Platonic Reader - Blog Posts

The Friendly Jötunn

I was prancing in the forest, looking for some friends to play with. The birds were singing, the wind was gently blowing and the smell of the forest was calming. While I was resting from looking for friends, I heard the sound of metal hitting metal and grunting; ‘weird, people usually don’t come to this neck of the woods, maybe they are training to become heroes!’ I thought with wonder.‘Maybe I can help,’ as I thought to myselfI decided to check it out, even though I didn’t really want to, but I grumply got up and stretched, then started to walk towards the weirdos that like to go into the woods and play with swords. As I got closer to the small group, the birds stopped chirping, the wind wasn’t blowing anymore… it was quiet, I’ve always hated the quiet; ‘they must have heard them too, I need to be careful, but that group should be careful too. I need to hurry and try to protect them or they might die. I don’t want people to die anymore; why does my kin have to be so violent?’ I thought as I started to pick up the pace, and start running. I finally make it to the small group of them, and watch from afar; hoping they wouldn’t notice me. “Huh” the sensei said, he looked maybe in his 30s, he has a goat-t and a small wooden stick in his mouth, a chonmage hairstyle with dark hair, and a hooded red cloak with an atom symbol on the back draped over his open blue haori. Beneath the haori is a traditional loose-fitting white robe tied with a white sash and two haori himos, and lastly with two swords on his left side.“What was that?” A woman said. She was wearing a pastel pink long sleeve, and a long dark blue skirt, with black hair, and a standard katana. “Maybe we should check what that was,” A man said,wearing a black hakama worn over a black kimono, and his hair similar to his sensei’s, with dark hair as well , and a katana whose blade looks like a drill.“What if it’s a monster?” A younger man said he had short blond hair and blue eyes. He wears a long-sleeved black shirt under his sleeveless medieval iron armor with a shoulder pad on his left shoulder. And lastly he’s carrying a katana that has a black hilt with a circular hand-guard. The sheath is painted black. “Why would a monster come over here?” said the bushy eyebrowed man. Questioning the younger man.“Why wouldn’t a monster try to attack us,” the blond replied, clearly agitated.“We’re heroes, monsters would probably stray away from us since we’re high ranked heroes.” the woman replied.“Okamaitachi and Bushidrill are right, Laian, monsters wouldn’t come to us for no reason.” Said the sensei. The sensei looked in my direction, I got scared and took a step back, but a branch snapped under my hoove. Startling them, they all took out swords and got ready to attack, but I shifted my head and looked at the other Jötunn near me. ‘Crap, their already here, I should’ve been quickier’ I thought to myself“What was that?” Okamaitachi said she looked concerned. “I don't know… could be anything,” said the sensei.

This is all I have so far, I hope I you like it! Sorry if I got some of the characters personalities wrong I haven't watched opm in a while; feel free to tell me if you liked it or not!

✄ Summary: Sal is in desperate need of a haircut, entrusting his locks into your amateur hands despite you butchering a client earlier that week.

✄ Total Post Word Count: 1.2k ✄ Writing Word Count: 1k

✄ Pairing: Sal Fisher & Aspiring Hairdresser!Reader (GN) (Romantic/Platonic, fully up to interpretation) ✄ Reader: You work at the local salon, you & Sal are both about 16-17, several incidents of you cutting your own hair in the bathroom as a kid (I think a lot of us did that though)

✄ Song Suggestion: The Calm - Steve Gabry (Feel free to loop, just ambiance)

✄ Requests or questions about my writing process, formatting/graphics, & anything else are more than welcome <3

✄ A/N: This was inspired by someone's headcanons I saw about Sal cutting his own hair, but now I can't find it anywhere. If that was you, don't be shy, reveal yourself :] Also this is my first jab of writing Sal (or Larry & Ash, though brief), hopefully I proof-read and edited this enough on my own for it to be good

Some Disclaimers: Do not ever use my stuff for AI, or any sort of data set.

Another snowy, winter evening in Nockfell, Minnesota slips by, spent sat next to a stretched out Sal. Your eyes skim the textbook balanced in his lap, physics, it's like another language to you. Slowly he turns the page, immersed in the texts and diagrams printed neatly inside.

Softly, you interrupt his focus, "do you think they'll ever stop arguing?"

Snapping out of his thoughts, his head raises, "Hm? What's happening?"

"Listen." You nod, smiling as you look over to Larry and Ash, a thick black bun piled on top of his head and her reddish-brown hair draped over her shoulders.

"-but charcoal is so much more fun." Ashley grumps, a thin vine-like stick you bought for her birthday clasped in her fingers.

Friendly, Larry quips back, "I'm telling you, graphite is much easier to control, charcoal gets everywhere!" His gestures mimic an explosion, a pencil caught in his hand.

Nearly silent, Sal's raspy voice whispers back, "I see what you mean now."

Shifting, you duck your head closer to his ear, "they've been at it for at least an hour now."

Quiet, he mutters, "They like art a lot more than I do."

You pick at the stray threads wisping from the hole in your jeans, "True, you're much more of a mathematician than the rest of us," you concede, tapping the thick textbook in his lap, "…besides Todd."

"How is that physics class going?" you ask, watching his head move away from your gaze, looking instead to the CD player. Sanity Falls quietly seeps from it- well, as quiet as Sanity Falls can be.

A soft sigh collides against his prosthetic, "It's good, just time consuming," he slumps further into the bean bag, "how's your job at the salon?"

You wince, reflecting on the day before, "…Messy. I butchered someones hair yesterday…"

He hesitates a second, before mumbling, "…ouch"

"yeah…" grimacing, your mind wanders off to the blunt layers and too much hair littering the floor. The cold slowed your hands, between that and your scattered mind… well someone walked out unhappy.

Sal's eyes focus on the pair on the other side of the room, watching their hands curve as lines smooth onto the paper. You may not be able to see his face, but you can tell there's something on his mind.

"…Do you want to practice on mine…?" he offers, bright cyan eyes staring, questioning.

You start to protest, your eyes widening at the trust he offers, "No I couldn't-"

He interrupts, steady in tone, "It's fine, already a mess anyways." His pale hand runs through the shaggy blue mess, overgrown and choppy.

Hesitating, you watch the uneven blue waves settle, "…are you sure?"

"Yeah." His response is simple, firm.

A lull in the conversation follows as you mull over the choice: risk your freinds hair, and improve your skill, or leave it be?

You and Sal may have met in a rather unconventional way, (a burning wig and ringing fire alarm were involved) but you two still get along unusually well. Maybe it's something to do with his desire for styled hair and your need of practice.

"Do you think they'll notice if we leave?" you ask, suddenly twice as nervous as before.

His eyes glitter with humor, "in an hour, sure."

Laughter bubbles in your chest, a happy glow greeting Sal's eyes as he sets his textbook aside. Roaring laughter from Larry bursts the quiet bubble you've had with Sal for the last few minutes, the both of you freezing your struggle from the bean bag.

Breaking the pause, he quips, "better now than never."

Your keys jingle in the lock as it finally loosens, the door swinging open as Sal stands behind you, silent as ever. Green carpet and neutral walls greet your eyes, decorated with family pictures and a colorful rug.

Following you closely behind, his eyes survey the empty apartment, "your parents aren't home?"

"They're busy tonight," you reply, striding to the kitchen, tossing your keys onto the counter with a loud clatter, "do you want something to drink?"

"No, thank you." he replies, as you shuffle through the fridge. Dissatisfied with what you find, you shut the creaking door with a sigh.

"well, then to the chair with you" you gesture towards the small dining table cramped against the far wall, humor laced in your tone.

The chair squeaks as he pulls it from the table, watching you duck into the bright bathroom just off the living room. Folding his arms, he settles his head onto the cold surface, watching a tiny carpet beetle creep across the marbled vinyl as he waits.

It's not long before you flop down into the chair beside him, setting down a black, plastic box filled with your hair tools. Combs, scissors, shears… you're pretty sure you have a curling iron somewhere.

"So… what do you want done?" you start, eyes lifting to the spotless mask that adorns his face- well except the purple-ish pink section across his left side.

"uh… whatever works best…?"

You stand, his gaze following your movements. Yours on the other hand are more concerned about his choppy layers, adjusting his gaze forward and down.

"hm…" you hum anxiously, fingers brushing the straps holding his mask in place, "can this come off?"

Relief floods your veins as his hands reach up, working the clasps loose. A glimpse of exposed sinew reflects in your eyes as he sets it onto the table, his hands resting on his knees.

Slowly, blue hair floats and collects on the ground, minutes ticking by as you work, your hands warm and mind clear. Finally, you finish, guiding him to your bathroom and trying not to run him into every wall on the way there. Your hands rest on his shoulders, the both of your expressions reflected in the mirror.

"You can open your eyes now." You say, tapping the fraying burgundy of his shirt sleeve. His eyes crack open, jaw popping wide as he leans forward to inspect your handiwork. Your hands slip from his shoulders, pride gleaming in your smile.

He turns to you, disbelief across his expression, "I don't believe you butchered that clients hair at all."

You just smile, a bit cheeky. Many mannequins, and incidents when you were five, desiring new bangs, led to this skill of yours- though Sal's bangs are much more impressive than the ones you did when you were five.

BOOO, Surprise. Have a fav piece of artwork I found. Thanks for reading till the end <3

Hi!! Can I request a request for a Sanji fluff fic where he and the reader were exploring an island but the reader fell and his leg got broken and cut and now Sanji needs to set the bone Otherwise it will come out of the wound.? Sorry if this sounds harsh or something, but I want to see how Sanji will calm the reader down.

Here you go! Don't have much to say except sorry i took long ive been celebrating Halloween by treating myself to sleeping. Im actually hanging out with friends rn but thought i'd finish this up for you

OH MY GOD

Sanji x male reader. Platonic. 2199 words. Gore warning and broken bone obviously.

“You really are quick with things, Sanji. You bought groceries, brought them to the ship, and now you’re exploring with me.” You say to the cook as you hike up a mountain, turning to him as you walk backwards. “You even changed out of your suit super fast to go hiking! Then again with this weather you’d die of heat stroke with a suit on. Nonetheless you’re doing a lot better than me too…” You fan yourself with the collar of your shirt, it’s humid and hot. You’re starting to feel gross with all the sweat and humidity on your skin and hair, maybe you should’ve used something for this but you underestimated the weather.

“Of course I’m quick, I always need to make sure the ship is stocked for Nami-san and Robin-chan. Maybe you’re just slow.” He says a bit mockingly at the end and you grumble a bit. He’s not sweating as much as you either, and it’s not that you're wearing anything worse than his loose Hawaiian shirt and shorts, your clothes have as much and maybe even more airflow! Yet here you are, moistly uncomfortable. You’re getting a little jealous.

“You have an advantage because of your legs, not that I’m weak!” You defend your honor, “Plus I’m not doing badly eith-” unfortunately that’s interrupted as you step on a rock wrong, your ankle twisting. Sanji’s eyes widen and he reaches out to you, but it’s too late. You’re falling. You look down, your breath quick. If you’re going to survive this you need to land properly. Fate has other plans though as you move to land on your legs, you forgot this mountain isn’t straight down. One of your legs slams into a jutting rock, slashing into the flesh and snapping the bone as you scream in pain. Sanji had already hopped off of the mountain to catch you, but he isn’t falling fast enough. The sound of your scream and a snap makes him rush, having to use his airwalk to force himself down quicker. He finally spots you and grabs onto your arm, the impact on the rock had at least slowed your fall a bit. The motion hurts your shoulder but he’s able to grab your waist as well to stop it from dislocating. The problem now is that his air walk can’t support the two of you, especially when you’re both already falling.

“Shit!” He curses, trying to slow down the fall with his ability, which works but still doesn’t soften the impact enough to not hurt. The only solstice is that, because the mountain isn’t straight down, he’s able to use a few jutting rocks to slow you both down more. Eventually you both land with Sanji holding you, the impact on his feet sending vibrations through his body. He’s safe, though his feet hurt. Once the vibrations stop he collapses onto his butt with a sigh of relief, you on his lap. The snap he heard earlier pops into his mind. He looks at your body and goes pale when he notices your leg, he may be safe but you aren’t. “Fuck..!” He sets you on the ground, blood is pouring from the wound and he can see the bone peeking out.

“i..is it bad..?” Your voice is hoarse and weak as you try to sit up, which is quickly stopped by Sanji pushing you back down.

“Shut up, don’t look and just lie there.” The adrenaline is making the pain numb but he doesn’t know how long that’ll last before you end up struggling from the pain. He curses that he doesn’t have anything with him, and that he can’t bring you to Chopper in this state. He could move you quickly with his speed but the problem is your leg. At that speed, and with it unable to be tucked anywhere like an arm, it would be moving and getting worse. He slowly rips away anything that could be around the wound, “Don’t move, you’re going to mess me up.” and tries to make sure you and/or him don’t worsen it. “Ugh.” It’s gross seeing the bone almost poking out.

“how bad is i-” You try to sit up again but he shoves your upper body down.

“I said don’t move!” He barks and stands up with you laying on the ground, sighing with a hand through his hair. “I’m gonna find something to splint your leg, stay here.”

“What if a bear comes?”

“Tough luck.” He lights a cigarette, realizing maybe he was being harsh from stress. “I’ll be back quick. Promise.” Gentler now, he runs off to find a stick to splint, leaving you there. Your adrenaline is starting to wear off and you clench your jaw, hoping that it’ll somehow make more; or at least make it last til you can get to Chopper. Meanwhile Sanji is looking for a stick appropriate enough to use, trying to calm his own panic that his friend is counting on him. Once he finally finds one he runs back to see you with your eyes closed. “Shit shits shit, (Y/n)!” He crouches down next to you and pats your cheek.

“i’m awake, just tired.” You groan, your eyesight blurry from disassociation.

“Too bad, stay awake i-i can’t- if you—just-” He keeps stuttering, panicking while he tries to position the stick so it’s not making the damage worse. He needs to do this, if he messes up he could make everything worse, even disable you. This isn’t when Zoro’s injured, he’s sturdy with a higher pain tolerance than someone with CIP disease, you feel pain; and he actually cares if you feel that. “just.. relax.” It sounds like he’s trying to calm himself down too. “I’m going to try my best.” Even if he doesn’t want to, he ends up having to slightly move the bone so that it isn’t stabbing through your flesh, flinching when you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle a loud curse. He rips the cloth of his shirt to tie the stick to your leg, but he can see the way you’re panting and struggling to keep your eyes open. You’re going to bleed out and he can’t do anything else. If he bandaged the wound he’d harm the bone, and it’s not like he could sew it. “I’m going to slowly lift you up.” He whispers and puts you carefully over his shoulder. Sanji wishes there was a way to carry you better but anything else would be worse, this way he could at least hold onto you by your back and not leg. “Don’t fall asleep, please.” His voice is shaky as he starts to run.

“okay..” You’re cold, the wind is making you colder. Is it even a hot day out? You remember it was but if it was why is everything so cold. You start to shiver and get dizzy, breath shallow and rapid. He notices this and tries to keep you closer, sharing body heat even if it isn’t doing much from the wind. “thank you..” You manage to say, choking up. “for everything, for trying to save me even now. you’re a good friend and your cooking was always good.” This is how you’re going to die, your eyes tear up.

“Stop, stop talking. My cooking is good, and you’ll keep tasting it. Don’t act like you’re already dead.” The cook scolds you as he runs back to the Sunny, ignoring how cold you’re starting to get. Once you two make it to the Sunny he hops onto it, you wincing from the jolt of landing. Zoro, who was napping, immediately wakes up and sees the cook while sensing something is off. Once he sees you and your injury he scowls and stands. “Where’s Chopper?” He sighs and starts walking towards the railing of the ship quickly.

“He isn’t here yet, I’ll go get him.” Zoro says which is quickly stopped with a leg in front of him.

“Hell no, I’ll go look for him. Stay with (Y/n) before you get lost.” Sanji states, sensible enough to stop the swordsman from going on a fruitless journey.

“Lost? The only thing lost is your brain, cook.” He can't let it slide though, swordsman’s pride.

“I’m saying this shit for your own good, mosshead!”

“Hah!?”

“You’re useless with directions!”

“You’re just useless in general!”

‘guys i’m bleeding out.’ You weakly think to yourself.

“Hey I’m back!” Chopper walks onto the ship holding some bags, cheerful, which stops when he spots you looking pale. “(Y/n)!?” He drops his bags and runs over to you and Sanji, stopping the fight when the cook spots the little reindeer.

“Chopper, someone finally useful.” He still takes a jab at Zoro though, who barely contains a retort so Chopper can work. “His leg broke while we were exploring, I splinted his leg but couldn’t do anything else.” The doctor nods and takes it from here, carrying you to bring you to the medical room. Once the door is shut as he goes inside the ship Zoro’s eye trails to Sanji.

“Of course you couldn’t do anything else.”

“Can you shut up!?”

______________

Chopper finishes bandaging and treating your leg, sighing in relief when he’s done. “Don’t move too much.”

“Yeah I keep getting told that.” You look at the blood bag connected to your arm, feeling better already, when there’s a knock at the door. Chopper opens it and it’s Sanji holding a plate of food, catered to help you.

“You said he could eat, yeah?” Sanji asks the doctor and he nods. “Good.” He comes inside and looks at you, placing the plate on the nightstand next to you. “Here.” He hands another to Chopper, who missed a meal to treat you. “You too.” The reindeer brightens up.

“I’m gonna eat this outside! Call me if you need anything!” He says happily, then runs outside to eat in the Sun.

…

…

It’s awkward! You’re a guy so Sanji’s never been super nice to you, not as mean as others but not nice like this! Though you suppose you’ve never had a broken leg he had to set before. It feels weird having him be so caring with no backlash, you even started getting emotional near him earlier. You reach a hand out to grab the plate but you can’t place it on your lap properly since your leg is in a sling, it’d be uncomfortable to have to constantly twist to get a bite too. The cook sighs and grabs a chair to sit at the bed, grabbing the plate to put on his lap. Your eyes widen. “Are you going to feed me-”

“As if! I put it here so you don’t have to keep twisting, you could drop the food too.” He hands the fork to you. “You have two perfectly good arms.” That makes more sense, you grab the form and stab it into a piece of chicken.

“It’s good.”

“I know, and I told you you would taste it again.” He clutches the plate a bit tighter, remembering the words you spoke as if they were your dying ones. “So don’t thank me for ‘trying’ to save you. I did. You’re here and you’ll keep tasting this over and over.” His voice is getting shaky again, it must’ve been traumatizing having your dying friend in your arms.

“I’m sorry for stressing you out, I said those things because I didn’t want you to blame yourself if I died. I’m the one who twisted my ankle and broke my leg.” You feel guilty.

“Don’t act as if that would make me happy. I was worried, you’re always—doing things like this. You thought you were going to die and you didn’t ask for me to hurry up or get angry you were trying to soothe me. Me! Like you weren’t the one dying!” His hand goes to his head, running his fingers through his hair.

“I was plenty scared, you were soothing me too.” At that Sanji stands up, places the plate on the chair, and paces the room. He almost leaves but he wants to make sure you eat everything.

“I…” He rubs his eyes. “I’m glad you’re alive. I should’ve done a better job at setting the bone, I’m sorry.” You reach over and manage to get another bite of chicken.

“Yeah it hurt really bad, but you aren’t a miracle worker. I just hope I can walk soon, it’d suck being a liability.”

“I’m sure you will, just try not to force yourself by moving-”

‘again?’

“-and eat up.” He picks the plate up again and sits back down with it on his lap. “I’m not a doctor but I’ll keep cooking dishes for your recovery. Don’t get picky.” He takes the fork from you and stabs it into multiple parts of the dish, shoving it in your mouth as a nice combination of flavors. “If I find an empty plate I’m forcing it down your throat.” Sanji grumbles, not that he would actually do that. He just wants you to get better, hope you have a big stomach.

Japes and Jubilations, Pt 4

The Sanctity of Sacred Spaces Masterlist

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

(Part 1) | (Part 2) | (Part 3) | YOU ARE HERE

Part 4: Pillow Fort

The crew finds out about your sleeping habits.

You snorted awake as a frightened yelp of your name roused from your slumber. A hand around your ankle was all the warning you had before you were tugged out of the comfortable darkness you were under.

“What were you doing?” Slick asked, his and Boost staring down at you.

Head full of sleepy cotton, you sat up with a yawn. “Napping.”

“Holy shit, what if those things collapse with you underneath?” he wheezed, an arm thrown out to the bolts of fabric leaned up against each other in a shoddy tent.

You wisely chose not to mention how many times you’ve had to wiggle out of that exact situation. And the bruises that would inevitably form after being pinned by rolls of unyielding fabrics.

“That’s so dumb…” Slick sighed, ignoring your affronted ‘hey!’

It was also a good way to de-stress, the sound and light dampening effects helping you cut off from the world. And you told him so.

“You should just build a pillow fort, then!” Slick harangued. “Instead of scaring us half to death!”

You blinked. “What’s a pillow fort?”

They stared at you like you grew a second head. “You… don’t know what a pillow fort is…?” Boost asked.

Their strange reactions made you defensive as you stood up and crossed your arms. “If you guys are going to be weird about it, then just go away.”

Boost quickly shook his head, denying that. “No! No! It’s not that. We’re just surprised, that’s all!”

Shrugging, you waved them off. “I’m not sure what the importance of this ‘pillow fort’ is. If you don’t mind, I’m going to go back to sleep.”

You caught onto Slick the moment an idea went off in his head, resigning yourself to your fate as the dark-haired male grabbed your wrist and dragged you with him. “No! I have a better idea that won’t risk you being suffocated.”

Boost shot you an apologetic look as he went along with his best friend, shutting your workshop door behind him.

The three of you tromped through the Tang’s halls, with the tallest in the lead, looking for something specific. Slick didn’t stop until he saw Law passing by, absorbed in his documents.

“Cap’n!” he called, halting the man in his tracks.

Law stopped, humming to show that you all had his attention, but never lifting his eyes from the files in his hands. “What is it?”

You were presented in front of him like a guilty party, your name uttered out by Slick. “—doesn’t know what a pillow fort is.”

Law glanced at you and slowly raised a single, dark eyebrow. “And? What is the reason for telling me this?”

Slick’s eyes gleamed as he leaned forward. “The common room’s free for a while, right?”

“Yes.”

“And what about the crew duties?”

“Well…” Law drawled, pretending to ponder over a schedule that you all knew he had memorized. He shuffled the paper in his hands a bit, like a teasing bastard. “Nothing out of the ordinary for today. It’s actually a lighter day, so night shift should be done early.”

Slick’s wide grin grew even wider. “Perfect… Captain…”

Law held up a tattooed hand. “Do as you want. Don’t let it get in the way of your duties, don’t mess anything up, and put things back the way they were.”

The arm in Slick’s hold was yanked up along as he threw his up in victory. “Yes! Thanks, Cap’n! C’mon, we gotta start it early.”

“Start what early?” The plaintive voice of your navigation officer asked.

Slick turned his excited grin on Bepo, tugging you forward. And finally releasing your wrist to put his hands on your shoulders. He shook you back and forth, as if you were a rattle and not a senior officer twice his experience. “We’re going to build a pillow fort!”

 Bepo tilted his head. “Oh, is this a team-building exercise? Can I help?”

“The more, the merrier,” Boost said, with the knowledge of someone who’d spent years accompanying Slick in his antics. “Slick usually makes them pretty big, so it’d be nice to have some help if we don’t want to spend all night on it.”

Bepo’s eyes glittered at that, and you knew it was inevitable that most if not all the crew would get wind of this as the mink sped off. And it was true, the air of the Polar Tang taking on a fervent energy at the thought of a new, exciting event. You had to admit, there wasn’t much to do outside of chores on the submarine, and when the underwater stints were weeks long, it really exhausted all sources of entertainment available. So you couldn’t blame everyone for being worked up at the Captain’s go-ahead.

“Yo.” Shachi popped into the workshop, the redhead stepping in to lift one of the bolts of fabric that you could spare (at Slick’s insistence and the promise to roll them all up later). He paused as he passed by you, leaving space for Uni as he too moved about in your workshop. The redhead’s gaze felt sharp and assessing beneath his glasses, and you blinked, relying on your old, hated training not to shift nervously and give anything away. “You alright with all of this? 

The unexpected kindness threw you for a loop, and you broke your composure, eyes widening. “I—Uh…”

“If it’s too much, let me know right now, and Peng and I will tell everyone to pack it up.”

His concern warmed your heart even after so long with the crew, and you gave him a close-lipped smile. “It’s fine, Shach’. I’m just… It’s kind of exciting.”

It embarrassed you to say that, but it was true.

Shachi’s face broke into a broad grin at that admission, shooting you a thumbs up. “Don’t worry, then. We’ll make sure this is the best blanket fort you’ll ever have.”

Somehow, miraculously through the power of very careful maneuvering, lots of squabbling, and two unrolled bolts of the largest fabrics and what you think was all the blankets and pillows possibly on the Tang, the recreational space became a massive fabric structure that every single one of your nakama could fit under in comfort. Even the tallest ones, should they choose to partake, had a space for them. It wasn’t surprising that the thing got built (not with those like Ikkaku and Morsa helping), more so that everyone wanted to participate and wanted to join in on this silly little escapade that only happened because you had revealed an embarrassing facet about your childhood (or lack of). Of course, not everyone was present, as there were those who still had to go through their shifts. But they would come when their shift ended and someone else’s began. But not you for tonight.

Because tonight, you’d get the joy of experiencing your first ‘pillow fort’.

You couldn’t believe it. Full-grown pirates, led by the most fearsome surgeon of the seas. And there you all were, piled into a pillow fort of all things.

“So?” Slick prompted in a whisper, picking his head up to look at you from where he was. “How’s your first pillow fort?”

You hummed, feeling the gentle rise and fall of Bepo’s bulk behind you. Uni, already in his sleep, tossed a leg over you, the long limb pinning both you and Clione down under it. “It’s nice,” you said simply.

Law’s gravelly brogue rumbled over the space, a little grumpy after Bepo corralled him into the space. “Go to sleep, you two.”

In the dark, you smile gently up at the canopy above you.

Slick had a satisfied look on his face as he shot you a final smile before lying down. Unbeknownst to you, he exchanged a victorious fist bump with Boost for giving their dear tailor one more experience to cherish.