

"Then again... you've always were a real knockout."

Suddenly, Gino's eyes seemed to brighten, a lightbulb going off in his head.

"How about a kiss, eh? For old times sake," he suggested, though it wasn't really a suggestion at all. "You know I used to rock your work... does your husband do that, too?"

His grip tightened, and your eyes slowly went wide as air became scarcer and scarcer.

"Gino... please..." you gasped, frantically tapping his shoulder, hoping to invoke some sort of human emotion in him.

"God, I forgot how great it feels to hear you beg," he grinned, manically. "Y'know, not a day went by for me these last two years without thinking of this very moment... and not its about to become a reality..."

Slowly, he began to pull you closer, lips puckered and ready.

'Oh, God!'

"No...!"

Suddenly, the door opened to reveal Katakuri, his eyes widening and chest igniting at the sight before him.

Your eyes... glassy and fear-ridden.

Your throat... slowly beginning to bruise.

Your cheek... outlined by a stinging, red hand mark

Causes A, B, and C of Gino's imminent death.

"GET AWAY FROM HER!" he roared, startling Gino into dropping you as a mochi appendage swiftly snatched him up by the throat.

"Katakuri!" you gasped, entering a small coughing fit as you attempted to sit up.

Harshly, the general strangled Gino, waiting until he began to audibly choke before slamming him against a wall.

But your husband refused to waste any time, already retrieving Mogura from his mochi before storming toward the man with murderous intent.

His blood was practically steeping with rage, planning on turning your bastard of an ex into a smear on the wall for what he did.

The Sweet Commander had never felt such intense rage before, and you better believe he was going to take it out on the bastard responsible.

"Why don't you try fighting like a man without your Devil Fruit tricks?" Gino spat, brows furrowed as he coughed himself back to life, standing from the crumbled remains of the wall and entering a fighting stance.

Without hesitation, Katakuri tossed Mogura to the ground, deactivating his mochi and shrugging off his leather vest before surging forward and decking Gino right in the face.

The blow swiftly brought the man to his knees, but your husband was quick to hit him with another, this time laying him out flat on the floor.

Though Katakuri simply snatched him up and stood him back on his feet, using the man's body as a punching bag as he hit him with all sorts of hooks, jabs, and elbow strikes.

Thoroughly bloodied, Gino had managed to meet one of the general's fists with his own, but the sickening crack and the scream that followed proved it to be a fruitless endeavor.

Katakuri continued like this for a long while, cycling through some boxing moves before smashing and dragging the bastard through the most painful things in the room—the glass table, the mirror, the window.

That is, until Gino finally took his last breath, having died from being literally beat to death—his body was completely mangled and his face totally unrecognizable.

But your husband couldn't have cared less, finishing off by snatching your necklace out of Gino's dead grasp before making his way over to you, being sure to tug off his bloody gloves and discard them.

"(y/n)—"

"Katakuri!" you quickly launched yourself in his arms, burying your face in his neck as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "Thank God!"

Instantly, he reciprocated, holding you flush against him as his hand came up to stroke your hair, the two of you sinking to the floor together.

"I-I was so scared! I thought he was gonna—"

You trailed off, not even wanting to think about what could've happened if your husband hadn't shown up

Katakuri caught on immediately, fury already beginning to bubble in his chest once again at the implication.

Fuck shattered bones and internal bleeding... the bastard got off too easy.

"You're safe now," Katakuri promised, muttering into your hair. "He can't hurt you anymore.'

"Please stay with me..." you sniffled, tightening your hold on him. "Don't leave me alone."

As if the statement was absurd, he shook his head, holding you tighter as well.

"I'm not going anywhere, my love... I'm right here."

gif by @apparently-artless

OF LAND AND SKY

F!Reader x Trafalgar Law

SFW

Law didn’t find joy around loud noises, uncontrollable chaos, and, over all, people. Like a snow leopard, he preferred to hide in the shadows. Planning, observing, thinking…wanting to make sure that what he envisioned came true.

However, that changed when he and the crew were docked at a village during the winter season—snow was unavoidable and the temperatures were significantly colder than what they were used to.

“Captain, are you really sure you wanna go out there?” Penguin asked, looking out at the white landscape.

Law nodded as he slipped on a coat and zipped it up. “I’ll be gone just for a couple hours. Let Bepo be outside as much as he wants. He deserves it.”

With that said, he stepped outside and felt the frigid wind slice through the air like knives. The town was quiet, muffled by the snow, and the villagers paid him no mind. His history as a former warlord and title as the Surgeon of Death made him untouchable. The fact that he was also involved in Big Mom’s fall added to his list of accomplishments and reasons why he shouldn’t be crossed.

But there was someone willing to cross the line.

You.

At the village, Law had a goal. He was looking for you, his contact, someone who promised him information regarding Blackbeard, his next target for elimination.

As he passed by a library, he didn’t hesitate to enter. In your letters you described a quiet meeting place. And a library fit the description perfectly.

Quiet corners make better conversation.

Inside, Law shook off the snow and walked down the quiet aisles, eyes wandering from their books to him. He didn’t know what you looked like, which was a minor complication. But the situation was still controllable. If he played his cards right. If you two found common ground, it would be smooth—any hesitation from you he’d bend to his favor.

“Hey, stranger,” your voice cooed, smooth and amused. Law turned and looked at you, who naturally expressed an aura of confidence with a dash of elegance, a dangerous combination. Your dark gold eyes had an intense stare, posture straight, and you stayed in place.

You weren’t afraid of him. You had no reason to.

“Didn’t expect Mihawk’s daughter to be lounging around here.”

You lifted an eyebrow as you set a book in your hands back on the shelf. “What gives you that idea, Dr. Trafalgar?” His name sounded smooth as silk from your lips, your tone containing a hint of coyness that you knew would test his patience.

“Instinct.”

“Ah, like a cat hunting its prey.” You smiled, turning to look at him fully. “I’m more of a hawk like my father and observe from above.”

“Then we’ll get along well.” Law replied. You leaned against the bookshelf and crossed your arms over your chest, your fingers naturally touching the matching cross necklace you wore like your father.

“We’ll see about that.” You started, “and, even though Mihawk is my father, I am my own person. Don’t expect me to be like him.”

“Noted.”

Now there you were: two predators, ones from land and sky planning a high stakes mission, not knowing that this partnership unfolded a growing tension none of you planned for.

@onepiece-bingo

Animal Instinct

✤ Onepiece Master-list ✤

Requests are closed sorry, I will open them up soon! <Rules Here> 2/3 (currently working on right now)

・。・。・。・。・。・。・。・。・。・。・。

Angst = 🫧 Fluff =❣️ NSFW/SFW =⭐️

Updated 5/2/25 started 9/11/24

I am currently re-vamping my older fics 💔

Mash-ups:

Enclosed (Straw Hatx!GNReader) 🫧❣️

Card DECLINED (MonsterTrio+Lawx!Fem!Reader❣️ |Head-Cannons| (re-writing)

Sub-Tastic? (MonsterTrio+Law,Usopp,Sanji!FemReader) ⭐️❣️ |Head-Cannons|

Roronoa Zoro

A Swordsman’s Love (GN!Reader) ❣️🫧 |One-shot| (re-writing)

Lay Off! (Fem!Reader) ❣️🫧|One-shot|

See-See Fruit (GN!Reader) ❣️🫧 |One-shot| (re-writing)

Sanji

The Menacing Bra (Fem!Reader) ❣️⭐️ |One-shot| (re-writing)

Bitterspicy? (Fem!Reader)❣️|One-shot| (re-writing)

Usopp

Gonzo (Fem!Reader) ❣️🫧 |One-shot|

Talent (GN!Reader) ❣️ |One-Shot|

Monkey D. Luffy

…

Trafalgar D. Water Law

Death of Pizzaz (Fem!Reader) ❣️⭐️ |One-shot| (re-writing)

Sleepy stalls (!GN!Reader)❣️ |Head-cannons| (re-writing)

Portages D. Ace

As The Day Slips By 🫧❣️|One-Shot|

Complications ❣️|One-Shot|

More Characters to come…

Overused Words & Alternatives

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When violent characters are gentle and tender & when gentle characters are violent and unhinged

you may think it’s no big deal but every sweet interaction is actually the most important thing in the world. sooo. take that

Glimpse of Us

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader

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

Word Count: ~4,000

tags: angst, emotional distance

my masterlist here ♡

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

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

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

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

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

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

You thought it was the beginning of something.

⸻

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

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

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

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

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

There was a pause. Then: “A promise.”

“To who?”

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

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

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

⸻

It started with little things.

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

You pretended not to notice.

But then came the slip-ups.

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

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

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

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

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

Until it kept happening.

“Kuina always said that.”

“Kuina used to hum that song.”

“Kuina—”

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

⸻

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

“I don’t want to be her.”

“You’re not.”

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

⸻

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

“Zoro,” you said quietly.

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

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

He blinked. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

Zoro’s mouth parted, but no words came.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looked stunned.

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

Zoro’s voice dropped. “I see you.”

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

He opened his mouth—but nothing came out.

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

But there was only silence.

Just that.

Your breath hitched.

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

⸻

You stopped training with him.

You laughed a little less. You avoided late watches.

He noticed. But he didn’t chase.

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

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

⸻

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

You didn’t turn.

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

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

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

You swallowed hard.

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

A long silence stretched.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then you walked away.

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

Sometimes, love comes too late.

Anxieties |Master-List|

!Multiple parts! <1 (Here)>

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

Characters in this chapter: Robin, Sanji, Brook

!TW Anxiety/Panic Attacks!

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

•-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-•

|Intro warning|

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reminding you there was always someone there.

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She couldn’t bare seeing you this way.

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

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

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

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

"Just breathe ____, you’re okay.”

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

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

•-•

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

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

Or maybe that’s just an excuse idiots use.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

•-•

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

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

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

And as a result; it took you down.

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

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

•-•

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

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

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

"Mm, and why is that?"

"I can feel it in my bones."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is the floor really that comfy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If there’s anything left of course,”

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

“____.”

. . .

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

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

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

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

“You don’t have to hide you know.”

“I know that.” Your voice broke.

. . .

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

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

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

“Oh ____ ,”

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

You hesitated, then whispered, “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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