Finally Updated My Headcanons For The Main Ninja's Appearances ♡ The Ones From Last Year Looked Ew

*Gently holds*

he would 100% have a pink flip phone, maybe even bedazzled

Supportive parent Bruce Wayne

Damian showing him all his artwork because he knows that he will get the brightest smile and a “That looks beautiful sweetheart” every time

Dick being so excited to bring his dad to his gymnastics show because he knows that Bruce will start crying every time he lands a trick, without fail, and that means the women that come to watch will have someone else to fuss over

Someone at WE mentioning they don’t trust Tim because of his age and Bruce immediately scheduling a company wide meeting so he can express just how exceptional his son is. Tim’s face is the most red it has ever been the entire time

Cass doesn’t even have to do anything, he is just always looking at her with a fond little smile and on the verge of tears but sometimes, when she wants a little more then normal, she will take one of Jason’s books and read as much as she can aloud. That man absolutely loses it and hugs her as tight as he can while sobbing about how far his baby has come

Jason acts like he could care less about Bruce’s support, but the first time he overhears Bruce talking about him at a gala, telling some rich idiot who was questioning business decisions that Jason is the most competent man he has ever known and would trust him with not only the WE weapons department but his life, Jason pointedly does not look at Dick, who has a shit eating grin on his face, and walks as fast as he can to the bathroom

The best part is that Bruce doesnt even have to try he is just genuinely that proud of them

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old old old halloween drawing i never posted....

Hi, could you do like some fluffy headcanons with Crocodile. Like with a daughter!reader, he found her and raised her. She's been by his side throughout Baroque Works, jails separates them for a while, but then she makes her way back to him as the Cross Guild is former.

Just, fluffy crocodad headcannons with a daughter!reader. She could work alongside him to, like a secretary. Reader is just happy to be by their dad again^^

father figure

SFW

characters: sir crocodile x daughter!reader summary: crocodile takes in an orphaned child not expecting to grow fondly of her CW: just fluff, lowercase intended, not proofread

—————

crocodile had always been known as a figure of unyielding stoicism and calculated ruthlessness. as the leader of Baroque Works, this was the kind of man his associates and his enemies knew him to be. his lack of affection made dealing with his job much easier as it left no weak points. something he never planned on changing but, fate had a peculiar way of challenging those with the coldest hearts.

it all started when he stumbled upon a small, orphaned child during one of his operations. his sharp eyes started down your dirty and frail figure with initial disgust. your wide eyes, frightened with terror as you clutched the bread you had stolen from his crew.

"who are you?" his voice was gruff, but there was a hint of curiosity.

you looked up, the piece of bread tightly held against you. "i'm just trying to survive," you replied, your voice surprisingly steady despite the fear in your eyes.

crocodile studied you for a moment, something in your gaze stirred a long-buried part of him and for reasons he couldn't quite fathom. leading him to make a decision that surprised even himself. "come with me," he said, turning on his heel.

he wasn't sure why he took you in, but when asked, he justified it as "practical"—you needed protection, and he had the means to provide it. and for a while, his interactions with you matched his words. he was distant and formal, more akin to a business transaction than a familial bond. providing you with your basic needs, leaving the rest up to his crew.

you, however, was undeterred by his cold demeanor. you approached him with the fearless curiosity only a child could muster. you followed him around, your small hand often tugging at his coat, asking endless questions about everything you saw. you drew pictures, and even attempted to braid his hair one evening. despite himself, crocodile found his heart softening. he started to look forward to your chatter, you innocent laughter, and the way you clung to him whenever you were scared.

but as days turned into weeks and weeks into months, something began to change. he found himself spending more time with you, teaching you about the world in his own gruff manner. he showed you how to read maps, how to defend herself, and even how to play chess. 

while he was going through his newest findings on the poneglyph's, you approached him with one of your textbooks. "dad, can you help me with this reading?" you asked, your voice filled with anticipation. crocodile's heart skipped a beat at the word "dad." he didn't have it in him to correct you, and though he would never admit it, he cherished the title. he set aside his papers and spent the evening helping you with your book, his rough exterior melting away in your presence.

from then on he became your dad. a change his associates noticed almost immediately. exchanging knowing glances with each other whenever they saw him gently fixing your hair or reading you a bedtime story. Over time, they grew fondly of you, often bringing you small gifts or teaching you tricks of their trade. the once cold and fearsome headquarters of Baroque Works became a place of warmth and laughter whenever you were around.

after his defeat in Alabasta, crocodile was arrested. the charges against him were numerous, and the trial was swift. giving him no time to say goodbye or send you to a proper caretaker. a thought that consumed his thoughts daily as he sat in his cell. despite the harsh conditions of his confinement, crocodile's primary concern was always you. 

countless sleepless nights were spent wondering. wondering if you were being taken care of properly. wondering if you were happy and eating well. wondering if you missed him as much as he missed you. the uncertainty gnawed at him, making his imprisonment even more unbearable. but he held onto the hope of seeing his daughter again, the thought of your smile was his only solace.

once he was released, crocodile wasted no time, moving with the singular purpose of reuniting with you again. his heart pounding with fear and anticipation as he and his associates, who had also been released, searched for you. they scoured the streets of the last island they were on, asking everyone they met if they had seen a little girl with bright eyes and a fearless spirit. after days of searching, they found you. you were staying with one of crocodile's old associates, a retired assassin, who had taken you in and cared for you as best as she could.

when crocodile saw you, his heart swelled with relief and joy. his anxiety and worries vanish after confirming his daughter was safe during his absences. you immediately ran into his arms, your face lighting up as tears streamed down your face. "dad!" you cried, throwing your arms around him.

crocodile hugged you tightly, his usual stoic mask slipping away. "i'm here, princess. i'm here," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. he then lifts you up carrying you in his arms as he turns to look at his associate, gratitude shining in his eyes. "thank you for taking care of my daughter."

the associate nodded, a small smile on her lips. this was the first time her boss thanked her. "she’s a special girl."

crocodile nodded in agreement, his heart full. you had become his world, and he would do anything to keep his world safe. which meant getting locked up like that wasn't an option, but that was for later. making a mental note to call mihawk later, but right now he had some catching up to do.

—————

thank you so much for the request!!

i thought of a few ways to go about it, but this one just felt right, although it isn't really an hc.

and i loved the idea of the reader working with their crocodile, but i see crocodile as the kind of dad who would much rather preserve their innocence, by keeping them away from the dangers of his job as best as he could.

in the end, i hope i did your idea some justice and you (and everyone else) enjoyed !!

sanji x reader where the reader hasnt seen their family in a while like the world goverment is after them or smth and they had to flee and sanji cooks them a meal that reminds tjem of a home cooked hearty meal and they cry and then sanji treats them specially after that☹️❤️i got this off a song please write it thank u❤️

A Taste of Home

sanji x reader

a/n: thank you for the request, hope you'll like it eheh

words count: 1.6k

tags: fluff, sfw, homesick

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The scent of something rich and familiar fills the Sunny’s kitchen, wrapping around you like a long-lost embrace. You don’t realize you’ve stopped moving, hovering near the door, until Sanji looks up from the stove and grins.

“Perfect timing, sweetheart” he says, golden hair falling into his eyes as he gestures to the counter “I’m making something special tonight.”

Your heart clenches. It smells just like home. A deep, savory aroma that tugs at something buried under layers of time and fear.

You take a hesitant step forward “What… what is it?”

Sanji glances at you, the usual playful glint in his eyes softening into something more thoughtful “Just a little something I thought you’d like,” he says smoothly, but there’s something knowing in his tone “Why don’t you sit? It’s almost ready.”

You lower yourself onto a stool, watching as he moves with effortless grace. A flick of his wrist, a careful sprinkle of spices, and then he ladles the dish into a bowl, steam curling up in delicate wisps. He places it in front of you with an almost reverent touch.

The moment you see it, your breath catches.

It is home. The same dish your family used to make when you were young, before everything. Before the World Government, before the running, before you were forced to leave everything behind.

Your fingers tremble as you pick up the spoon. You take a bite.

The taste explodes across your tongue, rich, warm, so deeply familiar that your chest tightens. The flavors blend perfectly, just like you remember. It’s impossible. You never told Sanji about this dish. You never told anyone.

A choked sound escapes your throat, and before you can stop it, hot tears spill down your cheeks.

Sanji’s eyes widen “Oi, oi! What’s wrong, love?” He’s in front of you in a second, crouching slightly to meet your gaze. His hands hover near your shoulders, unsure if he should touch you “Too hot? Did I mess up the seasoning?”

You shake your head rapidly, pressing a hand over your mouth as you try to compose yourself “No—it’s perfect. Too perfect.” Your voice wobbles “It tastes just like… like home.”

Sanji’s expression softens, the teasing edge in his smile replaced with something unbearably gentle. He reaches for a napkin and dabs at your tears with light, careful touches “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Your breath hitches “You knew?”

He shrugs, but there’s no smugness in it just quiet understanding “You get this look sometimes when the crew talks about their homes,” he murmurs “Like you’re trying not to miss something too much. So I thought… maybe I could give you a little piece of it back.”

Your throat is too tight to speak. Instead, you throw your arms around him, pressing your face into his shoulder. He stiffens for a second before exhaling, his arms wrapping around you just as tightly.

For a long moment, neither of you move. The kitchen is warm, the scent of the meal still lingering in the air. Sanji rubs slow circles against your back, murmuring soft reassurances.

When you finally pull away, he cups your cheek, thumb brushing away the last traces of tears “No more crying, alright? Food’s meant to make you happy.”

You let out a watery laugh “You’re too good to me, Sanji.”

His lips quirk up in a smirk, but there’s a rare sincerity in his gaze “Nah, never say that again. Only the best for my favorite, sweetheart.”

Sanji doesn’t let you go right away. His hands linger at your waist, his touch warm and grounding, like he’s making sure you won’t disappear on him. You don’t mind. In fact, you let yourself lean into him for just a moment longer, savoring the rare tenderness he reserves just for you.

Then he pulls back slightly, scanning your face with those sharp, perceptive eyes of his “Feeling better?” he asks softly.

You sniffle and nod, offering a small, embarrassed laugh “Yeah. Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Sanji clicks his tongue, cutting you off “Don’t even start with that, sweetheart. You never have to apologize for feeling things...” His tone is firm, but there’s nothing but warmth in his gaze, because who would even know better than him himself how feelings work.

You let out a shaky breath, staring down at the meal he made for you. It’s still steaming, still perfect “How did you even know how to make this?” you ask, poking at the dish with your spoon.

Sanji smirks, reaching for his cigarette but stopping himself before lighting it, probably because he doesn’t want to ruin the moment. Instead, he tucks it behind his ear and leans against the counter, crossing his arms “Let’s just say a good chef knows how to read people,” he says smoothly “I paid attention. Also you talk in your sleep, you know?”

Your eyes widen in horror “I what?”

His grin stretches wider, teasing but fond “Mmm. Little murmurs here and there. Nothing too embarrassing—though I did catch you saying something about extra dumplings one night.” ...he's obviously hiding more though.

You groan, hiding your face in your hands “I hate you.”

He chuckles, nudging your shoulder with his knuckles “No, you don’t.”

You peek at him through your fingers, and damn it, he’s right. You don’t. Not even a little.

Sanji watches you for a moment longer before pushing the bowl back toward you “Eat up, love. It’s not gonna be as good if it gets cold.”

You don’t argue. You take another bite, and even though you’re no longer on the verge of tears, the warmth still spreads through you, filling a hollow space you didn’t realize was so empty.

Sanji doesn’t move away. He stays right there, leaning on the counter, watching you with a softness most people never get to see from him.

It’s almost overwhelming.

“You always do this” you murmur after a few bites.

“Do what?”

“Take care of me.”

Sanji tilts his head, then sighs dramatically, placing a hand over his heart “Ah, what a tragic fate—being completely unable to not spoil you.”

You roll your eyes, but the heat rising in your cheeks betrays you “I mean it, Sanji. You always go out of your way for me.”

His expression shifts, turning serious in an instant. He reaches out, brushing his fingers over your wrist “Because you deserve it,” he says simply “You’ve been through enough. You shouldn’t have to do everything on your own.”

You swallow hard, staring at him. No teasing, no dramatic declarations... just honesty.

And somehow, that’s even more dangerous.

“Sanji…”

Before you can figure out what to say, he straightens up and claps his hands together “Alright, then! Since you like that dish so much, I suppose I’ll have to make it for you whenever you want!”

Your lips part in surprise “Whenever?”

“Of course!” he winks “Your personal chef is at your service, my dear.”

Your chest feels light, something rare, something precious.

You shake your head, smiling despite yourself “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it” he shoots back.

You hate how right he is, but you don’t mind that much.

Sanji keeps his word.

Whenever you look even slightly homesick, he’s already in the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves, recreating that dish for you with effortless skill. He never asks why it means so much to you, he just knows. And every single time, he watches you eat like it’s the most important thing in the world, like making you happy is his favorite meal.

But tonight feels… different.

Dinner is over, the rest of the crew scattered around the Sunny, Luffy’s snoring on the deck, Zoro’s probably passed out somewhere, and Nami and Robin are deep in conversation. The ship is quiet, the waves lapping gently against the hull, and the kitchen is bathed in the soft glow of the lanterns.

Sanji leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching you sip the tea he made for you.

“You’re spoiling me, y’know” you tease, setting the cup down.

He smirks, but there’s something in his gaze tonight, something intentional. He steps closer, the warm spice of his cologne wrapping around you “And what if I like spoiling you?”

Your pulse jumps. You open your mouth, probably to say something witty, to brush it off, but the words vanish when Sanji reaches out, fingers brushing against your cheek, feather-light.

His touch lingers “You still look like you’re holding something back,” he murmurs “Even after all this time.”

Your breath catches. He’s too close, too warm, too much “Sanji—”

“You don’t have to tell me.” His thumb traces just beneath your cheekbone, and his voice drops, gentle but sure “I just want you to know… to understand... you’re not alone anymore, sweetheart.”

You blink up at him, the lump in your throat growing unbearable. How does he do this? How does he see through you like this?

“Sanji…” You don’t know what you’re trying to say, but it doesn’t matter, because Sanji’s tilting your chin up, his eyes flicking to your lips for the briefest second.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice is barely above a whisper.

You don’t even hesitate “Yes.”

He doesn’t waste a second. His lips press against yours, warm and soft and perfect. He kisses you slowly, like he’s savoring every second, like he’s been waiting for this. One hand cradles your face, the other slipping around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

You melt into him, your fingers tangling in his shirt. He deepens the kiss, tilting his head just enough to steal your breath away, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel lost.

You feel found.

Sanji pulls back just slightly, resting his forehead against yours, his breath a little unsteady.

“Tell me what you need,” he murmurs “Whatever it is, I’ll give it to you.”

You smile, heart swelling in your chest “Just you, Sanji.”

His answering smile is the softest thing you’ve ever seen. He presses another slow, lingering kiss to your lips before murmuring against them...

“Then you have me, sweetheart. Always.”

That one trend going around on tiktok :'ll nobodys hoome

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