Piccolo would probably never notice your feelings, at least not in the way you expect.
Piccolo is one of the most complex characters in Dragon Ball, but when the subject is romance, he acts in a way that is completely different from humans.
As a Namekian, Piccolo belongs to an asexual race that reproduces in a biological way totally different from humans. He doesn't have romantic or sexual instincts. To him, the concept of "passion" is something purely human and confusing.
Piccolo is extremely observant and attentive to energies. He would certainly notice that you treat him differently, that you’re always around, and that you have a gentle aura. However, he would probably interpret this as loyalty or deep friendship. He would see gestures of affection as a form of respect for his strength and feats, rather than romantic interest.
Even if someone came up and explained it to him:
"Piccolo, she likes you!"
His reaction would likely be an uncomfortable silence, a crossing of arms, and maybe an
"I don't have time for such frivolities."
He is a solitary being by choice; the love he knows and accepts is fraternal love and respect, like what he has for Gohan and Pan — romance is something completely different.
If you were persistent, Piccolo wouldn't be rude — especially in his current phase in Super — but he would be deeply awkward.
If you praise his strength or whatever, he would probably close his eyes and huff, trying to hide that he felt slightly flustered. He would accept your care and company in silence, which, for Piccolo, is already a demonstration of trust.
In the end, he might not even "notice" the romance, but he would certainly value the presence of someone so gentle. He would only show it in his own way: by protecting you from any danger without saying a single word.
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piccolo x gn!reader. fluff, mostly prose. | divider by @cafekitsune, wc 831
There’s a serenity to the moments that Piccolo spends with you that he has been unable to capture anywhere else on this planet called Earth. The gentle rustle of the grassy plains is sometimes the only sound breaking up his shouts and breathing as he moves, hurling blasts of energy toward rocks or trees or whatever he has deemed a worthy inanimate opponent for the day.
Narrowing his eyes, focusing them on a distance that is further away than he expected, he finds you in the same spot he left you in. Laying on your back in the grass, surrounded by a riot of brightly colored wildflowers, hands folded beneath your head. The earth rustles, he can hear it thanks to his adept ability to hear, telling him that you’re moving.
You flip from back to belly, swinging your legs behind you while shouting at him from a distance.
“Hey, why’d you stop? You were starting to lull me to sleep.”
The bass of one of his deep chuckles is carried along the wind to you. It’s impossible to see him from this far away and sadly you were not blessed with the same exceptional vision he boasts, but you can recall his smile as easily as you take a breath. The curve of his mouth, the upturned corners of his lips, the gentle crinkle that has gradually carved itself into the corners of his eyes.
He’d laugh at you if you said it but you can’t help but find him a little beautiful, especially that rarely seen smile.
“You’re a terrible audience,” he finally shouts back, voice tinged with the faintest hint of amusement.
Truth be told, he’s too distracted to keep working at the level he wants to. Going all in wouldn’t scare you, he knows that, but he’s frankly annoyed that the thought even came to mind. Why does he care so much what a nosy human thinks of him?
Being surrounded by humankind constantly has softened the man, a reality he works so tirelessly to avoid facing. Unfortunately, your unexpected appearances over the spring and summer have not helped him become stronger or less aware of his own weaknesses.
You lay in that soft, green grass and feed him food that isn’t native to his kind although it’s what he’s used to eating, handmade and wrapped in a soft linen cloth. He knows if he walked over right now you’d extend a wrapped parcel upward toward him, smiling as brightly as the beating summer sun. It’s the same as it has been since the first day you sauntered out here from your village on the other side of the prairie, drawn out into the vast miles of nothingness by the unignorable sounds of fighting.
Little did you know you stumbled upon a stranger’s training session.
Since then, the two of you have shared star flecked evenings. You’ve asked him every time to point out where the planets he has been to from a distance, nothing but dots hanging through endless dark. It’s easy to oblige you so he has. He’s traced a path with a long finger across the sky and billions of miles. He has dared to point toward where Namek, his home planet, used to be. It’s very likely that the area he pointed to is incorrect but he felt a pull in his chest that convinced him he couldn’t have been that far off track.
In all the time he’s spent here, decades now, he’s never searched for the love that his friends have.
He’s never coveted a wife or children, content to be a party to the joy of others. An uncle, a brother, a friend yet you make him feel something different. There’s an energy that exists between people who care about one another unconditionally. He feels it in the aura that rolls off of Gohan when he looks at his daughter or Vegeta when he discusses his wife.
That’s the energy that exists between the two of you. It’s static and comfortable. Never judgemental or in a hurry, a relaxed and slow appreciation shared between two sentient beings trying to figure out their place in a world that is ever changing. The circumstances look different for each of you, a human and a Namekian, but you have never treated him differently because of this.
You embody all of the best things he has ever managed to see in oft unreasonable humans. Kind, but intelligent. Giving with your presence and time, but aware of when to take your leave. Or even better, when to arrive.
He watches you rise and bound his direction through the overgrown grass, bag slung over your shoulder. Clearly you’ve lazed about and watched the clouds for long enough, it’s time to eat. A soft smile comes over his distinctly inhuman features and he reaches toward his mouth to touch it. To press his fingers against the evidence of his own happiness.
Hi I'm not sure if your requests are still open or not, but if they are I was wondering if I could request Piccolo seeing his s/o who knows how to defend themselves, getting injured during a fight.
Piccolo x Reader
Want more from me? Masterlist 2
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Protect (DBS or Dragon Ball Super)
Warning(s): Fluff, Angst
Piccolo's just got you back, he's not gonna let you get hurt again.
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"Whoa!"
Piccolo's hand is in front of your face, catching the ball in an instant.
"Goten. Trunks. Be more careful," he glared at the boys.
"Yes, sir! Sorry, [Name]!" they hurried away with the ball.
You raised a brow, "Lo...I could've caught it myself. It's just a plastic ball, it's not a big deal even if it did hit me."
All he did was look you over before sitting back in his chair.
You found this behavior strange, he's been like that for a while.
You tripped the other day, and in an instant, he'd caught you, righting you.
Last week, Goku had wanted to do a friendly spar and the whole time, Piccolo was scolding him not to hurt you.
And during the thing with Beerus, despite it being rational to fight with them, he told you to stay back--to not engage.
You frowned, "Alright. What's going on, you've been acting strange lately."
"No, I haven't."
"Yeah, you have. You've been super overprotective like I'm weak or something. I'm stronger than you--I know you care about me, but I can handle myself, you should know that by now," you crossed your arms.
"It's not about that."
"Then what is it about? You've been acting like this ever since I got back after Buu--" you sighed, "Okay, I see. Look, Piccolo, I'm back, you don't have to watch my every move, I'll be fine--"
His sharp gaze turned to you, "You don't get to tell me that. You don't get to tell me not to be cautious. Considering, the last time you said the words, 'I'll be fine', they were the last words I heard from you before you died."
You placed your hand on his, "I'm sorry..."
"You said you'd be fine, and I believed you would be, because you always were...but then..." his gaze turned to his lap.
"Then I wasn't...So now, you feel like it's your job to make sure I am. Because you feel like you failed to..."
He shook his head, a hand covering his eyes and the tears he didn't want you to see.
"Yes. I can't--I can't lose you like that. Never again. I never want to see you like that again."
You laced your hand in his free one, "I know...but Piccolo. Don't stress yourself over every little thing. You can't protect me from everything life throws at me--like red plastic balls, for example. Things happen."
His grip got a little tighter, "I...know. I know that, I just..."
You smiled, "That doesn't mean you can't protect me at all. We've always protected each other in battle. But don't worry yourself so much, kay' sweetheart? Promise to at least try?"
"Okay..."
You smile, kissing his hand, before tracing a thumb over it, "Good."
He hesitated with the foreign words, the words he wished he could've said to you before you...
"I love you, [Name]."
Your eyes widened at the long-awaited words.
"I love you, too, Piccolo. So much."
He gripped your hand again, glad to know that it was real. You were here.
