#(I'm so sorry Nami you probably didn't deserve this) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gellavonhamster · 1 month

Text

assigning each straw hat pirate a knight of the round table

because I am currently obsessed both with One Piece and Arthuriana; not any kind of serious AU material, just silliness; I Wrote This for Me but You Can Read If You Like

Luffy: Arthur, not due to any similarities in characterization but purely on the functional level - the boy king, the inspirational leader and, as Sun God Nika, a mythical figure believed to return when people need him the most

Zoro: Lancelot, the perfect warrior who embodies that post that's like "it's not my fault that my love language is acts of service and all I know how to do is kill". There is no Queen Guinevere here, so all the undying devotion is aimed at the king instead. Canonically has massive tits. Mihawk is thus implied to be the Lady of the Lake, and I think that's hilarious

Nami: hear me out: Kay. Sharp-tongued, rather cynical, but loyal to a fault to his king/adopted little brother. Nami as part of the Coward Trio vs. Kay being unlucky on quests and generally the butt of the joke. Isn't known to be a great warrior but occupies an important position (navigator vs. seneschal) that keeps the ship/court going. Besides, looking from the opposite direction, I just think Kay deserves to be the hot girl

Usopp: Usopp, sweetie, I'm so sorry, but I gotta say Tristan. Because Tristan is constantly lying about his identity in the most ridiculous manner possible and it somehow works. That part in Le Morte d'Arthur when he's asked what his name is and goes "Tramtrist" and no one suspects a thing even though "Tramtrist" is just "Tristram" with syllables switched around has big Sniper King energy. Also, can't forget the beautiful blonde healer girlfriend

Sanji: oh, that's the easiest one. Gawain. The Maidens' Knight, the ladies' man, a great warrior and one of the king's closest and most trusted men. If you put together Gawain's characterizations from different texts, from SGATGK to Le Morte to the Vulgate & Post-Vulgate to Chrétien de Troyes to everything, you end up with a contradictory character who is simultaneously the best and the worst guy you'll ever meet, which is how I often feel about Sanji, tbh. Would totally fight at a tournament on behalf of a little girl. Has some kind of an epic gay thing with Lancelot

Chopper: Yvain. Son of a sorceress - ah, pardon, a woman of science; associated with animals; known to be nice and kind (the Vulgate Cycle describes him as the one "whose heart will be filled with every kindness"). Occasionally goes insane in the woods (Monster Point), but, like, who doesn't

Robin: try as I might, I can't pull any direct parallels out of my ass, but I do think that narratively she can be seen as kind of a quasi-Mordred. Since her very childhood she was proclaimed to be bad news and expected to eventually cause a catastrophe, but where Mordred, whom no one tries to persuade the prophecy doesn't define him, ends up becoming exactly what he's expected to become, Robin has people who support her and trust her even after witnessing her be the bad guy in the past, so she never becomes the evil others expect her to turn into

Franky: Sagramore the Desirous (or the Unruly, depending on the text/translation) is a big, strong, good-natured knight who probably has low blood sugar needs to have a snack after fighting because otherwise he'll pass out, much like a certain cyborg needs his cola. In the Post-Vulgate, he and Mordred were raised together, which can be linked to Frobin's fates being intertwined since childhood, because I've Connected the Dots (you didn't connect shit)

Brook: I wanted to pick a character of the older generation who nevertheless isn't a mentor figure to Arthur, and I struggle to think of a better option than Pellinore - not the predatory piece of shit in the medieval texts, but the eccentric but loveable old man in Camelot (1967). Brook is also on a quest focused on an extraordinary beast! Only he's not hunting it, he's trying to get back to it because that beast is his friend 🥺

Jinbei: I honestly don't remember if he counts as the Knight of the Round Table, but I am hereby appointing him Ector - Arthur's adoptive father and one of the nicest parental figures in Arthuriana (and probably one of the nicest people in Arthuriana, period). I've also considered Galehaut for the "(partially) non-human ruler who allies himself with Arthur" angle, but that would imply Jinbei/Zoro and I'm not ready to deal with that.

#one piece #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #cat burglar nami #god usopp #black leg sanji #tony tony chopper #nico robin #cyborg franky #soul king brook #jinbei #gella talks one piece #talk talk talk #initially this included a line about sagramore being a himbo & franky being a genius engineer easily mistaken for a himbo #but i ctrl+f'd through a couple of volumes of the vulgate & i can't find what prompted me to think of sagramore as a himbo. besides Vibes #wouldn't wanna throw unwarranted accusations around

46 notes · View notes

shanksbaby · 1 year

Text

Shanks x Fem!Reader - Old Love

you are one of the members of the Straw Hat crew, you have recently become one in reality. You have been following in the footsteps of your captain Luffy for about a year and a half, you decided to be a part of it when you met him on an island that he was liberating from the world government.

being with the Straw Hats is one of the best things that ever happened to you. There hasn't been a day since you've been with them that you've felt sad or bored. If they saw you down there were already Usopp, Luffy and Chopper to make you laugh; and there was Sanji who was ready to cook you the most delicious dishes.

so you can't help but feel lucky. You are now on the island of Bourgeois, you will stop for a few days and then leave, due to the lack of supplies you were forced to stay on this island.

you and Nami took the opportunity to stop and do some shopping, you spent the day squandering the treasure you captured a week earlier. Have you bought designer clothes, bathing suits, hot lingerie (especially for you as you were trying to pass an old story behind you, and what better way than through sex with strangers?)

after a ( tiring ) day of shopping go back to your companions, and even before setting foot on the ship you hear Luffy's voice screaming from the latter

" Y\N! Nami! Get ready tonight we feast, an old friend is here"

Oh! how much you loved when you feasted, you loved eating in company, especially when there was a lot of food. You were already preparing to taste whatever delicacy Sanji had prepared, your happiness drops immediately.

the friend your captain was talking about was your ex, Shanks. Your gazes meet, both of you are surprised to see each other's faces, both you and Shanks have probably imagined never meeting again.

what should you do? go say hello? and pretend those years together and the break up didn't happen? you don't know what to do, and you stare at him, you actually stare at each other. It seems that he too is undecided, but luckily your companions save you, who greet him and start chatting with him.

during the evening you sit away from him, and mutter only a few words, never directed at him, and you get up early from the banquet inventing an excuse. You couldn't still be close to that man, not after what he did to you: he left you, and above all he left you on that island.

tsk, and now you're supposed to act like nothing happened? like it's a new face? No thank you. Seeing him converse so cheerfully as if you weren't in the presence of him, the person he swore he loved and then treated like an old object makes you feel sick. Not to mention he's seeing a person right now.

your stream of thoughts is interrupted by a familiar, all too familiar voice.

"Y\N " Shanks says with an almost uncertain voice, you've never seen him like this " I wanted to talk to you…"

"About what? How you left me like trash or how you came here acting like I wasn't there?"

he flinch at your words. "I wanted to apologize for how it went and for leaving you like that."

you don't reply to him, you simply turn to look at the calm waves of the ocean, you don't want to look at him or talk to him. What should you answer to these words? Okay, is all forgiven? Fuck, nope. You don't want to be mad at him forever (he was a friend first anyway) but right now you don't see why you forgive him.

" I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you" he speaks after a few minutes of silence " I know you don't bel-"

" Shut up " you interrupt him "I don't want to hear your bullshit" you give him a fiery glare again "I don't care what your intentions were, you still hurt me."

" And you are absolutely right. And I know that after stranding you on an island I don't deserve to say it, but it wasn't an easy choice. I didn't do it overnight, I wish you understood that"

a bitter laugh escapes you at those words " And do you think it was easy to have a stable relationship one day and then the next day to give up, not even giving the time to try to understand what happened?"

"It wasn't easy for both of us"

"yeah"

more minutes of silence pass and you think that if you had met Shanks a year ago you would have killed him, and you would not have had this reaction, now you are calmer, perhaps a sign of the fact that the wound is healing.

"Anyway, I find you really good you know? And the underwear you bought with Nami is really -" you immediately punch him in the stomach angry at the words he just said. Always been a pervert.

"You stayed the same, a pervert! "

"And you remained the usual violent one" but as soon as he sees your gaze he hastens to add an apology

" …You know, I'm still mad at you, don't pretend to be friends. Not that I don't want to be your friend anymore, but right now I can't"

"I know, I'll wait when you're ready"and he gives you one of those smiles that you fell in love with, and you realize that you're never really over it, you still love him.

after these words, he leaves, withdrawing from his companions. You can't help but look at him from afar with bitterness.

#shanks x gn reader #op shanks #shanks x you #red haired shanks #shanks #akagami no shanks #shanks x reader #shanks one piece #one piece fanart #shanks x oc #shanks icons #one piece x gn reader #one piece #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n

111 notes · View notes

stealth-black-leg · 1 year

Text

Tweeted a random thought last night, turned it into a twitter-thread ficlet and ended up going to bed at nearly 5 a.m. 😎👍

Nami gets the newspaper one morning and it's all over the front cover. Flashy headlines, pictures, information about the assassinated royals.

Under the king's picture there's a short chronicle about the loss of his queen and his third son only a few months apart, many years ago. Next to him, the princess, his eldest. She was beautiful, Nami thinks sadly, staring at what little she can see of her face, between her bangs covering half of it and a hand on her forehead casting a shadow over her eyes. "Died at 24", the paper says, and it makes her feel sick.

Then she looks at the deceased princes' faces and at first glance all she sees is Sanji's.

It's short-lived, but terrifying nonetheless, and for a second she needs to look away from the pictures to catch her breath. When she looks again, she notices the differences: they all have different hairstyles, and are probably not blond judging by the grey colouring. Their eyebrows curl, too, but on the other end, and they don't sport any facial hair. But their features—the shape of their nose, the line of their jaw—are all so terribly familiar.

When she reads their names, all the pieces click together.

—

She finds Sanji preparing breakfast in the kitchen, humming a happy tune as he dances around, hands flying here and there to make sure every crewmate will have their share. "Good morning, my darling!" he chirps when Nami walks through the door.

She hates doing this to him.

"Sanji," she says with a heavy voice, and he immediately stops fidgeting to look at her with worry, sensing something's not right. "Do you remember back in Jaya, when you mentioned you were born in the North Blue?"

He tenses, lips twitching into a nervous smile.

"Yes, dear, but don't worry about—" he tries to wave it off, but the words get stuck in his throat when Nami bluntly asks: "Were you a prince of the Germa Kingdom?"

Sanji stills. For a moment, Nami fears he's not even breathing, his frame completely frozen in place. Then: "How do you know?" he asks softly, quietly. Fearfully.

If it were anyone else asking, she thinks he may have lashed out, found an excuse to divert the topic into an argument and hopefully forget about it; but since it's her, he only watches like a deer caught in the headlights.

She really, really hates doing this to him.

Without a word, Nami hands him the newspaper.

Sanji is the most expressive person she's ever known. He's always emoting, be it happy or sad, thoughtful or absent, friendly or deadly; his face shows his every emotion, constantly shifting between grins and pouts and frowns and cheeky winks. It's never hard to tell what he's thinking, especially when they're at sea and it's only the Strawhat pirates aboard the Thousand Sunny.

But when he takes the paper from her, after his eyes fly over the headline and widen for a moment, his face turns stone-cold serious. She watches him read everything, for once unable to tell what he thinks, and it pains her more to see him like this than any other reaction would have.

"They're all dead," Sanji mumbles at large. It's not exactly a question, but not an observation either. It's like he needs to say it out loud for it to settle.

"I'm sorry," she says, because it feels like the right thing to say, even though she knows she's missing half of the story.

Sanji shakes his head, stiff and slow. His gaze is fixed on a single point in the page in front of him, and Nami has a good idea what it is when he says: "She didn't deserve this," his voice trembling with sorrow.

Nami tries to imagine receiving the news of Nojiko's sudden death like this and the mere thought makes her want to throw up. Sanji is probably keeping himself together way better than she would've.

"The others did," Sanji adds then, forcefully slamming the paper down on the counter, and hangs his head, hiding his expression from her. "My biological father, and my brothers—they were always awful to me, made my childhood a living hell," he confesses in an angry voice, fingers clenching and tearing into the paper. Nami can't remember ever having seen him so rageful, so vengeful, and it almost scares her. "I should be happy they're dead," he sniffs then, the darkness gone to be replaced with childlike confusion, and there are tears running down his cheeks when he raises his head to look at her and ask: "So why am I crying over them?"

Nami walks to him and pulls him into a hug.

Sanji holds on to her like a drowning man to a lifeline, arms pulling her as close as she can get as he sobs into her shoulder. She doesn't speak, because she doubts there are any words that can offer him comfort. She doesn't ask, because she figures Sanji will tell her when he's ready to.

She holds him. She helps him bear the weight of this confusing, soul-wrenching grief, and she shields him from the crew's well-meaning but invasive concern once they start joining them in the kitchen.

For as long as he needs her, she's there for him.

#one piece #one piece fics #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #nami #sanami #not quite but close enough #and now for the blog-specific tags:#chibi nasu #fics #kir's originals #tuttifrutis #parchises #supernenes #power rangers

113 notes · View notes

strawberriemarswrites · 4 months

Text

CHAPTER THREE

Chapter Summary: Bartolomeo wants to make sure you're okay and has a close call. He needs a bit of stress relief. Pairing: Bartolomeo x F!Reader Rating: Explicit (18+ for the story, NSFW chapter) TW: mentions of the violence and attempted drugging of last chapter; stalking; Bartolomeo watching you sleep and then masturbating about it. Ao3 Link: Chapter Three (3,550 words)

“Oh, ew!” Nami recoiled, opening the front-passenger door. “And you didn’t slap him for that?”

You shook your head, face twisted. “He smelled like rotten fish. I didn’t want to touch him in case the smell got stuck to me.”

You and your friends were piling into Drake’s SUV after leaving the bar. You and Robin had split the cost of the tab after she’d warned you it was probably time to go before things went sideways. Curiously, you noticed the receipt showed a discount, but didn’t think much of it and still made sure to leave a hefty tip in the jar before you left.

“I’m sorry about your last drink,” Robin said. “I should have made sure you moved it to our table before we left so it didn't have to go to waste.”

You waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. If he did something to it, he’s just gonna have to be salty that his plan didn’t work.”

“He tried,” Drake said.

You and Nami shouted simultaneously, “WHAT!?”

He nodded, starting the engine. “I was going to say something, but then I saw your friend behind the bar switch the glasses.” He looked at you in the rear view while backing up. “I can guarantee you, that prick is having a much worse night.”

Your heart leapt to your throat. Bartolomeo did what? Of any other option he could have picked — getting you a fresh drink when you got back, kicking the guy out, even warning you what happened — he switched the drinks, and made a man drug himself.

Nami's laughter cut through your thoughts. “Holy shit, that’s priceless.”

Robin concealed her mouth when she giggled, though the mirth still shone in her eyes. “You should join us for drinks more often, Drake. You have a sharp eye.”

“I would like that.” His eyes flicked to Robin for a moment before coming back to you. “I’m not trying to overstep here when I ask this, but can I say something I hope you’ll keep in mind?”

You nodded, and he continued. “I know I’m not really the chattiest at work, so I don’t know you very well, or how well you know Bartolomeo. But even if I wasn’t made aware that he was part of why you picked that bar, I can tell you’re interested in him at the very least.” Drake shifted into drive, now focused on getting out of the parking garage. “While I'm not against what he did from a moral standpoint, it seemed to be a bit of an extreme measure.” He glanced at you once more in the rearview. “Someone who does something like that without hesitation — he’s either cocky, reckless, or dangerous. Maybe even all three.”

“Oh, come on.” Nami nudged him. “That creep got what he deserved! Besides, it's in the big guy’s best interest to keep the bar and customers safe. I don't know about you, but I think making a guy roofie himself is a great way to deter bad behavior.”

“It is a bit unorthodox,” Robin said. “And technically, if anything bad happens to him afterward, Rooster could be held responsible even if the reasons were justified.” She then smiled again. “Very justified.”

“I just said I wasn’t against it morally,” Drake muttered, sighing. “Just be careful if you intend on seeing him more. Keep one of us in the loop in case anything happens.”

You nodded again, taken a bit by surprise. Drake wasn’t exaggerating when he said he didn’t talk much at work. He tended to keep to himself, only really interacting with Vivi and the head archivist. Yet, you learned more about him in one night out than you’d learned in the four months you’d been working with him. And while you felt his assumptions about Bartolomeo were somewhat misguided, you were still relieved to know that you had an extra person in your corner.

It was nearly midnight by the time you were dropped off at the apartment building. Nami and Robin had already messaged Vivi and Rebecca about the night you all had, and a new group chat was made so that Drake could be included on pay-day drinks planning. You had gotten to see Bartolomeo, and he made a very... interesting impression on your coworkers. And you’d spent the entire night unworried by any break-ins, which upon returning to your apartment you found no evidence of, bringing further comfort to your once anxious mind.

All things considered, the night had been a success. And you were exhausted.

You collapsed onto your bed, now in your comfiest pajamas and staring up at the ceiling. You wondered what time the bar closed, if you’d be awake when Bartolomeo got off work. Okay, it was probably a little shady how he decided to go about handling a drink-spiking creep, but at the same time it was kind of thrilling to think how bold that move was. Besides, it felt like he was dealing a little bit of karmic justice. Maybe he was just protecting his bar and his other patrons, like Nami had suggested, but something deep inside you couldn’t help but hope that maybe he’d done it specifically to protect you.

I’ll need to find some way to thank him, was your last thought before you slipped off to sleep.

It was nearly three in the morning when Bartolomeo returned to the apartment building. The rush in his veins still hadn’t subsided, even after he’d purposefully ridden the subway past the correct stop to try and walk off the rest of the adrenaline. All he wanted to do was see you again and ask if you were all right after what happened.

He knew you were all right, he’d seen you leave with your friends and you hadn’t tried to reach for “your” drink. Even if the guy with the glasses said something to you about the swap, you’d still never need to know just how much further Bartolomeo had gone to protect you. He’d never try to make himself out as wholly innocent — that would just be ridiculous. And frankly impossible. But it was still better if you didn’t know just how vicious he could be.

All the same, however, Bartolomeo imagined you’d probably be a little shaken if you were told about what nearly happened. Anyone would be. So even though he knew you were okay, he had to be sure.

That’s what he kept telling himself as he broke his promise to himself not to climb the fire escape again.

Correction: he never promised not to do that. What he promised was that he’d stop breaking in. There wouldn’t be any harm in just looking through the window, right?

Once he reached the fourth floor, Bartolomeo just barely managed to keep from reaching for the window’s bottom rail, instead sitting down and leaning his shoulder against the building. He bent one knee and propped his forearm atop it, resting his head against the glass pane, its chilled surface like a fire extinguisher to his overheating nerves. After a few deep breaths to bring him down the rest of the way, he peered into the darkness of your bedroom, bringing one hand level with his brow to better block out the reflections in the window.

You were sleeping. Pretty soundly by the look of it. Good. If you were asleep, you weren’t worried. If you weren’t worried, you felt safe. And you were safe — he was going to keep it that way. He watched for a few minutes, the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest lulling him into a sense of calm he desperately needed after stabbing that fucking scumbag.

His fingers twitched. He was no stranger to violence. In a way, he thrived off of it. He’d spent most of his childhood getting into fistfights with other kids over things like whose turn was it to look after the class hamster (“Don't let Bartolomeo do it, he’ll eat it!”), or who was better at dodgeball (“Just because you throw the ball hard doesn’t make you good at it!”). When he first met Gambia in middle school they didn’t introduce themselves, they just started throwing punches until someone caved, and then they were thick as thieves. That was how most of his friendships were made, and even more of his rivalries.

As he got older, the spontaneity of the fights had subsided, though the brutality had increased. People enjoyed trying to get under his skin over superficial shit — his brow, his nose, how he did his hair — and he quickly learned to ignore that. They could say whatever they wanted about him. What he didn’t tolerate was kicking when people were down, or taking advantage of others who didn’t know any different, or people who thought because they were born into better-off families that they were better than others. And god help anyone who decided tried to mess with his friends.

That shit — that was the kind of shit that made his blood boil. He cracked a football player’s ribs for that once.

Bartolomeo didn’t fancy himself a hero or anything, just someone who didn’t tolerate heinous bullshit. With a penchant for fighting dirty.

Still, the fights grew less frequent as he got out of school. He’d had run-ins with people stupid enough to get in his face, and the odd person at the bar attempting to start a brawl that he’d ultimately finish. But those fights felt almost hollow. Routine, even. No thrill or enjoyment to them, just him doing what he does best.

Stabbing some sick creep’s hand as penance for him trying to get you? Felt better than any petty altercation Bartolomeo had gotten involved in. The last thing he wanted was for you to get hurt by someone. But if you did, he’d make sure they'd never do it again, especially after how good it felt knowing it’s to protect you.

His breath fogging up the glass drew him from his thoughts, and he realized that his ass was getting sore from sitting on the metal grating of the fire escape landing. With a heavy sigh he started to push himself upright —

You flinched in your sleep.

Bartolomeo’s hand went for the window in an instant. But he didn’t open it. He held his breath, and waited.

Your breathing evened back out, and he released his own, his hand falling back to his side.

And then he booked it. He didn’t stop until he was back in his own apartment and laying on his bed, though if asked he couldn’t answer whether he went through the front door or up the fire escape on his side of the building. What he did know is that he just risked getting himself caught — what the hell had he been thinking? What exactly was he planning on doing if you woke up and saw him?!

Okay. Now Bartolomeo promised himself he wouldn’t climb back up the fire escape.

But... you looked so cute when you slept. Maybe, if he only did it late at night—

NO. He smacked both hands over his face, groaning. Bad Barto.

Why did he hear that second thought in your voice?

He swallowed, a chill creeping down his spine. He’d almost forgotten your shirt was right beneath his pillow, your perfume wafting up and creeping through his senses. He pushed himself upright, sitting against the headboard as he tugged it free and buried his nose into it. Almost immediately, the tension dissipated, and his mind was filled with images of you: how your face lit up when he called you “sweetheart”, the cute little outfit you’d worn, the way you’d rushed up to the bar and stuck your tongue out at him. How would that tongue feel on his—

Down, boy.

Your voice came to mind again and he whimpered, pulling his knees up. He was rapidly becoming more and more aware of a tightness in his jeans. He briefly considered ignoring it, but the dam had cracked, and he started to think about what it must be like to kiss you. Would you be sweet and shy, making soft little moans every time he pushed against you? Maybe you’d tease him with little bites on his lip, goading him into biting down on yours with just enough pressure to make you wonder if he’d actually puncture.

Really, it was foolish of Bartolomeo not to think it would come to this. How he held off for as long as he did, he’d never know.

One foot slowly slid atop the comforter, laying one leg flat while he busied a hand with undoing his belt and fly. He let his fingers brush against the patch of hair just above his pubic bone, his breath hitching again the further down he went until he finally freed his aching cock from its confines. He let his imagination go a little further down, wondering how your hands would feel against his chest. He thought of you tracing your fingers over the tattoo he had there, ghosting along the curve and dipping near his midsection with each tip of its inked teeth. And then your hand sliding lower, over that same patch of hair he just touched, before wrapping around the base of his shaft, giving him long, lazy strokes. His hand wasn’t as soft as yours probably was, but it would do.

Let me take care of you.

No. He was supposed to take care of you. He was watching out for you, after all. What could he do to prove he wanted to take care of you? Bartolomeo inhaled your scent, moaning and tightening his grip. He would start with kissing you, definitely. Not just your lips, though — every inch of you that he could possibly cover, he’d do it. Your cheeks, your shoulders, your neck. He’d trail down your stomach, stopping right around your hips, then he’d start from the bottom by nipping at your ankles, drawing a path upwards along the underside of your knees and between your thighs.

He increased his pace, your name tumbling out before he could even think to hold it back. He thought about what you would taste like with his tongue sliding between your folds and making you say his name the same way. He thought about how hard it would be for him to keep from holding too tightly to your thighs as you writhed against his face. How he’d have to do everything he could not to dig in and feast.

Barto, please.

From there, Bartolomeo’s thoughts were less coherent. Images flashed through his mind, both from memory and fantasy, as pressure began to build. Your hands fidgeting. Your hands in his hair. Your tongue peeking out at the bar. Your tongue whirling around the tip of his cock. You alone in your bed, then with him in his. Whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears. Pushing your legs up to your chest and sinking into you as far as you could take him.

I love y—

A desperate, unabashed groan came from deep within his chest, enveloping your name as he again let it slip out. The sound was hardly muffled despite how close he had pressed your shirt to his face as seed spilled forth and coated his hand. A few hard spurts sent it spattering over his leg and onto the comforter. He wasn’t sure when his hips left the bed, but they came crashing back down, making the bed frame creak obscenely as he rode out the last few waves of his orgasm.

Panting, sweating, and feeling like he’d just had the hardest come of his life yet, Bartolomeo let your shirt drop down beside the bed, sparing it from the offense of using it to clean himself up. He stood with a sigh and started stripping, using his own shirt to at least wipe his hand off before throwing it and the rest of his clothes in the hamper. He’d worry about the comforter later. Right now, he needed a cold shower.

Bartolomeo woke up the next morning to knocking on his door. With a groan he pried his eyes open, greeted by the apartment ceiling as he was sprawled out diagonally across his bed. He wiped away the dried drool on his cheek and felt around the nightstand for his phone, sunlight creeping in beneath the cheap blackout shades.

The knocking came again, light and quick.

“All right, all right, I heard you the first time!” he called, managing to find his phone and sit upright. The cracked screen read 10:12 AM, early enough for this to be a pain in the ass. No missed calls from anyone, or messages saying they were coming over, so as he stumbled through the apartment in loose sweats and no shirt, he hadn’t the slightest clue who his visitor could be. With enough force to nearly pull it off its hinges, he swung open his door, ready to chew out whoever it was that thought they could wake him after only four hours of sleep.

You jumped out of your skin at the aggressive opening, but smiled at Bartolomeo all the same. “Hi.”

He about slammed the door out of sheer embarrassment. Why didn’t he think for two seconds longer before opening the door — he probably gave you a worse jump scare than you’d given him! He would have berated himself internally for much longer if you weren’t standing right there, staring up at him with those eyes he liked so much.

“Hi,” he said, having the decency to blush. “Uh. Sorry about that. I thought — well —”

You giggled, a wonderful sound that made his heart rate shoot through the stratosphere. “Not a morning person?”

“No. Yeah. Uh.” His hand slid down the door frame and he leaned against it with all the nonchalance he could muster. “Just wasn’t expecting my day to start before noon.”

You shrank back a little. “Oh, shit — I’m sorry, I can come back later?”

“Nah, you’re here now.” No no no — don’t go. “Whaddya need?”

You folded your hands in front of you, shifting your weight from one leg to the other. “Well, one of my friends saw what you did for me last night, and they didn’t mention anything until after we left.” Your eyes began to flick between his face and his torso, and your cheeks rapidly flushed. “I wanted — I wanted to come by and, ah. Thank you. So.” And then your gaze went straight to the floor, your ears a bright pink. “Thank you.”

Bartolomeo cocked his head, puzzled by your sudden onset of bashfulness. But without you giving him those pretty eyes, it did make it a little easier for him to concentrate. “Oh. Well. I mean, I told ya I was gonna look out for you, didn’t I?”

You looked up at his face, smiling wide and still blushing. “You did. But... well, no one’s ever done something like that for me before.” You averted your gaze again, your little sway halted as you started fidgeting. “I mean, granted, even though I know how to keep myself safe against those kinds of things, I’ve never had someone actually be ballsy enough to try and drug me before. If I’d been a little more careless, I could have been in real trouble.” You glanced at him from your periphery. “But you swapped the glasses, so I still would have been okay.”

This was weird. Normally it was him who had trouble looking you in the eye, but you were being way more skittish. Was everything really okay?

“Anyways.” You took a deep breath, seeming to steel yourself as you looked up at him. “I was wondering if you’d like to get lunch sometime.” You glanced down and up again. “It — it doesn’t have to be today, if that’s too last minute for you, but—”

“Yeah.”

The ease and quickness with which Bartolomeo answered the question startled both of you. He cleared his throat, standing up straighter. “No — yeah — I mean —” He exhaled through his nose, composing himself. “Today’s perfect.”

Few things made his chest tighten with the urge to cry: disabled cats, movies where the dog actually made it to the end, and the way your face lit up with the intensity of a supernova over him agreeing to go to lunch with you.

“Great!” You bounced on your toes, pointing over your shoulder with both hands. “I can uh — I’ll give you time to get ready, yeah? And then when you’re good just come over and knock, aaand we’ll get going!”

Get ready?

It dawned on him: he was still shirtless. Oh my god.

“Yeah!” His voice was at least an octave higher. OH MY GOD. With another awkward throat clearing it returned to its normal cadence as he backed into his apartment. “That sounds great — I’ll uh. I’ll be out. And we can go.”

“Yeah, no, take your time.” You were backing up toward your door and clumsily opening it, still smiling. And then your eyes flicked downward to his sweats and the blush turned outright excessive. “Bye!”

Both doors slammed at the same time. Neither you or Bartolomeo seemed to care if the other one heard inarticulate, flustered yelling.

#bartolomeo #bartolomeo one piece #bartolomeo the cannibal #bartolomeo x you #one piece x reader #reader insert #yandere!bartolomeo #yandere #i'll fucking digest you one kiss at a time #ifdyokaat #no fun facts this time -- just enjoy ;3c

10 notes · View notes

sanjifucker42069 · 7 months

Text

Alright babyyyyy I wanna write down some of my viewpoints so you can see why I write strawhats the way I do:

I'm autistic, you bet your ass Luffy is autistic. He screams asexual and probably aro to me. Not bc he's autistic. That boy just has asexual energy. Love you king.

I high-key love Zoro's sassy ass. I also love how he actually isn't that bad at reading his friends. He is an idiot tho. Actual adore idiot!zoro, that man's a gem

Nami has such lesbian energy girlies. I really love Nami. Queen Shit, honestly. I will be writing some barely coherent shit about how much I really love Nami.

Sanji.......I love this whore. I will whine non-stop. This man deserves everything. This guy is as bi as they come baby. This man is the true definition of switch, but leans sub af. I REALLY wanna write something that explores Sanji's complex feelings around gender. I see this guy as someone who has had views of being feminine highly warped, bc baby I'm sorry, but he has real feminine energy. In fact I dont really know if I see sanji as like as cis!male as they come, yknow?

I think we can all agree Sanji doesn't really know how to handle love. None of the strawhats really can where I'm at so far. I think they all deserve to be shown they can be loved. To me though, Sanji is an interesting case. You can't tell me that he hasnt perfectly formulated a persona he uses to talk to people so he can protect his heart. You can't tell me the Vinsmokes didn't drill into him you gotta be tough.

I also firmly believe Sanji has bad toxic masculinity. I see that as a reason him and Zoro clash like they do. Sanji see women as fragile treasures to protect, whereas Zoro sees women as...well women, and that they can do anything. A lot of my sanji writing 100% revolves around taking that bitch and putting him in a situation where he's cared for and shown that being feminine is an okay thing, that relinquishing control is an okay thing, that you don't have to be some macho guy 24/7

I want to make him cry. Not an observation just a fact.

Also.......yeah he does overdo it, but man...pervert Sanji is kinda endearing, so you BEST believe that man is a pervert in my writing.

You KNOW that man wants to be praised and called baby, and good boy, and pretty and [i am forcibly dragged out the back and shot like the dog i am]

Robin mommy

Chopper baby, love chopper. I am a chopper stan.

Love me some Franky, ADORE me some frobin

#rambles

12 notes · View notes

z3llous · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on the whole cake arc (part 1)

(Language, possible trigger, and potential spoiler warning)(also dumb jokes ahead)

The baddies:

This pudding has a gun

I expected to hate Pudding, but I'm just like "*sigh* This bitch." I am lowkey just tired of her already and I haven't even gotten to the part where she falls for Sanji yet. I'll probably post more thoughts on her later.

That one dude who I don't care about enough to remember his name

Sanji's dad is an S tier level shit lord 💩💩💩. Like how dare he talk to my boy like that. He thinks he's all that with a cherry on top, but that fucker couldn't get a bitch on his own even if his life depended on it. We both know damn well Sora didn't pick him. (I also don't believe Sora had a choice in having kids and what they did in their bedroom (இдஇ; ))

Resi vamp mommy gone wrong

Big mom is somehow my least favorite out of all the shitty people in this arc so far... And there are a lot of shitty people here. I think it's because she's just the root of most problems. Like damn sis just pick one. But no you gotta stick your nasty lil paw in everyone's cookie jars don't ya?

The pink one

(she's technically in this group, sorry)

I thought I'd like Reiju. I really did. I'm in the middle ground with her. She's ok, but I think she could use a touch more distinctness in her personality. I kinda like her relationship with Sanji since they don't truly get along. I don't want her and Sanji to be besties, because it wouldn't feel right after everything. Other than that she feels kinda simple.

Tweedle dee, tweedle dumb, and tweedle dumber

The three bros suck. Fuck those guys. Not gonna lie I kept getting Ichiji and Niji confused (Can you blame me???) They have no thoughts. Head empty. They all share one brain cell and one personality, if you consider ass hole a personality.

Egg man

The egg dude had me shooketh when he cracked. Like bro that was more horrifying than blood. Also how many evolutions did that damn pokemon have?

The goodies

Stretch Armstrong

Luffy is such good boy (he always is, but it just really showed) He just wants his friend back╥﹏╥. No lie I cringed so hard at the sound of his arms tearing. It was so genuinely traumatizing that I can't imagine being in Nami's position. My heart feels warm seeing him and Sanji talk things out (Although the punch did feel a little uncalled for I'll let it slide since he didn't fight back earlier. Also it probably helped Sanji feel less guilty about it.)

Sugar mommy but legit just sugar

Sora is so cute omg. I feel cheated not seeing more of her. She's so soft it makes me wish I had a mum like her, but that's just my mommy issues talking. Seriously tho she deserved better. I wish her and Sanji could've ran away together. I'd pay money to see that version. Why you gotta horde all the soft mommies, Oda? Eh? Share bro. We need them in this cruel world.

Weather queen

Nami needs therapy. Poor girl is not ok. Well, she technically is now in the part I'm at, but for real someone give that poor woman a break. She saw her captain get the shit beat out of him after so much struggle and by the one they're trying to save no less, then Luffy's flesh tearing horror house began, and Jimbe is like let's just put this nice burning torch here and see what happens.

Nami:

Spooky scary skeleton

Brook was cool and fun here. I really liked his side mission. He's clever and I'm living for it. Also that sass he was dishing out on big mom was immaculate.

Cat boy

Pedro is a nice edition. I really like him. He has uncle vibes and gets along well with everyone. His lil fantasy moment during the Brook rescue was lovely. He does his best and that's all I can ask of him.

Christmas and Easter mascots

Chopper and Carrot have been together the whole time so far and I like it. They make a really good team. Just all around wholesome vibes :>

Shark boy no lava girl

(No I will not apologize for the reference)

It's good to see Jimbe again. He hasn't done much yet so far, but I'm excited none the less. I hope he'll join the crew soon and become part of the shenanigans. We need more of his chill wise man vibes.

Beloved golden retriever

Sanji. Sanji. Sanji. My poor boy. He's too sweet for his own good. My god do I love him. I won't deny how much I love the outfit, he looks good in ruffles. I was sad, love struck, and extremely protective throughout the sad boi hours. Everytime he got hurt I wanted so badly to just punch the fucker that did it. He's not a failure. Not even close. He's such a good boy ಥ_ಥ. I can't express how much I loved hearing him talk about what was going on with him. Yes please 👏. Tell us more. I wish he got to the chance to talk more about his feelings, but I guess that's all I'm going to get for now.

I didn't talk about bege since I just got to the part where they agree to work together so I'll post part 2 when I finish the arc. Then I'll talk about all the shit that goes down.

29 notes · View notes