sex with your husband has always been mind-blowing.
but was it still mind-blowing when there was now a purpose behind the action? a purpose that was drenched in hope and excitement during the first years.
each time you whispered promises to yourselfâmaybe this time. but this hope eroded, piece by piece, with every cruel, familiar outcome.
your panties full of blood.
was it still mind-blowing when you couldn't even give kento the one thing he wanted as much as you did? was it still mind-blowing when the only thing you wished with your whole heartâthe dream of founding a familyâremained nothing more than a dream?
was it still mind-blowing when your desire withered under the weight of failure, until you found yourself avoiding intimacy altogether?
kento has never once blamed you. not once.
he never asked if your period came, never let disappointment darken his eyes. he was thereâalways. and when, after years of trying, you finally did see those two pink lines, only to lose them in the silence of your bathroom floor, kento held you closely to his chest whispering reassurance words.
and kento has never ever complained about the distance you created about sex. he understood. he stayed. he loved.
but was it okay, really, for you to be sobbing on the bathroom floor of your best friend's house?
because now, everyone else's lives seemed to be moving forward without youâmarriages, houses, children. and when the gojo family invited you for their fourth baby shower, you couldn't stop the sting in your chest, the tears gathering in your eyes.
you were hopelessly, unconditionally drawn to your husband. to the way his voice softened as he spoke with the little gojo girl. to the way he let the older boys test their strength against his arm, laughing with them, patient and warm.
the hallow ache inside your chest deepened, pulling you under until your stomach twisted and your vision blurred.
you didnât know how long youâd been hiding here. how long the excuseâi just need something refreshingâwould hold before it became too suspicious. you were slumped over, hiccuping, your nose raw from wiping, your cheeks sticky with tears and snot.Â
and just as you braced yourself to standâto rinse your face, to pretendâyou startled at the sound of three slow knocks.
and shortly after the deep voice of your dear husband came. â...it's me,â there's pause for you to answer, but your throat tightens and the tears threaten to fall again.
âcan I enter?â his tone was careful. âsatoru mentioned you hadn't come back to the patio. I was⊠worried.â
the door clicked softly, opening, and his wide frame filled the doorway. he stepped inside inside without a word, not noticing you at first. his voice carried on, steady as always. âi brought a bottle of water ifââ
nanami stopped.Â
his eyes found your bloodshot one, your mascara streaking.Â
the lines of worry etched deeper across his face. ââŠyou should have called for me.â he murmured, his voice way much quieter now, breaking in its gentleness.
that was all it took.
your tears burst free again and he immediately crouches down before you. your hands clutch at his shirt, collapsing against the solidity of his chest. nanami is fast to warp his arms around you, one hand combing through your hair, the other pulling you closer, steadying your shaking body.
he whispered, so low and so close it's the only thing you can hear. he talks as if he's holding the pieces of you together. âshhh.. it's alright. i've got you. i've got you.â
âi amââ you sniffle, your words muffled against his shirt, just like you did months ago when you lost your baby. a baby that should have been living now. âi am⊠soâso sorry, kento.â
nanami's heart shattered. he feels not strong enough. not useful enough. the woman he loved more than anything was breaking apart in his arms, and there was no enemy to cut down, no curse to exorcise, no battle he could fight to spare you this pain. only the cruel, unchangeable truth of your grief.
his hold on you tightened, almostâalmostâdesperate. his cheek pressed against the top of your head. âwhy are you apologizing for, my love?â his voice was steady.
steady enough for anyone else.
but not for you. you knew him too well.
and oh, nanami wished you didnât. not now. not in this moment.Â
because knowing him meant you caught itâthe faint tremor beneath his words, the storm he was trying to keep hidden. it meant you pulled back too suddenly, and his eyes, already glistening, gave him away.
âi'm not aââ your words were torn and uneven. âa good wife.â you choked out, confession ragging with despair. âi swear ken. i want a baby just as much as you. i swear iââ the sentence broke completely, dissolving into sobs that burned your throat. your shaking hands rose to cup his face.
âyou are my wife,â his thumbs come to wipe off all the tears that fall down. âmy partner. my home. there's nothingânothingâyou have to prove to me. not with a child. not with anything.â
nanami doesn't want to see a single tear anymore on your beautiful face. on something you can't even control. but does he know he's crying too? and that your thumbs are doing the exact same thing on his face.
the sound comes out small and wounded before you even manage to push yourself halfway off the bed.
a second later, his arms are around your legs.
he drops to his knees like itâs instinct, like gravity forces him there, forehead pressing into your lap. his fingers lace behind your calves, warm and firm, holding you in place.
you freeze.
at first, it had been adorable.
the way heâd cling to your sleeve.
the way heâd pout when you stood up.
the way heâd say he just liked being close to you.
now your keys are in your hand and youâre calculating how much force it would take to pry him off without making him cry.
âhey, just⊠let me up for a second,â you murmur, trying to shift your weight.
his arms tighten.
âwhy?â his voice is tight. âwhere are you going?â
you swallow, chest aching.
âi told you. weâre out of a few things,â you try.
he lifts his head slowly, gaze bleary and eyes glassy.
âwe bought food two days ago,â he mumbles, half to himself. not accusing, not yet. just confused. âyou remember that, right? youâre not lying, right?â
your grip tightens around the keys.
âi just need some air,â you try instead.
the change is instant.
his brows knit together, fingers digging in just a little more. not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you heâs⊠there.
âair?â he repeats. âwithout me?â
you hesitate for half a second too long.
his expression crumples.
âis it me?â he whispers. âdid i do something wrong?â
guilt hits fast and heavy. you hate that it does.
he lowers his head again, cheek pressed to your thigh like youâre something fragile and heâs afraid youâll vanish if he lets go.
âi just get scared,â he admits, voice small. âyou know how i am. when you leave, my head starts⊠thinking things.â
his thumb rubs absent circles against your calf.
âwhat if you realize youâre happier somewhere else?â he continues. âwhat if you meet someone who isnât this clingy?â
your heart twists.
he isnât yelling, he isnât snapping, he just sounds afraid.
and you canât punish someone for being afraid.
can you?
no.
you sigh, shoulders sinking.
âiâm not going anywhere,â you murmur quietly. âiâm here.â
he looks up at you through his pale lashes. hope flickers in his periwinkle gaze, desperate and bright.
âreally?â he whispers.
you nod, another sigh falling from your lips. you concede to him.
âiâll stay today,â you start, brushing his bangs away from his eyes. theyâre soft against your fingers. he leans into your touch instantly. âokay? we can just⊠stay in.â
relief floods his face so fast it almost startles you.
âthank you,â he breathes, squeezing you tighter before easing his grip just enough to shift closer instead of restraining. he rests his head against your stomach now, arms wrapping around your waist to settle you back down.
âi love you,â he murmurs, his voice warm and sincere.
you run your fingers through his hair comfortingly.
âi love you too,â you return, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
his lips curve against your shirt where you canât see.
he counts it as a victory.
small, but a victory, nonetheless.
he doesnât need to forbid you from leaving.
he doesnât need to lock doors or hide your keys.
not when guilt works so much better.
not when all he has to do is tremble a little, look wounded enough, and you fold for him every time.
heâll keep being soft.
heâll keep being scared.
heâll keep making you choose him.
again.
and again.
and again.
because one day, you wonât even think about leaving anymore.
and when that day comes, he wonât have to hold onto you to keep you there.
hiii!! I really enjoy reading ur fics so can I ask for
Sanji x reader who has a stronger kick than him (she's a hybrid,so she has hare ears and a hare tail and the leg strength of a hare along with the jumping ablity) and they meet during a hunt for treasure when their crews clash,and she's a cross dresser so Sanji thinks she's a guy until he manages a kick to her face and her kitsune like mask falls right off before she gets up so Sanji freezes because he'd never purposely hit a woman??
Please and thanks
Out-Kicked By a Hare!âĄ
â°ââ€ËËË V. Sanji x F! Reader °ËâŽ
âĄâžâž Word count:12.6k
đ„ àŒâ Warnings: abduction/kidnapping, Violance, use of y/n, minor mentions of blood
âĄâžâž A/N: Hihi Itâs been a while! Iâm gonna try and post again because schools coming close to an end butâŠoh also how would we feel if I made a May mental health post?
The morning didn't arrive with a shout; it crept in like a secret, afraid to wake the world.
But you were already awake. You sat at the edge of your bunk, the gentle, rhythmic groan of the shipâs timber vibrating through your soles. Your ears were the first to greet the dayâlong, furred, and twitching with an independent life, mapping every shift in the salty air before your eyes even opened. High above the mast, a gull shrieked, and your nose wrinkled instinctively. The scent was a familiar cocktail of brine, old oak, and the smell of someone on the galley shift burning something they definitely shouldn't be.
You exhaled a long, measured breath, centering yourself. Your fingers traced through your sleep-mussed hair, navigating carefully around the sensitive base of your ears. They flicked under your touchâvibrant and alertâand you smoothed them down with a practiced hand. It was a habit of modesty, even if it was futile; the moment you stepped into the sun, theyâd perk right back up, broadcasting every emotion you tried to hide. Behind you, your tail gave an impatient thump against the mattress.
There was no sense in trying to find sleep again.
When you stood to stretch, your muscles coiled like overwound springs. There was a deceptive power in your frame; even a simple reach toward the ceiling felt like you might accidentally launch yourself through the deck boards. You had learned to move with a calculated softness, a grace that masked the tension of a predator waiting to snap.
The mirror across the cabin caught your reflection. You didn't lingerâyou never didâbut you took a quick inventory. The ears, the tail, the way you seemed to hover just a fraction lighter on your feet than the rest of the heavy-booted crew. Then, your focus shifted to the costume.
Kneeling by your chest, you flipped the latch with a dull clack. Inside was a curated chaos of silks, leathers, and sashesâtreasures scavenged from ports that had already forgotten your face. You selected something sharp for the day. You pulled on a fitted shirt, layering it with structured pieces that were intentional and clean. It was a look designed to make people look twice, yet leave them unable to explain why they felt uneasy. You bound what needed binding and loosened the rest, sculpting yourself into a shape that felt like you, rather than the "rabbit" the world expected to see.
By the time you were finished, the person in the mirror looked back like a dare. Your ears tilted forward, sharp and defiant.
A heavy thud echoed from the deck above, followed by a raucous shout. The crew. They were loud, reckless, and perpetually on the verge of a brawl or a celebration. Your tail flicked, faster now. You grabbed your coat, slinging it over your shoulders, and headed for the door. The wood was already warm beneath your palm, radiating the heat of a sun that promised a day full of trouble.
You didn't take the stairs.
As you stepped into the light, your legs compressed for a heartbeatâthen released. The world dropped away as you launched upward. The wind whipped past your face, your coat snapping like a flag, and you cleared the ladder in a single, silent arc. You landed on the upper deck with a faint thud that shouldn't have been heard, yet a few heads turned anyway.
"Show-off," someone grumbled, though there was no real bite in it.
You ignored them, moving through the organized chaos of the deck like a ghost that hadn't quite learned how to haunt. You passed the gamblers at the mast and the sailors hauling rope, a shadow among the living. You weren't here for the camaraderie. You were a temporary passenger on a fast ship, tied to them only by a heading and a common goal.
Resting your arms on the railing, you stared at the endless blue. Behind you, the crewâs whispers drifted on the wind. They talked of buried gold, of islands that swallowed men whole, and of riches that could buy a kingdom. Your tail gave a solitary flick. Treasure. That was the only word that mattered.
"Oi."
The footsteps that approached were heavy. You didn't turn, not even when the person leaned against the railing beside you, trying to catch a glimpse of your eyes.
"You're quiet," the voice noted. "Been here whatâthree weeks?"
"Four," you thought, but you only shrugged.
"You even got a name? Or do we just keep calling you 'rabbit'?"
Your ears twitched at the word. Slowly, you turned your head. Your expression was a mask of unreadable calm, a distance that acted as a wall. "You can call me whatever you want," you said, your voice flat and even.
The sailor snorted. "Careful. Thatâs how nicknames stick. You don't talk much about yourself, do you?"
You looked back at the horizon, where the sea met the sky in a line of perfect indifference. "There's not much to say."
It was a lie, of course. But it was a lie that kept you safe.
As the day progressed, the air began to change. You felt it in your bones before the island even broke the horizon. Your ears went unnaturally still as the wind shifted, bringing the scent of damp earth and ancient rot. When the land finally appearedâa jagged, dark tooth rising from the mistâthe crew fell silent. The island looked like it was watching them back.
You slipped away to your cabin one last time. The chest opened again, and your hands went deep, past the fabrics, to the very bottom. You pulled out a mask. It was a pale kitsune face, elegant and cold, with markings that suggested a wisdom far older than your years.
You remembered the day you joined this crew. You had made yourself look small. You had lowered your ears and let your voice shake, playing the part of the "bunny" who needed a ride and a protector. They had laughed at you, called you weak, and let you on board out of a mix of pity and amusement.
It was the perfect disguise.
You slid the mask over your face. The transformation was instantaneous. You no longer looked like prey. You looked like a predator that had finally stopped pretending.
When you stepped back onto the deck, the atmosphere shifted. The sailor who had called you "rabbit" caught your eye and froze, his brow furrowing as he looked at the masked figure standing where the quiet girl had been.
"Didn't know you had teeth," he muttered, his voice dropping an octave.
Beneath the mask, your head tilted just a fraction. "You didn't look hard enough."
The ship slowed as the island's shadow fell over the deck. The crew was checking their blades, their faces tight with fear and greed. They thought you were one of themâa tag-along, a piece of the team. But as your fingers brushed the edge of your mask, you knew the truth. When the treasure was finally within reach, you wouldn't be the soft thing they thought they had rescued.
You would be the one who vanished with everything they desired.
The anchor never hit the silt.
The captain didnât trust the shifting currents this close to the jagged shoreline, and truth be told, neither did anyone else. Instead, the heavy wooden longboats were lowered into the surf with a rhythmic, protesting groan. You stepped into the first one before an order could even be barked, landing with a feather-light grace that barely caused the boat to rock. The rest of the crew piled in behind youâclumsy, loud, and smelling of cheap grog and overconfidence. They slung their rusted cutlasses and flintlocks over their shoulders like they were heading into a seaside tavern rather than the mouth of an ancient, breathing mystery.
As the oars bit into the dark water, the island surged forward to meet you. Up close, the beauty of the horizon curdled into something suffocating. A bruised mist clung to the shoreline, coiling around the hull of the boat like ghostly fingers trying to drag the wood down into the depths. Overhead, the canopy was a strangled knot of black branches that bled the light from the sky.
Your ears pricked beneath the heavy fabric of your hood. It was too quiet. The sea usually sang, but here, the waves seemed to muffle their own breaking.
"Don't wander off, little one," a voice drawled from the bench behind you, thick with a condescending smirk. "Wouldn't want you getting swallowed by the fog before we even find the gold."
A chorus of rough chuckles rippled through the boat. You didn't turn. You didn't even blink.
"Captain should've left the rabbit on the ship," another voice added, louder now, emboldened by the laughter. "No offense, sweetheart, but this isn't exactly... your kind of work."
You felt your grip tighten on the gunwale, your knuckles brushing the salt-worn wood. Beneath the cold, porcelain surface of your mask, your expression remained a frozen void, but a familiar sharpness settled in your chest. It was the weight of a thousand similar comments from a dozen different crews on a hundred different shores. The same assumptions. The same dismissive glances.
The boatâs prow hit the sand with a wet, heavy scrape.
"Alright, move it!" the captain barked, leaping into the shallows.
The crew spilled onto the beach, their heavy boots sinking into the sodden earth with slurping thuds. You followed last, your feet touching the island with the silence of falling snow. The moment you stepped onto the land, the air grew thick enough to tasteâmetallic and old. Your ears snapped upright, hidden but sensitive to the sudden, oppressive shift in the atmosphere.
The crew pushed inland, driven by a greed that was far louder than their survival instincts. You fell into the center of the packâunnoticed, unregarded, a shadow among the shouting men. You watched as they hacked through prehistoric vines, swearing at the heat and the terrain.
"You holding up back there?" the sailor from the boat called over his shoulder, a mocking glint in his eye. "Need a hand to hold?"
"I'll manage," you replied. Your voice was a calm, flat line that gave them nothing to grab onto.
They rolled their eyes and turned away, dismissing you once more. You let them. Every step deeper into the emerald gloom only sharpened your senses. While they grumbled about their boots, you heard the sway of a branch where there was no wind. You felt the dip in the ground where the earth had been hollowed out by time. You saw the flicker of something moving just beyond the veil of mistâsomething fast, silent, and hungry.
"Bet she wonât even make it halfway," a whisper drifted back to you. "Stick close, rabbit. Wouldn't want you crying when things get ugly."
A strange clarity washed over you then. It wasn't angerâit was the cold, quiet peace of a hunter who knows exactly how the story ends. You hadn't come here for their respect. You had come for the prize. And every insult they hurled only made your task easier; the more they looked down on you, the less they saw you at all.
Your stance shifted. You lowered your center of gravity, your movements becoming fluid and predatory. Let them think you were weak. Let them believe you were a burden.
Up ahead, the path split. To the left, a wide, obvious trail, littered with broken fernsâa trap disguised as a shortcut. To the right, a narrow, suffocating squeeze through the undergrowth, nearly invisible to the untrained eye. Your ears tilted toward the narrow path. That was the way.
"I think..." you said, injecting a deliberate note of hesitation into your voice, "it might be safer to go left. It looks easier."
The captain paused, glancing at the two paths. He didn't trust you, but he trusted his own desire for comfort. "Fine. We go left."
You stepped back, letting the tide of men flow past you. Your gaze lingered on the real path for a heartbeat before you followed them into the trap. You would circle back once the chaos started.
And the chaos started sooner than you expected.
The air didn't just shift; it shattered.
"Oi! You guys look kinda lost."
The voice was bright, annoyingly cheerful, and entirely wrong for this godforsaken place. The crew halted, weapons drawn in a frantic scramble of steel. At the edge of a small clearing stood a group that shouldn't have been there.
A young man in a straw hat stood at the front, a wide, simple grin on his face that felt heavier than the mountain behind him. Behind him, the legends took shape: a swordsman with three blades, a navigator with eyes like flint, a cook exhaling a plume of blue smoke, a skeleton, a cyborg, a giant of a man made of the sea itself.
The Straw Hats.
The air in the clearing turned to lead. The Yonkoâs presence was a physical weight, bending the very shadows toward him.
"What business do you have here?" your captain snarled, his voice trembling despite his bravado.
Luffy tilted his head, his grin widening into something terrifyingly honest. "Treasure."
The standoff lasted only as long as a heartbeat. Then, someone from your crewâdriven by a lethal mix of fear and stupidityâlunged.
Zoro didn't even seem to move. There was a flash of steel, a clean clink and the attacker was redirected with effortless violence. "Don't be stupid," the swordsman muttered.
The clearing exploded. Shouts, clashing metal, and the roar of a crew fighting for their lives against a force of nature. In the turmoil, you did what you did best. You became nothing. You slipped backward, the mask hiding the predatory gleam in your eyes. A crewmate stumbled past you, glancing at your transformed posture, his eyes widening as he realized the "rabbit" was gone, replaced by something sharp and lethal.
"Waitâwho areâ?"
You didn't answer. You turned and vanished into the brush.
You ran with a silence that defied the forest, your legs pumping in powerful bursts as you navigated the narrow, hidden path. The sounds of the battle faded into a dull thrum behind you. The deeper you went, the clearer the pull became. The air turned sweet, smelling of ancient stone and forgotten gold.
The trees thinned, revealing a ruin of white stone swallowed by vines. At the center of the crumbling altar, something caught the dying light of the sunâa glow that promised a different life.
Your heart steadied as you stepped into the clearing. Behind you, two crews were tearing each other apart for a map they couldn't read and a prize they couldn't see.
But you? You were already home.
The clearing breathes around you, heavy with the scent of damp moss and the metallic tang of gold that has slept too long in the shade. You step forward, the soft padding of your boots barely registering on the ancient stone. Your gaze is locked on the ruinâs heart, where the treasure glintsâfractured light dancing off coins and something deeper, something that feels like the very pulse of the island.
Your ears angle forward. No traps. No movement. Just the thrum of your own blood.
"WOOOOWâ!"
The voice shatters the silence like a falling chandelier. It is loud, dramatic, and entirely too smooth for a graveyard of kings. You don't flinch, but your body goes stone-still.
"What a view! And what a mysterious figure standing right in front of it!"
Sanji saunters into the clearing as if heâs stepping onto a ballroom floor. He reaches for a cigarette, his movements practiced and fluid, but his eyesâsharp as a chefâs knifeânarrow the moment they land on your silhouette. He notes the mask, the stillness, the strange, light-defying way you hold your weight.
"Hm..." He exhales a plume of smoke, watching you with a newfound intensity. "Youâre not with the loud ones back there, are you?"
You offer nothing. The porcelain face of your mask stares back at him, blank and unreadable. Behind you, your tail stills completely, a silent barometer of your focus.
Sanji tilts his head, a sharper edge cutting through his casual tone. "Ignoring me, huh? Not very friendly."
When the silence persists, his gaze flickers past you to the shimmering hoard. Understanding dawns on him, cold and clear. "So thatâs how it is," he mutters, rolling his shoulder. "Canât let you just walk off with it, you know. My navigator would have my head."
You shift your weightâa micro-movement, but to a fighter like him, itâs a declaration of war.
"Right," he says, flicking ash to the side. "Guess weâre doing this."
He moves first. He is a blur, closing the distance in a heartbeat. His leg sweeps upward in a clean, practiced arcâaimed to disarm, to knock you off balance, but notably devoid of killing intent.
You aren't there when the kick arrives.
You drop low, your legs coiling like steel springs, and then you launch. The ground spider-webs beneath your feet as you vanish into the air, clearing his strike by a mile. Wind rushes past your ears, your coat snapping like a whip as you twist mid-air and bring your leg down with the force of a falling star.
Sanjiâs eyes widenâthen sharpen. He blocks.
Your kick slams into his guard with a crack that echoes through the ruins. The shockwave ripples through the stone beneath him, pushing him back half a step. Itâs the first time anyone on this island has moved him.
"Oh?" he murmurs, a small, dangerous smile touching his lips.
You land lightly and pivot. No pause. No breath. You sweep low, your strike aimed to break bone. He jumps back, barely clearing the arc, and counters with a snap-kick toward your ribs. You twist, taking the blow on your arm to reset your stance.
The space between you opens again. For a heartbeat, the clearing is silent. Then Sanji straightens his tie, his laziness replaced by a terrifying, singular focus.
"You're strong," he admits. "Not bad at all."
Your ears twitch beneath your hood. You don't respond. You disappear again, closing the gap in a burst of speed. You feint high, drop low, and chain your movements into a relentless, unpredictable dance. You are a whirlwind of kicksâspringing, striking, redirecting.
Sanji meets you blow for blow. The rhythm shifts; he isn't holding back anymore. He can't. You aren't something he needs to protect; you are a threat that demands his everything.
Your foot connectsâjust a graze against his sideâbut it's enough to unbalance him. You see the opening and take it. You launch high, twisting for a finishing strike. Sanjiâs gaze snaps up, and for a fraction of a second, he looks delighted.
"Got it!"
His leg rises to meet yours, and the collision sends a physical shock through the air. You both skid back, landing in a crouch. The silence that follows is tighter, more focused. Sanjiâs cigarette falls from his lips, forgotten.
"You're definitely not some random pirate," he says quietly.
Then, the fight escalates. It spills out of the ruins and back toward the forest's edge. Stone cracks, trees splinter, and the sheer pressure of your clashing kicks begins to draw the attention of the crews nearby. You burst back into the main clearing, and the battle between the Straw Hats and your crew falters.
Zoroâs hand stays on his sword, his eye tracking your movement with grim respect. Luffyâs grin fades into a look of genuine curiosity. They see it now: you are matching their cook, kick for kick.
Sanji resets his stance, breathing hard. "You're tough," he says.
You don't answer. You surge forward, a relentless chain of strikes forcing him back. He blocks, he pivots, he learns. He begins to narrow your angles, forcing you to commit. Your next strike comes highâand he doesn't block. He steps in.
Too late, you realize the trap. His leg snaps upward in a powerful arc.
CRACK.
The impact is square. Your head whips to the side, and the porcelain maskâthe only shield you had leftâshatters. It falls in slow motion, white shards catching the sunlight before hitting the dirt with a hollow tap.
Time stops.
Sanji freezes. His leg is still raised, but the momentum is gone. His eyes go wide, locked on your face, on your real, uncovered features.
"Aâ" The word dies. The cigarette he had just replaced slips from his lips. "Iâdidn'tâ"
His hands begin to shake. You see it clearlyâthe man who just traded blows that could level buildings is now trembling. He stumbles back, his posture crumbling.
"I hit..." His voice is a broken whisper. "A woman?"
He drags a hand through his hair, his voice rising in a frantic, desperate cadence. "No... no, no. I didn't know! I didn't see!"
He looks at you with a horror that is almost physical. "I would never! Never!"
Around you, the battle stalls completely. Your own crewmates, sensing a shift, start to jeer. "You've gotta be kidding me! Heâs backing off because sheâs a girl?"
Another laughs. "Guess that explains the jumping around. Just a lucky broad."
Something in your chest, cold and dormant, finally ignites. Your ears flatten. You turn your head toward your own crewâslowly.
"Say that again."
The voice is quiet, but it silences the clearing. You move so fast it looks like a glitch in reality. Before the man can blink, you have him by the collar, yanking him down until you are inches from his face. Your foot slams into the earth beside him, the ground fracturing under the force.
"Say it again," you repeat. "Not 'for a girl.' I am strong. Just am."
You release him, letting him scramble back in terror. You turn back to Sanji. He is still standing there, jaw tight, looking like heâs just committed a mortal sin.
"Fine," you say, your voice steady and sharp. "You don't fight women. I don't need you to."
You take a step back, centering yourself. You don't need his chivalry, and you certainly don't need your crewâs permission. You look at the Straw Hats, then at the pirates who called you 'rabbit' for four weeks.
"Anyone else?" you ask the clearing. "Or are you all done underestimating me?"
Your tail flicks once, sharp and predatory. The mask is gone, but the person underneath is far more dangerous.
The silence in the clearing was heavy, a suffocating veil that smelled of damp earth and the metallic tang of old gold. You didn't wait for a response; you didn't need one. With a sudden, violent crack of stone beneath your boots, you vanished.
You were a blur of fur and fabric, a streak of desperate intent cutting toward the ruins. The wind howled past your ears, flattening the fur against your skull. Your focus was a singular, burning point: the glint of the treasure. It was so close you could almost feel the cold bite of the gold against your palms.
"HEYâ!"
The shout was distant, a fading echo of the world you were leaving behind. You were already gone. Branches whipped your face like lashes as you dove into the overgrown path, your feet barely kissing the ground between frantic leaps. Almost there. Almostâ
The world suddenly lunged for you.
It wasn't a person, but an explosion of life. From the mossy bark of the trees, from the cracked flagstones, even from the very air itself, arms bloomed like pale, horrific flowers. Dozens of them. They didn't strike; they flowered around your limbs, locking onto your wrists, your waist, your ankles with the fluid precision of a closing trap.
You twisted, muscles coiling and snapping as you tried to tear through the silken restraint, but the grip was unyielding. You weren't crushed, but you were anchoredâsuspended mid-motion like an insect in amber.
"I was wondering when youâd make your move."
Nico Robin stepped from the shadows. She looked entirely too calm for a battlefield, a faint, knowing smile playing on her lips. Your ears flattened against your head, a low, guttural growl vibrating in your throat.
"Youâre fast," she continued, her head tilting with genuine curiosity. "And very clever. Leading your own crew to a dead end while keeping the true path for yourself? Impressive."
"Let go," you hissed. Your voice was a jagged edge, stripped of the soft facade youâd worn for weeks.
Robinâs smile shifted, becoming something more contemplative. "Tempting. But our navigator has a very particular nose for gold. I don't think she'd forgive me."
"ROBIN!"
Nami burst through the brush, her orange hair a flame against the emerald gloom. The moment her eyes hit the ruins, they ignited. "THATâS IT! Itâs ours!" She didn't even look at you; she saw only the glimmering hoard, the light of it reflecting in her eyes like stars.
Close behind her came the steady, rhythmic thud of sandals. Monkey D. Luffy skidded to a halt, his straw hat bobbing. He looked at the massive, crumbling structure and grinned with the pure, uncomplicated joy of a child at a festival. "Woahhh! It looks so cool!"
The rest of your crew began to stumble into the clearing behind themâbruised, panting, and looking utterly broken by the sheer presence of the Straw Hats. They were variables you didn't have time to solve.
With a roar of effort, you surged against the floral restraints. The sheer explosiveness of your strength caught Robin off guard for a fraction of a second. You ripped one arm free, the spectral limbs dissolving into petals that swirled in your wake. You launched forward, tearing through the remaining hands with raw, desperate force.
You didn't look back. You ran.
"HEY!" Nami shrieked, finally snapping her gaze to you. "Sheâs getting it! Luffy, stop her!"
Your fingers brushed the air inches from the gold. Then, the air itself seemed to stretch.
"Gomu Gomu noâ!"
Your ears flicked. You somersaulted mid-air, a desperate, instinctual twist that saved you. A rubbery arm snapped past your head like a whip, slamming into the stone altar with enough force to crack the granite.
"Oops," Luffy laughed, pulling his arm back with a wet snap. He wasn't angry. He was having the time of his life. "Missed! Again!"
You landed in a crouch and launched yourself again, but the playground had changed. Luffy wasn't just throwing punches anymore; he was moving with the terrifying, casual grace of a predator. He intercepted your path, his arm curving mid-stretch to predict your dodge.
You were forced off course, hitting the ground hard. Before you could rebound, more arms sprouted. Robin didn't try to pin you this time; she simply acted as a wall, redirecting your momentum back toward the center of the clearing.
"Luffy," Robin said softly.
"Yeah!"
He was there before you could even rise. Your kick went up; he blocked it with a forearm that felt like solid iron, his grin never wavering. "Woahâyouâre really strong!"
You snapped your other leg forward, a strike meant to shatter a rib, but he danced back with effortless fluidity. He was learning you. Every twitch of your ears, every shift of your tailâhe was reading the rhythm of your soul.
"Luffy, this is not playtime!" Nami wailed from the sidelines.
"Iâm not playing!" he laughed, though he absolutely was.
Your teeth ground together. The weight of the situation finally began to sink in. You were strongâfast, lethal, and cunningâbut you were standing against a Yonko. You weren't just fighting a man; you were fighting a force of nature.
You lowered your center of gravity, your breath coming in hot, ragged bursts. You couldn't go around them. You couldn't outrun them. You had to go through them. You launched one final, all-or-nothing strike, a direct line of pure, unadulterated speed aimed at the heart of the ruins.
Luffyâs eyes sharpened. The playfulness didn't vanish, but it was suddenly backed by a mountain of resolve. "Okay!"
He met you in the air. His timing was perfect, his grip catching you with a strength that made your bones ache. You twisted, trying to lash out, but Robinâs arms bloomed again, wrapping around your torso and legs like a silken cocoon. They brought you down to the mossy earthânot with cruelty, but with an immovable finality.
The impact knocked the breath from your lungs. You lay there for a moment, chest heaving, your tail lashing the dirt in a frenzy of frustration.
Robin knelt beside you, her touch as light as a breeze. "Youâre fast," she whispered, "but no one is faster than the both of us."
Luffy landed nearby, bouncing on his heels. He looked down at you, and for the first time, his gaze was tempered with a deep, quiet respect. "Not bad. Youâre really, really strong. But..." He gestured to his crew, to the mountain of power they represented. "...youâre not stronger than us together."
You bit your lip, the taste of salt and copper on your tongue. Your crew was goneâscattered and cowed. Sanji stood a few paces away, his face pale, his hands trembling with a guilt he couldn't name, unable to even look at you.
You sat up slowly as Robin released her hold. You were defeated, outmatched by a power you hadn't truly believed in until it was around your throat. But as you looked at the treasure, and then back at the grinning boy in the straw hat, your ears flicked forward.
The death glare you leveled at them was enough to make a lesser man flinch. You weren't broken. Your mind was already whirring, discarding the failed plan and building something new from the wreckage. Speed hadn't worked. Strength hadn't worked.
But you still had your secrets. And as your tail gave one final, defiant twitch, you realized that the most dangerous thing about a rabbit wasn't how fast it ranâit was how deep it could dig.
The clearing had fallen into a heavy, lopsided silence. Your former crew lay scattered like discarded dolls, the fight knocked out of themâsome unconscious, others simply too broken by the sheer scale of the Straw Hats' power to lift their heads from the dirt.
It was just you now. You, and the legends standing in a circle around the ruins.
You sat on the mossy ground, your chest heaving, the fur on your ears matted with dust and sweat. Your mask lay in two jagged pieces a few feet away, its porcelain smirk finally silenced. Without it, you felt raw, exposed to the midday sun that filtered through the canopy.
A shadow fell over you.
Sanji stood there, his silhouette blocking out the light. He wasn't in a fighting stance anymore. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, his shoulders hunched in a way that spoke of a deep, internal ache. He looked at you, then quickly looked away, his gaze landing on the shattered mask.
"I..." he started, his voice uncharacteristically raspy. He reached into his coat, pulled out a fresh cigarette, and fumbled with his lighter. His fingers were still shaking. "I didn't mean to hit you. I would have... I should have seen."
You looked up at him, your gaze hard and uncompromising. "You shouldn't have held back," you said, your voice finally steady. "I was an enemy. I was holding the treasure. You're a pirate, aren't you?"
Sanji winced as if youâd kicked him again. He finally lit the cigarette, exhaling a cloud of blue smoke that drifted toward the trees. "It doesn't matter. There are lines I don't cross. Even for a pirate." He looked back at you, his blue eyes softening with a mix of guilt and something that looked like genuine wonder. "You're incredible, you know. Iâve never seen anyone move like that. You fought like a storm."
You didn't answer. You didn't want his praise; you wanted the gold that was currently being stuffed into a large sack by a very hummed-along Nami.
"HEY! SHISHISHI!"
Luffyâs laugh boomed, breaking the heavy tension between you and the cook. The Captain of the Straw Hats bounced over, landing in a squat right in front of you. He tilted his head, his wide, dark eyes scanning your face, your ears, and finally the defiant set of your jaw.
"You're fun!" Luffy declared, pointing a finger at your chest. "You're fast, you're strong, and you have funny ears! I like you!"
You blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in energy. "I don't care if you like me. Give me the treasure."
Luffy ignored the request entirely. He stood up, his grin stretching so wide it seemed to defy the laws of physics. "I decided! Youâre coming with us!"
The clearing went dead silent again. Nami stopped mid-count of a gold stack; Zoro cracked an eye open from where he was leaning against a tree; Robin simply smiled, as if she had expected this all along.
"No," you said firmly.
Luffyâs grin didn't falter. "Why not? Weâre going to the next island! Itâs gonna be a huge adventure! And Sanji makes great food, right Sanji?"
"The best," Sanji muttered, though he was still staring at you with a look of dazed conflict.
"I said no," you repeated, pushing yourself up to stand. You glanced at your unconscious crew. "I have... I have a ship. I have a life."
"That ship is slow," Nami chimed in, finally looking up. "And those guys? They were ready to leave you behind the second things got 'ugly.' We saw how they talked to you."
"It doesn't matter," you snapped, your tail lashing behind you. "I'm not a Straw Hat. Iâm a thief. I work alone."
Luffy put his hands on his hips, his expression shifting from playful to that unshakable, stubborn seriousness that had toppled kings. "I'm the Captain. And I say you're coming."
"I'm not one of your subordinates!" you yelled, your ears flattening. "You can't justâ"
"Zoro! Sanji!" Luffy called out, throwing a thumb over his shoulder toward the shore. "Take her to the Sunny!"
"Wait, what?!" you gasped, coiling your legs to bolt.
But you weren't faster than the two men who closed the distance. Zoro was suddenly at your left, his massive hand catching your arm before you could launch, and Sanji was at your right.
"Sorry, mademoiselle," Sanji whispered, though he didn't look entirely sorry to see you staying. "Captainâs orders are absolute."
"Let me go! You can't just kidnap me!" You thrashed, kicking out with enough force to shatter wood, but Zoro simply shifted his weight, pinning your movement with the practiced ease of a man who dealt with monsters for breakfast.
"Quit squirming," Zoro grunted, though he wasn't being rough. "If Luffy says you're joining, you're joining. Save your energy for the sea."
You looked back at Luffy, who was already walking toward the beach, humming a tuneless song and swinging his arms. He didn't even look back to see if they were following. He knew they were.
As they carried you toward the shore, past the broken remains of your old life and the crew that had never truly seen you, you let out a frustrated growl that was half-sob and half-snarl.
The Straw Hats were loud, chaotic, and completely insane. They had taken your treasure, shattered your mask, and now they were taking you.
Your ears flicked toward the sound of the crashing surf ahead, where the Thousand Sunny waited. You were still furious, still defiantâbut as the salt spray hit your face, a small, treacherous part of your heart wondered what kind of food the cook actually made.
The shore was a battleground of pride and stubbornness.
Zoro had a grip like a mountain, and Sanji was moving with a strange, hesitant grace, but they both underestimated exactly how much leverage a person with your anatomy could find. You weren't a heavy-hitter in a head-on collision, but you were a kinetic nightmare.
The first time happened halfway to the longboat.
You waited for the exact moment Zoroâs weight shifted over a piece of driftwood. You didnât pull away; you leaned in, using his own momentum against him, and snapped your leg upward. It wasn't a kick meant to hurt, but a precision strike to the pressure point behind his knee. His leg buckled, his grip loosened for a split second, and you were gone.
You launched toward the treeline, a blur of fur and coat. You almost made it, too, until a pinkish blur of arms sprouted from a nearby trunk, snagging your ankles just long enough for Zoro to lung forward and snag you by the back of your collar like a disobedient kitten.
"Nice try," Zoro grunted, looking more annoyed at the sand on his pants than the escape attempt.
The second time was at the waterâs edge.
Sanji was trying to help you into the boat, his expression a mix of "I'm so sorry" and "please don't kick me again." You played into it. You let your ears droop, making yourself look small and defeated. The moment his hands touched your waist to lift you, you exploded.
You drove your elbow into his ribsâhard enough to make him wheezeâand used his shoulders as a literal launching pad. You did a backflip over the boat, splashing into the surf and diving deep, swimming toward the jagged rocks where the Sunny couldn't follow. But then, the water around you began to churn. Jinbe hadn't even been part of the conversation, but suddenly a massive blue hand reached through the currents, hoisting you back into the air by your waist.
"The Captain's word is law, little one," the helmsman said calmly, plopping you back into the longboat.
The third time was pure desperation.
As the longboat drew alongside the towering, magnificent hull of the Thousand Sunny, you waited until they were hooking the ropes. You didn't run; you fought. You turned into a whirlwind of teeth and heels. You bit Zoroâs hand, kicked the side of the boat so hard it nearly tipped, and nearly took Sanjiâs nose off with a spinning heel. You managed to scramble halfway up the side of the ship, claws digging into the wood, intent on jumping into the open ocean and taking your chances with the sea kings.
"Enough!" Namiâs voice cracked like a whip from the deck above.
Before you could reach the railing, a thick, soft rope looped around your torso, then your arms, then your legs. Luffy was looking down at you from the deck, the end of the rope in his hand, his grin as wide as ever.
"You're really bouncy!" he laughed, hauling you up like a prize fish.
Minutes later, you were sitting on the grassy deck of the Sunny, leaning against the mast. You were tiedânot painfully, but securelyâin a series of knots that even your flexible joints couldn't wiggle out of. Your hair was a mess, your ears were pinned back in a permanent scowl, and your tail was thumping the grass in a rhythmic, furious beat.
The Straw Hats stood around you, looking more amused than anything else.
"Three times," Franky noted, impressed. "Thatâs a super record for someone your size."
Sanji approached slowly, kneeling in front of you with a tray. The smell hit you instantlyâsomething rich, savory, and warm. He set a bowl of stew and a plate of golden-brown bread within reach, though your hands were currently bound to your sides.
"I made this for you," he said softly, his voice still carrying that heavy weight of guilt. "Itâs got plenty of herbs for the bruises."
You looked at the food, then at him, then at Luffy, who was sitting on the lionâs head at the front of the ship, looking out at the sea.
"I'm going to kill you all," you muttered, though your stomach betrayed you with a loud, traitorous growl.
"Shishishi! Eat first, kill us later!" Luffy shouted back without turning around. "We're heading for the next island!"
The anchor rose. The sails unfurled, catching a wind that felt far too free for someone currently tied to a mast. You were a prisoner of the most dangerous crew on the sea, and for the first time in your life, you didn't have a plan.
The Thousand Sunny cut through the waves with a buoyant, cheerful rhythm that felt like an insult to your current situation.
You were bound to the great mast, the rough texture of the wood pressing against your back. The ropes were looped expertly around your torso and armsâsecure, but not so tight that they cut off circulation. They knew you were a flight risk. They knew you were a spring waiting to snap.
So, you did the only thing a cornered animal could do. You became a statue.
You didn't scream. You didn't beg. You simply watched. Your eyes, sharp and dark, tracked every movement on the deck with predatory stillness. Your ears were pulled back tight against your skull, a clear signal of your mood, but it was the only part of you that moved.
Until Nami walked by.
She was lugging a small, ornate chestâthe very one you had bled and lied for. She was humming, a pencil tucked behind her ear, already calculating the berries. She set the chest down on a nearby table, the clink of gold echoing across the grassy deck.
The sound triggered something primal in your chest.
Thump.
It was a dull, heavy sound.
Thump. Thump.
Your right hind foot, even bound as it was, struck the deck with a sudden, rhythmic violence. It wasn't a struggle to get free; it was a drumbeat. A warning. In the wild, it was the sound of a hare signaling a predatorâs presence, but here, in the heavy silence of the ship, it sounded like a heartbeat of pure malice.
Then came the second sound. A dry, grating noise that set everyoneâs teeth on edge.
Grrrr-ck. Grrrr-ck.
You were grinding your teethânot in pain, but in a rhythmic, vibrating chatter. It was a low-frequency threat, a sound that bypassed the ears and went straight to the nerves of everyone standing on the deck.
Nami stopped mid-calculation, her hand freezing over the gold. She looked over at you, blinking in confusion. "Is... is she okay? Is she having a seizure?"
"No," Zoro said, his voice low. He was sitting cross-legged on the grass, sharpening one of his katanas, but he had stopped his work to watch you. "Look at her eyes. Thatâs not a seizure. Thatâs a challenge."
Luffy, who had been hanging upside down from the railing, flipped himself onto the deck and walked over. He tilted his head, leaning in closeâtoo close. Your teeth-grinding grew louder, the vibration visible in the set of your jaw.
"Hey, whatâs that sound?" Luffy asked, reaching out to poke your shoulder.
THUMP.
Your foot struck the deck so hard the wood seemed to groan. Your ears flicked forward for a fraction of a second, sharp as blades, before pinning back again.
"Sheâs warning us," Robin said softly, stepping out from the library. She watched you with that same clinical, yet empathetic curiosity. "Hares and rabbits... they drum their feet to signal danger. To tell the predator theyâve been spotted. And the teeth grinding... thatâs a high-stress threat."
"A threat?" Usopp squeaked, taking a strategic step behind Franky. "Sheâs tied to a mast! Whatâs she gonna do, vibrate us to death?"
"Itâs a promise," Sanji murmured. He was leaning against the galley door, his cigarette unlit, his eyes fixed on your lashing tail. "Sheâs telling us that the second these ropes come off, someoneâs losing a limb."
You didn't break eye contact with Luffy. You didn't stop the drumming. You wanted them to feel the vibration of your anger through the soles of their feet. You wanted them to know that you weren't a pet, and you weren't a guest.
You were the danger they had brought on board.
Luffy didn't pull back. Instead, he grinnedâa wide, fearless expression that made your stomach flip. He reached out and adjusted your hood, which had fallen slightly askew during your struggle.
"Youâre really loud for someone so quiet!" he laughed. He turned to the others, his voice booming. "I like her! Sheâs got a lot of spirit!"
He looked back at you, his dark eyes sparkling with a terrifying kind of joy. "Keep doing that! It sounds like music!"
Your teeth-grinding hitched for a second in pure, unadulterated disbelief. He wasn't scared. He wasn't even offended. He was encouraged.
As the sun began to set, casting long, bloody shadows across the Sunny, the crew went back to their chores, but they moved a little more carefully when they passed the mast. They could still hear itâthe steady, rhythmic thump of your foot against the wood.
A countdown.
The moon hung high over the Thousand Sunny, casting a silver glow on the grassy deck. Most of the crew had turned in, but the rhythmic thump-thump-thump of your foot against the mast hadn't stopped. It had just gotten quieter, more personal.
A creak from the galley door broke the silence. Sanji stepped out, no longer in his formal jacket, his tie loosened. He carried a small wooden stool in one hand and a plate of steaming, honey-glazed tarts in the other. He approached tentatively, stopping just outside of kicking range.
He set the stool down and sat, sighing as he lit a cigarette. The smoke curled upward toward your twitching ears.
"Youâre still at it, then," he said, his voice soft. "The drumming. Youâre going to put a hole in the ship, and Frankyâs going to cry. Heâs a sensitive cyborg."
Grrrr-ck. Grrrr-ck. You ground your teeth at him, the sound vibrating through the wood of the mast. Your eyes remained fixed on the horizon, refusing to acknowledge him.
"Look," Sanji said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Iâm sorry. Truly. About the mask. About the kick. And... well, about the kidnapping. Our Captain has the impulse control of a golden retriever with a sugar rush. Once he decides someone is 'fun,' thatâs pretty much the end of the debate."
You finally shifted your gaze to him, your nose wrinkling. "You're a cook," you rasped, your voice dry from hours of silence. "Why aren't you in the kitchen making sure the rubber man doesn't eat the pantry?"
Sanji chuckled, a genuine, tired sound. "Locked the fridge. Thrice. Heâs currently trying to chew through the lock, but thatâll take him at least another hour." He held up a tart. "I made these. White peach and honey. No poison. I promise."
You stared at the tart. Your stomach, that traitorous organ, let out a sound like a dying sea beast.
"If I untie your hands," Sanji said, leaning forward, "will you promise not to shatter my jaw? I quite like my jaw. Itâs essential for tasting sauces."
You narrowed your eyes. You didn't answer, but the drumming of your foot slowed.
He took that as a yes. With a few quick, deft movements, he loosened the upper ropes. Your arms fell to your sides, heavy and tingling. You immediately reached out, snatched a tart, and shoved the entire thing into your mouth.
Your eyes widened. The sweetness hit like a physical punchâfloral, warm, and buttery. You reached for another before youâd even swallowed the first.
"Slow down, rabbit," Sanji joked, though his eyes were bright with relief. "I have a whole kitchen full of them."
"Don't call me that," you mumbled through a mouthful of pastry. "And I'm only eating these so I have the energy to strangle your Captain later."
"Fair enough," Sanji said, leaning back on his stool. "Though, if you're going to strangle him, wait until after breakfast. Iâm making crepes."
You paused, a third tart halfway to your lips. "Crepes? With the little berries?"
"And whipped cream. Made from scratch."
You slumped back against the mast, a long, frustrated exhale escaping you. Your ears, which had been pinned back for ten hours, finally flopped forward in a moment of sheer culinary defeat. "You people are the worst. You can't just kidnap people and then feed them gourmet pastries. That's... that's psychological warfare."
"Itâs worked on most of us," Sanji admitted, grinning. "Nami joined for the money, Zoro joined because he got lost, and I joined because Luffy told me to go find a magical sea. Weâre all a little bit broken here. Youâll fit right in."
"I am not fitting in," you snapped, pointing a sticky finger at him. "I am a high-stakes thief. I have a reputation. I have a mask."
"You have crumbs on your chin," Sanji countered.
You hurriedly wiped your face, feeling a flush of heat in your cheeks that had nothing to do with anger. You looked at himâreally looked at himâand saw the faint bruise on his shoulder where your kick had landed earlier.
"Does it hurt?" you asked, your voice dropping.
Sanji followed your gaze and shrugged. "A little. But honestly? It was a beautiful strike. Perfect weight distribution. If you hadn't been a girl, I would've been honored to have my ribs broken by it."
"You're an idiot," you sighed, but the corners of your mouth twitched. "A total, chivalrous, baking idiot."
"I've been called worse," he said, standing up and picking up the empty plate. "Get some sleep. I'll leave the hand-ropes loose. If you try to jump overboard, Jinbe will just fish you out again, and heâs much grumpier about late-night swims than I am."
He started to walk away, then stopped, looking back over his shoulder. "By the way... the ears. Theyâre cute when they flop like that."
Before you could throw the last tart at his head, he slipped back into the galley, whistling a jaunty tune.
You sat back against the mast, the taste of honey still on your tongue. The drumming of your foot had stopped completely. Instead, your tail gave a single, quiet thump against the deck.
Maybe you wouldn't kill them tonight. Maybe you'd wait for the crepes.
The ropes didn't stand a chance against your teeth.
Sanji had left the hand-bindings loose, but he hadn't accounted for the sheer, stubborn sharpness of a hare's incisors. You worked in the dark, the rhythmic scritch-scritch of your teeth muffled by the steady creak of the shipâs hull. Fiber by fiber, the hemp gave way until the final strand snapped. You rubbed your raw wrists, the circulation returning in a painful prickle, and looked toward the railing.
The ocean was a vast, obsidian void. The wind howling off the waves didn't smell like freedom; it smelled like ice. You crept to the edge, peering down at the churning white foam. Your ears, usually so alert, fell flat against your back. You could feel the phantom chill of that water in your marrowâa cold so deep it would stop your heart before you could even kick twice.
No. You weren't a fish, and you weren't a fool.
Instead of jumping, you turned back to the ship, your eyes adjusting to the moonlight. You moved like a ghost, your padded feet making no sound on the grass. You didn't head for the lifeboats or the galley. You looked for the shadows.
Near the back of the deck, partially hidden by a stack of crates, you found itâa heavy wooden grate leading down into the crawlspaces beneath the floorboards. It was cramped, dusty, and smelled of cedar and rope, but it was dry. You slipped inside, pulling the grate back into place with a faint thud.
You curled into a ball in the darkness, your tail tucked tight, listening to the muffled footsteps of the night watch above. Youâd wait. Youâd wait until the next island, until the ship docked, and then youâd vanish into a crowd.
Morning arrived with a frantic shout that vibrated through the floorboards right above your head.
"SHE'S GONE!"
That was Usopp. You heard the frantic scurry of feetâheavy boots, light sandals, and the steady thump of Luffyâs landing.
"The ropes are chewed through!" Namiâs voice was high with alarm. She sounded genuinely distressed, which surprised you. "Luffy, look at the railing. There are scuff marks. You don't think she..."
A heavy silence followed. You held your breath, pressing your back against the cool wood of the hull.
"The water is freezing this far north," Robin said, her voice uncharacteristically somber. "Even for someone as strong as her... she wouldn't last ten minutes in those currents."
"No way," Luffy said. There was no laughter in his voice now. "She wouldn't just jump. She was too angry to jump."
"I shouldn't have left the ropes loose," Sanjiâs voice was a low growl of self-loathing. You heard the metallic clink of his lighter, then a long, shaky exhale. "I thought... I thought we were actually talking. Iâm a moron. I let her walk right into a grave."
"Jinbe! Can you see anything?" Franky shouted toward the helm.
"Nothing but blue and foam, Franky," the helmsman called back, his deep voice heavy. "If she went in, the sea has her now."
The mood on the deck shifted instantly. The cheerful, chaotic energy of the Straw Hats vanished, replaced by a thick, mournful quiet. You heard Nami sniffle, and the sound of someoneâprobably Chopperâletting out a small, heartbroken wail.
"We shouldn't have tied her up," Luffy muttered. You could hear him sitting down right above your hiding spot, the wood creaking under his weight. "I just wanted her to have an adventure. I didn't want her to die."
You sat in the dark, your ears twitching. A strange, uncomfortable knot formed in your chest. They were... sad? They had kidnapped you, stolen your treasure, and tied you to a mast, and now they were mourning you like a lost friend.
It was ridiculous. It was illogical. It was the Straw Hats.
You stayed perfectly still, watching a spider weave a web in the corner of your hiding spot. You told yourself you were staying hidden because it was the smart thing to do. But as you heard Sanji mutter something about "making a memorial meal," your stomach gave a quiet, treacherous growl.
You weren't gone. You were just waiting. But hearing them talk about you in the past tense was starting to make your whiskers twitch with an urge you couldn't quite name.
The crawlspace was a labyrinth of cedar beams and iron bolts, dim and smelling of old sea salt. You pressed your back against a support strut, your ears twitching at every footfall above. The guilt in their voices had been... annoying. It felt like a weight you hadn't asked to carry.
Then, the smell hit.
It started as a faint, buttery whisper drifting through the floorboards. Then came the sweetnessâwarm berries, simmering sugar, and the unmistakable scent of fresh whipped cream. Your stomach didn't just growl; it staged a full-scale riot. Your mouth watered so instantly you had to swallow hard to keep from making a noise.
Crepes.
You remembered Sanjiâs promise from the night before. He was making them. A "memorial breakfast." The irony wasn't lost on you, but neither was the hunger. You waited, your nose wiggling uncontrollably, until the heavy thud of the crew moving toward the dining table signaled the coast was clear.
You pushed the grate up an inch. Quiet.
You slid out like a shadow, belly low to the grass. The morning sun was blinding after the darkness of the hold, but you didn't hesitate. You darted behind a decorative bush, then used the shadows of the railing to reach the galley door.
Inside, the kitchen was a masterpiece of organized chaos. A stack of golden, lace-edged crepes sat on a warming plate near the window, dusted with powdered sugar and topped with a single, perfect blackberry.
You moved.
One moment the plate was fullâthe next, you were back in the shadows of the hallway, a warm, folded crepe clutched between your teeth. You didn't even chew until you were back in the safety of the dark crawlspace. The taste was a revelation: creamy, tart, and sweet enough to make your tail give a traitorous, happy wag.
Success.
Up on deck, however, the "mourning" was taking a technical turn.
Chopper was sitting near the mast, his small blue nose twitching rhythmically. He looked confused, his little hooves fidgeting with his hat. "Um, guys?"
"Not now, Chopper," Usopp sighed, picking at a piece of dry toast. "Iâm too sad to eat. I keep thinking about her cold, soggy ears."
"No, but... I smell her," Chopper insisted, his voice rising. "The scent is fresh! Itâs not like old 'she-was-here-yesterday' smell. Itâs 'she-was-just-standing-next-to-the-fridge' smell!"
Sanji, who had been leaning gloomily against the counter, snapped his head up. His eyes narrowed, darting around the galley. He walked over to the warming plate and stared. "I made twelve crepes," he whispered, his voice trembling. "There are eleven."
Luffyâs head popped up from the table, a bit of syrup on his nose. "Maybe a ghost ate it?"
"Ghosts don't eat crepes, Luffy!" Nami snapped, but she looked hopeful. "Chopper, are you sure?"
"Iâm sure! And look!" Chopper hopped down and pointed to the edge of a crate near the floorboards.
Caught on a splinter of wood was a single, long, silken strand of furâunmistakably yours.
Robin knelt down, picking up the hair with a soft, knowing chuckle. "It seems our ghost has a very healthy appetite. And sheâs much closer than the bottom of the ocean."
Luffyâs face split into a massive, delighted grin. He slammed his fists onto the table. "SHISHISHI! I KNEW IT! Sheâs playing hide-and-seek!"
"Hide-and-seek?" Zoro grunted, though the corner of his mouth tucked into a smirk. "More like sheâs hunting us for snacks."
Sanji didn't look angry. He looked like heâd just won the lottery. He grabbed the plate of crepes and set it directly in the middle of the deck, right near the main grate.
"Oh, what a shame," Sanji said, his voice loud and performative, aimed directly at the floorboards. "I made all these extra crepes with extra whipped cream and triple berries. I suppose Iâll just leave them here since no one is around to eat them. It would be a tragedy if they just... sat here. All warm and delicious."
Under the floor, your ears flattened. You squeezed your eyes shut, your stomach betraying you with another loud, echoing groan.
They knew.
The standoff lasted three hours, and it was a battle of sheer, stubborn will.
Beneath the deck, the air was cooling, and the silence above was far too loud. You knew exactly what they were doing. They weren't pacing; they weren't shouting. They were waiting. You sat with your back against a cedar beam, your ears pulled back so tight they ached. Every few minutes, the scent of the crepesânow slightly cool but still heavy with the aroma of butter and macerated berriesâwafted through the gaps in the floorboards.
It was a targeted assault on your senses.
Your stomach let out a sound like a grinding tectonic plate. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to visualize your old ship, your old life, your dignityâanything but the fluffy, golden-brown edges of those crepes. But then, the sound of a fork scraping against a plate drifted down.
"Man," Luffyâs voice boomed, sounding suspiciously like he was talking with his mouth full. "These are so good. Itâs a shame. Thereâs only three left. I might eat them. Iâm really hungry, Sanji."
"Don't you dare, Captain," Sanjiâs voice was smooth, projected perfectly toward the deck. "Those are for our guest. Though, if she doesn't show up in, say, five minutes... theyâll probably get soggy. And nobody likes a soggy crepe."
Five minutes.
The ultimatum hung in the air. You felt the twitch in your nose, the restless thump of your tail against the hull. You weren't a pet. You weren't a member of this circus. You were a master thief who had survived on scraps and cunning for years.
But those weren't scraps. Those were triple-berry crepes.
With a silent, frustrated snarl, you placed your hands on the underside of the grate. You didn't burst out. You pushed it up just an inch, peering through the slit.
The crew was gathered in a loose semicircle, a respectable distance away, tryingâand failingâto look busy. Zoro was "meditating" with one eye cracked open. Nami was "reading" a map upside down. Sanji was leaning against the railing, light catching the gold of his hair, a fresh plate held out like an offering.
You didn't give them the satisfaction of a slow reveal.
The grate flew upward, clattering against the grass, and you exploded from the dark like a jack-in-the-box. You landed in a low crouch, hair dusty, ears wild and flared out in a defensive fan. You looked like a cornered animal, your chest heaving, your gaze darting from one face to the next.
"I am NOT," you rasped, your voice cracking slightly from disuse, "joining your crew."
Luffyâs grin was so bright it practically radiated heat. "You're alive! Shishishi! I knew the water was too cold for you!"
You ignored him, your eyes locking onto the plate in Sanji's hand. You marched forward, each step deliberate, and snatched the plate with a predatory hiss. You didn't sit. You didn't say thank you. You stood right there in the center of the deck and began to tear into the crepes, the whipped cream smearing across your cheek.
Sanji let out a long, shaky breath of relief, a small, triumphant smile tugging at his lips. "Welcome back to the land of the living, rabbit."
You stopped chewing just long enough to point a fork at him. "This changes... nothing."
"Of course not," Robin said, her voice like velvet as she closed her book. "It simply means youâve chosen a warm meal over a cold hiding spot. A very logical decision."
"She's so cool!" Chopper squealed, hiding behind Zoroâs leg but peeking out with sparkling eyes. "She survived the floorboards!"
You finished the last bite, licking a stray bit of berry juice from your thumb, and looked at Luffy. He was watching you with that terrifying, unshakable certainty. He didn't look like heâd won a fight; he looked like heâd found a missing piece of his ship.
"You're still tied up at night," Nami warned, though she was smiling. "We aren't falling for the 'chew through the ropes' trick again."
"Try and stop me," you challenged, though the fire in your voice was dampened by the sheer satisfaction of a full stomach.
Your tail gave a single, involuntary flick of contentment. You were trapped, kidnapped, and surrounded by lunaticsâbut as Sanji reached out to take the empty plate, his fingers brushing yours with a gentle, apologetic pressure, you realized the floorboards weren't going to be enough to keep you away from them for long.
The silence on the deck didn't feel like a standoff anymore; it felt like a soft surrender.
You sat on a small wooden crate, the empty plate balanced on your knees. You were still dusty from the floorboards, a stray cobweb clinging to one of your ears, but the cold, sharp edge of your defiance had been blunted by the warmth of the meal. You didn't look at them, but you could feel their eyesâno longer pitying, just curious.
Sanji didn't move to take the plate immediately. Instead, he leaned against the railing a few feet away, lighting a fresh cigarette. The smoke drifted away from you, a silent gesture of space.
"You missed the fruit parfaits," he said, his voice casual, as if you hadn't just spent twelve hours hiding under the ship's ribs. "I saved the best berries for the ones I put in the hold, but the cream is better when it's fresh."
"I don't care about parfaits," you muttered, though your ears gave a treacherous, rhythmic flick.
Luffy rolled over on the grass, propping his chin on his hands. "You eat like a squirrel! Or a hamster! Fast, fast, fast!" He imitated a chewing motion, his cheeks puffing out.
"I'm a hare," you corrected, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "And we eat fast so predators don't catch us off guard."
"No predators here," Zoro grunted, though he didn't look up from the whetstone. "Just a bunch of idiots and a cook whoâs currently wondering if he should make you a snack for lunch."
You glanced at Sanji. He didn't deny it. In fact, he looked like he was already mentally inventorying the pantry. Since the moment your mask had hit the deck, he had transitioned from a formidable combatant into a man on a mission to overfeed you. It was a different kind of combatâone you didn't know how to parry.
The afternoon settled into a strange, domestic rhythm. You stayed on your crate, refusing to join them at the main table, but you stopped growling when they passed. Nami brought over a basin of warm water and a cloth, setting it down without a word. You waited until she walked away before washing the dust from your face and smoothing the fur on your ears.
By midday, the "spoiling" began in earnest.
Every time Sanji stepped out of the galley, he had something. A small bowl of chilled grapes. A slice of toasted brioche with homemade marmalade. A glass of sparkling juice with a sprig of mint. He didn't make a scene of it; he would simply walk by and set it on the crate beside you, sometimes pausing to offer a small, wink-like tilt of his head before retreating.
"He's never been this quiet about swooning over someone," Usopp whispered to Chopper, both of them watching from behind the mast. "Usually there's more spinning and hearts in his eyes."
"He feels bad!" Chopper whispered back, his little hooves over his mouth. "But look! Her tail isn't thumping anymore. It's just... wagging?"
It wasn't wagging. It was a slow, involuntary twitch of contentment that you were trying very hard to suppress.
As the sun began to dip, casting long, golden shadows across the deck, Sanji approached one last time. This time, he didn't have food. He held a small, beautifully carved wooden comb.
"Your hair is still a mess from the crawlspace," he said, stopping just a pace away. He held the comb out, handle-first. "I found this in the storage. Itâs sandalwood. Good for... well, for someone with a lot of fur to manage."
You looked at the comb, then at his handsâthe hands that had matched your strikes with such terrifying precision, now offering a gift with such careful gentleness.
You took the comb, your fingers brushing his for a second longer than necessary. You didn't say thank you. You couldn't bring yourself to go that far. But you didn't pull away when he sat on the deck near your crate, resting his back against the wood.
"The next island has a great market," Sanji said, looking out at the orange-tinted sea. "They have silks. And masks, if you really want a new one. But I think the crew prefers seeing your face."
You ran the comb through the fur of your ear, the scent of sandalwood filling the air. For the first time since youâd been taken, the ropes didn't feel like they were made of hemp. They felt like the smell of crepes, the sound of Luffyâs laugh, and the steady, quiet presence of the man sitting at your feet.
You weren't a Straw Hat. Not yet. But as you looked at the horizon, you realized you weren't a prisoner anymore, either.
The *Thousand Sunny* sailed through the starlit night, the only sound the gentle rhythmic splashing of the hull against the waves. You were no longer tied to the mastâLuffy had declared it "unfair" since you were now a "special guest"âbut you still felt the invisible tether of the man who seemed to have made your comfort his new religion.
You sat on the deck's soft grass, leaning against the railing, the sandalwood comb Sanji had given you resting in your lap. The night air was crisp, making your ears twitch and press closer to your head for warmth.
A shadow lengthened beside you. You didn't need to look up to know the scent of expensive tobacco and clarified butter.
"The stars are different in this part of the Grand Line," Sanji said softly. He didn't sit right next to you, respecting the circle of space you still guarded like a fortress. Instead, he leaned on the railing, looking out at the shimmering water. "Theyâre sharper. Brighter."
You finally looked up, your nose giving a tiny, involuntary wiggle. "They look cold."
Sanji turned his head, his blue eyes catching the moonlight. He reached into his pocket, but instead of a cigarette, he pulled out a small, silk-wrapped parcel. He set it on the railing between you. "Then itâs a good thing I made this. Itâs a hot chocolate tart with a hint of chili. For the circulation."
You reached out, your fingers grazing the silk. You unwrapped it slowly, finding a pastry so delicate it looked like art. You took a bite, and the heat of the chocolate bloomed across your tongue, followed by a tiny, playful spark of spice that warmed your chest.
"You're doing it again," you whispered, the tart halfway to your lips.
"Doing what?"
"Trying to feed the anger out of me."
Sanji let out a short, breathy laugh, his gaze dropping to your boots. "Is it working?"
"Maybe a little," you admitted, your tail giving a single, soft thump against the grass. You looked at him, the moonlight carving the sharp lines of his face. "Why? You almost broke my leg back on the island. You were ready to take me down."
"I was fighting a mask," he said, his voice dropping an octave, becoming serious in a way that made your ears perk up. He stepped a fraction closer, just enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him. "But once that mask fell... I saw someone who wasn't just a thief. I saw someone who was lonely even in a crowd of her own crew. I saw you."
He reached out, his hand hesitating in the air between you. For a second, you thought about flinching, about snapping your teethâbut you stayed still. His fingers, calloused from the kitchen but incredibly gentle, brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His touch was electric, a stark contrast to the cool night air.
"I don't need a protector, Sanji," you said, though your voice lacked its usual bite.
"I know you don't," he murmured, his thumb grazing the soft fur at the base of your ear. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine that made your tail lash once, winding momentarily around his ankle before you caught yourself and pulled it back. "But everyone needs someone to cook for them. Someone to make sure the world doesn't feel quite so cold."
You looked away, your heart thudding a rhythm that had nothing to do with a hare's warning and everything to do with the man standing over you. "The crew thinks I'm going to run at the next port."
"Are you?"
You looked at the tart, then at the sandalwood comb, and finally back at his hopeful, guarded expression. You reached out, your hand hovering over his vest before you rested your palm against his chest. You could feel his heartâsteady, fast, and completely honest.
"I might," you whispered, leaning in just enough that your forehead brushed his shoulder. "But I'd miss the crepes."
"Then I'll just have to make sure the breakfast menu is irresistible," Sanji replied. He didn't pull you into a hug, but he rested his hand over yours, his warmth seeping into your skin.
In that moment, the treasure you had hunted on the island felt like lead compared to the weight of his hand in yours. You were a hare in a lion's den, but for the first time in your life, you didn't feel like prey. You felt seen.
As the moon dipped lower, you stayed there togetherâthe thief and the cookâwaiting for a dawn that didn't feel like a threat anymore.
The morning sun finally broke through the horizon, painting the sky in soft shades of gold and lavender. The chill of the night began to lift, replaced by the familiar, lively sounds of the Thousand Sunny waking up. Above, the sails snapped gently in the morning breeze, steering the ship toward the silhouette of a new island rising from the mist.
Sanji stayed by your side until the first galley timer dinged, a quiet promise in his eyes before he disappeared to start breakfast. You remained by the railing, watching the distant docks draw closer. For a master thief, a crowded port was the ultimate playgroundâthe perfect place to slip into the shadows, find a new crew, or disappear entirely. The path to your old life was right there, just a few miles away.
"Morning!"
Luffyâs voice boomed from high above as he dropped down from the crow's nest, landing lightly on the grass. He walked over to the railing, leaning over it with his usual boundless energy, before looking sideways at you. He didn't ask if you were going to run. He didn't threaten to tie you up again. He just grinned, trusting the sea and his own instincts.
"Big market on that island," Luffy said, pointing toward the docks. "Tons of food. Adventure too."
You looked at him, then back down at the sandalwood comb in your hands. Your ears tilted forward, catching the distant, rhythmic chopping from the galley and the rich, sweet scent of vanilla and warm dough starting to drift across the deck.
Nami walked past, carrying a fresh set of maps. She paused, offering you a small, knowing smile. "If you're looking to update your wardrobe at the port, the first round is on the ship's budget. Consider it an investment."
"And I'm making berry glazes!" Chopper shouted, running past with a basket of fresh mint, his face lit up with excitement.
You let out a soft, defeated laugh, the last bit of the defensive walls you had built over the years finally crumbling into the sea. These people were chaotic, demanding, and entirely unreasonableâbut they were also the first crew that had ever looked at your face instead of your mask.
When the ship finally bumped against the wooden docks of the port, the anchor dropped with a heavy splash. The gangplank was lowered, and the crew began to pile off, laughing and arguing about who got to spend the allowance first.
Sanji emerged from the galley, wiping his hands on a clean towel. He walked over to you, stopping at the edge of the gangplank. He didn't push. He just held out an open hand, waiting.
"Coming?" he asked softly.
You looked at the bustling market ahead, then at his hand, and finally up into his warm blue eyes. Your tail gave a decisive, happy flick behind you. You didn't take the path into the crowd. Instead, you reached out and slid your hand into his, your fingers locking together.
"Only if there are crepes on the way back," you whispered.
Sanjiâs smile brightened, a genuine, radiant expression that made the morning sun look dim. "As many as you want."
With your hand in his, you stepped off the ship and onto the new island. You weren't running away from a threat anymore, and you weren't hunting for a lost treasure. You had already found it on the deck of the Sunny, surrounded by the strangest, kindest family the sea had ever known.
synopsis: he'd spent years planning a revolution to take back power from a greedy king. kidnapping the princess he once had a one-night-stand was just a political move. definitely not to stop you from getting married to a foreign prince!
pairing: jester x princess x prince
wc: 4.3k (part two to this)
content: angst + plot, fem reader, reader is very much resigned and avoidant, mutual pining (he thinks it's unrequited), arranged marriages, mentions of sex work, not a lick of historical accuracy or attempts at it, yearning, kidnapping, falling in love, jester is a little oblivious, lots of jealousy
PREVIEW BELOW
âWe need to talk about-âÂ
âI know,â he muttered, nodding his head back towards the table he came from.Â
The topic was obvious.Â
You.Â
The princess whoâd just given them enough to afford swords and armor to outfit the rest of their troops theyâd slowly been accumulating over the last two years. They were mostly day laborers, disgruntled farmers and young men whoâd been wronged one way or the other, ready to lay down their lives if it meant making their families lives just a little better.Â
âWere there any problems cashing it out?â He asked, sliding back into the seat as he scanned the crowd for any signs of the royal guards.Â
âNo,â his advisor mumbled. âI suspect the royal family is too preoccupied with personal matters to notice any of her spending habits.âÂ
He chuckled at that, shrugging his shoulders as images of those idiots you called parents flashed across his mind. They barely seemed aware of what was going on in their own court, clueless to what the common people experienced. Why would they care about their daughter?Â
âSo weâre in the clear?â He grinned, already imagining how much theyâd be able to do with your money â even if a tiny sliver of him pricked at the memory of you handing it over.Â
Guilt he wasnât accustomed to threatening to invade his clear conscience.Â
Normally, he couldnât really care less about the women he fucked for coins.
But you were different.Â
Okay, perhaps he used to have what some might classify as a crush on you. The cool exterior of the cold princess who rarely strayed from her throne, a tiara tilted on your head as you stared at the crowd of nobles like they were nothing.Â
He liked that.Â
Enjoyed trying to make your mouth twitch up in a sly smile when he mocked your family in front of you. Found a little thrill in the rare laughter he managed to draw from your lips.Â
He never once thought that you would request his services.Â
Or be bold enough to get down on your knees from him, looking up at him with those glittering eyes of yours, as if you were the one seeking acceptance from him. That youâd let him fuck you in your chambers, take you right there with those foolish ideas of love.Â
Whatever satisfaction he got from sleeping with the daughter of his enemy was overwritten when you started talking about that. Just reminding him that he was no more than a toy for pleasure, a means to an end.Â
He told himself that was all you were to him.Â
You were basically a blank check.Â
Even if having sex with you had felt like the start to something special new.
He wasnât so clueless as to not pick up on how your mouth quivered when he left, detected a hint of bitterness in how bluntly you suddenly started addressing him.Â
But perhaps if he picked up a bouquet of flowers, maybe stole a slice of cake from that bakery all those nobles bragged about visiting, he could slip his way back into your good graces.Â
You might have useful intel.Â
He didnât mind doing whatever it took to earn another bank note from you.Â
Distributing your wealth back to where it should be â give all the starving children a break from begging for a while.Â
âAre you sure she didnât suspect you of anything?â His advisor pressed, and he just rolled his eyes.Â
âWe were a little busy,â he muttered.Â
Besides, why would a woman like you concern yourself with the affairs of someone like him?
âI suppose it doesnât matter now,â his ally exhaled, shoulders slumping with the exhaustion of late nights and long days.Â
âWhatâs that mean?â He frowned, hair sticking up on the back of his neck as he abruptly got the feeling heâd been too focused on himself to see something right in front of him.Â
âThey just announced the princessâs engagement.â
FULL FIC ON PATREON HERE (also features a wide assortment of other oneshots/series!)
sukuna never uttered the words 'i love you'. he didn't feel like he needed to. you knew he loved you. it was as clear as day through his actions. the way he always pats your head and squishes your cheeks when you're acting cute, hugging you immediately when he notices you're not feeling lile yourself, asking the cooks to prepare your favourite foods so he can make you happier.
you didn't necessarily need him to tell you that he loved you...but you always hoped, dreamed to hear him utter those three beautiful words to you, but the time never came.
until today. no one had suspected anything. not you, not sukuna, not the servants. but here you were...on the floor, in a pool of your own blood, one hand placed gently on your deep stab wound as sukuna stared in pure horror.
he quickly knelt down infront of you and held you in his arms. you were breathing heavily, eyes glassy as blood flowed form your mouth too. you look up at him and a small smile forms on your lips.
"kuna...", you cup his cheek and his jaw clenches.
"who did this to you...?", the anger in his voice was evident, as well as despair. he knew that someday he would loose you. never to see you again, never to hear your gorgeous laugh, your stupid jokes...but he didn't expect it to be so soon...not now
"don't worry about it...you're here...", you cough up more blood and wince as he only stared at your face. he could see the life draining from your eyes, your body slowly getting colder as you struggled to breathe. "i'm sorry i couldn't protect myself properly. i'm so weak..."
"i will find whoever did this to you...i promise", you let out a strangled laugh and his heart clenches. tears stream down your cheeks and you close your eyes.
"i love you so much sukuna. i'm so happy i got to love a man like you...". it's getting harder to breathe, harder to see him clearly, harder to ignore the pain. "i hope we meet again in the next life...". he watches as your hand that was once touching his cheek so lovingly, so tenderly, fall back to your side. the sparkle in your eyes gone. the slow movement of your chest no longer visible. you were gone, gone like the wind right in his arms. the same arms you fell asleep in every night without fail. the same arms that carried you.
sukuna couldn't believe it. he stayed there with your body still in his arms, his kimono drenched in your blood and all the moments he had with you flashed before his eyes, and now...now he wishes that he would have said those three words he always hesitated to tell you...to express how he feels.
he pulls you impossibly closer to him and whispers in your ear, voice dry and husky, "i love you too..."
Ghost!reader always smiling as they meet the robins. They died around the Wayne mansion across the street and suddenly was attached to this house.
The boys had gotten use to the childish ghost who always hum a cheery tone. Damian at first was annoyed at the humming, until it makes him fall asleep easily. Now he asks the ghost hum him to sleep every night.
Dick loves to yap the ghostâs ear off, heâs glad to have a listener when others arenât in the mood to listen to him.
Jason is glad to know you arenât some random ghost that hasnât done the things you wished to do before dying. Jason loves to hear you talk about your life. Heâs thinking of maybe bringing something that reminds you when you were living.
Tim loves to experiment with you. He loves using you to prank his team. Bart almost his pants when he seen a white sheet float to him.
The robins love the friendly ghost.
As the robins grow, the ghost faded. Tim frowns, feeling as if something is missing.
Damian canât sleep at night.
Jason missed a voice that use to talk to him. And it wasnât the voices in his head at times.
Heyyy could you make a fluffy comfort oneshot of ticci toby x ignored reader? So like the reader tends to not be listened to and like, doesnt talk much because of it? If that makes sense! Just a super cute fic full of reassurance and physical affection/words of affirmation lol! Thankyou! đ
ê° â ê± â âHEARDâ
pairings: ticci toby x female reader
wc: 1.1k+
cw: angst (?), cringe, not proofread, also probably contains grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!! the creepypasta mansion is real!! >:(
â (a/n): i actually haven't written anything in soooo long!!! also i'm extremely bad at writing comfort so i'm very sorry :(( -> m.list
You were used to silence.
Not the peaceful kind, the kind that wraps you in warmth and lets you breathe, no. Yours was the heavy, suffocating kind. The kind of silence that clung to you because no one ever truly listened.
It wasn't that you never spoke. You did. Sometimes. When it felt important.
But your words were often brushed aside, ignored, or spoken over. So, with time, you just sort of... Stopped trying.
It was easier that way. Easier not to try.
Because trying meant disappointment, and disappointment always hurt more than silence.
It wasn't hard to see why Toby had fallen for you.
You were both outsiders in your own ways, different kinds of overlooked. The moment he met you, something just clicked in his brain.
He didn't talk over you. Didn't brush you aside. Didn't make you feel like you had to fight to be heard.
And yet you still held back.
Even in the mansion, surrounded by people who were supposed to be your people, it was no different. Conversations just flowed around you, and if you tried to join in, it was like no one would even notice. Sometimes, someone would glance your way, but by the time you worked up the courage to speak, the moment would pass.
And tonight was no different.
You sat on the worn out couch, curled up in the corner, listening as the others talked. Ben was ranting, Jeff was being as loud as ever, and Toby was laughing along.
You saw a gap in the conversation, a tiny opening where you thought that maybe it was the time to speak up. All you had to do was wait for Ben to finish his sentence, and then you could finally start.
"Iâ"
"That reminds me ofâ"
Jeff quickly yelled out, not even acknowledging you. You couldn't even finish your first word, the subject just changed in an instant.
Your mouth snapped shut, the grip you had on your shirt tightening. Of course.
Your chest ached, but you swallowed it down. You had no reason to feel upset. This was normal. You should be used to it by now.
So you did what you always did. You quietly forced yourself to your feet, slipping out of the room unnoticed.
Or at least that's what you thought...
...
Toby had noticed.
It had taken him longer than he'd like to admit, but once he saw it, he couldn't stop seeing it. The way your eyes would light up for half a second before fading again. The way you always shrank into the background, like you believed you didn't deserve to take up space.
And then there was tonight.
He saw the way your lips parted, just barely, before the conversation swallowed you whole. He saw the way your shoulders dropped, how you curled in on yourself before quietly leaving the room.
He wasn't the smartest guy, but he knew that wasn't normal.
So, without hesitation, he pushed himself off the couch and followed after you.
...
You were sitting outside, knees pulled to your chest, staring at the dark trees surrounding the mansion. The cold air nipped at your skin, but you didn't really care. It was better out here, quieter.
A soft thud sounded beside you.
You turned your head just in time to see Toby plop down, his face twitching for a quick second. He didn't say anything at first, just sat there, hands fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. It was strange, Toby wasn't really the type to sit still.
"You didn't have to come out here." You glanced away, a frown slowly forming on your lips.
"But I wanted to." He replied, his gaze softening.
Silence.
You weren't sure what to say, so you didn't speak up. Just like you always did.
"Are you okay?" Toby spoke up after a while, his voice unusually soft.
You hesitated. You weren't used to being asked that. At least not in a way that felt... Real.
"Yeah." You lied, gently nodding your head, avoiding his gaze.
"Liar." He shot back.
You glared at him, but there was a grin plastered to his face, eyes filled with something warm that made your stomach twist.
"Come on." He nudged your shoulder. "I saw what happened."
"It's nothing, I'm used to it." You felt a bad taste in your mouth, like you were about to cry. Your chest tightened, and then came that same heavy and suffocating feeling you always had.
"That's notâ That's not alright." He shifted so he was fully facing you, his knee brushing against yours. "You shouldn't have toâ to be 'used to it'."
You shrugged, trying to ignore the lump forming in your throat. "It's not like it's on purpose. I just... I don't matter as much as everyone elseâ"
Toby's entire body went still. For a second, you wondered if you had said something wrong, which you did. Then, before you could react, he leaned closer, his forehead gently pressing against yours.
"Don'tâ... Don't say that." He mumbled, his voice was softer than you had ever heard it.
Your breath hitched as your heart skipped a beat.
"You matter." Toby continued, tilting his head so his nose brushed against yours. "I hear you. Even when no one else does, I do."
Your eyes burned, but you blinked rapidly, forcing the feeling down. "Toby..."
"I mean it." He whispered, his hands coming up to gently cradle your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. "I love hearing you talk. I love the way your voice sounds. I love the way your eyes light up when you get excited. And I hate that you don't feel like you can share it."
"It's hard..." A shaky breath left you as you prayed that the tears in your eyes weren't visible.
"I know." Toby whispered. "But I promise you never have to be quiet around me." He smiled, tilting his head playfully. "Actually, I insist you talk my ears off. Give me all the random thoughts in that pretty little head of yours."
A smile tugged at your lips, and before you could stop it, a small snort escaped you.
"There it is, there's that smile!" His smile widened as he gently kissed your forehead before pulling back to look at you again.
Your chest felt lighter, like maybe, just maybe, you weren't as invisible as you thought.
Toby pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in warmth. He rested his chin on top of your head as he started swaying you gently. "I love you." He mumbled into your hair. "I'm gonna make sure you never feel alone again."
And for the first time in a long time, you actually believed it.
!!WARNINGS!!: Torture, Explicit Descriptions, Gained Trauma, No Happy Ending.
They didnât know.
How were they SUPPOSED to know..?
Two months ago, Task Force 1-4-1 realized they had a traitor amongst themselves. Someone giving information about them to Shadow Company. They didnât know who, until all signs started to point to you. Since then has been hell.
They tied you to a cold metal chair with ropes so tight they rubbed your ankles and wrists raw. You still remembered the day it started. Waking up with a splitting headache in the cold, dim lighted, concrete room. A table in front of you. On it you saw a hammer, pliers, a metal bat, sets of knivesâeven a damn corkscrew.
That first day was hell. You shrieked at the top of your lungs that you were innocent as your main tormentor, Ghost, broke your fingers slowly. Knuckle. By. Knuckle. When you still didn't confess he took the pliers and slowly ripped your nails from your broken and mangled fingers. Making you scream louder in agony.
The rest of the days blurred. Hardly any food or water; just barely enough to keep you alive. Every time a wound scarred they re-opened it. Soap held your jaw open today as Ghost slowly ripped out your teeth. Your voice long gone from hours of shrieking before this. No fight left in you when their radio's crackled to life. "Soap, Ghost, hall. Now." Price spoke. His voice sounded uneasy.
When they left you tilted your head forward. Letting the blood from your removed teeth drip slowly from your lips. It was painful to breathe. Bruised, cracked, and maybe even broken ribs and a broken nose they kept targeting so it never healed. A broken hand and forearm from three harsh strikes of the hammer. Several deep gashes from some of the knives Ghost used on you. A dislocated kneecap from being bashed in by the metal bat.
You couldnât hear what they talked about out in the hall. But you knew it was something shocking based on the dead silence that came after Priceâs muffled voice. In all honesty, over these two months, you started thinking it was your fault this happened to you. Thinking it was your fault you were framed; you just made yourself too easy a target to frame as the traitor.
You heard rushing feet and the sound of vomiting in the trash can down the hall. You guessed Gaz since you heard Soap ask Price something, you heard Priceâs gruff grunt and Ghostâs Manchester accent as he swore under his breath. Your eyes fluttered in exhaustion but snapped open on instinct as you heard the door open again. Theyâd caught the real traitor, a newer recruit who had everyone wrapped around her finger.
Price had entered the room.
âI didnât do itâŠâ You whispered hoarsely. Your captain nodded. âI know, Y/N⊠I knowâŠâ he whispered softly. You flinched as he unsheathed his knife from its holster, he moved slowly as he cut your hands and legs free. He tried to pick you up but you cried out. He carefully set you back down and radioed for a few medics. They arrived a short while later as Price kept you awake to be sure you couldnât slip away before everyone could apologize at the very least.
The medics came soon enough and moved you carefully onto a gurney so as to avoid shattering any bones further. They moved you to the med bay as fast as possible to get your wounds tended to and disinfected. Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and Price all sat outside of the med bay as they listened to your agonized shrieks and whales of pain from the medics setting your already healing knuckles back in place.
It took a few hours after your corrective knee surgery for the boys to be allowed to finally see you. The medics said youâd be out for a few days so your body could regain a small bit of strength. None of the team wanted to leave your side. They all had set themselves up so they could sleep by the cot the medics placed you on. In and out, they would individually go on missions or go in pairs so two of them could still keep their eyes on you incase you woke up.
A few days turned into a few weeks. And you finally woke up. But not as easily as the team would have wished. A cold sweat soaking your forehead as you groaned in agony in your sleep until you woke up shrieking and tried to curl into yourself for comfort, only causing yourself more pain. The boys had to pin you down so the medic could inject the pain killer.
Through the times you were awake, you refused to let any of them remotely try to touch you. They could see it. The distance you put between yourself and them. The distrust in your eyes. The anger and hurt in your furrowed brow. You had trusted them with your life. And now you were beginning to think you should have never let your guard down. Not for one damn second. But a small part of you thought it was somehow your own faultâŠ
Gaz spent the most time with you. No touching, just trying to get you to talk. Even if in anger. He was slowly piecing your trust in him back together bit by bit. When physical therapy came around you asked him to help you because your knee hurt too much to do it alone and the medic seemed busy with another soldier. The rest of the team saw this, beginning to hope they had a chance at forgiveness as well. They werenât aware that you never forgave Gaz. You just trusted him enough to count him as a person you will let help you. Not a friend. And not a teammate. Not anymore.
Soap was the second to earn the right to help you, then Price not too long after that. Ghost⊠was a different story. All he did was glare at you, as if he still thought you were the traitor. To which you returned the hostility. He hadnât let it show, but he was devastated. He wished heâd have never believed that false evidence. He couldnât even look at you because all he saw was his work etched into your body. That was why he glared. It wasnât meant for you, it was directed at his work that scarred your body.
When you could walk on your own without crutches, you went to Price in the break room where everyone was. Expression cold and dead serious as you handed him resignation papers. He froze. âYou canât⊠we need you on this team Y/Nââ he started but you cut him off. âNeed? Or want me here because you loathe yourselves so much you need me to reassure you that youâre forgiven with my presence?â He staggered back. âI never forgave any of you.â You added.
âThere isnât a day weâve woken up without regrettingââ he tried again. âYou donât get to play that card! Do you know how many times I woke up crying in agony from wounds that are already healed because of you four!? Oh, or how about the fact I canât stand to be touched by ANYONE anymore!â You snapped back. âY/NâŠâ Price started to beg. âNo. I hate you. All of you. For what you did to me. Donât even contact me. If you have something to tell me, keep it to yourselves.â
The team was silent. You walked to your barracks and packed. Booked a flight back to your hometown. And walked out the doors of the base. Giving none of them the time of day to apologize or try to fix things between you and them. You hadnât even told them you neglected to sleep most nights out of fear someone would come out of the shadows and beat you half to death againâŠ
