Hello! I Loved Your "baby 🥺" Fic And Was Wondering If We Could Get A Version Of It But With Donnie?

Nasty fucking freak

no hair no organs no skin no gender. nothing!

HOW 2005 doodles.

Something a bit more light-hearted because I love these horrible twins.

Also, I'll throw some angsty stuff soon :)

Stardew Valley~

available at my shop!

Let Me Take Care of You

Word count: 1900

Masterlist

Notes: A small, very light and cute one-shot in response to a post I saw a while ago. I really love Katakuri, and I’ve been wanting to write for him for a while, but I didn’t have a real project involving him. So when I saw your post, @mew-ya , I decided to go for it. I found your idea adorable, and it inspired this piece. It’s not much, but I hope you’ll like it nonetheless. I’m taking this chance to say that I really love your art, and your OC Maren is so cool! I absolutely love the duo he forms with Katakuri! 😍

Tags: Katakuri x gn!Reader, fluff, comfort, reader needs rest, SFW. English isn't my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

You’ve lost track of the days.

Since the failure of Pudding’s wedding, chaos has taken over Whole Cake Island, and rumors of the Charlotte Family’s disgrace are spreading like wildfire across the seas of the New World.

Alliances have been shaken, mistrust is eating away at the bonds woven between the different factions, and the pressure on Big Mom’s powerful family has become unbearable.

You were thrown into this turmoil immediately.

Your days blur together without pause, dictated by tense meetings, endless negotiations, and discussions where every word is carefully weighed. Even though she is not currently on the island, the Empress’s shadow looms over every exchange, and the slightest misstep could prove fatal.

But it’s not just the allies you have to deal with.

The Charlotte family members themselves have become more demanding, more impatient. They want guarantees, results, immediate solutions. You barely have time to breathe between requests.

"Prepare a detailed report on this week’s commercial movements." "We need to review the treaty conditions, make sure the new proposals are drafted by tomorrow." "Tell the cook I want a special dessert, now." "Why hasn’t this file been sent yet?" " The ministers of Totto Land are meeting in an hour, make sure everything is ready.."

Each demand piles on top of the last, forming a mountain of responsibilities that never seems to shrink.

You barely sleep, sometimes you forget to eat, but you don’t have the luxury of slowing down.

As Katakuri’s spouse, you cannot afford to fail.

Fortunately, you are never truly alone. There is always someone – or rather something – there to assist you without you even needing to lift a finger.

The Homies are everywhere around you. These little sentient beings, created by Big Mom, seem to anticipate your every need.

When you sit at your desk, a chair slides under you before you even pull it out.

When you reach for a pen, one of them is already handing it to you, practically vibrating with enthusiasm at the idea of serving you.

When an endless discussion with influential members of the Charlotte family leaves your throat dry, a cup of hot tea magically appears on the table in front of you, placed on a tray by a Homie who doesn’t say a word, preferring to slip away as soon as its task is complete.

If your stomach lets out a quiet growl - which you usually ignore, too focused on your work - a plate of food is suddenly placed beside you. Carefully chosen snacks, never too heavy, just enough to give you a boost of energy without forcing you to stop for too long. You’ve gotten used to eating without thinking, mechanically swallowing whatever is placed in front of you between two paragraphs, two reports, two meetings.

The Homies chatter cheerfully and frenetically around you, and you absentmindedly nod in acknowledgment, accepting what they offer without truly paying attention.

Everything is fluid, organized, almost too perfect. You never have to ask for anything. Everything you need is already there. You accept this silent help as a given, without questioning its origin, without even imagining that someone might be behind it all.

And yet…

That night, you are far too absorbed in your work to wonder about this strange phenomenon.

For weeks, you’ve been stringing together meetings and negotiations with relentless discipline. You barely sleep, you forget to eat, and whenever Katakuri tries to remind you to take a break, you always give him the same answer:

"I’m fine."

No.

You are not fine.

He has been watching you for days, waiting.

Each night, you stay awake long after Katakuri returns from his own missions. Sometimes, he finds you still sitting at your desk at dawn, dark circles under your eyes, fingers tightly gripping a pen or a stack of documents.

Katakuri is not a man of many words. He prefers to observe, to understand. He knows how to spot a crack before it becomes a fracture, how to anticipate a collapse before it’s too late.

And everything about you screams collapse.

He saw it in your posture, more tense than before. In your breathing, shorter. In your hands, trembling ever so slightly, a movement so subtle that no one else would notice.

But he sees everything.

He has been watching you, silently. He knows that look, the look of someone refusing to admit they are pushing past their own limits. He has seen it too often in himself, in his brothers and sisters… but seeing it in you is unbearable.

That night, it’s the last straw.

He comes back late from a mission and, just as he expected, you’re still awake, hunched over a desk buried under paperwork. You don’t even lift your head when he enters.

"You’re home late," you remark absentmindedly, scribbling something on an urgent mission report.

He doesn’t answer.

He has stopped in front of your desk, observing you in silence. He doesn’t need words to understand.

He has watched you exhaust yourself day after day, the fatigue deepening under your eyes, the stiffness settling into your body. He has noted every little sign: the dark circles, the slight thinness of your fingers, the way your shoulders tense under stress.

You want to be perfect.

You want everything to be under control, every task carried out with impeccable precision. Because you refuse to be a burden. Because you refuse to let anyone doubt your worth.

He knows this obsession. He knows what it’s like to want to be infallible.

But he also knows what it costs.

He steps closer and gently takes hold of your wrist, stopping your frantic movements. When he lifts your chin with his other hand to lock eyes with you, his expression is filled with concern.

His skin is warm against yours.

"You’re trembling," he states.

You pull slightly against his grip, trying to free yourself. But he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t squeeze too hard, doesn’t try to restrain you—only to hold you there, to make you understand that he won’t let this slide.

"I’m fine," you breathe out.

A lie.

Again.

And he’s had enough of hearing them.

"Did you take the time to eat properly today?" he asks.

Your gaze wavers.

"How much sleep have you gotten this week?"

You finally pull away, barely concealing your frustration.

"Kata, I don’t have time to rest. I have to make sure everything runs smoothly. The family has already suffered enough losses, I can’t…"

"You can’t what?"

He interrupts you, his voice slightly sharper. He doesn’t need to raise his tone.

"You can’t show the slightest weakness? Do you think that’s what will prove you deserve your place here?"

You clench your teeth.

"I have to be up to the task. After the disaster of Pudding’s wedding, we have to prove that we are still reliable. You don’t understand…"

"Don’t talk to me as if I don’t know what it means to carry a burden."

Silence falls. He still doesn’t break eye contact.

Then, without warning, he moves around the desk and lifts you effortlessly, his movements fluid and controlled. A small gasp of surprise escapes you, but he doesn’t give you the chance to protest further.

"Kata! Put me down right now, I have work to do!"

"No. Not tonight!"

His tone is firm.

He doesn’t slow down as he carries you away from your desk.

With slow but determined steps, he crosses the room. Every muscle in his body seems tense, not with anger, but with unwavering resolve and he gently sets you down on the couch before disappearing into the adjacent room.

You hear faint sounds: the opening of a cupboard, the soft clinking of porcelain.

A few moments later, he returns. In one hand, a thick, warm blanket. In the other, a steaming cup of tea.

Without a word, he drapes the blanket over you. Then, he places the cup in your hands. The contact of the warm ceramic against your fingers sends a slight shiver through you. You want to protest, to argue that you don’t need this, that you have to get back to work. But the moment the warmth of the cup seeps into your hands, something inside you cracks.

An invisible tension you weren’t even aware of carrying begins to fade, little by little. Your back, usually rigid and straight, sinks slightly against the couch. You slowly lower your gaze to the cup.

And suddenly, everything clicks into place.

The Homies who always seem to know exactly what you need. The snacks that appear without you asking. The supplies, the reports, the documents that always seem to be within reach.

It wasn’t coincidence.

It wasn’t just the Homies diligently doing their jobs.

It was him.

Katakuri.

Since the very beginning, he had made sure you ate, even when you were too absorbed in your work to think about it. He had ensured you stayed hydrated, that your belongings remained in order, that nothing was missing.

He had anticipated your every need, orchestrating everything in the shadows, without ever expecting anything in return. Without even telling you.

You slowly lift your eyes to him.

He says nothing.

He stands there, tall and imposing, arms crossed, watching you with that unwavering, piercing gaze. But there is no reproach, no irritation in his expression.

Only patience. And determination.

"You lecture me when I skip a meal, when I don’t get enough sleep… But what about you? Who takes care of you?"

You lower your eyes, unable to respond.

Because he’s right.

He sighs again and settles next to you. Then, to your great surprise, he loosens the scarf covering his face and lets it fall onto his lap.

This simple gesture is a silent declaration of trust, a way to show you that you are important enough for him to lower this barrier. One that he never lets down in front of anyone.

Katakuri never shows his face.

Even in your presence, he always ensures he stays in the shadows. He doesn’t want you to see him too clearly. He doesn’t want to witness that flicker of fear or disgust he has seen far too many times in others’ eyes. Even though you have told him, again and again, that his face neither frightens nor repulses you.

But that’s not the kind of thing one believes easily after a lifetime of rejection.

So, he never responded.

He never told you that he believes you, that he accepts your words.

But to you, it isn’t necessary. He doesn’t need to say it. You have understood for a long time that his scarf is not just an accessory.

It is his wall.

His shield.

And yet, tonight, he lets it fall.

Not for just anyone.

For you.

Right now, in this moment, there are no negotiations, no reports to write, no alliances to manage. There is only him, you, and this bubble of quiet he is trying to offer you.

He gently removes the cup from your hands and sets it on the table beside you.

Then, without a word, he reaches for the blanket he gave you earlier and wraps it around both of you, pulling you close to ensure the warmth envelops you both.

You take a deep breath, and the familiar scent of Katakuri soothes you more than you’d like to admit.

Little by little, your resistance fades. Your body gives in to exhaustion, and you let yourself lean into him.

You fought sleep for a moment, your mind still reluctant to completely surrender, but one last glance at him was enough to make you understand.

You can finally let go in complete safety.

Katakuri will not leave.

He will watch over you.

As he always has, in silence, in the shadows, without ever asking for recognition.

Tag list : @jintaka-hane @novemberhope @imveryyellow @lxshoxk @fanaticsnail @daydreamer-in-training @pandora-writes-one-piece Feel free to let me know if you’d like to be added (or removed) from the tag list.

More steddie fam ✨✨

.

.

.

I felt the need to elaborate on Buggy as the Ultimate Girl Dad, because I am loving every Buggy as a Dad fic I've come across and decided to add into it. It's a mix of head canons and fic of all eight daughters and when they were born. Also can be read as anime Buggy or OPLA Buggy!

Rating: PG-13 because innuendos. Warnings: Childbirth, mentions of a difficult labor. A/N: I had a lot of fun just thinking up names for all eight daughters.

Buggy’s Eight Daughters

The first daughter, Lil Buggy (Lil or LB for short) is a clone of her dad in looks and personality. The first to inherit his nose (much to his distress) and the first one to really experience ship life. When she was two weeks old, Buggy bound her to his body while climbing up to the crow’s nest of his ship so he could show her the views of the sea. You nearly killed him for that. And while Buggy wanted to name her Buggy Junior, or BJ for short, you killed that idea immediately. 

“I don’t want BJ for her nickname. People may make fun of her!” You said as Buggy walked around your room with the newborn, keeping her close to him as he gazed down at her. 

“But come on, that’s what started that night we had when she was conci-” He looked up with a smirk and you resisted throwing a pillow at him. Not while he was holding the baby.

“Buggy!”

Mae was the second daughter. She was born with a full head of bright blue hair and your nose. Unlike her older sister, she was a bit easier. She was born when LB was about to turn 2, and well, older sister wasn’t too sure how to feel about a new baby joining the family. Surprisingly, Buggy noticed his daughter having more tantrums and generally being a terror since she wasn’t getting all of her parents’ attention, so he took to carrying her on his back while Mae would be strapped on his front, being the Ultimate Pirate Dad. He just had to remember LB was on his back when he sat down (which he sometimes did forget she was there because she often fell asleep back there).

“Oof, daddy!” A tiny voice squealed from behind him. It took Buggy a moment to realize LB was on his back again, so he jumped up from his seat and turned his head around to look at her.

“What are you doing back there?!” He asked, always sounding surprised. She fixed him with a glare that was so like his own it was a little terrifying. He got her off his back and sat back down in his seat, holding her into his lap while he turned his head back around to face his crew.

Cherry and Apple were next. Buggy wasn’t there when they were born. He was off dealing with the Strawhats, and while you never chose a name for the babies until a few days later, you took one look at them and decided on the names. Just like their oldest sister, the two of them had Buggy’s nose, and well, you thought the names would be as cute as their bright red noses. Cherry was the more daring of the two. Buggy literally had to keep one hand ready to grab her in case she decided to go overboard or climb up ropes on the ship. Apple was a little more cautious, choosing to stick near you more often than not. While Cherry was happy to join her father with the circus shows, Apple stayed off to the sides to watch.

“You named them what?” Buggy asked as he held newborn Apple in his arms. “Why?!”

“The names just popped in my head, Buggy!” You insisted as you cradled Cherry against your bare skin. “Besides, the names are perfect for them! Look at their little noses, like bright red apples and cherries!”

Buggy wasn’t sure how he felt about you comparing the inherited nose to fruit, but he wasn’t about to argue with a woman who’d already birthed four children, three of which had that same nose. 

Another set of twins came a year and a half later. Buggy decided having a midwife on board may be ideal since he couldn’t seem to stop getting you pregnant (not that you were complaining, it was split 50/50 who initiated these things). He was there this time. Lil Buggy and Mae helped with the names for their sisters. When you and Buggy sat the four girls down to tell them about having another sibling, Lil Buggy had pointed out the rainbow in the distance and Mae asked if that would be the new baby’s name. Buggy looked like would cry at that. 

“Wait, twins, again?!” Buggy exclaimed as he was handed the first baby. “We were expecting just one!”

“Sometimes the other one stays a secret, Captain.” The midwife replied calmly as she helped with the next one. “Better start thinking of a second name.”

Yea, right. When Cabaji let the four girls into the room once you were ready, Mae and Lil Buggy looked at the two twin girls before looking up at their parents.

“Rain and Bow!” Both insisted. You were too tired to disagree and Buggy was still in shock, especially since they had his nose again. He was wondering if he needed to propose marriage to you for birthing six kids already.

Buggy indeed proposed to you. It was flashy, with cannons, fire, and all six daughters running around with sparklers. You said yes because while you loved the flashy fool, you also wanted to douse the sparklers before something caught fire. 

Six daughters already. When Lil Buggy was 10, Mae was 8, Apple and Cherry 6, and Rain and Bow not quite 4, you announced one night at dinner that you were, again, pregnant. The reactions were as such:

“That explains a lot.” Buggy grumbled as he looked down at his plate. You glared at him and he followed with, “Explains why you have a radiant glow about you, my love!”

“Again?!” Lil Buggy exclaimed. “Can you two stop? There’s no more room!”

“Why?” Mae asked. “Why do you want more kids?”

“Where do babies come from?” Apple asked, looking at Buggy. He was not ready for this conversation.

“We picked you and Cherry out of a treasure chest, just like your sisters and just like this baby.” Buggy said quickly. “That’s how we get babies. From treasure chests.”

“Oh.” Apple seemed fine with that response but Cherry looked confused. 

“Why does mama get fat then?” She asked innocently. Buggy was about to say something but one look from you silenced him.

“Oh my God.” He whined. “Another one?”

Rain and Bow just kept eating while Buggy questioned his life choices in that moment and you looked ready to throw him overboard.

Inheriting his nose stopped with Rain and Bow, but his hair followed his daughters. When you gave birth to the 7th daughter, the family had been carving pumpkins as a fun activity. While some parents would worry about their children holding knives, you were more concerned about your husband with one. You decided to get up and grab some bandages from the midwife when it happened. She took one look at you, sighed, and led you to your room to help you give birth. It happened so quick that Buggy came to look for you after about a half hour and found you with a newborn in your arms.

“How! What?!” His jaw dropped seeing the baby in your arms. You just shrugged as you looked down at the newborn.

“Can we name her Pumpkin?” You asked. “I think it would be a fun story to tell, you know, what we were doing when she was born.”

Buggy wasn’t going to disagree with you.

The eighth and final daughter was born during a storm. Giving birth on the ship while waves crashed along it was not ideal. The other seven girls were hunkered in the room with you while you gave birth. Buggy was holding you while you screamed, threatening to kill him after you were done. This was, by far, the most difficult birth of the girls. Lil Buggy and Mae did what they could to entertain the other girls, hoping to get their attention away from your screams and cries while the ship rocked violently. Hours passed until they heard the cries of a newborn. The storm seemed to pass as well, and Buggy was crying as he held his newest daughter.

Lil Buggy, being the eldest, approached first to look. She saw the blue hair and sighed. “You won’t be able to tell us apart if you saw us all from behind, you know.”

“Yea, well, I’ll learn to tell you brats apart.” Buggy shot back. You were resting, having been given something by the midwife to help you sleep. The labor had been a rough one, and you were going to need your strength to keep up with the family.

“What’s this one gonna be called?” LB asked as she gestured for her sisters to come over. “I think mom needs to stop naming us, she’s getting silly with them.”

“What should we name her?” Buggy asked his eldest, his attention on the sleeping bundle in his arms. He glanced up at her. “I’m asking you.”

LB looked taken aback and scratched her head. “Um… why not… Crash?” 

“Crash?” Buggy repeated. He was about to comment that that was silly, but considering what the last few hours were like, he was glad she didn’t go with a weather related name. “Y’know, I think Crash is appropriate.”

Buggy decided as a Rite of Passage for Piracy, his girls would join him in a raid when they turned 14. You knew it was something of importance for him, and you trusted he wouldn’t get them hurt. They could protect themselves as well, and by the time Crash turned 14, each girl had their chance. Buggy deemed them all official crew members when they returned from each raid and always held a party for them. With Crash being the last one to go through with it, Buggy couldn’t help but feel a little sad his girls were all growing up. He wouldn’t get to do those fun “Firsts” again like he had with the others. He would never admit to anyone but you, but he liked being a dad.

A few months after Crash’s raid, and the girls were readying for another fun day of piracy, you pulled your husband aside for a brief meeting.

“Babe, if you want me, just ask. We don’t have to sneak around.” Buggy teased as his hands went to your waist, a big grin on his face. You put both hands on his cheeks and tilted his head down so you could look him in the eyes.

“Sneaking around is what caused this, Buggy.” You told him. “I’m pregnant.”

The scream from the clown was heard all over the ship and no doubt all around the seas.

Right, considering the current state of corporate politics on this site, and that it seems that only those affected seem to be actively speaking on the matter, it is up to I, the only fucking cishet on tumblr, to drag this out to a wider audience.

REBLOG IF YOUR ACCOUNT IS A TRANSFEM SAFE SPACE.

We need to show these higher ups how much we truly value them.

I've been feeling down lately and all I've been thinking about is getting a comforting hug from either of my husbands 🥺, sooooo I drew some slashers based on this meme 👀👀❤️

Michael is TRYING to not crush your head 🥰

you are playing with fire y/n 👀

Thomas gets all flustered when you hug him, he doesn't know what to do 💕💕 and he doesn't want to hurt you 🥺❤️

Bubba gets all excited when you hug him, he can't say no to a bear hug!! 🐻❤️

Jason doesn't understand what are you doing with your hands, but he's happy If you are happy 🥰🥰