One Piece Reader Insert - Blog Posts

Shortest

Sacred Spaces masterlist, Heart Pirates reader-insert

Being the shortest in the crew has its perks and drawbacks.

Being the shortest came with its fair share of trouble with life on the Polar Tang.

For a submarine, the Polar Tang was built almost luxuriously. But the caveat was that it was built with height in mind. It was a blessing for many of your crew, those like Jean Bart and Shosai being able to navigate the halls comfortably for the most part (though the size of the navigation seats couldn’t be helped). It was a curse for shorter members like you, especially when you needed to get something from the kitchen cabinets.

‘Sugar’ glinted mockingly down at you in blocky letters, the container somehow set atop the uppermost shelf. Grumbling, you glanced around to make sure nobody was there before gingerly climbing atop the counter. Your fingers trembled as they fell a few scant inches short of the container.

How Risso managed to navigate the kitchen despite only being taller than you by a bit always stumped you.

Before you could do something drastic, a weight pressed into your back, pressing all the air out of you as someone invaded your space. Red strands of hair fluttered into your vision, and you muttered a curse as Shachi’s familiar voice rang in your ears. “Aw, does our wittol Taiwor need some help to get something from up high?” 

“Shut up!” You barked, trying to shake off the redhead’s bulk, lunging for the sugar, but too late as tanned fingers swooped them from the shelf. 

The man stepped back for you to hop down, and you did, whirling around to face him. Though he was the shortest of the Swallow Island quartet, he was still tall enough to easily keep the tin out of your reach as you reached.

“I just wanted some goddamn tea!”

“What’s the magic word?”

Incensed, you jumped at him, making sure your boots landed on his toes. “I’ll make a pincushion out of your ass, Shachi!”

***

Being the shortest did really come with its fair share of teasing. 

You ducked, avoiding the arm that Hakugan was throwing over you, ready to use you as an armrest. “Oi!”

The helmsman yipped, toppling over as he couldn’t correct himself in time. “Hey!”

His arm latched onto the back of your suit, bringing you down with him. You both landed on the navigation room floor with a thud, immediately breaking into a half-hearted squabble as the two of you wrestled on the floor.

“You idiot! Why’d you pull me down!”

“I was falling!”

Your fist bonked onto the forehead of his mask, not enough to damage anything, but strong enough for him to feel your ire. “I told you that you needed to stop putting your arm on my head!”

“But you’re so convenient as a table! Just the right height!”

“Shut up, Hakugan!” You gritted, one hand pushing back his own as you fought him from palming your face. “You’re not even that much taller than me!” 

You were ready to grapple him until a winner emerged, but a metaphorical rope was thrown your way when you saw the wobbly top point of a familiar hood. Muscles straining, you froze, pushing back Hakugan’s hands as you quickly hatched up a plan.

“Helmsman on the floor!” You yelled, scrambling off of him as some of the crew honed in on the sight.

It had the exact result you wanted.

“Dogpile Hakugan!” Clione yelled, diving on top of the already downed pirate.

That prompted a chain reaction for some of the other members present, Ikkaku and Shachi following suit. The masked man let out a weak wheeze underneath everyone that quickly turned to terror as thumping footsteps approached. The crew screamed as Bepo’s shadow fell over them.

“Bepo, no!”

“Please stop!”

“I’m gonna die!!!” 

You scuttled away before the navigator could turn on you.

***

Being the shortest meant that Bepo’s hugs enveloped you completely, even more so than any of your other crew members. There were many a time when you’d startled someone hidden in the depths of Bepo’s fur by responding to something. You often used that to your advantage, hiding within the safe confines of his bulk to de-stress

A questioning call of your name roused you from where you lay, swallowed up by Bepo’s fluff. After a moment of contemplation, you poked your head up. “Yeah?”

Tanaka screamed, a high-pitched note that rivaled Mozart’s, startling Bepo beneath you. He pushed his glasses up nervously and cleared his throat as you two leveled an unimpressed look at him. “Ahem. Sorry. Can you help fix my cap?”

A second look showed that he was wringing said brown cap in his hands, his jaw-length locks swaying free. From where you were, you could see the frayed threads, something that would most likely mean a painstaking session bent over your table. But despite your aching back, duty called. You sighed and began to struggle up from where you were lying. “Alright, let me s—”

The rest of your sentence was cut off by a yelp as Bepo’s arms latched around your midriff, pulling you back. He rolled to the side, locking you underneath hid arms. “No, sorry. Rest time.”

“B-But I’m the ship’s tailor!” You protested. 

“Captain’s orders. If it’s not major, then you’re not working,” Bepo murmured, nuzzling his head atop of yours. “Tanaka repair your own things. Sorry.”

~~~

Sometimes your height was useful to the crew in more serious ways.

Law handed you a slip of paper, a rough map drawn on it. A bar’s name was written and marked on top of everything, and you already knew what to expect. “Tailor-ya, think you can scout out this place for me?”

“Sure thing. The usual?”

“Yes. Dress down, and try not to interact with anything too much.”

You took the paper, scanning over the map before pocketing it for disposal later. “Got it, Captain.”

“Uni and some of the younger crew members will be on the island for supplies restocking, but they might not be around when you set out, so expect to be on your own.”

“Yes, sir.”

While the crew prepared their pre-docking procedures, you made your way back into your workshop, digging out an outfit in preparation for those going onto the island. It was during times like these that Law’s strict modus operandi came in handy. No unnecessary, garish, attention-seeking skirmishes, uniforms to blend in with each other as much as possible, and a fair amount of time being underwater ensured that the Heart Pirates’ individual identity still remained in a gray area. That, along with your height, made you especially unnoticeable compared to the other members. So once you took off the distinctive uniform and the more distinctive sunhat you wore out, you were the perfect person to move about unnoticed.

You were rummaging for a shirt when the overhead intercom system crackled to life, Law’s low voice filtering through. “Everyone, we’ve arrived.”

Ditching your current task, you followed your nakama up the metal stairs to the entrance doors. Uni, Clione, and the newer members (though not too new, since they’ve been with you all for a few months already) were readying to leave, the hooded man jumping and rushing over when he saw you.

The blonde shoved a small dagger into your hand, patting the appendage. “I heard you’re going out later. It’s nothing big but just in case.”

“Thank you,” you said gratefully, squeezing Clione’s hand before he pulled away to vault over the railing to the dock below (to Law’s loud chastising for him to ‘stop doing that goddamnit you’re gonna break your ankle!’).

You and Law watched the merry band head off, you waving, while Law was as stoic as ever. When the group disappeared around the corner, the man turned to head back into the submarine, and you followed suit.

“Do you need anything before you head out later, Tailor-ya?”

“No. I’ve got everything prepared. Should I join the crew to help with our post-docking procedures?”

Law exhaled through his nose. “I told you already. You don’t have to do that whenever I send you out for surveillance. Just rest up. I need you to be sharp for tonight.”

You gave him a joking salute and split off to head to your workshop. “Got it, Cap’n!”

Your workspace did need some tidying, so you puttered around in the little room until the sky outside the porthole got dark, shucking off your boiler suit and pulling on your outfit for the night. Something nondescript, darker to blend into the area, but not so that you’d look suspicious. One final glance at the map Law gave you confirmed where you were going before you shredded the paper and left.

Ikkaku poked her head out to say a quick goodbye as you breezed past, Risso following suit with a reminder to come back in time for dinner.

“I’m making the Captain’s favorite tonight!”

The thought of his warm food got you drooling. “Got it!”

The night air was gentle on your face as you stepped out of the submarine. Law was already on deck, and he turned to greet you. “Do you have everything?”

You nodded, patting your waistband where you hid Clione’s knife. “I have the dagger Clione left me.”

“Good.” Law tossed a rope ladder over the submarine side, and you began climbing down. “Don’t be reckless.”

Your boots hit the wood below you. “I won’t.”

The map was burned into your mind’s eye as you navigated deeper into the little island town. Even with the encroaching night, a few establishments remained lit. However, the number of souls on the street decreased as you headed closer to the bar of interest.

Noise slammed into you the moment you opened the doors, a disorienting contrast from the quiet outside. However, the chaos was an advantage as you slipped in without drawing any attention, eyes skimming over the area. Your ears caught the murmuring of a familiar moniker.

Bingo. Law’s information was true as always.

You slipped into the bar seat nearest to your target, ordering a lighter drink and settling down.

There were always a few things you kept a lookout for. Movements of other powerhouses, mentions, and bounties relating to the Heart Pirates. But the main one was anything relating to Doflamingo. It was a given, with your Captain’s past hanging over the crew. There was no one other than that man who everyone kept such vigilant eyes and ears out for, anything picked up relayed back to Law with haste. Depending on the nature of the information, it would set the course of your trip for the next few weeks, whether it be submerged deep below water or sailing at a breakneck speed to another place.

Their organizations, as well as any and all names the Donquixote leader went by, were long-memorized by you so that you could catch any and all information.

Your skin crawled at the mentions of slaves passed offhandedly between the men at the table. An auction, generously funded by Joker, on an island north of here. A rare commodity considering he never liked to dabble in this part of the Blue, so far away from his normal base of operations.

You stuck around for as long as you could, picking up the date and location passing between booze-loosened lips. Hearing enough, you paid for your drink and slid out of your seat, making your way to the bar exit. As you rounded the corners of the streets, you thought that everything went well enough, until the shuffle of footsteps fell in line behind you.

“Going somewhere so quickly? I’m surprised you didn’t stay for longer.”

You stilled, slowly pivoting to face the man behind you, feeling the way your body broke into a cold sweat. Though you didn’t show anything as you asked, “What are you talking about?”

“I thought we had a little rat listening to us. I just wanted to see what tidbits were swiped by greedy hands while my friends were discussing business.”

Resisting the urge to scoff at his cheesy words, you backed up, hand clasping over the hidden blade Clione forced into your hands earlier. Its handle was sturdy under your hands, but you didn’t have a chance to use it. Faster than you could react, he was in front of you. Pain exploded in your gut as he slammed a foot into it, sending you flying and hitting the wall of the opposing building and falling to the ground. You retched, stomach acid and spit coming up as you curled in to cradle your stomach. A shadow fell over your curled-over form, and you tensed, hand clenching the handle in your grip. Scuffed boots appeared at in your vision, and you struck, forcing battered muscles into overdrive as you swiped the dagger up, hoping it’d land.

The blade glanced harmlessly off him and the man slammed into you, vision exploding into stars before your air was cut off. You were dragged up, feet leaving the ground.

Oh no.

Though you haven’t been doing this for too long, you’d gotten careless at the ease in which the previous mission went.

You clawed at the vice-like grip around your neck, your borrowed dagger clattering to the ground as the man choking you out wretched your dominant hand to the side. The tips of your boots scrapped the ground beneath, barely making contact with the dirt. A glimpse of gleaming black on the limb holding you made you curse your luck.

Haki.

Damn him, you thought, baring your teeth in a desperate, animal display, ignoring the throbbing that came from the left side of your face. Even if you still had the knife in your grasp, you wouldn’t have escaped anyway. Someone with Uni’s stature or Moose’s strength could’ve handled it. But not you.

Jeering laughter echoed around you as you aimed weak kicks at the one holding you up.

“Who do you work for? Or are you just some nosy brat?” He asked, shaking you around like a rag doll.

Your eye bulged out of your head as he squeezed. The bones of your neck creaked like fragile butterfly wings within his hold. Against his size and abilities, you were helpless. A toy for the larger dogs to chew up. Your skin prickled as you felt eyes raking down your form, and you felt exposed without your usual thick, baggy boiler suit.

It shouldn’t have been like this.

Law was going to be upset.

“Hm, I could make you squeak. I’ll just have to take you back to my boys—”

“Let go of my nakama!”

The rest of his words were cut off by a grunt as something slammed into him. The world went sideways as you slipped from the man’s grasp, landing with a rough tumble as rocks and pebbles dug into your unprotected skin. Taking a few moments, you drew in wheezy gasps before trying to stand up. 

Hands caught you as your legs crumpled, and you were scooped up into warm arms.

“H-Hang on,” Bowser’s voice reassured you. “Don’t worry! Uni and Penguin’s got it covered, and we’re going to bring you to the captain!”

You tried to speak, but all that sounded was a hoarse rattle, the ring of fire around your neck aching like a brand. Breathing was equally difficult, and you relented to force wheezing, whistling breaths through your windpipe, limp in your nakama’s hold all the way until you were laid out on the infirmary bed, back in the Polar Tang again.

Through the haze of pain, you forced a smile at the figures hovering above you, unable to discern anybody due to the light shining down. You knew it must’ve been an unpleasant sight, the blood vessels in your eyes no doubt ruptured from the trauma.

Your name was said alongside Law’s familiar honorific. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

That was all the reassurance you needed as Law’s Room flickered on. The feeling of his fruit sectioning you apart was familiar at this point, and you closed your eyes. Your full trust laid in your captain’s abilities as you fell into darkness.

For others, it would’ve been terrifying to be on the receiving end of Law’s powers, but you and the Heart Pirates have never been led wrong by him. 

By the time you awoke, you could breathe again. The deep inhale you did came with a dull ache, but nothing of the caliber that you felt before. Shuffling came from the side of your bed, and you glanced over to see your captain standing up from his chair.

“Don’t speak,” Law said brusquely, interrupting you before you could even begin. “You have two fractured ribs and severe bruising surrounding your neck and the facilities there. Luckily, nothing was broken. I did the best I could to realign everything, but there was not much I could do about the ruptured blood vessels. You’re on bed rest until you heal.”

You exhaled, the motion coming with a dull pain as the muscles around your jaws ached. Your captain didn’t meet your eyes, fussing with the various equipment on the bedside table next to you. A common sign of his guilt as he tried to act busy.

Reaching out, you grabbed the edge of his shirt sleeve and tugged, halting the man in his actions. You lifted a hand to mime writing something, which he understood right away. A pencil and paper were thrust into your hands, and you quickly got writing. When done, you shoved the pad at him.

‘Not your fault.’

Law huffed, passing the pad to you. He pressed a hand onto your head, pushing you down. “You’re literally in the infirmary bed right now. Because of a mission, I sent you on.”

‘I chose to go, I’m the best at it. It’s not like our lives are only full of sunshine and rainbows as pirates. And you fixed me up now, yeah?’

“You know better than to over-rely on me,” he scolded.

‘But you take care of us so well, Captain!’

Law scowled, tugging on his hat as he averted his gaze. You squinted, seeing a bit of pink flushing over his skin. “Whatever. Did you manage to gather anything important?”

At that reminder, you brightened, pencil flying across the paper. You wrote down all the information you heard from those men, ripping out the page and presenting it to Law with a flourish. He took it, scanning everything. Gold eyes widened as he comprehended the information written on it. He gingerly folded up the paper and tucked it into his pocket.

“Ah. I see. Thank you.”

Knocking echoed on the infirmary door, drawing your attention away. “Captain?” Bepo’s voice questioned through the door.

Law let out an aggrieved sigh. “The lot of you can come in. Tailor-ya’s awake.”

The door slammed open, and you jolted as a veritable pile of crewmates spilled in, with Bepo’s orange-bright suit in front. Law gave a final word of warning for them to be gentle before the group skidded to a stop in front of you. You smiled at them, ignoring the slight ache that bloomed where you got hit. You could see their hesitation and tilted your head.

“You had pretty bad bruising,” Law told you. “I removed most of the blood from the broken vessels, but the ones in your eyes are too delicate for me right now.”

He gritted his teeth, and you could see his silent decision being made. You could already see him looking for more medical texts the next time the Tang docked at an island.

“Are hugs allowed?” Somebody asked tentatively.

Law exhaled a sigh, lifting an arm to flap his hand dismissively. “Do whatever. It’s mostly cosmetic and very minor injuries left. But don’t be too rough, either way.”

That was all the approval you needed, and you opened your arms.

Bepo’s wrapped around you first, and you relaxed into the Mink, letting out a soft sigh as Law stepped back for more space. A hand landed on your head, ruffling your hair. Uni’s hand, based on the length of the fingers. More arms wormed beneath Bepo, over Bepo, but all of them wrapped around you. An offended squawk from the side signaled that even Law was roped into the mix.

Being the shortest in the crew had its drawbacks, sometimes serious ones. But you didn’t mind. You knew your nakama was there to support you.

Japes and Jubilations, Pt 2

The Sanctity of Sacred Spaces Masterlist

The various antics of the crews and the various ways you’re involved in it.

(Part 1) | YOU ARE HERE | (Part 3) | (Part 4)

Part 2: Soaked

You learn a wise lesson about avoiding Penguin and Shachi after their swim patrols.

The seasoned members of the crew knew better enough than to hang around the wet room or the surrounding areas when Penguin and Shachi came back from their dives.

You, however, were not a seasoned member of the crew. You were never around when the pair headed into the waters, or came back, so you thought nothing of it when you stuck your head into a room upon earring splashing sounds coming from it. Your eyes widened when you saw the strangely structured room and the two equally drenched crew members. 

“Well, that was a good patrol, Peng!” Shachi said, muscles staining as he closed the door and sealed it shut with the hand wheel.  “And we got fish for dinner, too!”

Water poured from them both—and the net of writhing fish at Penguin’s feet—running in rivulets to the drains set throughout the room.

“Oh, hey!” Penguin grinned, catching sign of you. “What’s up?”

“Uh,” you began. “I just heard water splashing and got curious. What’s this room?”

Penguin let out an ‘ah’. “That’s right. You haven’t seen it yet, huh?”

Before you could even blink, Shachi was right next to you. To your horror, one soaking-wet arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you into an equally wet side. You flinched, hands coming up to push him away. The redhead clung to you like a limpet, however, dragging you into the room in question.

“This is the wet room!” Shachi explained, throwing an arm out as if to showcase it. In the background, Penguin made little jazz hands. 

“Cool,” you said limply, lamenting your clothes. It didn’t explain why they were dripping wet, though. 

Penguin’s hat-–still on his head—squelched as he wrung out the flaps. “You have no idea what we’re talking around, do you?”

You shook your head as Shachi wilted in disappointment.

“The island we come from is a North Blue island,” Penguin explained. “For ours, we have especially cold harbors, and a high percentage of the population also boast fishman ancestry.”

You squinted. “So you and Shachi are part fishmen, then?”

“Yep!” Shachi said, popping the ‘p’. He leaned closer and grinned, pulling at his mouth to show you his teeth. A veritable row of canines gleamed at you, sharp and pointed like a predator’s.

“Huh,” you said eloquently. Your uniform dripped onto the floor.

Penguin lifted the ears of his hat when you looked over, giving you a peek of the short, dark hair by the side of his head. On his temple was a scattering of smooth, pale-blue and black  scales, glinting in the light. They littered his hairline in small patches down to his neck, peeking through the dark strands of hair there.

“Pretty…”

Shachi groaned. “‘Pretty’, is that all you have to say??? Seriously?? I have fangs! We have gills!”

“Back to the point,” Penguin redirected before Shich could strip down to show you wherever his gills were. “This is the room Shachi and I use to get in and out of the sub underwater. The inventor who made this submarine built it especially for us, but it’s good for the crew to know how it works too.”

Shachi finally left your side to slap the door he was closing earlier. “This bad boy is fitted with a two-door system, both with built-in seals. The first hatch is on the outside and opens slowly to let water and us in from the outside. It closes and a system drains and pumps it back out. Once done, this inner door unseals and Penguin and I can enter the sub.”

“The two-door system helps control the water pressure, so there’s less chance of a leak,” Penguin said.

“Penguin-ya, Shachi-ya are you guys still in here—” Law stopped and stared at you, a pitying look on his face. “Ah, you got poor Tailor-ya…”

You squinted at that statement and his all too knowing look at your state, trying to straighten out your clothes. “W-What do you mean? Is this like something common?”

“Well…” Penguin began.

Shachi began whistling innocently.

“The crew always avoid them when they come back because they always latch on to the nearest person before changing out,” Law said. “Everyone’s been a victim of them at least once. I forgot to warn you.”

“Well, at least I’m not all the way wet,” you grumbled, pulling at your shirt.

“I’m surprised about that, too,” Law drawled, shifting his sword on his shoulder. “Usually both of them go for their victim at once.”

That was the wrong thing to say as both men stilled, head turning to look at you before at each other.

“Hug time!” They exclaimed.

Your eyes widened. “Hey, hey, hey, NO—”

Two bodies slammed into either side of you, pinning you in between them with a wet squelch.

At seeing your distraught expression, Law grimaced in sympathy. 

Both men had to unstick themselves from you, attention going to Law as they dragged you along. “Let’s get Cap!”

He quickly pulled up his Devil Fruit Powers to Shamble away, a scrap of paper fluttering to the ground where he was.

Japes and Jubilation, Pt 1

The Sanctity of Sacred Spaces Masterlist

The various antics of the crews and the various ways you’re involved in it.

YOU ARE HERE | (Part 2) | (Part 3) | (Part 4)

Part 1: Eyebrows

Hakugan comes with a little request

Rapid-fire knocking—no, pounding at your door made you scowl and throw down the pair of pants in your hands. What was the point of telling the crew to knock so they wouldn’t disturb your work if they’d go ahead and slam on your door like the world was ending?

Yanking the door open, you greeted the perpetrator with a curt, “What?”

Hakugan swayed on his feet, as if he didn’t almost bring your door down. Uncaring of your irritation, he leaned closer to you. “Are you free? Can I come in?”

You raised an eyebrow but stepped aside. “What do you need, Hakugan?”

“Do you have any of that sticky fabric thing?”

“What?”

Hakugan brought his hand together and pulled them apart, mimicking some sort of ripping, peeling sound.

“... Do you mean velcro?”

“Yes! Do you have any more of that.”

“I do, why?”

He leaned closer to you, excitement in his body language. “I have an idea.”

Seeing the man nearly vibrating in unrestrained glee, you held your composure for a few seconds before ultimately caving. “Alright, I’ll bite. What is it?”

Hakugan let out a little cheer, leaning closer as he rapid-fired off his idea to you. A slow smile cracked over your face as you envisioned the visual laid out. “Okay. I’ll do it. Do you have a spare?”

Hakugan whipped out a mask from the recesses of his boiler suits, and you twitched at the fact he already prepared for your involvement with it. You shook your head, disappointed with yourself that you were using such precious materials on something so silly. The only saving grace (and reason that you were doing it in the first place) was that there were some scraps left over from when you made the attachable pockets for the boiler suits.

As you laid out everything on your work table and turned your light on, you could feel the helmsman hovering behind you, peering over your shoulders. You got through the first half of your task, used to the man’s antics. It wasn’t a bother until your elbow began knocking into Hakugan. You stopped your work and looked back at him, and he tilted his face up to you, cocking his head silently.

Before you could regret it, you gingerly offered him your sewing needle. “Do you want to try?”

Hakugan perked up, and you could almost imagine an imaginary tail wagging behind him. “Are you sure?”

“Yos. I’ll walk you through it.”

He was a surprisingly good student, attentive and focused despite what his general demeanor might’ve shown him to be. There were a few learning curves and adjustments where you had to help him hold and position the fabric, but soon he was merrily finishing it up on his own.

Hakugan held up the mask, letting out a victorious cheer. “Alright! Thank you so much!”

You let out an affirmative ‘yos’ . “Don’t think much about it.”

The two of you remained holed up in your workshop until it was time to switch off the navigation teams, heading there together with the others who would be navigating the Tang through this turbulent part of the waters.

Morsa pulled the door open for the lot of you, and Tanaka sighed at seeing the relief shift coming to take over. “Glad you guys are here!”

“Hm,” Hakugan said as he left your side, and walked up next to the taller topographer, falling back into his role as helmsman easily. Nobody noticed that anything was amiss as he made sure that his mask was obscured for the most part. “What’s the update?”

“Well, it seems like we’ve moved out of the enclosed space so far,” Tanaka said. “We—”

His words cut off in a choke as he glanced at Hakugan.

“Hm, what was that, Tanaka?” Ikkaku asked as she squinted at the sonar system.

“Guys!” The bespectacled man grabbed Hakugan by the shoulders and spun him around to face everyone.

The navigation room fell silent as they saw Hakugan’s mask. The man tilted his head innocently, hands coming up to the mask. “What?”

Loud ripping noises echoed in the room as he peeled off the thick, dark eyebrows and slapped them on to make a confused frown. 

“Hakugan,” Ikkaku began. “What the fuck.”

Said helmsman shot a thumbs up to the crew.

Initiation

Part of "The Sanctity of Sacred Spaces" series

The Heart Pirates were overwhelming. So loud and chaotic that you didn’t know how you’d ever fit in with them. But you didn’t have any need to worry.

Takes place near the beginning of reader's journey with the crew.

Though you had joined (more like forced yourself into) the Heart Pirates in a blaze of chaos and explosions (quite literally), that courage didn’t stay in the aftermath of everything. When it was all said and done, and you’d stitched in a place on the Polar Tang as their tentative tailor, all the fight and bravery went down the drain.

Though you couldn’t say that you thrived on talking to others, you boasted fair enough people skills (which was more than could be said for their—your captain). Just enough for you to be known as a cordial and affable person. But with your history, growing up as you did, you had to say that your inclinations leaned more to that of reservedness.

The same could not be said for this new group of people you found yourself with.

They were loud, you already knew that from your initial introduction to them. But now, in close quarters and a confined space, the noise absolutely echoed. The sense of camaraderie was strong with them, inside jokes and banter flowing like water between them all. They would often include you in it too.

“Hey, Newbie!”

You froze as Ikkaku honed in on you, a touch of wildness in her eyes as she sped to you, dragging Clione along with her.

“Oi, don’t involve other people in with this!” the hooded blonde complained, but he still cornered you alongside the tall woman.

“We need you to settle this for us!” Ikkaku declared, crossing her arms. “Clione thinks that white lights are the best interior lights. But obviously, warmer lights are better than cool ones, yeah? You agree, right?”

“No???! Don’t influence the Newbie!”

“Shut up, you’re just angry because I’m right!”

“Uhm,” you began warily. “I think white lights are good if you want to maintain alertness, but warmer-toned lights are good for relaxation. Depending on what you need, one cn be better for your eyes than the other.”

Both stared at you blankly.

“Yeah, but which one is better?” Ikkaku prompted.

“I… They all have their…uses…”

Both members threw their hands up in twin displays of frustration. “That doesn’t help at all!”

They devolved back into their squabble, and you took a step away.

Two heads snapped at you. “Stay here!”

Your shoulders sunk down as you glanced furtively down the hall to see if anybody was coming. It seems like you’ll be stuck with them for a bit.

But not only did they pull you into the most mundane of conversations, but they were also touchy.

Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi were guilty of being particularly forward, the three having no qualms being in everyone’s space. While Bepo’s was well-intentioned—the Mink trying his best not to overstep his boundaries aside from when he’d scoop someone up in a hug—Penguin and Shachi had no qualms about holding back. Crewmates were often the victim of one or both of them leaning on them at once, on either side. The first time they did that, you nearly jumped a foot in the air, if not for their weight on you. 

The bolts of fabrics you were carrying thumped to the ground as you were jostled by twin pairs of arms, pushing you down. “Ah!”

“Whatcha got there, Newbie?” Penguin asked.

“New fabrics for the boiler suits,” you replied, wiggling out of their hold to hurriedly pick up the nearest roll, inspecting them for any stains. You would’ve snapped at the pair for making you drop them, but you were too busy fretting, and did not want to piss off the unofficial-official first mates of the captain. “I–Uh, C-Captain approved of this particular type. It’s more suitable to the conditions of the Tang than your suits now.”

“Oh shit, really?” Shachi crouched down right next to you, his side pressed up against your own as he grabbed the bolt of fabric you were holding while Penguin began gathering the other rolls.

The taller man tried to pick up all up, but let out a curse as their weight bore down on him. “Holy crap—”

You wobbled as his heat burned into your side, a hand reaching out to steady him as you took a few off to lighten the load.

“How the hell were you carrying so many with your stature?!?” Penguin ask incredulously, tugging his hat back in place.

“I’m used to it,” you said simply, reaching for the rest in his hold. However, a hand fisted the back of your current suit’s collar and hauled you up. “Ack–!”

“No need!” Shachi announced, wrapping his arm back around your shoulders. “Big Bro Peng and I will help you carry them!”

“Are you sure this is not you two trying to worm out of the Captain’s duties again…?” You asked.

“No way!”

“That’s silly!”

(They were, in fact, trying to dodge responsibilities.)

Though, despite their welcoming air, you couldn’t help but linger at the edges of everything. Too afraid to integrate yourself into their folds. Yes, you may have been brought on as their tailor—a position sorely needed as the most experienced person before you were the poor cook who at most knew how to do basic stitching—but you were still Newbie, first and foremost. Still clumsy when taking up the shared duties and occasionally getting lost in the halls. Your position here was strenuous at best, and you feared that there would be whatever reason that made them drop you off at the next island they docked at.

You peeked your head into the mess hall, wondering what was important enough that you were summoned there after your watch duties 

Shousai was the first to see you, the large, bald man waving a gloved hand at you. “Oi, Newbie, there you are!”

That sent an excited titter over the crew.

“Newbie’s here!”

“About time!”

“What took you so long?”

You took a tentative step into the room, but remained near the doors, wringing your hands. They had called you over the intercoms in the middle of you reworking he boiler suits, so it made you anxious to resume working.  “What’s… happening…?”

“Since, you’ve been doing a stellar job aboard the Polar Tang,” Bepo announced. “It’s about time that you get initiated into the group pose!”

“Group pose?”

The Mink nodded, completely serious. “Yes! We Heart Pirates take pride in our crew, so it’s imperative that we are ready to show that pride whenever Captain introduces us!”

Slowly shuffling backward, you asked, “Do I have to do it?”

“Yeah!” Clione yelled. “We all have to do it! You’re part of the crew, now. You can’t get out of this, Newbie!”

Hands grabbed your shoulders, and you looked back, expression full of betrayal as you found Uni to be the one pushing you to the group. The stoic man’s expression gave nothing away, except for the slightest pinch in the corners of his eyes that indicated amusement.

More hands grabbed at your arms when you were in range, Uni leaving to assume his position once he ensured that Shachi’s hold on you rendered escape impossible. You were shuffled from person to person, but for once, their touches didn’t make you tense nor freeze the way touches used to. They had, without you realizing, wormed their way through your guards as much as you’ve settled into their rank. In their endearingly Heart Pirates way.

Weak. Would have been what he called them. Called you. But those were just the whispers of the dead.

Shosai muttered your name as you were slotted right next to him. “You have to convince Risso to make something other than broiled rice cakes and peas and fish for dinner.”

“He says we have to try and conserve our supplies,” you protested quietly as Omura’s elbow dug into your shoulder.

“Yes, but we all know there are much better combinations than fish and peas.”

Scanning the group for the yellow newsboy hat and braids of the cook, you asked, “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

“He likes you more!”

Bepo turned to give the both of you a chastising look as Shachi shushed you two. The Mink waited until the redhead ran through the positioning of your arms and legs. “Okay, Newbie! We’re going to do it now. Do you have the pose memorized?”

“Yes,” you said sulkily, resigned to your fate.

“Okay, Heart Pirates! Three, two, one!”

The crew burst into a clamoring of noise and limbs, you following suit with a heaping dose of embarrassment.

Your face burned  even hotter as, right after, the captain walked into the room. Law didn’t even blink as he saw the group of you in the mess hall, mug of coffee in his hands as he sipped on it. The crew held that pose, as if waiting for his approval.

He looked at you all with a sharp eye, amusement shining through as he cocked his head. “I think you should move Newbie-ya more to the left.”

“COME ON, CAPTAIN!”

Your face quivered as you fought a smile. Surrounded on all sides by lively figures, you undeniably felt warm.

Eventually, the nickname fell away, to be replaced with your own name or “Tailor”. Years later, as you and your nakama—a little bruised, and battered, but now twenty strong—assembled into that ridiculous group pose to greet Straw Hat, Shosai lifting you up onto his shoulders so you could throw your arms up and out into a victorious ‘V’, Jean Bart’s steady presence behind you, you couldn’t feel a greater sense of belonging.

Tyrant of the Laundry Room

Part of the Heart Pirates X reader series: Sanctity of Sacred Space

Laundry duty was your favorite. Though your nakama couldn’t agree.

To say you quite liked laundry duty was an understatement.

Always the first to sign up, taking the worst shifts or the day with the heaviest load, never a complaint coming from you except for the crew to take care of their clothes more.

As often as you could, you’d swap laundry duty with anyone willing on the crew. It had gotten bad enough at a certain point until Law had banned anybody from swapping laundry duty with you for a month until the redness on your hands died down. After that, he had imposed a strict limitation of how many times a certain chore could be done until the rota refreshed.

The rest of the crew never quite understood your fervor for this particular chore, as to many, this was down at the bottom of the list on how much they wanted to do it, alongside dish duty. Shachi had—the third time you asked to swap with him—grabbed you by the shoulders and peered deep into your eyes through his shades to ask if you were okay. He couldn’t believe that you simply just wanted to.

But the reason was simple.

Your passion as a tailor did not just simply end at making and fixing clothes. It extended into their care and upkeep. You knew the best way to cut linen, the specific direction it needed to reduce shrinkage in the long run. You knew how to remove all manner of stains, and you meant it. Not even the discolorations on Shachi’s hat stood a chance when you got your hands on it. 

It was the first thing you chose to learn after he died, the world opening up at your fingertips without the pressure of what you had to do. Your experience with a gun meant blood often found itself at home on your things and he didn’t care enough about appearances to bother keeping things stain-free. So as an act of rebellion, the first thing you did was to learn about clothes. The seamstresses and launderers at your old village were thrilled to have a fresh face so interested in their trade, and wasted no time in teaching you everything they knew. What that man forced you to be, and what those ladies taught you, were the only relic you had of your childhood.

And laundry duty was the one chance where you got to stretch out this knowledge and allow yourself a chance to shine.

Though, that passion tended to be a bit overbearing for those who worked with you. 

“Shachi, you don’t crank the heat all the way up for those!”

Crossing the space, you shoved yourself into the redhead’s space as you fiddled with the controls on the machines.

“You’re lucky that I caught this in time, you idiot!”

“But doesn’t turning it up make them dry faster??”

“NOT LIKE THIS!” Your screech echoed through the room. “We have fragile polyester-based stuff in there! You’re going to melt them!”

“It can’t be that bad, right?!?”

“HOW ABOUT I MELT YOUR SHADES FOR YOU TO FIND OUT?!?”

The screaming echoed through even the halls, those lucky enough to escape laundry duty with you chuckling at Shachi’s misfortune. You ran laundry day with a militant fist, hunting down those who forgot their clothes with a dogged focus. It was terrifying to get in your way, and even more terrifying to be stuck working the shift with you. No matter how much you begged, Law refused to let you shoulder the burden of washing everything by yourself. It was a well-known fact by now that your standards were hellish to meet, and you did not go gentle on those who failed (save Bepo and Law).

But at the end of the day, when the Heart Pirates received their laundry back, delightfully warm and cleaner than they’ve ever been before you arrived, they were glad that their beloved tailor cared so much.

Peace and All Else

Part of my Heart Pirates x Reader series: The Sanctity of Sacred Spaces

With a life as chaotic as yours, you preferred quietness where you could find it.

You were someone who valued your peace. Not just as a personal preference, but for your job as well, as any interruption could result in an errant stitch, ruining the clothing, or a needle through the finger.

This need for quietness was ironic, considering you were on a crew of pirates, whose lives were marked by nothing but unending chaos. 

Paradoxical. Peculiar. But when you were a pirate crew who had a doctor at the helm, it didn’t seem that strange. You were simply one oddball amongst a crew full of them. Which lent to many, many escapades that echoed throughout the Tang. It was never silent, whether it be the noise of her machines humming away, or the sound of the galley’s mealtime preparations, there was always life in her halls. 

You wouldn’t trade it for any other thing, but sometimes everyone’s antics were a little overwhelming, and you had to slip away to seek out a moment of peace. Innevitably, you’d always end up in a few places. Namely: your storage-room-turned-workshop. 

After your welcoming into the folds of the Heart Pirates, they were kind enough to clear out an empty broom closet and convert it into a mini workspace for you. You had initially protested that it was too much, but Shachi had quickly shushed you by saying you’d pay it back by repairing everyone’s stuff and fixing up the infirmary’s linens. 

Eventually, those bolted shelves were filled until with rolls and rolls of fabrics, projects finished and not set in marked piles on your desk. Your walls filled with papers, ideas and sketches (both yours and not) displayed proudly. An almost-too-big-couch crammed right into the last unoccupied corner of the room, with a lopsided mannequin that Ikkaku fixed up for you standing proudly right next to it.

A home away from home.

Well, just a home now. You didn’t have any other place except with the Heart Pirates.

And in this peace, you could relax, and unwind. Pick up a thread and needle and weave your love into every fold and stitch of the fabric in your hands. Love that you hoped your nakama could feel.

Your hands jolted as the door to your workshop slammed open with a cry of your name. You grabbed the nearest object, a spare pincushion, and lobbed it with deadly accuracy at the intruder. Penguin yelped as the item beaned him right on the forehead, the brim of his hat barely protected him against your wrath. “What was that for?!?!”

“HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU TO KNOCK BEFORE YOU ENTER?! AND TO NOT SLAM MY DOOR?!”

“Sorry, sorry! But can I hide in here for a bit?”

You squinted at him, anger giving way to suspicion. “Why…?”

“Please!” The man clasped his hands in front of him, stepping into the room. “I’ll do anything!!”

An idea sparked in your head. “If you take my dish duty tonight… You can stay for as long as you want and I won’t rat you out if anybody comes asking.”

Not that you particularly hated doing the dishes, you knew the importance of equal distributions of chores (Law drilled that into every members’ head on the daily), but just this once, you had something pressing you’ve been wanting to do, so the extra time gained from Penguin taking on your duty was exactly what you needed.

Penguin didn’t even flinch. “I’ll take it!”

You grinned and let out a little ‘yos’. “You can hide behind the couch, There’s space there, and the floor’s padded.”

He was full of thanks as he dove behind the furniture, shuffling coming from it as he settled there. To complete the look, you walked over, grabbing the blanket on there, and draping it over the back of the couch, making it look natural.

Just as you were patting out the last of the wrinkles, slow, steady footsteps approached your workshop. A knock announced Uni’s presence before he stuck his head in through the open door.

“Hello, Uni. Can I help you with anything?”

A drone of your name. “Have you seen Penguin anywhere?”

You had to resist a smile. “No. Are you looking for him?”

A nod. Slow eyes tracked across your workshop but ultimately landed back on you again, standing next to the couch. “He used my gloves and didn’t clean off the grease.”

Wincing at that, you wondered why the hatted man thought that was smart in the first place. Uni’s gloves were far bigger than Penguin’s, but they were also slimmer, so shoving his mitts into those could’ve popped a few stitches. “If you want, you can bring them here, and I’ll fix and clean them up for you,” you offered.

Uni shook his head. “No need. I have spares. But I’m going to find Penguin to make him clean off the ones he used.”

“Okay. Good luck.”

“Thank you. Sorry for bothering you.”

“You’re fine, Uni. See you around.”

You waited until his footsteps were out of earshot before cracking a smile. Penguin shot you a grateful thumbs up and a grin when you peeked your head over to look at him. “It’s pretty comfy down here,” he said, wiggling his shoulders a bit. “Mind if I sleep here a bit?”

“Be my guest,” you drawled, wandering back to your desk and picking up your pencil. “I’m sure the dust bunnies appreciate the company.”

I appreciate your company, was left unsaid, but you hoped Penguin understood.

Peace returned to the room, only interrupted by the sound of your pencil and paper as you sketched your way through clothing patterns. Then, the quiet whistles of Penguin’s snores began to fill the air. You paused your work, before shaking your head with a fond smile.

You didn’t know how long you worked before there was a small flash of blue and Penguin’s snores being cut off for something to hit the floor where he was. Knowing that it could only be Law’s fruit, you got up to investigate what was Shambled into your room to swap with Penguin. 

A note, attached to one of your missing pincushions by a pin.

“That bastard,” you muttered, reaching down to grab everything from the floor.

‘Stop hiding people in your workshop’ the messy scrawl of his handwriting read. 

You snickered, sitting back down at your work desk and depositing the pincushion in its rightful place on your table. Your lamp flickered on, and you moved it so it shone over the drawing on your table, a revised boiler suit for Bepo that had more ventilation, so the poor Mink wouldn’t feel the heat as much when things inevitably got hot in the Polar Tang.

Yes, you valued your peace. But your workshop was a sanctuary, too. Not just for you, but every single one of your nakama that wanted to wander through your doors, in search of help, repairs, or just plain comfort. Peace came in many forms, and your nakama’s peace was yours.