Hiii I saw that your requests were open so I’d loove to request something please. I hope this isn’t weird, can you write a vampire reader x either luffy or zoro the topic doesn’t really matter soo you can write whatever buttt can there be a scene where the reader has to drink blood. Sorryy its not rlly specific its totally alright if u dont have time to write this rnn!!
this was so much fun to write, thank you sm for sharing this idea with me, i hope i did it justice and to your liking! i ended up doing both luffy and zoro x reader, so i hope that's okay! if given the choice, i'll probably always go with 'and' rather than 'or' lmao wc: 4.5k pairings: luffy x afab!reader, zoro x afab!reader content: blood sharing, vampirism, devil fruit enhanced blood, zoro and luffy take their jobs as leadership seriously. of course that extends to giving you blood when you need it, what are crew mates for?
The walls were stone.
You knew that already, you'd memorized every crack, every moss-stained seam, every place where the ceiling met the floor in the hour or so you'd been trapped down here. You knew it the way you knew everything now, due to your status as a vampire, with a sharpness that felt less like a gift and more like a curse: in perfect, excruciating detail. Every groove in the rock, every drip of water somewhere deep in the dark. Every—
Heartbeat.
Two of them. Strong, steady, and completely unbothered, which was somehow the most aggravating part.
You pressed your back against the far wall and breathed through your nose, the way you'd taught yourself over years of learning what you were and what you were capable of, the kind of discipline that lived in the body rather than the mind. Slow and even. Think of the larger picture.
But you could always hear them, your ears didn't care what you wanted.
Zoro's heartbeat was low and rhythmic, unhurried even now, the pulse of someone whose body had made peace with danger so long ago it no longer registered as such. It thudded with a kind of quiet authority, steady as a metronome, and the sound of it moved through the stone chamber and directly into the part of your brain you were desperately trying to shut off.
Luffy was faster, brighter somehow, eager even at rest, like the rest of him. It skipped occasionally with what you could only assume was excitement, because of course, being trapped underground with no clear exit was just another Tuesday for the captain of the Straw Hat Pirates.
"Okay, so that didn't work," Luffy announced from somewhere behind you.
"Obviously," Zoro said.
"What if we—"
"No."
"You don't even know what I was going to say."
"It doesn't matter, we already hit it with all our best attacks."
You hear Luffy sit down — the shuffle of his sandals, the thump of his back hitting stone. "Yeah, we've tried everything," he said, in the tone of someone conducting a very serious post-battle debrief. "Your attacks, my attacks, both of our attacks at the same time—"
"The wall is still there," Zoro noted.
"The wall is still there," Luffy confirmed gravely.
You said nothing, focused on the wall in front of you. Specifically, a crack in it, about three inches long, that you'd decided was the most interesting thing in the room. More interesting than the two of them, and has to be more interesting than the sound of blood moving through living veins at a distance of approximately eight feet.
Focus.
"Hey." Footsteps. Solo or both? Both — coming closer, unhurried. "You've been quiet."
Zoro. You recognized his gait now; heavier on the left from years of carrying swords on that hip. You knew too much about both of them and none of it was helping.
"I'm thinking," you said, and were proud of how even your voice came out.
"About what?"
Nothing you want to know about. "An exit strategy."
A pause. You hear him lean against the wall nearby — the small exhale of breath, the quiet clink of his earrings catching each other as he tilted his head. Gold, all three of them. You've always been drawn to the accessory, and have practically been hyper-focused on it since you fell down here together, the way the low light bounced off it when he moved. You'd noticed, specifically, how they drew your eye down the long slope of his neck, the strong line of it, the place just below his jaw where his pulse beat the most visibly, a small and faithful rhythm.
You looked back at your crack in the wall.
Breathe.
"You've been over here for twenty minutes," Zoro mentions.
"I'm aware." Fuck, it's only been twenty minutes?
Another pause, and you know that he wasn't going to push it; that much you'd learned about him in the months aboard the Thousand Sunny. Zoro didn't ask questions that weren't necessary. He watched, he weighed, and he filed things away for later, patient in the way that only seemed to exist in people who had spent years alone with nothing but their own discipline for company.
Which meant he was already noticing something, and you couldn't have that.
"I need some space to think," you said. "I work better alone."
"We're trapped in the same room."
"I'm aware of that too."
The next fifteen minutes were the longest of your life.
You counted them by Luffy's heartbeat, which was a terrible idea and the only thing keeping you grounded, which made it both the problem and the solution simultaneously. You mapped the room for the hundredth time with your eyes, cataloging exits that didn't exist, taking stock of things that couldn't help you, and slowly became aware that the discipline you'd been leaning on was starting to thin.
Hunger was not the right word for it, not really.
Hunger was what you felt an hour after a missed meal, a mild inconvenience easily solved. This lived in the architecture of what you were, in the changed biology that had reorganized you from the inside out, and when it came, it didn't ask, it demanded.
Two heartbeats, eight feet away. Strong, and warm, and—
Stop.
You heard Luffy stand up. heard the shuffle of his steps. He's rummaging in what sounded like his vest pocket, and then, entirely without warning, he was right beside you, appearing in your periphery with the cheerful obliviousness of a man with no concept of personal space and a smile that probably disarmed people more effectively than any weapon.
"Here," he said, holding something out. "You must be thirsty, right? We've been down here a while."
You looked at his hand to see a canteen, small and dented, tied with a piece of red cord. Water. Of couse, that's what he means.
"Luffy," you started.
"Just drink it, you look like you're gonna fall over."
You take the canteen, and you're so focused on not looking at his face, on keeping your eyes on the dented metal in your hands, that you almost missed it. Almost.
His wrist, right there turned upward in the casual, completely unconscious way of someone who had never once had reason to guard against creatures like you. The thin skin of his inner wrist looked pale in the low light, and beneath it — unmistakable, inescapable — the flutter of his pulse. Quick and bright, just like his heartbeat. And you thought, with the helpless clarity of a mind slipping its leash, sweet. You thought about how sweet it would be, this boy who had eaten a Devil Fruit and carried something extraordinary in his blood, who smiled like that even underground, even trapped—
The canteen hit the floor.
You heard it as if from a distance as you're brought out of your daze. You could hear Luffy say your name and that sound was what brought you back. Your name in his calm, slightly confused voice, making you look down.
Your hands were around his wrist.
Not tight, at least not yet, but firm. And you felt it then, felt the change happening: the drop of your fangs, slow and inevitable as a tide, and the heat behind your eyes that meant they were turning; the red bleeding in at the edges, the pupils going dark.
You released him like he was fire.
Three steps back, then five. You hit the opposite wall and stayed there, pressing both hands flat against the stone, breathing hard. The hunger roared in the sudden space you'd put between you, louder without his closeness to anchor you, and you thought: this is bad. This was very, very bad, and the shame of it burned almost as hot as everything else.
"Don't," you said, and your voice came out wrong, too rough and low. "Don't come near me right now."
Luffy's sandals had gone still, and you could hear Zoro, too, now; no longer leaning against the wall, his weight shifted forward, alert. You'd given yourself away, all of it, and there was nothing left to do with that.
"Hey," Zoro said carefully. "Look at us."
"I'd rather not."
"Yeah, I don't think that's actually your call right now." His voice was even, measured, but not unkind. "How long?"
You laughed, and it came out cracked at the edges. "How long what?"
"How long since you've eaten?"
The silence said everything.
"Right," Zoro said, frustration and annoyance clear in his voice.
"I'm fine," you said, which was such an obvious lie that saying it felt almost aggressive. "I just need — I just need a minute. I just need you both to stay over there, and I'll be—"
"Yeah, but your eyes are red," Luffy said.
You closed them. "I know."
"And your teeth are all different."
"Luffy."
"I'm just saying what I see." He didn't sound scared, he sounded— interested, almost. Attentive. The way he got when something new presented itself to him, a puzzle to poke at until he understood it. "Does it hurt? You look like it hurts."
"It's fine."
"That's not what I asked."
You opened your eyes. They were both looking at you; Luffy with his head tilted and his expression open and unclouded, no trace of the wariness that would be entirely reasonable given that you had just reached for his wrist with your eyes turning red. Zoro with his arms crossed, brow slightly furrowed, doing that thing where he assessed a situation with the same energy he brought to sizing up an opponent; quiet and thorough and already arriving somewhere.
"Yes," you said finally. "It hurts. It's—" You stopped. The admission costs something. "It gets harder to think. Everything sharpens, and I can hear your heartbeats, both of them, right now, and it's — I'm trying very hard not to be something you should be afraid of."
Luffy blinked, then he looked at Zoro.
Something passed between them, one of those wordless conversations that you'd watched happen a hundred times on deck, the kind of exchange that happened between people who'd fought alongside each other long enough that language became redundant. Luffy's chin dipped slightly while Zoro's jaw set.
"Okay," Zoro said.
"Okay," Luffy agreed.
"Okay?" you repeated.
Zoro uncrossed his arms and walked toward you.
"Stop," you said immediately. "Zoro—"
"I'm not stopping." He said it the way he said most things. Not harshly, just as a statement of fact, the way gravity was a fact. "You need to eat. We're not getting out of here faster by watching you white-knuckle it against the wall."
"You don't understand what you're—"
"You reached for Luffy's wrist," he said. "I'm not an idiot, I understand fine." He stopped a few feet away, close enough that his heartbeat was suddenly everything, and looked at you steadily. "Do it."
The words landed strangely, too simple, like he hadn't just offered you something enormous and personal.
"Zoro," you said carefully, "if I start, I might not — the hunger, when it's this bad, I don't always—"
"Then I'll stop you if I need to." The corner of his mouth moved. "You're not stronger than me."
"I might be right now."
"I said what I said."
Luffy made a noise behind him that might have been suppressed laughter, but Zoro didn't look away from you.
"Frankly, we're lucky this hasn't been a bigger problem earlier. I'm sorry for not thinking of that. I have failed you in that aspect as your vice-captain."
Your heart pounds louder at that, almost breaking if it were capable. This man carries so much self-inflicted weight and responsibility on his shoulders, showing truly how much he cares for his crew that he'd take this circumstance as a lesson in failure for himself, instead of the freakish accident it was. "Zoro—"
"He goes second," he continued, voice dropping just slightly, "because if something goes wrong, I'd rather it be me, not him." Said so plainly, another statement and fact of life. And it was, the truth of it, offered up like it cost nothing, like stepping between something dangerous, and Luffy was such a deeply instinctive act that he hadn't even deliberated about it.
Something in you, underneath the hunger, underneath the discipline and the shame, went very soft.
"Nothing's going to go wrong," you said quietly.
"Then there's nothing to argue about." He jerked his chin, giving you a slight smile. "Come here."
He sat down against the wall, and you stood between his knees, and you thought, abstractly, that there was something deeply surreal about this; the first mate of the Straw Hats looking up at you with a calm that was almost aggravating, his neck bare, his pulse unhurried even now.
"You're not scared," you said.
"Should I be?"
"Most people would be."
He shrugged one shoulder. "Most people haven't watched you spend the last hour turning yourself inside out trying to protect us from yourself." He said it simply, no particular softness to it, and yet. "You're not a threat, you're hungry. There's a difference."
You held his gaze and felt something in your chest shift. All that careful distance you'd put between yourself and them, and here was Roronoa Zoro looking up at you from the floor of a stone room like the answer was simple.
"Okay," you said softly.
He nodded once, done and decided.
Your hands settled on his shoulders, and you felt him breathe, grounding himself and, in turn, you. The pulse at his throat was right there, and you didn't let yourself hesitate again, because hesitation would make it worse, for both of you.
You leaned in.
The bite was quick and clean, the kind you'd learned over years of careful practice. Pressure first, then the fangs, minimizing the pain because you'd always hated the idea of hurting anyone. You heard his breath catch, then felt his hands come to your hips — not pushing you away, just landing there, grounding, the way he'd grounded himself against every difficult thing — and then his blood hit your tongue and the sound that came out of you was shameful and helpless and entirely involuntary.
Relief.
There was no other word for it. Like surfacing from underwater, like a fist unclenching after hours of tension. It crashed through you in a wave, and your hands tightened on his shoulders, and you heard him exhale; slow, controlled, but not entirely steady, and you understood without looking that the pull wasn't entirely one-sided. That there was something in being fed from, apparently, that was its own strange gravity. His hands flexed at your hips, once, then again.
You gave yourself three long pulls.
Three, and then you lifted your head.
You made eye contact with him, and his gaze was darker than usual; not alarmed, not pained, but carrying something you'd file away to think about later, at a safe distance, when you weren't still tasting his blood. His pulse was slower now, but not dangerously, just the steady deceleration of someone coming down from something.
"Thank you," you said, and meant it enormously.
He said nothing. Gave you a look that translated roughly to obviously and also stop making it weird.
You almost smiled.
You pushed your sleeve back and bit your own wrist quickly — vampire blood, healing properties, one of the more useful things you'd discovered about yourself over the years — and offered it to him. He took the single drop it required with no ceremony, and you watched the small punctures at his neck begin to close. Then you unclipped the bandage from your bag — always there, always prepared, because you'd learned to be — and wrapped his neck with the careful efficiency of someone who had done this before and hated every moment of needing to.
"Stop," Zoro said.
You paused. "I'm just—"
"The face," he said. "Stop making it. It's annoying me."
That makes you snort despite your conflicting feelings. "I almost—"
"You didn't." His voice was flat and final. "You pulled back, you always pull back, I watched you do it for an hour before this. So stop." He waited until you looked at him. "You need it to survive and we can give it. That's the whole equation, don't make it complicated."
You looked at him for a long moment. He looked back, entirely unbothered, as though he hadn't just dismantled something you'd been carrying for years in about fifteen seconds.
"Finish the bandage," he said. "And then go eat properly so we can figure out how to get out of this before I die of boredom."
You finished the bandage.
Luffy had found a rock to sit on while you weren't looking. He was perched on it like a gargoyle; knees up, arms resting on them, neck already tilted to one side with the focused expression of someone who had given this significant thought and arrived at a very clear conclusion.
The conclusion was: yes, obviously, go ahead.
"You've been waiting," you said.
"Yep." He patted the space on the rock beside him. "Come on."
You crossed the room and sat beside him. The warmth of him hit you before anything else. Luffy ran hot, always had, and this close it was like sitting next to something bright and generative. His smile didn't waver, and his heartbeat was quick as ever.
"You don't have to be nervous," he said.
"I'm not nervous."
He gave you a look. "You're doing the same thing you were doing with the wall. The staring-at-nothing thing."
Fair, accurate, and annoying.
"Luffy," you started carefully. "My bite is going to—"
"Hurt a little, probably, and then you'll feel better," he said, with the breezy confidence of someone summarizing a process they'd already fully signed off on. "That's fine. I don't mind hurting a little." A beat. "Actually, I hardly even notice anymore. Zoro says I have a weird pain thing."
"That's— yes, I know, but that's not—" You stopped. "I'm trying to tell you that with Zoro I could feel when I'd had enough. With you, your blood is going to be different. You're a Devil Fruit user, I don't know how I'll react."
Luffy considered this with great seriousness. "Okay," he said. "So if you start acting weird, Zoro'll pull you off."
"That's your whole plan?"
"It's a good plan." He glanced past you at Zoro, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching. "Right?"
"One of our better ones," Zoro confirmed.
"See?" Luffy said. "We've got it, now stop stalling and more biting." He tilted his head further, an offering so casual it knocked something loose in you. The sheer openness of it, the complete absence of second-guessing. His hand came up and settled at the back of your neck, not pushing, just present. Stay and take what you need. You're allowed.
"You're a lot," you said softly.
He grinned. "Yep."
You leaned in, and this time when the bite landed, Luffy made a small sound — not pain, just sensation — and then his blood touched your tongue, and the world went strange.
Not bad strange, just different. Where Zoro's blood had been iron and salt and something mineral, deep as bedrock, Luffy's was almost effervescent. Light and odd and slightly — rubbery? The thought crossed your mind with a kind of bewildered sincerity, and underneath it something began to hum in your chest, low and expanding, like a frequency you'd never heard before starting to vibrate through your bones.
Your free hand, without your conscious permission, stretched.
Three feet to the left.
You felt it stretch. Your arm. Your actual fucking arm, extending well beyond any dimension it should possess, your fingers brushing against the stone wall with a rubbery sort of boing before snapping back to normal length.
You pulled back from Luffy's neck so fast you nearly fell off the rock.
"What," you said. "What was—"
Luffy looked at his arm, then looked at yours, finally at your face.
And then he lit up completely, the way he did when something delighted him past his ability to contain it, and grabbed your shoulders with both hands. "YOU CAN DO IT," he shouted.
"*What is happening?"
"YOU CAN STRETCH! STRETCH WITH ME!"
"Luffy—"
"DO THE ARM! DO THE ARM AGAIN!"
"Luffy, I don't— I don't know how I—"
"It went to the left!" He was absolutely beside himself. "Zoro did you SEE that?! Her arm went to the left!"
Zoro had both hands over his face as he appeared to be having some kind of internal experience. "I saw it," he said, muffled.
"It's your blood," you said, staring at your own hand while flexing your fingers. Completely ordinary. Completely ordinary fingers. "Luffy. I think, when I drink from a Devil Fruit user, I absorb—"
"YOU GET MY POWERS!"
"Please stop shouting—"
"THIS IS THE BEST DAY," Luffy informed the ceiling.
"We're still trapped underground."
"THE BEST DAY!"
Zoro lowered his hands from his face; his expression was the very particular one he used when something was genuinely funny, and he refused, on principle, to admit it. His mouth was doing something complicated. "Okay," he said, to no one in particular.
You looked at Luffy, who was still holding your shoulders, practically vibrating, grinning so wide it looked like it should be anatomically impossible. And then you looked at your hand again, your completely ordinary hand that had, moments ago, extended three feet to the left of its own accord, and something bubbled up in you that was mostly helplessness and a little bit of genuine, startled wonder.
"This is temporary," you said. "It should wear off when your blood metabolizes."
"BUT RIGHT NOW—"
"Right now I could theoretically stretch my arm," you said, and immediately tried to stop the smile and failed completely.
Luffy made a noise that could only be described as triumphant.
You sat back against the wall, Luffy pressed warm and solid to your left, Zoro to your right with his arms crossed and his eyes shut in the way that meant he was awake and thinking. The hunger had receded to something manageable, a distant awareness rather than an immediate roar, and in the quiet that followed you felt it: the particular tiredness that came after crisis, when the body stood down from the edge.
"Thank you," you said, quietly, to both of them. "Seriously. I know that wasn't — I know I scared you earlier, when I reached for Luffy's wrist, and I'm—"
"Not scared," Luffy said immediately.
"Luffy—"
"I'm serious." He looked at you with that direct, uncomplicated honesty that always managed to go straight past every defense you'd ever built. "I wasn't scared of you. I was worried about you."
He said it as if the distinction were obvious, like it was the only reasonable interpretation of events. "There's a difference."
The words settled over you. Beside you, Zoro cracked his eye open. "You should have said something sooner."
"I didn't want to bother."
"We know," he said. "Say something sooner anyway." He closed his eye again. "That's not a request."
Luffy's hand found yours on the stone floor. Casual. Easy. A captain's hand around yours, warm and unhurried.
"Your problems are ours," he said, like he was reminding you of something you should already know. "I mean it. If you need to eat, we're here; that's what being crew means. Your problems become mine, all of them." He squeezed once. "Understood?"
You looked at him. At the easy certainty in his face, the total absence of condition or calculation. This man who'd made a crew out of sheer love of people and the refusal to leave anyone behind.
"Understood," you said softly.
He beamed.
The Thousand Sunny's deck was bright when you finally surfaced. Someone had blasted through the ceiling eventually, which turned out to be Robin, because of course it was, and the whole crew was there, descending on you in their various ways. Chopper immediately went into doctor mode, rotating between you and both men, checking pulses and examining the identical cloth bandages wrapped around two swordsman-and-captain-shaped necks.
Nami looked at the bandages, then at you, but ultimately said nothing, filing it away with the very efficient internal system she kept for things that would become relevant later. Usopp saw them and started to ask a question, and then very wisely reconsidered. Robin smiled, which meant she'd already inferred most of it.
It was Sanji who broke first.
He came around the mast with a tray of something warm to eat, took one look at the matching bandages on Zoro and Luffy, and stopped dead. His eye traveled from Luffy's neck to Zoro's neck to your face, which was both a question and a verdict.
Then he let out a long, aggrieved, theatrical groan.
"Are you serious," he said.
Luffy looked up brightly. "We were trapped! And she needed to eat! And then guess what, Sanji?! Her arm went sideways—"
"I'm not — I'm not talking about the logistics of it," Sanji said, pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose. He looked at you with an expression that was both deeply put-upon and, underneath that, extremely sincere. "I'm talking about the order of things." He gestured at Zoro with something approaching affront. "He went first?"
Zoro looked like he was considering saying something, most likely rude and ribbing, and had decided against it.
"I offered," Zoro said.
"You wouldn't eat properly if it wasn't for me!" Sanji said, volume rising with the injustice of it. "You drink so much sake, it's a miracle you can get drunk anymore! Do you have any idea about nutrition? About balance?"
He turned to you, and his voice shifted into something that was trying to be casual and landing somewhere more earnest. "I'm a chef. Do you understand what that means? I think about what goes into a body. I care about what goes into a body." A pause. "My blood is almost certainly better. Healthier. Almost certainly more, I don't know, flavorful."
Silence on the deck.
"Did you just," Usopp started.
"I said what I said," Sanji said, very dignified.
Zoro opened his mouth.
"Don't," Sanji said.
Zoro closed it. But the look on his face suggested he was going to be thinking about this for quite some time.
You looked at Sanji, at the faint color that had appeared on his cheek that had nothing to do with the sea wind, at the hand he'd shoved into his pocket, at the complete and slightly overblown sincerity of the whole performance, and felt something warm spread through your chest that had nothing to do with the blood still moving through your system.
"Okay," you said.
He blinked. "…Okay?"
"Next time," you said. "You can go first next time."
The smile that broke across his face was immediate and enormous and then very quickly composed back into something more appropriate for a man of his refinement. He straightened his tie, then cleared his throat.
"Obviously," he said. "I'll also prepare something for you to eat in the meantime." He lifted the tray, smooth and immediate, the chef reasserting himself. "You look like you've had a day."
"You could say that," you said.
Behind him, Luffy was already explaining, at great volume, about the discovery of your temporary powers, encouraging you to stretch your arms out in display, something you and Luffy had practiced while still trapped.
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