captain Eagle

so you did what was left to do: dramatically rolled around on your boyfriends bed until he would do something to fix it. or at least distract you from the drilling pain in your jaw.

“i’m a surgeon, not an orthodontist. i can’t remove them for you.” he reminded you with an annoyed huff.

“yeah right, and give up this far in?” you rolled your eyes.

“try sucking on some ice. the coldness helps because your wires react to heat- what- hey-!” one, two, three pillows were thrown at him, causing law to finally take his attention away from the work he— frankly— was looking for a reason to ignore anyways.

“tried that!” your voice muffled into the last pillow not subjected to attacking him, forced around your head, over your ears.

it’s not like it’s the worst pain you’ve ever felt. the pressure in your gums was easily manageable, but it was the result of its consistency that would cause the terribly dull pain across your head.

after a few hours of jaw pain, the soreness starts to spread to your ears, which then trickles into your temple, and eventually spreads across your eyes, and on a bad day, maybe even your sinuses. luckily on this day, it hadn’t gotten so far, or you really would’ve been crying.

with a sigh that anyone else might have read as exasperated, law pushed aside his pen and paper, and pushed himself away from his desk.

“as if looking like this at my age isn’t bad enough…” you mumbled into the pillow, but were cut off by law shushing you,

“it’s perfectly normal for adults to get braces too. it means you care about your dental health” his voice could be heard approaching you, but you didn’t bother to shift until you felt the bed dip beside you.

when you tilted your head up to see him, you were both surprised and relieved that he had also shut the lights out, leaving only the light from the moon to illuminate his room.

as your soreness mimicked a migraine, the light was your enemy during recovery days. law knew that.

with a surprising tenderness, he tucked some hair behind your ear, applying light pressure to the area there. you sighed at the small relief and scooted to lay on his chest.

instead of facing to the side as you often find comfortable, you faced the ceiling as law’s tattooed hands found your jaw. he massaged towards the back of it, small circles working their way back up to your ears.

you let your eyes shut as you focused on where his fingers trailed. harder pressure on your temple, then a light press over your closed eyes, back down to your jaw and repeating. finally, the soreness slipped away and instead it was replaced by a fullness in your chest.

you’d like to say that only you got to see him so attentive, but given his profession, that simply wasn’t true. in a way though, that fact alone could account for the swell in your heart.

so gentle, so caring, so loving, even if he doesn’t always show it— or even believe it.

that was your last coherent thought before sleep finally overcame you. but law didn’t stop, even when he recognized your slowed breathing.

he didn’t stop until the sound lulled him to sleep as well, with his hands tucked somewhere in your hair.

the pain would subside in the morning, but if it didn’t, law would be there when you woke up, and that was enough.

"I won't!" And as it turns out that one line became a lie, not that you had intended it to. At the time you it, it was true; in fact, you fully intended to be back within forty minutes maximum. You quickly rushed along the semi-busy streets towards a tiny bookshop squeezed between a tailor and a bakery. 

You were looking for something specific, a limited edition of a Sora: Warrior of the Sea comic, that you knew Law had been looking for. You pushed open the door to the shop, and the bell rang out as you stepped in and looked around. The shopkeeper gave you a greeting as you made your way around the store. For as small as it was, it was packed to the gills. And then finally your eyes quickly landed on Sora, Warrior of the Sea display, and you quickly made your way over.  

The elderly shopkeeper looked up from behind the counter. "Oh? You're interested?" 

"Oh yes, I'm looking for one in particular..." You replied trailing off as your eyes scanned the display, until they landed on an empty spot with a handwritten tag of the comic you were looking for. Your heart sank at the sight, and you let out a disappointed sigh, "Oh I guess you must have sold it already." 

The shopkeeper smiled lightly, "Sorry about that, just sold that limited edition yesterday." 

Your boyfriend owned enough Sora merchandise to start a small museum; it was honestly adorable. You had your own thing you loved and collected, and so did he; it was one of the first things you two had bonded over after you had joined the crew. There was also the fact that Law had a knack for being able to find items for your collection, and you wanted to be able to return the favor.  

The disappointed must have been showing on your face because the shopkeeper spoke back up, "I believe Old Man Takeda bought it, said it looked cool, but I bet he would sell it to you." 

Hope returned instantly as you attention was now focused on the old man, "Really?" 

"Mm." He nodded. "He's usually down by the eastern district." You thanked him and headed off, okay, so it was going to take a bit longer than you thought, but to see Law smile would make it all worth it. 

Old Man Takeda did indeed have the comic but unfortunately, he wasn't interested in selling it. But instead offered a different proposal, "I'd trade for it." 

Your eyes lit up. "Great! What would you like?" 

"Can you get me some Golden Blossom tea?" 

You blinked. "That's it?" 

The old man nodded. "That's it."  

You practically skipped away, thinking how easy it would be to find the tea at the market. But of course, the one vendor in the whole market was one box away from selling out, "I've got one box left." Relief filled your body and then the woman smiled apologetically. "But it is reserved." And with that your relief died instantly. 

"For who?" 

"Little Hana." 

So, you did what any person would do, you tracked down Hana. She was a sweet little girl with pigtails and a request of her own, "I'll give up the tea, if you get me a festival charm." 

A charm should be easy to get, a simple request really. The charm maker smiled when you arrived and as you explained what you needed, she crushed your hopes. "I can make that, but I need moon-silk thread." 

And somehow that lead into another request and another and another. And then three hours later, you were helping a fisherman deliver a package and you couldn't quite remember how this was connected to the moon-silk thread, only that it did, somehow.  

The fisherman thanked you and gave you package to give to a merchant. The merchant accepted the package and handed over a voucher. The voucher was given to grumpy old man who gave you flowers. These flowers were then given to a young man who gave you a bracelet. And then that bracelet went to a barkeep who gave you a bottle of wine. And then that wine was given to a woman who then gave you the thread you needed.  

You rushed back and handed over the thread, and the charm maker passed you the charm with a smile on her face. You then went back to the little girl and gave her the charm, and she gave you a note to give to the vendor selling the tea. You went back to the vendor, handed over the note and bought the tea. And at long last the tea would get you the comic, once you made it back to the eastern district.

Back at the Polar Tang around the same time you were talking to Little Hana about her request, Bepo was wondering where you were, "Have you seen them?" 

Law didn't look up from his medical book. "No, (Y/N)-ya said they had something to do." 

Bepo tilted his head while fidgeting with his paws, "Sorry, but they said they would be back shortly and it's been over an hour."

"They're an adult." Law turned a page. "I'm sure everything is fine., if there was an issue they would call." But then about two hours after you'd left, Law was no longer reading; no, his fingers were tapping against his desk as he read the same page for the tenth time, while his thoughts drifted to you. You'd said quick errand; quick errands generally didn't last half a day. 

Law gave up and head towards your quarters, maybe you had left something in there to tell him where you went. He looked around but all he found sitting out on your desk was your den den mushi. If there was an issue you wouldn't have been able to call. "Damn it..." Law mutter to himself as he walked back down the halls of the sub.

"Maybe they found something interesting?" Bepo suggested after Law had found him.

Law looked around, "Maybe, but let's take a look around town., just in case." 

The eastern district had no sign of you, neither did the harbor, nor the market, and there was no sign in the town square. Law's expression was growing darker and more anxious as no one could find you. You had to be somewhere on the island. You were okay, you had to be. And if Law had to tear apart the whole island to find you, so it be it.

"Captain?" 

"Keep looking." That was all he said and within an hour every available Heart Pirate was searching. 

You meanwhile finally held the comic in your hands, victory, sweet, glorious victory. You couldn't stop smiling as you headed back to the ship and then you noticed the sun on the horizon. It was much lower than it should have been. You froze; you had completely lost track of time. "Oh no." Your carefully slid the comic in your satchel and took off running to the docks. 

Once the Polar Tang was in sight, you could see all the crew gather around. Bepo looked seconds away from crying, Penguin looked exhausted and Shachi pointed at you once he saw you. "There's (Y/N)!" 

You stopped slightly confused by the reaction, sure you were late, but it wasn't like you were missing or something, "Hi?" 

A collective sigh swept through the group, and several of you crew mates step aside letting Law get to you. Your stomach dropped, at the look on his face. He wasn't angry and honestly you wished he was that may have been better. Instead, Law looked panicked and worried, "Where were you?" Laws eyes drifted all over your body checking for signs of an injures.

You opened your mouth, closed it, and opened it again. "Okay." You laughed nervously rubbing the back of you head sheepishly, "So funny story... there was a comic." Law raised a brow at this, "For you." No reaction besides his eyes locking onto yours, so you forged ahead. "And then there was tea and a little girl and thread and honestly the order got confusing around the middle... but I got it at the end of it all."

You held out the comic proudly, the limited edition Sora issue. For the first time since you'd arrived, Law looked away from you, and his gaze dropped to want was in your hands. The comic sat in your outstretched hands and Law took it carefully. Law look down at it and his thumb brushed the edge of the cover. "You spent all day trying to get this?" His voice was quieter now. 

You gave him a smile, "I thought you would like this. You are always finding things that I like, so I wanted to be able to do the same for you." 

Finally, Law sighed with a small smile on his face with a pink hue covering his cheeks, "Next time, tell someone where you're going. " 

You nodded quickly. "I will." 

"And take your den den mushi." 

"I will." 

"And if an errand starts involving tea, thread, fishermen, or anything else that turns it into an island-wide scavenger hunt..." 

"I call you?" 

"You come back," Law corrected, as he examined the comic again, carefully turning it over in his hands. "This wasn't worth getting lost over." 

"I wasn't lost." His eyes narrowed and you let out a small and nervous laugh, "I knew where I was most of the time." Behind him, Penguin snorted and Shachi elbowed him, but it was too late. Law glanced back, and the entire crew suddenly became fascinated by the submarine, the dock, and about anything else that wasn't you two.

Then Bepo hurried forward and wrapped his arms around you. "We were really worried!" 

Guilt settled in your chest as you returned the hug. "I'm sorry, Bepo. I didn't mean to scare anyone." 

"You had the entire crew searching for you," Penguin pipped up after a moment. 

"The entire crew?" You asked pulling back from Bepo.

"Every available member," Shachi confirmed, earning sharp look from his captain.  

Your gaze returned to Law, beneath his usual scowl, exhaustion lingered around his eyes. He had really thought something had happened to you. You stepped closer. "I'm sorry, Law, really. I should've told someone when the request list kept getting longer, I just was so focused I didn't think about it." For a moment, he said nothing. Then his free hand closed around your wrist and pulled you against him. The movement was abrupt enough to make you stumble, but his arm settled firmly around your waist, holding you there as if he needed to confirm you were real. You rested your forehead against his shoulder. "Were you worried about me?" 

"No." 

"Captain, you read the same page for almost an hour," Bepo said. 

Law's grip tightened slightly. "Bepo." 

"Sorry!" 

You muffled a laugh against Law's coat. "That's so cute." 

He gave a glare without much bite behind it, "Keep talking and I'll throw you into the ocean."  

You looked back at him with mock offense, "You wouldn't dare." 

Law looked down at the rare issue still cradled carefully in his other hand, well away from the edge of the dock. "No," he admitted. "I wouldn't."  His expression softened, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. It was quick enough that the crew might have missed it, if they had not all been blatantly watching this interaction go down. "Thank you for getting me the comic; I love you." He whispered into your ear, so the rest couldn't hear.

The smile that spread across your face made his cheeks turn even redder, as you whispered back, "You're welcome and I love you too." 

He pulled back from you and turned his attention to the crew, "Now get on the submarine, the log pose has reset." You followed him aboard; his hand now wrapped around yours. As the crew prepared to depart, you noticed Law glance at the comic three separate times, the smallest smile tugging at his lips each time. 

The quick errand had taken much longer than forty minutes, caused an island-wide search for you and, and nearly gave your boyfriend a heart attack, but when you later found the comic displayed in a spot of honor in Law's room, you decided it had been worth all the running around and trouble you had accidently caused. 

But next time, though, you were taking a den den mushi with you or maybe just Law.

Portgas D. Ace

He left you alone for one second, one, and some man felt like he had a chance. Ace could only laugh at the man’s confidence. But honestly, he should have expected it. I mean, you were you after all: beautiful, funny, sexy, and stubborn in the best way. Who wouldn’t want a shot at getting with you. Hell, he was lucky that only one man was vying for your attention and not the whole damn bar.

Eh, he knew how this was gonna end anyways. Might as well enjoy the show.

“Hey, sweet cheeks. Come here often?” The man stunk of whiskey and a solid layer of dirt covered his body.

“New in town,” you replied effortlessly. You didn’t want to give him anything too seductive, but you also didn’t want to scare him away. After all, you knew you’d get two shows for the price of one: a bumbling idiot trying to flirt and Ace making sure everyone know just who would be taking you home tonight.

“Maybe I could show you’s around then, doll? I know where all the fun happens.” The stranger sent you a wink.

“Hmmm, I do love a bit of fun. Know any good places one could grab a drink?” You put on your best act of being dumb, pretending as if you didn't actively have a drink in your hand.

Taken aback by the question, the man tripped over his words before answering, “Well, doll, I can buy ya one right here if ya’d like.”

“Oh, a drink would be just lovely,” you gave him your biggest, most insane smile. Time for the show.

Across the room, Ace leaned against the bar next to Thatch. He slowly slipped on his drink, smirking and holding in his laughs as he watched this man make a fool of himself at your feet.

“Oh, for the love of— not again!” Thatch cried. “Marco, it’s happening again.”

Marco turned, preparing to ask Thatch what he meant, before he noticed you and the stranger bantering across the way and the over-the-top nonchalant attitude Ace had taken up in its wake. Marco simply sighed and turned to Thatch. “Damn it,” he laughed, “Well, I guess you can room in my cabin again.”

Ace, half listening, turned to the two men, confused. “What are you talking about? Why would Thatch need to room with you?”

“Because every time a person flirts with Y/N, it ends with your headboard beating against the wall until three a.m., and some of us actually enjoy sleeping,” Thatch spoke, annoyed as Marco let out another chuckle.

Ace felt very little shame at the idea of everyone knowing, hearing that you were his. In fact, he was about to smirk at Thatch’s words until the sound of your laughter stopped him in his tracks. His head whipped back over to look at you as you sent the stranger a soft but hesitant smile.

What started as a fun side quest quickly turned into an annoying scene as the man pushed his limits a step (or ten) too far.

“The way your lips fit around that pint got me thinking about what else those beauts can do.” Your stomach dropped at the man’s vulgarity. You held in the heavy sigh of annoyance that gathered at the back of your throat, instead taking a deep breath and gathering your thoughts before choosing your response.

Normally, you would just leave this guy in the dust with a few less teeth, but Pops had said no fights this time, and you were nothing if not an obedient child… no matter how badly you wanted to punch this man square in the face.

“I’m sorry, sugar.” You gave him a smile that hurt to produce in the wake of his words. “I just don’t think I’m too much fun tonight. Maybe you’ll find another lovely lady to breathe heavily next to.” You appeared sweet, but your words were wrapped with passive-aggressive undertones which you hoped his alcohol littered mind wouldn’t pick up on.

“Oh, but darling, I think you misunderstand, you’re the one I’m gonna have tonight.” The man stepped close, his hot breath fanning over your face, sending a sinking feeling to your stomach and a horrible shiver up your spine. You immediate turned to search for Ace.

Seeing you search for him, Ace knew immediately the man had made you uncomfortable. Without blinking, Ace downed the rest of his drink, wiped away the drop that trickled down his chin, and pushed off the bar, heading in your direction. He made his way over to you with the precision of an apex predator and the intentions of a man who looked upon you as if you had created the world by hand.

As you were searching for the words to de-escalate the mess you started, Ace stepped up beside you and slung his arm around your shoulders, placing his hat on your head with the movement.

You immediately felt your body relax under the weight of your lover. The man across from you, on the other hand, tensed up.

“Hey, love,” your boyfriend spoke, paying the man across from you no mind. This only caused the stranger’s face to grow tighter with anger.

“Ace!” you sighed out, leaning into him, grateful he had come to your aid. Speaking as if nothing was wrong, hoping to keep tensions low, you said, “I was waiting for you to come back. Where have you been?”

As Ace went to reply, the stranger coughed roughly to gain back your attention. “Hey, sweetheart, forget someone? Who’s this anyway? Ya didn’t say you had no boyfriend or nothin’.” His smile was infected with growing irritation and simmering rage.

“Ha! You think she was gonna remember you in the first place?” Having you in his arms, showing everyone, showing this man, that you were his, made Ace arrogant. Damn, did he wear arrogance well, but you really did need this getting out of hand.

“Oh, Ace, this is just—“ You were cut off by the man.

“Fella, you’re the one who left her alone. Seems like you're the one whose memory needs to be questioned.”

You sighed, bringing your fingers to your temples. You really did not need this right now.

“Ace, hey, how about we just head bac—“

Before you could finish speaking, Ace pulled you into a deep, passionate, and probably obscene-looking kiss.

You pulled away, stuttering as a blush washed over your face. “A-Ace…”

He turned to the man with a smirk. “See, already forgetting her own name.” The stranger stood there, stunned by his own anger.

Before another breath could be taken, Ace listen you with the ease and confidence he had every right to possess. Flinging you over his shoulder as you let out a soft yelp, he sauntered out of the bar. The smirk on his face told you exactly what he had planned back in your cabin.

Thatch could do nothing but sigh in defeat as he turned to Marco. “You’ve still got that extra blanket, right?”

Monkey D. Luffy

It took Luffy an embarrassingly long time to realize you were not beside him, his focus drawn away by the shiny beetle broach at the vendor table while you were still checking out at the last stall. When he looked up to see your reaction to the little object, he found you a few paces away chatting with a stranger who seemed a big to uppity to be cool.

“Hey, Y/N!” Luffy gave you a wide smile before turning to the person across from you. “Who are you?” Luffy asked, his head tilting to the side with the inquiry.

“Sir, can’t you see you’re interrupting something?” The man gestured towards you. “This lovely lady was just agreeing to go on a date with me this evening.”

Luffy laughed, “HA! That's kinda stupid. Y/Ns with me!”

The man gasped at Luffy’s words, taken aback by his bluntness and audacity to speak to a noble man like himself in a crass manner. Then he looked at you, and an apologetic and tight smile came across his face.

“I see… Good day, madam.”

As the man stepped back with a small bow, Luffy took your hand to pull you away and show you the knick-knack which had distracted him in the first place.

“I didn’t even want that bitch anyway.” The man grumbled mostly to himself, but loud enough that it did not miss Luffy’s ears.

You froze. ‘Damn it,’ you thought. All you wanted was one nice stroll.

Luffy turned around slowly. You groaned as a headache began developing.

“Luffy, hey, c’mon, just ignore him. He’s not worth—.”

“What did you say?” Luffy seethed, his tone so serious that you began to think he may have been possessed.

The foolish stranger did not back down. In fact, he doubled down.

“I said,” he puffed out his chest, basically begging Luffy for a fight, “I didn’t want that bitch anyway.”

Before the man could finish, his body was twelve feet in the air and flying across the village. A tremor in the ground and a cloud of dust in the distance told you he had landed. Hard. All eyes quickly turned to you two. It was time to leave.

Looking back at Luffy, you see him still staring in the direction he had sent the stranger flying. His breathing was heavy and rapid, his muscles visibly tense, and his hands still balled into shaking fists.

“Luffy, hey,” you reach out to touch his shoulder, hoping to calm him down enough to listen. At the contact, he melted, returning to the present, to you. “Lu, we gotta go,” you spoke softly as you slowly intertwined your fingers with his and pulled him in the direction of the ship.

The jog back was silent and quick, worry growing in your stomach at not only the idea of trouble coming but at the quietness of your boyfriend. You had never seen Luffy be so quiet for so long, not even in his sleep, but addressing the situation would have to wait until you found the rest of the crew and shipped off.

As the sun set and the ocean waves gently rocked the Sunny, you found Luffy sitting on the lion head, the place he went to think… and nap… and eat. Honestly, it’s just where he was kind of all the time.

“Hey, Lu! Mind giving me a lift?” you called up.

Luffy looked down from his seat with a smile before his rubber arms flew down to wrap around you, pulling you up into his lap.

For a moment, you two sat in comfortable familiarity watching the sunset shimmer off the water, creating a spectacular mirage of pinks and gold as Luffy pointed out shapes he saw in the clouds, but the weight of the day, of what Luffy did in your name, sat heavy on your chest.

You lifted your head from his shoulder to look into his eyes. “Lovey, are you okay? That loser really seemed to get to you back at the market.”

Luffy turned away from your gaze for a moment before taking a breath and pulling you in tighter. “I didn’t like what he said, what he called you. It just made me so… mad.”

“Oh, Luffy.” You reached up to cup his face and bring his attention fully to you. “I appreciate that you did that for me, but you really didn’t have to. He was a nobody. He wasn’t worth the anger of a great man.”

“If it means protecting you, it will always be worth it.” His words and wide smile left your heart skipping a beat and your breath catching in your throat. “I’d do it again on every island we go to, every town we stop in, if it meant honoring your name.”

“Luffy… I don’t— I’m not worth all tha—“

“You are too silly!” He said it like it was easy, like it was the most natural thing his mind could produce.

As tears welled in your eyes, you dove into his embrace, nearly toppling him over before he caught you with a soft laugh.

“Plus, I did hit him pretty far, might be a new record!”

You couldn’t help but join in on his laughter.

“I like it when you smile! Don’t ever stop.”

“I won’t, Luffy,” you wiped away the soft tears that fell as you let out another small laugh. “As long as you promise to keep being you.”

“Who else would I be?” He asked with a deadly serious face and a small head tilt, which only made you laugh more.

Trafalgar Law

Going out with the whole crew was a luxury, especially when your boyfriend would much rather be back on the ship, cuddled into your side. Not that that wasn’t an amazing alternative, but sometimes you wanted a night out with all the people you cared about, all having fun together.

In the dim lights of the corner of the tavern, the crew’s laughter at Shachi’s latest story wound down as a man slid up to the table, leaning onto the post nearest you. As he stopped next to you, he let out a small cough, pulling your attention (as well as the attention of the whole table).

“Hey angel,” he wore a smug smirk, “I was wondering if I could get you a drink.”

“Oh, I’m okay!” You turned to the rest of the crew sitting with you. “Anyone else wanna order something?”

Your oblivious reaction to the man’s flirting had the table, outside of Bepo and Law, crescendoing into another round of laughs while confusion rose to your face.

The man, adjusting his stance to be closer to you, clarified. “I think you misunderstand, dear. It is your beauty alone that has entranced me this evening. It would be an honor if you would grace me with your presence.”

Ikkaku sighed heavily and picked up her drink at the man’s absorbed behavior. Shachi choked on his own laugh, and Penguin was nearly in tears.

Law, however, showed no reaction. He simply lifted his drink to his lips and watched the scene unfold from under the shadow of the brim of his hat.

“Ohhhh,” a soft blush washed over your cheeks as you realized the meaning of his words. “That’s so sweet, but I’m sorry. I’m actually spoken for.”

His eyes swept over the table, trying to assess which of the rowdy group could possibly have won you over. With an aura of judgment, he said, “I see. Well, I am sorry for disturbing your evening.” He lifted your hand to his lips and departed from the table.

As your hand came back down, Law grabbed it under the table, rubbing soft circles with his thumb in the spot where the man had kissed you, almost as if he could wipe it away.

“Next rounds on me!” You happily declared, sliding out from the booth to head to the bar.

“Hurry back, cap gets grumpy when you’re gone too long,” Penguin joked with a smirk, elbowing Shachi beside him. Law sent them a dark glare, which only had the two men laughing more.

“Behave, you two,” you joked as you walked away.

You ordered from the barkeep and took a seat at the counter to wait. Less than five seconds later, the man in the stool next to you leaned over.

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?”

“Just having some drinks,” you answered with a friendly smile.

“You should drink with me.” He leaned in even closer, face mere inches from yours, causing you to lean back, teetering in your chair. “Or even better, how about we get out of here?”

Before you could reply, planning to turn the man down as nicely as possible, a blue haze flooded the room, and you were suddenly transported from your spot at the bar to your seat next to Law.

You turned to your lover with a confused look.

Law simply said, “Uni’s gonna grab the drinks.”

“I am?” You heard from across the table, but your attention was drawn away by Law once more, taking your hand under the table.

As you watched Shachi and Pen compete in a round of darts, a woman came up to where you stood, leaning against a tall table with Ikkaku.

and another

Suddenly, Law appeared beside you.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Law grabbed your hand, leaving the woman surprised. “We’re going back to the ship.”

A chorus of “OOOO” came from the crew, as well as a few wolf-whistles at the actions of their captain.

“But why weren’t we having fun?” You asked, letting Law drag you away. “I didn’t get to finish my drink,” you pouted.

“Tsk,” he let out a breathy laugh. “I’ll get you another one… on the ship.”

“Hmpf,” you deepened your frown, “Fine, but you have to give me lots of cuddles too!”

Law slowed his march towards the ship to move his hand from yours and wrap it around your waist, pulling you into his side. “If you insist,” he replied with a small, smug, and loving smile.

so naturally, law needs to do something about his stupid feelings. something that is not pretending like they're not there, because apparently that's not a healthy thing to do, at least that's what bepo said.

law thinks that, maybe, if he just gets it out of his system, maybe then his mind can finally be free from the prison that is your existence. so he starts to look for an opportunity to confess to you.

the first time he tries approaching you is right after breakfast. you're still in the kitchen, apparently on dish washing duty, and he sees you fiddling with the sink when he walks in.

you look up when he enters.

"hey captain", you smile.

"you okay?", law asks, noticing you struggling with something.

"yeah, it's just the stupid sink", you reply, not stopping whatever it is that you're doing. "i wanted to clean the drain before i do the dishes but now i can't get the filter back into it's place. it's stuck."

law looks over your shoulder. "let me try."

you shoot him a look. "isn't this kind of below your pay grade?"

he lets out a quiet chuckle. "just let me do it."

he gently pushes you out of the way and reaches down into the sink. but when he grabs the filter and tries to push it into it's place again it doesn't budge. he tries again, presses down as hard as he can, but it simply won't move.

"huh", law takes a step back. "i can't get it in."

there's a snort next to him and he glances at you, confused.

"that's what he said", you give him one of your signature grins.

law furrows his brows, before it clicks and he lets out a disapproving sigh.

"room." he uses his devil fruit to put the filter back into the right spot.

"thanks captain", you place a hand on his shoulder and wink. "i'm gonna get some dish soap."

and then you walk off. for a few seconds, law stares at the spot you were just standing in, before he shakes his head and wonders to himself how he can have feelings for someone who makes jokes like this.

he decides to try again later. it's a quiet moment when he finds you in one of the engine rooms, tinkering with some pipes. it's hot and steamy and law has to take a deep breath before he dares to approach you.

the top part of your boiler suit is tied around your waist, shoulders exposed in the tank top you're wearing underneath, skin glistening with sweat and a little bit of dirt. the sight really doesn't help with easing law's nerves.

you stop fiddling with the valve you're working on when you spot him.

"what's up, captain?"

"just checking on you."

law absentmindedly takes a look around.

you cross your arms over your chest. "you flatter me, captain, but that's not really necessary."

law lifts his hat up to nervously run a hand through his dark hair, before he places it back on his head.

"you alright?", you tilt your head to the side.

law gulps.

"yeah, uh, it's just..", he stumbles over his words, his eyes lingering on your exposed collar bones.

and to his dismay, you seem to notice.

"are you mad because i took of my suit?", you chuckle. "sorry captain, it's just more comfortable to work like this."

law nods slightly, still not quite able to meet your eyes.

"it's fine, i suppose", he mutters. "it's, uh... it's really... hot."

you raise an eyebrow and it takes only a second before his head shoots up in panic.

"not like that! i didn't mean - i just -", he rambles. "i didn't mean you're hot, i just meant the engines always run hot."

your laugh brings him to a stop and he sighs.

"why isn't my mouth working?", he mutters, more to himself, but of course you catch it.

"why isn't my mouth working - title of your sextape", you cackle.

law resists the urge to facepalm. it's fine, he tells himself. he'll try another time.

then it comes. the moment law has been looking for. it's after dinner, the polar tang has gone uncharacteristically serene and most of the crew have already turned in for the night. in fact, law is on his way to his own bed to get a good night's sleep for once, when he passes by the med bay and spots you out of the corner of his eye.

he stops walking and peeks inside. for a moment, he simply watches you work. with your back turned to him, you don't notice his presence, and he lets his eyes track your gentle movements for a while, before he forces himself to snap out of it.

"what are you still doing here?"

you startle and turn your head.

"oh, captain, didn't see you there", you smile. "i was just finishing up here, actually."

law watches as you put away the supplies you had been sorting through. he exhales. this is it. this is his chance.

hesitantly, he takes a step into the room.

"i've been meaning to talk to you", he begins, cringing at the sound of his own voice, that seems way too loud now for some reason.

"oh yeah? what is it?", you ask without turning around.

law takes a step toward you and then another one, desperately trying to calm his nerves, but his heart just won't stop racing, why won't it stop?! it's so loud in his ears that he's almost sure you can hear it too.

he doesn't even notice how he keeps walking, until he's standing right behind you, and before he can move away you've already turned around.

your eyes meet his and law chokes.

"oh", you breathe. "hi"

law gets caught up in the sight of you gazing up at him like this, with your big eyes, your face so close to his own all of a sudden. he inhales.

"listen", his voice is shaky when he speaks. "i need to tell you -"

suddenly, he doesn't know what to say. he racks his brain for the words he'd so carefully put together for this, he'd rehearsed them in his mind a thousand times, and still they're completely gone.

you're still there, trapped between him and the counter behind you, eyes trained on him expectantly. he feels your breath on his skin, notices the tiny freckles on your nose, and the wayward strands of hair that have fallen in front of your face.

and then law loses it.

he leans down and kisses you.

he feels you startle, feels your breath catch, and he's about to pull away, but then finally you relax and lean into him, as you reciprocate the kiss.

and law loses it some more.

there's a beautiful pink colour on your cheeks when he leans back.

you stare up at him, a stunned expression on your face. and then a quiet whisper leaves your mouth.

"goodnight everybody."

LAW [mystery, emotional depth & strength]

After spending what it felt like eons submerged in the Polar Tang, you had finally docked on an island, spring time making its way trough, flowers blossoming and painting the town in all it’s beautiful hues.

You decided to take a walk to finally get some fresh air and stretch your legs.

Law usually tails after you in this situations, as much he hates to admit it the surgeon only feels at ease when you’re at arms length, the only way he can make sure you’re safe; however this time around he has inventory to get done.

He soon regrets this decision; the sun is unrelenting baring its rays through his skins as he stands on the top of the submarine, it has been 2 hours and no one knew where you went. A million terrible scenarios go through his head, were you kidnapped? Did you get lost and now found yourself in another island?… did you… leave?

“Captain don’t worry” Bepo approaches the Captain the same way you would a cat on the street- “I’m sure they’re just fine, they’re strong and smart enough to take care of themselves”

Now that he was right about, still when it comes you, Law can’t seem to think straight.

As if on cue, your laugh echoes from far away, and there you were: skipping your way directly to the submarine, all smiles and excitement that has Law softening at the sight. Bepo says something about “told you so Captain” but he doesn’t really hear him, as he often does when you’re between his field of vision.

You make a beeline to Law, obviously

“Hey~”

“Where were you?”

Way to go doctor. Being this close to a very stressed Law would scare anyone, but beneath it all you saw he was just worried about you.

You smile “Was out getting something special… for you”

“Huh?”

Form behind you, you reveal a bouquet of beautiful handpicked flowers, but not any type

Black dahlias

“I found a huge field and came across these… thought of you”

Law stands stiff, eyes wide and completely lost on how to react. You, bless you heart, grabbed his hands and put the bouquet between them. You don’t expect him to answer, you know him better that anyone; you stand on your toes and peck his cheek.

“Hope you like em~”

You leave him there, wordless, gears in his head turning and his face a bright red.

Some days later you find one of the dahlias pressed beside your night stand a small note beside it

‘Thank you, love’

SANJI [Remembrance, true love & loyalty]

The cook loved nothing more than showering you with his love and affection. Dinners, gifts, flowers, desserts, letters you name it, he has done it. A professional romantic you could say!

What’s strange is that Sanji isn’t the best when it comes to receiving that same love and affection back, which is something you have been working on.

His day started early as it always does when you’re the cook of the future king of the pirates, prepping for breakfast and snacks at 6 am while everyone else sleeps soundly. Sanji opened the dish gabinete looking for a bowl, instead what his hand was able to reach was a forget-me-not. He examines it, puzzled but also a strange feeling settling over him… how did this ended up all the way up in his stuff?

He reached for the gabinete again and chooses a vase for the little flower, he places it front and center of the kitchen ilse.

Later, everyone crashes the kitchen for breakfast most eagerly, chatter and laughter filling the kitchen that ends up in alt of dirty dishes he has to clean. Of course you had offered but Sanji couldn’t let you lift a finger around his kitchen. As he finishes and wipes his hands, the cook is surprised yet again that morning with another forget-me-not, this one in the middle of the breakfast table. He collects it, gears turning in his head as he examines it before placing it in the vase.

His day continues and he just keeps stumbling into more flowers: on his smoke break, one in your hair when he comes to say hi, inside the pocket of his vest, store between the spices, even inside his cigarette box.

Still without a single clue of what or who could be putting them on his way, Sanji collected every single one of them. By dinner time he had a whole bouquet!

“These are gorgeous” Sanji turns around, he sees you looking at the flowers on the isle, soft smile on your face before sitting down for your late night chatter like clockwork

“Not as beautiful as you my love-” he answers without missing a beat “-It seems Cupid made a visit to The Sunny today…”

A smirk was forming in your face, thankfully the cook was too preoccupied sharpening his knife to notice

“Is that so?”

“It was so magical, he probably wanted me to surprise you today” he turns once more before walking straight to you, slowly reaching for the vase, careful and caring; like deep down he knew who did this but just didn’t wanted to accept it, diverting

“I think this was a surprise meant for someone else” his eyes meet yours, a wide ocean in front of you

“Oh?”

“Maybe… I grew these… for you” your eyes never leave Sanji’s, not even for a second even as your hands wrap around his and the vase of forget-me-nots

“Oh~”

Sanji learned what ‘short circuited’ really felt like that day

ZORO [Adoration, loyalty & longevity]

“Are you even listening?”

“Yeah yeah”

For the first time in days, the strawhats found themselves under clear skies and a gentle breeze. Zoro laid relaxed on the grass, you sitting beside him with a book on flower language Robin had gifted you for your birthday, becoming your new obsession

“I feel you’re just saying it to get rid of me”

“And is it working?”

“No” you giggled as you turn another page looking for a new flower to read the meaning behind; the swordsman as much as he acted like he hated it, quite enjoyed this moments. You always seemed to find joy around you, one of your many amazing qualities- and somehow it was starting to rub on him too, something he still didn’t knew how to feel about.

Weakness was his biggest enemy, but you made it seemed so sweet

“The one that I didn’t expect was the sunflower, it represents adoration and loyalty; which is kinda poetic if you think about it because they are always following the sun” you kept ranting on on about the sunflower, slowly lulling Zoro to sleep

“It kinda reminds me of you”

Instead of a ‘thank you’ or ‘really?’ All you were met with was loud snoring… you probably should be mad but honestly it just warmed your heart Zoro felt secure enough to fall asleep beside you.

You spend the rest of the evening reading while your fingers cradled his green strands of hair, slow and deliberate.

Some weeks later, The Sunny finally docked and you were able to enjoy some well deserved leisure time.

Zoro and Usopp headed to the islands black smith to stack on some cleaning supplies for the swords and other gear… oh and-

“Sun… flowers?” Usopp never thought he would heard such words leave Zoro’s mouth, yet here he is

“Yeah just… ugh whatever I’ll get em myself”

Usopp tried to stop him, he swears he did! But when Zoro makes up his mind about something it was hard to stop him.

So what could’ve been a simple excursion to buy some sunflowers for you, ended up in half the crew splitting to find him.

A whole day lost on finding the clueless and very in love swordsman. A whole day of Zoro stopping in every corner and every shop asking for sunflower and intimidating many sellers.

Defeated, he finally gets up on The Sunny, sun hiding behind the ocean painting it in orange hues. He was gift-less, and also very tired of walking around the island.

And then he saw your face, smiling from ear to ear and in your hands: 3 sunflowers

It’s like they were making fun of him

“You’re back!” You shortened the distance, a subtle blush sitting atop your cheeks and a spark in your eyes “I got you these!” Carefully, you placed the vase with the flowers on his callused hands, his face once irritated dropped into something softer, almost moved

Almost

“They represent loyalty and-

“Adoration” he finished your sentence, eye now focused on your excited expression and a smile breaking on his lips

“Yeah… exactly”

Masterlist

Perhaps the first spark of warmth had appeared that morning when he had turned half the office upside down.

“Think a little harder about where it could be,” he hissed at the poor, innocent Bepo, who had only been trying to help.

A part of him already regretted snapping at his oldest friend, but he had never been able to suppress that restless irritation whenever things refused to go according to plan.

He needed a particular medical journal, and only a few days earlier the crew had organized a thorough cleaning of the Polar Tang. Everyone had been given their own section. Shachi had taken care of the engine room, Penguin the kitchen, Ikkaku the common room, while Bepo had somehow drawn the unfortunate task of organizing the office of the world’s greatest perfectionist.

Now, after failing to find the journal within the first two minutes of searching, Law had all but descended into a minor breakdown.

The immaculate state of the room, the crisp scent of antiseptic mingling with the delicate citrus diffuser Bepo had thoughtfully placed there because he knew it was his captain’s favorite, did absolutely nothing to improve his mood.

Meanwhile, Bepo was beginning to panic.

He had always been diligent, and he had been certain he’d done everything exactly as instructed, especially after Law had practically breathed down his neck during the entire process… right until you had shooed the captain out of the office and dragged him away to your shared room. Every book had been returned to its carefully designated place on the shelves. The desk was arranged with near mathematical precision, every pen and instrument sorted according to its material, purpose, and size.

So where in the world could those medical journals have disappeared to?

As though summoned by fate itself, your cheerful face peeked through the half-open doorway.

“Are you boys finished yet?”

You were greeted by quite the familiar sight.

Bepo stood frozen with both paws pressed against his cheeks, ears drooping anxiously, while your Surgeon of Death glared at the room with knitted brows, looking every bit like a man quietly contemplating the systematic elimination of his entire crew.

“No!”

“Help!”

You blinked, somewhere between puzzled and entirely accustomed to their dramatics.

“Is everything alright?”

Law exhaled sharply before turning toward you with an exasperated look.

“No. I can’t find this month’s issues of the Journal of Clinical Research, the East Blue Journal of Anesthesiology, the West Blue Medical Ethics Review… or any of the others.”

“You mean these?”

You lifted a heavy storage box brimming with journals, while your other hand held an equally overstuffed bag.

“The rest are still in our room. I was just about to go get them. Remember? We agreed we’d keep them out of the office while everyone was cleaning.”

…Right.

Law’s gaze slowly drifted toward the polar bear, who brightened so dramatically that, had his tail been any longer, it would have knocked both of you over with the force of its wagging.

“I… overlooked that detail,” the doctor admitted reluctantly, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Uh… sorry, Bepo.”

“No problem, Captain!”

Law gave a small nod.

“But… you should still be a little more careful with my things.”

You placed the box and bag on the floor before turning toward the hallway.

“Well, maybe you should organize your office yourself next time,” you muttered over your shoulder. “Since apparently neither Bepo nor I can do it properly.”

“No…”

The Heart Pirates’ captain sounded almost shy.

“I like the way he arranges my instruments… and the way you label everything. You always choose scents subtle enough that they help me think instead of distracting me.”

After the briefest pause, he added quietly,

“You’re both better at it than I am.”

You exchanged matching, toothy smiles with Bepo, whose relief was so overwhelming he looked ready to collapse onto the nearest couch for a well-earned nap.

“I’m glad to hear that, Captain,” he said, making a remarkably swift escape before Law had the chance to notice that the encyclopedia on osteology had been shelved after myology instead of before it.

Law watched him disappear before leaning closer to you, curiosity gradually replacing his earlier frustration. His chin nearly brushed your shoulder as he peered toward the mysterious bags.

“What’s in there?” he asked, his tone only barely disguising the fact that he was really looking for an excuse to be close to you.

A smile tugged at your lips. You subtly shifted the bag farther from his line of sight.

“You’ll see soon enough.”

You reached for the doorknob, but the tall doctor had already followed after you, muttering under his breath that he’d help after all, if only because you were impossibly stubborn.

The last bag landed on the floor with a heavy thud, bulging awkwardly from whatever solid contents it held.

“There!” you announced brightly. “Welcome to paradise for nitpicky people like you.”

He rolled his eyes, though his curiosity had clearly won.

“What exactly are you planning?”

You knelt on the floor and began arranging a collection of narrow storage boxes in different colors. Each one had an empty label waiting to be filled, and from somewhere among your seemingly endless supplies you produced your ever-present assortment of pens and markers.

“See? Everything related to bones and new fracture treatments can go in the white one. Cardiology belongs in the red one, neurology in the blue… Actually, you know what?” Your eyes suddenly lit up. “I could even draw a little symbol on every label so you’ll recognize them even faster.”

You had already uncapped a marker, carefully writing the first label before sorting through the towering stack of journals beside you.

Law simply watched.

There was something dangerously close to wonder in his eyes.

You had paid attention to one of his countless, absurdly specific organizational habits, habits most people would dismiss as eccentric or obsessive, and somehow managed to come up with a solution he hadn’t even realized he needed.

Quietly, he lowered himself to the floor beside you. His large hand settled over yours where it rested against the floor before gently taking the marker from your fingers.

“It would be much more logical to use the green box for hepatobiliary medicine rather than anatomical diagrams,” he said, already sketching out an entirely new system. “Considering the range of subjects, the most efficient arrangement would be…”

And so he continued, explaining every meticulous detail behind his categorization with the enthusiasm of someone discussing the most fascinating subject in the world.

Though if anyone had asked him later what the two of you had been doing that afternoon, he would have answered, with complete sincerity, that you’d simply been enjoying a pleasant conversation while organizing medical journals.

He would never admit that somewhere between color-coded labels and spirited debates over anatomy and medical specialties, a feeling he had believed lost forever had quietly found its way back to him, wrapping itself around his heart with the warmth and familiarity of home.

The Heart Pirates regarded your relationship with a kind of reverent fascination.

Your flawless communication, carried out with scarcely a word exchanged between you, had become something of a phenomenon aboard the Polar Tang. It amused the crew to no end, and whenever they happened to witness another one of your silent interactions, they would inevitably gather later to discuss it as though filing reports on an inexplicable natural occurrence.

“It’s actually kind of eerie,” Penguin muttered as he and Shachi peeked around the corner of the hallway.

Inside the office, the captain had reached absentmindedly toward his desk for something, only to frown when his hand met empty space. He began rifling through the scattered papers without even lifting his gaze from the report he was reading. Before his search had the chance to become an actual distraction, you quietly placed the missing folder into his waiting hand.

He accepted it without surprise.

The only acknowledgment was a grateful nod and the faintest curve of a smile before his attention drifted back to the page. A moment later, he tapped the desk three thoughtful times.

Without hesitation, you handed him the special fountain pen he preferred whenever annotating noteworthy medical discoveries.

“They're like an old married couple of mimes” Shachi whispered in astonishment.

Neither of you seemed aware of what you were doing anymore.

A few minutes later, Law instinctively reached for his teacup while continuing to read, only to discover it empty. Before his fingers could close around it, you had already refilled it, setting it back beneath his hand so naturally that he barely paused before taking another sip.

Sometimes the crew wondered whether you shared a language no one else could hear.

Perhaps the stubborn little spark of love had settled somewhere inside him on evenings when you would appear outside his office carrying his reading glasses in one hand and a fresh cup of coffee in the other.

Or perhaps it had been those quieter moments later that same night, when exhaustion finally claimed him. He would fall asleep with a book still open across his lap, and you would gently remove his glasses before they could dig into his face, placing them on the bedside table before pulling the blanket over his shoulders.

He had been convinced it would settle eventually.

That was the peculiar part.

From time to time, the thought would return to him.

He had assumed that once he finally admitted it, first to himself and then to you, love would simply become another quiet certainty, something steady and familiar.

Instead, it kept discovering new places to live.

It had begun somewhere beneath his ribs.

Then it occupied every idle thought, filling them with your endlessly kind eyes, your infectious smile, the comforting warmth of your hand wrapped around his, the skilled fingers lazily combing through his hair after impossibly long days.

Now it revealed itself in moments so ordinary they should have passed unnoticed.

Watching you laugh from the other side of the room.

Finding one of your little handwritten notes tucked between the pages of whatever book he happened to open.

Discovering a glass of water and his daily vitamins already waiting on his desk before he’d even remembered he ought to take them.

Realizing you’d quietly mended the tear in his famous hat or stitched the loose seam of one of his shirts without mentioning it.

Feeling your hand search for his beneath the blankets while you slept.

Every day it reached a little farther than it had the day before.

And every time he convinced himself he had reached the limits of what he could possibly feel for you, you somehow proved him wrong.

Another absentminded kiss pressed against his temple as you wandered past his desk.

Another shopping list, meticulously prepared before he had even remembered the submarine needed new supplies or medical equipment, containing every single item he would eventually have written down himself.

“You’ve become remarkably efficient,” he had teased once.

“I’ve picked up a few tricks from our resident perfectionist.”

Another quiet, “I made your favorite,” waiting for him after an especially demanding day, accompanied by grilled fish and fresh salad already laid out on the table.

His mind wandered through countless little scenes.

You persuading him to leave his office long enough to read with you on the deck whenever the submarine surfaced, just to catch a little sunlight.

You appearing beside him with a glass of water after his fourth cup of coffee, firmly enforcing the caffeine limit no matter how passionately he protested every single time.

“I’m the doctor,” he had argued with all the dignity he could muster. “I think I know what I’m doing. Caffeine stimulates the release of dopamine and norepinephrine, improving alertness and concentration, which is rather useful aboard a submarine like this. Besides…”

“Besides,” you interrupted sweetly, “it also ruins what little sleep you already get, causes heart palpitations, and can aggravate stomach ulcers.”

He had accepted the water with a long-suffering sigh.

Love had become infuriatingly ambitious.

It refused to remain where it had first begun.

Instead, it wandered through every hidden corner of him until even the smallest moments had become irrevocably saturated with you.

It wasn’t that the Surgeon of Death didn’t want to express his gratitude.

Quite the opposite.

He was painfully aware of how much lighter the burdens life had placed upon his shoulders had become simply because you now carried part of them with him.

The difficulty lay elsewhere.

He had never quite learned how.

So his gratitude found quieter forms.

Sometimes he would simply slide his untouched dessert onto your plate because he knew how hopelessly fond you were of sweets.

If the submarine was due to dive at sunset, he might postpone it just long enough for the two of you, and by extension the rest of the crew, to enjoy a few more precious minutes beneath a sky full of stars or lingering rays of evening sunlight.

Occasionally you would return to your room to discover a novel you’d mentioned weeks ago resting neatly on the bed. Other times, opening the book you were already reading, you’d find an exquisitely engraved bookmark tucked between the pages, or perhaps the sweater you’d admired in a shop window folded carefully beside your pillow.

If he noticed, and he always noticed, that you’d skipped breakfast because you’d been helping him organize supplies or assisting with paperwork, he would silently divide his own meal in half.

On particularly rare mornings, he even cooked.

He would insist it was nothing elaborate, merely a quick and practical recipe, though you maintained he was a far better cook than he cared to admit.

And if he happened to be feeling especially bold…

“Here.”

He held out a bouquet of gerberas in varying shades of pink, their cheerful petals turned toward you.

He had chosen them because they felt ordinary enough not to seem extravagant, yet beautiful enough to deserve the smile he hoped to see.

Earlier that afternoon, most of the crew had been wandering through a small seaside town gathering supplies. At some point Law had quietly disappeared, and you had never imagined this would be the reason.

You stared at him in complete bewilderment.

“…Law? What’s the occasion?”

He shrugged.

“No occasion.”

Then, as casually as though he were commenting on tomorrow’s weather, or reciting yet another obscure medical fact, he added,

“They reminded me of you.”

You accepted the flowers with shining eyes, wearing that smile which had stolen his heart so quietly he hadn’t even realized it was happening.

“They’re beautiful.”

“So are yo…”

His brows drew together.

His eyes widened.

Heat rushed to the tips of his ears.

“I mean…”

He let out a quiet sigh.

“I wasn’t trying to be poetic.”

“Heaven forbid,” you teased. “That would be beneath the great Surgeon of Death’s dignity.”

He scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck before unconsciously reaching out to brush a loose strand of hair away from your face.

“I don’t think I’ve thanked you enough.”

You smiled softly.

“For what?”

Unable to withstand the full weight your gaze, he lowered his eyes to the flowers instead.

“…For making this feel more like home.”

He would have endured that uncomfortable vulnerability a thousand times over if it meant seeing that expression again, the quiet joy that lit your entire face before you rose onto your toes and pressed the gentlest kiss against his cheek.

Perhaps that feeling found its way into the cracks of his soul during moments that seemed too insignificant to matter.

He would be buried beneath paperwork and medical journals, scarcely noticing the faint scratch in his throat. A doctor himself, he would dismiss it, as he dismissed most ailments that afflicted his own body.

And then, like the quiet arrival of morning light, there you were.

A steaming mug rested between your hands, a delicate cloud of warmth curling into the air as you placed it beside him.

One sip was enough.

“…It’s sweet,” he murmured thoughtfully. “I can taste honey… lemon… cinnamon?”

Instead of answering, you gently stroked the fuzzy line of his beard beneath his lower lip, your thumb brushing softly across his cheekbone.

“Your voice is a little rough today,” you observed. “Sounds like you’re coming down with something.”

He looked up at you, thoughtful surprise flickering across his face.

“So drink,” you said simply.

You turned to leave, but before you could take another step, his hand caught yours, long fingers weaving instinctively between your own.

He didn’t say anything at first.

He only looked at you, something so achingly tender hidden within his golden eyes that it made your heart tighten.

Then he lifted the mug again, drinking while the tea was still hot.

“You have to take care of yourself,” you reminded him softly. “Finish it while it’s warm. If you’re not in our room in fifteen minutes, I’m coming back to drag you there myself.”

You started toward the door once more.

His little finger, still hooked around yours, refused to let go.

“Stay.”

His voice was low and hoarse, the sort of voice you could never have resisted, even if you’d wanted to.

With the gentlest tug, he drew you back to him.

Every now and then the notoriously spoiled captain would grumble whenever the crew, eager for variety, prepared a snack containing the particular kind of carbohydrate he loathed above all others.

Bread.

Without complaint, you would simply prepare a separate portion for him.

“For my favorite brat,” you would announce, placing the plate before the pouting doctor before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

Law would huff in mock indignation, all the while feeling his heart stumble embarrassingly against his ribs.

“…Thank you,” he would mumble under his breath.

On other occasions, if Penguin happened to be making onigiri, you quietly made sure to set aside every rice ball filled with umeboshi before they ever reached Law’s plate, hoping to spare everyone the entirely predictable spectacle that would otherwise follow.

Entirely unsuspecting, Law would bite into one of the soft, pillowy rice triangles, only for the aggressively salty, piercingly sour pickled plum to burst across his tongue.

He stiffened instantly.

Like a cat whose dignity had just been profoundly insulted.

“Th-this…” His irritation mounted with every syllable. “YOU KNOW I CAN’T STAND UMEBOSHI.”

Penguin immediately lifted both hands in surrender.

“Captain, everyone else likes them! Your completely rational ban on umeboshi aboard the submarine just wasn’t going to happen!”

Before Law could continue his increasingly dramatic protest, you quietly held out a napkin and switched your plates.

“Spit it out if you hate it that much.”

You took a bite from your own rice ball.

“Mine don’t have any. Besides, I don’t really have a preference.”

Law simply stared at you.

A faint blush crept over his cheeks, partly because of the gesture itself, partly because you were shamelessly babying him in front of the entire crew.

Strangely enough…

He didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Now eat,” you urged, gently nudging his plate toward him. “I’ll point out which ones are safe. I watched Penguin make them.”

He nodded quietly before giving your hand a grateful squeeze beneath the table.

“You can repay me later with chocolate” you teased. “I need something sweet to erase that sourness from my tongue.”

Law rolled his eyes, already knowing perfectly well that you would have ended up with chocolate regardless.

“I never doubted it.”

The hurried footsteps caught his attention even before the door to his office swung open a heartbeat later.

You were radiant.

Slightly out of breath, practically glowing with excitement, wearing a smile so bright it stretched from ear to ear. That wonderfully infectious smile. The one that somehow managed to brighten every room before you even spoke.

The corners of Law’s lips lifted into an amused smile.

“And what exactly warrants this much excitement?” he asked, one eyebrow arching. “Don’t tell me you simply missed m…”

He stopped.

Until that moment, both of your hands had remained hidden behind your back.

Now you brought them forward, presenting him with the newest issue of Sora, Warrior of the Sea.

Its brilliant blue cover shimmered beneath the cabin lights, waves crashing behind the heroic figure who had accompanied so much of your boyfriend’s childhood and, if he were honest, quite a bit of his adulthood as well.

“…How did you get this?”

There was genuine reverence in his voice.

He accepted the comic almost cautiously, as though afraid it might disappear if he held it too tightly, already turning the pages while knowing full well how the rest of his evening, and likely half the night, would unfold.

Perhaps the two of you would read it together until sleep inevitably claimed you first.

Tomorrow he would undoubtedly recount every chapter to you anyway, complete with elaborate theories and observations you’d hear regardless.

“I have my ways,” you replied with a grin, unable to stop smiling at the sight of your usually stoic captain looking so openly, almost childishly delighted.

After several long moments, he forced himself to tear his attention away from the pages.

With almost ceremonial care, he placed the comic upon his desk before turning back toward you.

The hug came so suddenly that you barely had time to squeak in surprise.

He gathered you against him with such fierce tenderness that it felt as though the boundaries between your souls had quietly dissolved, leaving behind nothing but an overwhelming warmth that only complete devotion could ever create.

His lips found your hair first.

Then your temple.

Your cheek.

Your shoulder.

Each kiss was accompanied by soft, almost inaudible murmurs, words of affection and gratitude spoken so quietly they belonged to you alone.

In the darkness of his office, illuminated only by the faint glow of the desk lamp, Law continued filling page after page with medical observations. Every passing hour stretched his work a little longer as yet another detail occurred to him, another peculiarity that simply had to be preserved before sleep could claim it.

At some point, the lock clicked softly.

He didn’t look up.

He remained absorbed in his notes, his pen moving steadily across the paper.

He would have recognized you without sight.

Blind, he thought, he would still know you by the touch of your hand, by the cadence of your footsteps echoing through the room, by the quiet rhythm of your breathing.

Even if every one of his senses were stripped away save for hearing, he would not need so much as a whisper to know it was you. Your presence alone carried a peace he could scarcely remember ever having known before.

If nothing else remained, he could have recognized you by the way his own heart changed its rhythm whenever you drew near.

Your hands settled upon his tense shoulders, your practiced fingers patiently working at the stubborn knots gathered beneath his skin.

Law released a slow, weary breath, his brows drawing together every so often as pleasant pain melted into relief, far too satisfying for him to ask you to stop.

“That’s enough,” you murmured. “Come to bed.”

He answered with something barely intelligible before, a few moments later, repeating himself more clearly.

“I’m not finished.”

His hand gently caught yours as it moved away, bringing your knuckles to his lips.

“I’ll come later. You go on without me.”

You rolled your eyes.

“No.”

Your answer was as calm as it was absolute.

“It’s half past one in the morning. If you’re going to keep hiding in here, then I’ll stay with you.”

A small pause.

“But I still think you’d be much wiser to continue tomorrow. Morning is wiser than night, remember? Your thoughts will be clearer after you’ve slept instead of burning yourself out like this.”

Feigning reluctant defeat, the doctor finally rose from his chair and followed you toward your room.

The submarine was wonderfully quiet at this hour, every corridor wrapped in sleepy silence. With no one around to witness him, he slipped an arm around your waist, drawing you closer until his head rested lazily against your shoulder as the two of you wandered bleary-eyed through the dimly lit halls together.

After helping him get ready for bed, despite his repeated insistence that you stop fussing over him, Law promptly disproved every complaint he’d made about not being tired.

The moment he lay down, he stretched out across you, resting his head upon your chest as though it were the most natural place in the world to be.

Only seconds earlier, he’d been insisting he wasn’t sleepy.

His fingertips idly traced lazy circles against your waist, the edge of his goatee occasionally brushing the skin of your chest and making you twitch with a quiet laugh whenever the coarse hairs tickled, bringing an amused smile to Law's lips.

Your own fingers disappeared into his dark hair, gently scratching his scalp and absentmindedly playing with the soft strands.

“You’re going to spoil me,” he sighed, eyes already closed.

You smiled.

“You let me.”

“…I suppose I do.”

“You were a little spoiled to begin with.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Law had spent years believing that love meant protecting.

He had never imagined what it felt like to be protected in return.

Somehow, your care had slipped effortlessly past every wall he had spent years constructing. It settled first in places he could ignore, then quietly spread until there was nowhere left to escape it, taking root in every ordinary moment of his life.

It lingered in the blanket draped over his shoulders before he noticed the cold.

In the perfectly brewed coffee that somehow found its way into his hands before he even realized he wanted it.

In the quiet whispers you offered to the crew whenever he happened to fall asleep somewhere unexpected, asking them to keep their voices down just a little longer.

In the way your fingers absentmindedly searched for his whenever you walked side by side, though more often than not it was his hand that found yours first.

In the way your eyes softened each time they met his, as though reassuring both of you that he was still there and well.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to remember what life had felt like before someone loved him with such quiet attentiveness.

Stranger still was the hunger that love had awakened.

For years he had asked nothing of the world, convincing himself that wanting very little was the surest way to keep moving forward.

Yet now…

Now he found himself longing, helplessly and without resistance, for more.

More evenings like this.

More conversations that faded naturally into companionable silence.

More mornings waking to find you still beside him.

More absentminded strokes through his hair, your fingers wandering there as though they had always belonged.

It was a peculiar kind of yearning.

Not one born of loneliness, but of abundance.

The more of you life entrusted to him, the more impossible it became to imagine a world where every small piece of you wasn’t woven inseparably into his own.

What a strange turn of fate.

I, who once forbade myself this kind of longing… I, who spent years building walls high enough to withstand whatever cruelties life might hurl my way… have become insatiable.

Rob Lucci

You’re sat on the plush of your vanity chair doing what not—brushing your hair, doing your nails, fixing your skin care—anything but acknowledging the man leaning against the door frame behind you.

His arms crossed and gaze piercing your back. Expression a scowl but you don’t care.

Rob’s been staring at you for the past few minutes and he can keep staring.

He agreed to take you out for shopping — but work came up, and that always came first.

Which you can understand; he’s a Government agent, you knew what kind of man you chose to entangle yourself with but then, when he came back — the topic of shopping came up once more and he had commented on your spending habits, calling it childish. Impulsive. And entirely impractical.

Since, there’s been silence.

Since, there’s been scowls and frowns and a lot of ‘hmph’ on your end.

The times when Lucci is home, you usually spent it tugging at his side, anything to be close to him before he vanishes to do Government business but now?

You don’t have any interest in his presence other than silence.

Which, he should be comfortable with.

Which, he should be unbothered with.

Which, he shouldn’t find himself silently stalking you from room to room like a robotic ghost sizing up his next prey.

And the thing is,

Lucci just…. Stands there.

Arms crossed. Expression dead serious and posture so straight you’d mistake him for a coat stand and not your lover.

But you ignore him.

You undress in complete silence as you get ready for bed — skimming into your sleepwear, not once glancing his way as you methodically get in bed. Back turned.

Lucci doesn’t move.

Doesn’t say anything.

just goes to sit on the edge of the bed, on your side.

His weight dipping down the mattress, but you don’t turn to face him.

Minutes goes.

Moments passes.

Clock keeps ticking.

Until he breaks the suffocation—not because he resigns defeat but because it annoys him. Must you be so prideful? Must you be so high maintenance and bratty?

“How long are you planning to keep up with this.”

You don’t answer. In fact, his stupid comment resolves your pettiness even further.

He glances to your figure, back still turned. He blinks, looking away. “I already said I’ll take you shopping tomorrow, you’re being petty.”

A pause.

“You hate me.” You mumble and he snaps his gaze to you, giving you a hard look.

“I’m not entertaining this childish endeavour.”

“You want me to die.” You pull your blanket tighter around yourself and you hear him click his tongue.

He manoeuvres over you, looming above you, forcing you to turn on your back and face him but you cover your eyes with your hands.

Not wanting to see him.

He grits his teeth.

His knee goes in between your legs as he takes a hold of your wrists, trying to pry your hands off your face as soft as a killing machine possibly could.

“Look at me.” His tone is commanding and you squeeze your eyes shut as he forces your wrists apart. Bracing them between your head.

“If you won’t open your eyes I'll punish you, and you won’t like it.”

You refuse.

And he leans in, kissing your neck.

Making you flinch.

You stutter out his name “h-hey!”

His tactic worked because now you’re staring at him, bashful and half-into it.

He looks up to you, face coming close to yours. So close you can feel his breath on your cheeks. Controlled. Steady. Everything yours isn’t.

His voice goes husky, “We can keep going, or you can keep sulking.”

You push your knee into his abdomen, heart thrumming. “You’re mean.”

“I’m practical.”

“You said my closet was overflowing!”

“Which it is.”

You try and push him off with your leg but he’s completely unbothered, leaning back down to kiss your forehead.

And it catches you off guard, your squirming halting — and his thick lips curves into a smile. Small, hidden, and entirely cocky.

and as you burn, he goes back to your neck.

“This is so unfair—“ you hitch your breath when you feel him making a hickey.

You can sulk all you want, but he’ll wring you back in, one way or another.

Summary: In the end, Rob did keep to his word, taking you out for shopping. Holding your bags. Following you silently around as you empty out his wallet. And you’re smiling. Talking. Giddy and playful. He wont admit it, but it’s a look that suits you far more.

Sir Crocodile

You were laying flat on the sofa. Head buried in the cushions. Sulking.

Sir Crocodile promised to spend time with you last evening — you had fixed tea, blankets, cancelled your dinner date with your friend only for him to never arrive.

Not because of work, not because of Buggy and his stupidity, not because he had business to take care of, no.

He simply forgot.

Forgot.

That word made you wince.

And since he’s been trying to make up for it.

Bouquets of flowers, gifts piling up your room, the new dress you’ve been looking at and that perfume you’ve ran out of — everything and anything but being at home and spend time with you.

Like he said he would.

Which is why you do not acknowledge him looking down at you laying on the sofa, his brows pinched and hair slightly loose.

“… Really. You’re still sulking. I find you in the same spot since I left this morning.”

You do not answer him, just sink even deeper into the cushions.

He takes a smoke, and goes down to sit next to you. “Will you force me to sleep on the couch again tonight?” his voice is gruff, eyes skimming over your figure, fingers tracing your calf only for you to flinch and withdraw.

Still not willing to talk.

Crocodile gives out a low guttural sigh, smoke slithering through his nose as if resigning. “You understand that creating a comfortable life suited to your palate doesn’t come easy with time to dawdle and play house. If I could, I’d spend every waking moment with you.” With that, he crushes his cigar into the ashtray. His eyes growing weary and you tense.

“You promised me.” you mumble.

Crocodile snaps his gaze to you, brows easing.

“And then you forgot.” You dig yourself so deep into the cushions you swear dent marks will appear on your face afterwards. “So that means I'm worth nothing to you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous now—“ he catches his tongue when you shift your head.

Truly — you can be such a brat.

You feel a large hand wrap itself around your ribcage, the hooked forearm anchoring you up and pressing you against his chest.

His very sturdy, and very firm chest.

Warmth radiating into your spine.

Burning you up.

Sir Crocodile leans in, voice hot on your ear is rugged, coarse and low; the tone he has when he wants to please you, coerce you, make you his entirely as if you haven’t surrendered every part of yourself to him.

“Want a kiss?”

His voice so close your ear twitches.

You grab onto his forearm. Adverting your gaze. “And then what? you’ll just forget about me again.”

Crocodile’s lips skims your earlobe, not kissing it, not landing his mouth on it—but a caress, a tease.

“Forget about you? How can I when you’re all I think about?”

Your face starts burning. “Liar.”

And he kisses you on the cheek.

You repeat yourself, “Liar, liar, liar—“

And he keeps pecking you, kissing you again and again, kissing you until you’re willing to share the bed with him

Which is also, the reason you went to sleep so late.

Summary: He stayed home the day after. Not as a sorry, not as an apology but to remind you—you’re his lady, and she does not get to be neglected.

Trafalgar D. Water Law

You had entered an art competition.

You spent hours on the canvas with meticulous details and adjusted techniques, not one single brushstroke was made with mistake, but now with the deadline closing in, you find the canvas spilled with a dark, brown stain.

Coffee.

And Law is present at the crime scene, empty mug rolling across the floor, his hands stuffed with napkins.

That’s the story why you’re chopping the vegetables with such force, such pace, Law thinks he might be next.

He stands by the door frame, hand rubbing the back of his neck as he goes for a fourth attempt in dealing with this situation.

“Babe,” his tone is careful, “how long will you ignore me for?”

It’s been three hours. And you might go for another four.

Law grumbles something.

“Is there anything I can do to make it up for you?”

You don’t face him. Knife not stopping. “It’s fine.”

Law presses down his lips, that’s what you’ve responded with for the past 10 minutes. A new approach is needed.

He inches near, arms wrapping around your waist as he leans down, lips grazing your temple.

“I’m sorry, yeah? Why don’t we go out to eat tomorrow? On me.”

You blink. “Everything is always on you.”

He holds a smile, “We’re going to the mall afterwards, check.” Law comes close, kissing the side of your face, and you don’t answer. Only grumble.

And he wraps his arms around you tighter, forcing your chopping to come to a halt.

“I’m sorry.” the apology came out far softer than you’d ever think Law could manage to replicate — like a hush, a hum, a crumbled love letter no one was supposed to read; and maybe, just maybe, you can let yourself ease.

“You’re not forgiven.”

Law lands his face on your shoulder. Taking in your scent. Feel his lips place on the nape of your neck. Forcing a shudder.

“Doting me won’t save you.” You say, and another kiss on your neck is made. And your shoulders tenses, composure trembling.

“That’s fine,” his voice is low against your skin as if he’s sinking into the tone of your anger, the strain of your heart — hoarding it all for himself. “I want it either way.”

His arms bundle up over your chest and your knife clatters from your grip as he starts to pepper kisses on your back, shoulder and spine.

What a greedy, selfish, jerk.

Summary: dinner arrived a little bit later than planned—but whatever the case, Law was right where he wanted to be.

Donquixote Doflamingo

Doffy has a temper — sure, you know of it — witnessed it, seen it in full display and all of that is cruel and horrible.

That’s why you didn’t press it when he forgot your six month anniversary.

In the end, small trivial details of such needs are expected to be eluded to a man like him. He does not find it in himself to romance it.

You knew that, of course.

Still.

You dressed up.

Wore your favourite pair of heels and bought a new dress and did your hair.

Maybe there would have been a surprise.

Something.

Anything.

But Donquixote Doflamingo is a man as fine as he is casual, you knew that, so why does it hurt when you see him lounging by the pool; Family members laughing and playing, skimpy men and women fawning over him and colourful cocktails with parasols stuck to its shave and liquor spill down his chin?

He sees you, and grins.

That mocking, stupid, devilish grin that a teenage boy wears when he sees a girl he wants to bully.

But you turn.

And the smile falters.

You’re sitting by the edge of your bed, fiddling with the tiny envelope you prepared for him.

Confessions, admiration, inside jokes and corny heart doodles — you have half the mind to rip it to shreds — only for the door to creak open.

For once, there is no extra flair, his posture somewhat straight, hands in his pocket, and there are no hints of a smile or a scowl or fury — for once, he is serious. And you do not look his way.

“Baby,” He drags out, walking closer, “What’s the matter huh? You left me all alone there, I’ve never felt so neglected in my life before.” He stands before you, larger hands going to your face. “not in the mood today? You sure are dressed up,” He tilts his head. Thumbs and fingers tracing your edges, until he stops.

Watching you. Observing you.

A silence in your figure.

“what’s this? Is my little dove sad?”

You blink. Letter crumpling in your hand. “I’m fine.” your voice is dismissive, eyes not meeting.

You’re guarded. Frustrated, and a little bit… pouty?

It clicks for him then — Comfort. To let him close, near and vulnerable, you require comfort.

“Who do I need to kill?”

That’s when you look at him, cringing, but beneath the shadow of his sunglasses, you spot it; hunger, possession, amusement and murder.

Of course, that’s just how he’s always been.

So you take his hands off of you and slam your head against the mattress.

“You’re the worst.”

A brow of his goes up, “so?”

You squeeze the envelope in your fist, pulling a pillow over your head.

“Forget it. Just die.”

What.

A corner of his lip jerks up, a brow twitches. “What was that—“

“It doesn’t matter!” You dig your face into the mattress and Doflamingo has had enough of your nonsense. He grabs you by the elbows; you relent and he forces you onto your back, clasping your wrist as he makes you look at him.

“Doesn’t matter, hah? You want me to die, hah?” His knee goes between your legs, his weight dipping the mattress, and you seethe. Eyes squeezing shut.

“It’s you who does—“

He slams your wrists in between your head, and the way he looms over you feels a lot like a predator snarling his teeth at his prey — and maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what you are.

“You’re too pretty to talk so much shit,” he squeezes your wrists, overpowering you. “but go on, tell me, what could possibly upset my pet like this, hm? I’m beyond interested to hear your verdict—“

You force a kick with your knee into his abdomen and he doesn’t flinch. Just shuts up.

“You forgot about our six month anniversary.” Your cheeks burn, “Why am I even dating you. You suck.”

And he blinks.

Once. Twice.

Before snorting, and burst out in laughter.

Hold on your wrists loosening as he brings his lips to your cheek.

His weight slumping over you.

“And here I thought someone needed to die. Awh, poor poor baby, she got herself all dressed up only to find nothing.” He kisses your cheek and you push at him, hit and kick and pull on him to get off of you.

“Get off—“

And he kisses you again, and again, and again and again. Your cheek, nose, neck and jaw, and it’s horrible, because the more he kisses, the more you calm

Sunmary: Safe to say, Donquixote Doflamingo has his own (effective) way of comforting. The rest of the day, he drops all other schedules and appointments just to take you out — dinner, walks, shopping and whatever else that could please your mind. After all, who else but him has the right to spoil you?

Roronoa Zoro

You both made it to a relatively empty stall.

A passing comment, a foolish one — Zoro was gulping down a new brew of sake, the expensive kind, and it went down his throat in one go.

Liquor dripping down his chin.

Adam’s apple bopping.

“Phew!” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a glee on his face, “Man… that’s better than sex.”

You blink, whatever you were drinking, you stopped, and glanced to him.

Eye twitching.

And Zoro is completely oblivious. “Oi! chief! Get me another one—“

“—Better,” you cut him off and he looks to you, “than sex?”

“uh—“

You slammed your cup down, and got up.

“Er, I, babe, cmon it’s not like that—“

You start walking off, not giving him a chance to explain himself and Zoro flies to his feet, stool clattering to the ground.

“H-hey, it was a joke, a stupid one, yeah, so babe, cmon—“

Your stomping grows harder. “No, don’t worry, why don’t you order another one since it’s sooo good?”

He catches your shoulder and you slap his hand off of you. Zoro grits his teeth, watching you fume across the street.

Damn it.

Him and his big mouth.

But curse it all if he’s just going to let you stomp off.

He marches after you, “Look, I’m sorry ‘kay? My big mouth ran on its own, y’know it ain’t true so—“

You stop.

You turn.

You cross your arms.

“So?”

“So… I’m sorry?”

You roll your eyes and turn. Moving on.

And he’s had enough.

You feel your feet sweep off the ground.

“H-hey—“ and you’re hoisted over his shoulder, his larger palm above your spine.

“What do you think you’re doing!? Get off of me, you jerk—“

You bang on his shoulder, slam against his back, “Don’t ignore me!”

He does.

And everyone is watching as he crosses the streets with you howling how he’s a degenerate, a low life loser and that Sanji was right about him being a moss haired brute.

You keep shouting, berating and insult his name as Zoro brings you to a more private area by the back alley, he sets you down and you try to move past him but the tall man won’t let you.

You scowl at him. “Move.”

Zoro crosses his arms, brows creasing as he looks down at you. “How long are you gonna keep this up? I’ve said my apologies.” He says and you tip your head to the side, not breaking eye contact. “For as long as I want.”

“Yeah?” He unfolds his arms and takes a step forward, forcing you to step back.

“As long as you want huh. How long is that?” He says and you keep walking back. “Why don’t you ask for another drink? Might give you an answer.” you retort.

Zoro comes closer, and you hit a wall behind you.

“Get out of my way. Jerk.” You say, but you cannot meet his gaze.

He’s close now. Too close.

Close enough to feel his heat, sense his cologne.

He places his wrist above your head—cornering you.

And you burn.

“A joke.” His voice low, his face leaning in as if for a kiss and on instinct—you pout.

How stupid, how desperate.

Because he stops right there.

Right before he lands his mouth onto yours.

A smirk etching on his face.

“You want a kiss? I thought you weren’t done sulking—“

Your splayed hands across the wall clumps into fists, hitting his shoulder. “Shut up—“

And he kisses you. Harder, firmer, pushing into you as if to make you know your place and he kisses you again, and again.

Kissing you until he’s sick of your bullshit.

Summary: It really was a joke, you understand that after your session with him behind the alleyway.

a/n: took inspo for Zoro's part with Sypha's and Trevor's banter from Castlevania AHEM

You watched his tattooed fingers cradle your hand. “Maybe I wanted an excuse to hold hands.”

Law’s gaze lifted slowly.

You smiled.

He released you the moment the bandage was secure.

The second visit came after you slipped on the deck and struck your elbow.

The third involved a kitchen knife.

By the fourth, Law folded his arms when you entered.

“What happened?”

“Before I answer, you should know I’m beginning to think fate wants us together.”

“Fate keeps dropping furniture on you.”

“It knows you have a type.”

“My type is people who follow instructions.”

“Then I can change you.”

Law pointed at the examination table.

You climbed onto it, pleased by the faint tightening of his jaw.

Somewhere between your sixth and seventh injuries, visiting him became the best part of getting hurt.

You flirted shamelessly while he cleaned cuts, examined bruises, and threatened to wrap you in protective padding.

Law pretended not to notice.

Unfortunately for him, you noticed everything.

The way his fingers lingered around your wrist while checking your pulse.

The way his eyes dropped to your mouth before he told you to stop talking.

The way he had begun locking the infirmary door during your visits, allegedly so no one interrupted his examination.

Your latest disaster involved a ladder and an ankle that hurt whenever you put weight on it.

Law crouched between your knees, one hand supporting your calf while the other pressed carefully along the joint.

“Does this hurt?”

“A little.”

His thumb moved higher.

You inhaled.

His eyes flicked up. “That?”

“Not exactly.”

Law went still.

You leaned back on your palms. “You know, most doctors try to make their patients comfortable.”

“I’ve spent months trying to keep you alive.”

“And you’ve been very attentive.”

“You’re a terrible patient.”

“But memorable.”

The room had gone quiet enough for you to hear his breathing.

You leaned closer. “Your hand is still on my leg.”

Law looked down as though he had only just realized it.

He did not move it.

His other hand settled beside your hip on the examination table, trapping you between his body and the wall.

“You enjoy testing my patience,” he said.

“I thought you hadn’t noticed.”

“I notice every time you walk through that door.”

The teasing answer you had prepared disappeared.

Law’s gaze moved over your face, slow and deliberate.

“You come in here,” he continued, “smiling at me while you bleed on my floor. You flirt through every examination. Then you leave before I decide what to do about it.”

Your pulse jumped beneath his fingers.

“What are you going to do about it?”

Law rose until his face was inches from yours.

“First,” he murmured, “I’m going to kiss you.”

“And then?”

His thumb traced the inside of your knee.

“Then I’m going to find out whether you can follow one instruction without hurting yourself.”

You smiled against his mouth.

Marco the Phoenix | Polo Marco

Do not banish this man to the couch, he will end up in the infirmary and work through the entire night, and then you'll have an entirely different issue to deal with.

Just talk to him after you've cooled down enough and go to bed next to each other. He already doesn't sleep enough, getting banished to the couch is just another excuse for him to work.

Regardless, he's usually pretty agreeable so the only way he'd piss you off is when he's doing something dangerous that you're against or if he's not sleeping properly.

He always offers kisses and hugs in the morning after you make him sleep on the couch, if only to distract you from the fact that he hasn't slept.

Surgeon of Death | Trafalgar D. Water Law

No.

You're getting banished to high hell before you put this guy on the couch, not only because he's gonna chop you up for suggesting he fuck up his (already fucked up) posture, but also because the crew would absolutely rally behind him. Not to mention the strawhats, who seem to love sticking their noses where it doesn't belong.

He doesn't sleep well anyway, he hasn't slept properly since— ...Hm, where was I?

Anyway, he doesn't sleep well as is. He's so easy to startle awake and he gets nightmares during really bad bouts, the crew wants him to sleep at least 7 hours so the crew would veto you.

No couch. But you can ask Penguin and Shachi to serve bread for breakfast.

Izou

Izou is an honorable man... Not honorable enough to sacrifice his beauty sleep, but he is an honorable man. He'll at least give you a pillow and a blanket.

You could, theoretically, threaten to send him to the couch in a verbal argument. Unfortunately, he will be the one to lock you out of the bedroom during said argument.

He's also the one to open the bedroom late at night and sneak around trying to find you so he can carry you back to his quarters.

He's not afraid of admitting when he's wrong, and he hates going to bed angry so it's already rare you'll be locked out of the bedroom, but whenever you are, Izou is always quick to apologize for it the next morning.

Thatch

Yeah. You can banish this man to the couch. He will be absolutely miserable too. Also, the fourth division is going to knock on your door asking why he's sulking outside instead of sleeping in his quarters.

He will be sad, and whiny, and wet with rain and salt water from being outside. Do you really wanna deal with your man being a sad puppy?

He's a good man, you know. He's a good man. He makes mistakes, but he's a good man.

Also, please expect your favorite foods for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert. The man loves cooking and he will apologize through a hearty meal. And perhaps a really shitty love song, make sure he doesn't embarrass himself. Make sure he doesn't even consider it. Don't let that man wax you poetry. Please. Have mercy on the rest of the crew.

Marco the Phoenix | Polo Marco

Disgusting handwriting. Did you expect anything else? He's a doctor.

Absolutely unreadable, it looks like chicken scratching—his capitalizations are completely random, and half the time grammar is a suggestion and not mandatory.

Haruta's ability to read and understand is a skill that's rare among pirates. Also apparently other doctors and pharmacists can read it just fine.

Absolutely unparalleled at being shit at writing. You're unsure if he's actually illiterate and just pretending he can read and write. You're also 90% sure he's just fucking with you because he likes staring at your irritated face.

You get used to it. Or you don't and he has mercy on you and actually makes his handwriting eligible. The grammar needs work though. Maybe it's an island thing?

Surgeon of Death | Trafalgar D. Water Law

Eligible, neater than most doctors.

He prefers a smaller font style, its a bit wobbly and it gets wobblier the faster he has to write.

He usually uses cursive, so if you can't read that, just pray. Or ask Penguin, he'll figure it out.

If you piss him off, he'll make sure its too tiny for you to read and make sure it pisses you off.

He'll make you write things if he likes your handwriting more than his own. Good luck!

Izou

Very neat. Has a disgustingly elegant handwriting.

He usually writes in cursive, especially for reports, but if he has time, he'll write in more serif-like writing.

His kanji is absolutely insane though. It's either extremely elegant or he just slammed his brush onto the paper, depends on his mood.

He'll have the audacity to act like you're insane for not being able to read it too, so just ask Haruta or something. They'll figure it out, or prank Izou as revenge.

He also does incredibly ornate writing, so he's often dragged into writing for birthday banners. Free him. They aren't even paying him for this.

Thatch

Surprisingly neat.

Ignore the mystery stains on his reports, its better if you don't ask.

Usually has the most normal handwriting, its not pretty per se, but it is eligible and better than whatever Marco is doing.

He also draws on your hands if you'll let him. He likes writing little reminders that he loves you on your hands and arms.

He also loves writing on sticky notes and sticking them where you'll find them and they're just reminders to drink water and stay safe and that he loves you and such. It's very sweet. They're also stained with mystery juice. Don't touch them.