Vampire Enthusiast

Law

Law is a deeply caring man, despite his attempts to appear otherwise, but he is also, unfortunately, terrible at showing it. So he doesn’t talk to you about it, not directly. He instead racks his brain, thinking of every possible way to reduce stress and ways to treat depression. His instinct is to opt for medicine, but he knows he should start smaller first.

“I have a gift for you.” He places it in your hands unceremoniously, trying to hide his delight at your small smile. That’s the most joy you’ve shown in days.

“Thank you, Law! That’s really sweet of you.” You carefully peel back the wrapping paper he had spent far more time than he would admit on, only for your face to show confusion. “A…lamp?”

“A UV lamp.” He says it as though the purpose is obvious.

“Okay?”

“It mimics sunlight.”

You blink at him. “I–you didn’t clarify anything.”

He shifts on his feet, eyes focusing anywhere but you. “We’re down on the seafloor a lot, so you can’t always go on deck for sunlight. And I think some sun will help you.”

Your eyes narrow as you try to put the pieces together. “Why?”

“Sunlight boosts serotonin production.”

You make a soft sound of understanding, before you give him a smirk he would normally hate to admit made his heart skip a beat. “You were worried about me.” You say it like it’s such a victory, like it isn’t something you expected. Clearly he had failed you somehow, if you thought he wasn’t always fretting about you. He typically tries to deny such things, the vulnerability making him feel unsure and small, but you were worth feeling a little weak.

“Of course I was worried about you.” He spits it, like it was so very obvious, and you laugh at him. Normally he would prickle, his defenses growing higher, but that’s the first time he’s heard you laugh in over a week. He would never admit the sound brought a tear to his eye, the relief tearing through him like a hurricane. He can’t help shifting forward, his hands cupping your cheeks as he checks to see if you’ve regained the sparkle in your eyes. It’s dim, but it’s there. He can’t resist kissing you.

You accept his warmth quickly and easily. You practically fall into his arms, nuzzling into his neck when your lips part. “You don’t have to worry. I can handle it. It always passes eventually.”

He sighs, kissing the top of your head. “Just because you can handle it on your own doesn’t mean you have to. You aren’t alone in this. You have me. You have the crew. We’re here for you, whatever you need, whenever you need it.”

Your voice comes out much quieter this time. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“You aren’t.”

“...You promise you’d tell me if I was?”

He chuckles. “I promise.” He gently takes the lamp out of your hand, places it on your desk, and guides you to your bed. “Now tell me everything you need to get off your chest.”

And, to his relief, you do.

Zoro 

Zoro is blunt. He doesn’t know how to dance around your feelings, and frankly, he doesn’t care to. The faster he breaks through your reluctance to tell him what you need, the faster he can help you, and the faster you’ll be happy.

“Why aren’t you asking for help?”

You jump, not having heard him come in, too busy struggling to ground yourself. “What?”

“Something’s wrong. Why haven’t you come to ask for help?” He’s still dripping with sweat, having just come from a particularly intensive workout that was a failed attempt to distract himself until you finally broke and came to him. He can see you try to avoid his eye, so he gently grabs your chin and steers you toward him. He tries to make his voice gentle, sweet in a way he can never quite nail. “Sweetheart, talk to me. I just want to understand.”

You still avoid looking straight at him, even now, but you finally speak. “I…didn’t want to be a burden.”

He can’t hide his obvious confusion. “Huh?”

You finally look at him, not understanding his reaction. “What?”

“Who cares if you’re a burden for a while?”

You look shocked, “I do!”

“Okay, well no one else does! Everyone is a burden sometimes. No one can do everything on their own. The crew’s job is to help each other.”

“None of you guys have ever been a burden.”

“Were we not a burden, or were you just happy to help?”

You open your mouth to argue again, but he can see the exact moment you realize you really have nothing you can say. You can’t deny helping your crew has sometimes made your life harder. He’s seen it countless times. Your Captain alone has gotten you into dozens of situations you could hardly think about without wincing. But you were always happy to help, and a burden shared is a burden halved.

“Everyone here is happy to help you if you need it. All avoiding us does is make us worry.”

You seem to shrink in on yourself. “I’m sorry.”

He pulls you close, chuckling a little at the discontented noise you make when you realize he’s still sweaty. You squirm halfheartedly, but it doesn’t take long before you snuggle into his warmth. He can feel the muscles in your back slowly start to relax under his hands as you accept his touch. “No need for apologies, sweetheart. Just fix it. Talk about it.”

You hold him tight. “I don’t know exactly what I need. Everything’s just…hard. I don’t remember it always being this hard.”

He tries to ignore the way his heart breaks at how pained you sound. He instead focuses on the positives: you’re here, you’re talking, and you’re willing to accept help if it comes. “It won’t be this hard forever. I’ll be right here to make it a little easier, alright? And you can talk to Chopper for some help, too.”

“...Do you think I should?”

“I think that’s up to you. But we’re here. That’s what matters.”

You spend the rest of the afternoon in Zoro’s arms, and if he sees you sneaking to Chopper’s office later, he doesn’t mention it, though his relieved smile might give him away.

Sanji

Sanji is very in tune with your emotions, often realizing you’re upset before anyone else, and sometimes even before you register it yourself. It’s not uncommon for him to suddenly appear, food and drink in hand, ready to pamper you to your (or, maybe more accurately, his) heart’s content. So you don’t seem to suspect a thing when he starts setting up picnics for you on the deck, each dish carefully prepared to boost serotonin production and the drinks designed to reduce stress and anxiety. You’ve probably had more chamomile tea in the past few weeks than you’ve ever had in your life. 

He sets up the picnic blanket in the perfect location: enough room in the shade for you to rest if you get too hot, but positioned in a way that encourages you to soak up the sun. As you eat, he oh-so-subtly encourages you to talk, maintains skin on skin contact as much as he can, and observes everything he can to improve the next one.

You sit blankly for a while, letting him do as he pleases but not reciprocating, before you finally speak, your voice much flatter than usual. “Sanji?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Why are you doing this?”

He freezes. “Why am I doing what, angel?”

You shift in his arms, forcing him to look you in the eye as you do so. He can’t help but brush a stray crumb off of your cheek, his thumb tracing down to your jaw. You gently catch his hand in your own, squeezing it. “These picnics aren’t just little dates, are they, Sanji? Something is clearly wrong.”

He doesn’t know how to explain he’s worried about you without you feeling pressured to speak. He doesn’t want to push you if you aren’t ready, but he can’t stand to sit by and watch as you drown in your own head. “I–do you have anything you want to talk about?”

“What?”

“You haven’t been yourself lately. I just thought…you could use something like this.”

You seem to relax a bit. “So you’ve been worried about me?”

“Yes. I didn’t want to push you, but you clearly need some help, darling. I was hoping I could make this a bit easier for you.”

You give him a real smile for the first time in a while. “Is this why you’ve been sneaking me so many little treats? And why you’ve been so desperate to keep me away from caffeine?”

He tries not to flush. “I thought you could use a pick-me-up. And I read getting better sleep can help with mood.” He pulls you closer, pressing your face into his neck to hide his redness from you. “I was hoping it’d make talking about whatever’s wrong a little easier for you.”

You snuggle into him, accepting your warmth. “Talking about it is always hard. Everything is, right now.”

“Are you willing to try? I think it might help.”

He can feel your sigh. Your reluctance. But slowly, carefully, you unfurl the tension you’re holding, and you allow him to carry some of your burdens for you. You talk for hours, about everything, including things you were clearly frightened to speak aloud. By the end, you may not be perfectly happy again, but he can see your steps are a little lighter. He’s never been more relieved.

“My love!” He calls you, smile lighting up his face, hands over his heart. Your breath hitches, your heart fluttering, as it always does. It takes everything in you not to swoon. It’s only natural to be excited to finally receive this kind of attention, especially from someone as wonderful as Sanji, but you can’t help the bitterness on your tongue. He doesn’t mean it. You should understand that by now.

“Yes, Sanji?” You try to keep your tone light, but from the immediate concern on his face you can tell you’ve failed.

“Is everything alright, angel?”

God, he really has no idea what he does to you, does he? “I’m fine,” you snap, unconvincingly.

He winces, taking a step closer. “It…doesn’t sound fine. Is there anything you need? I hate to see a beautiful lady suffering.”

“God, will you stop doing that?” There are tears threatening to spill down your lashes, your breath growing unsteady. You feel pathetic, but really, shouldn’t you?

“Doing what, love? I don’t understand.” He reaches for your hands, unable to hide the hurt on his face when you pull them back like you’ve been burned.

“This! All of this! It’s just cruel. I know you don’t mean anything by it, but you have no idea how much it hurts to hear.” You feel your cheeks growing wet. You can’t bring yourself to say the next part, about how much it hurts because you wish with all of your heart he really meant it.

“What? Being kind to you?” He doesn’t reach for you again, holding his hands up like he’s trying to calm a wild animal. His voice has softened, losing that sugary sweet edge it always gets when he’s flirting. You’re speaking to the real Sanji now, your friend, not the flirt. You don’t know if this is better, because those gentle hands and kind eyes make your knees far weaker than any compliment ever will.

“The…flirting. I can’t stand it anymore.” Your back has hit the wall, and you allow yourself to slide down, curling into a ball once you hit the ground. Anything not to look at him, or have him see you red eyed and sniffling. The tenderness in his eyes makes you feel naked under his gaze, a vulnerable wounded animal with no way to escape.

He hisses through his teeth. “Oh no, has it been making you uncomfortable? I’m sorry, dear, I never meant to–”

“No,” you manage to creak out between gasping breaths. “No, not exactly. Well, sort of.” How do you admit to him that he’s the first person to call you beautiful? The first person to look at you like that? How much it hurts that the first time you heard such lovely words they were nothing more than empty compliments?

You hear the quiet thud of his knees hitting the ground, and you know he’s kneeling in front of you, hoping to catch your eye. You can’t bring yourself to look at him. “Please talk to me. I can’t know how to help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“It…No one ever says things like that to me. I don’t know what to do.” You hardly whisper the words, and if it wasn’t for the sigh he lets out you wouldn’t think he heard you at all.

“What to do? You don’t need to do anything when you’re complimented. Do you feel pressured to respond?” His hand lightly touches your elbow, not pushing further, but letting you know he’s here and he’s trying to help.

“No,” you mutter. “I don’t know how to hear it. It hurts.”

“It…hurts?” He tries to keep his voice even, but you can hear the devastation. He never wants to hurt any woman, but especially you. His friend, that cursed and wonderful word. “How does it hurt?”

I wish you meant it, you think. Instead you try for something less painful to say. “The first time a man has ever flirted with me he didn’t even mean it. How could it do anything but hurt?”

He’s silent for a moment, and you’re convinced you’ve ruined everything. He’s going to laugh at you, or be disgusted, or–

A gentle hand on your chin lifts your head, and despite yourself you let it. Sanji’s eyes are so soft, so kind, and, if allowed yourself to indulge in your delusions for just one second, affectionate. “Oh, angel, what made you think I don’t mean it?”

You blink. “What?”

He gives you a small, sorrowful smile. “I’ve never said anything I don’t mean to you. You’re absolutely wonderful, and just as beautiful and kind and smart as I always say. I thought you knew that.” The hand slides up to caress your cheek, wiping your tears away. “It’s hard to believe I’m the first person brave enough to tell you that.”

“You…really mean it?” Your eyes dart all over his face, looking for any trace of dishonesty, but you can’t find any. It’s hard to believe, but Sanji’s always been an honest man. Maybe…just maybe you can dare to let yourself believe him. To allow yourself to fall, or at least admit you already have.

“Every word, my love. I swear it.” He puts his free hand over his heart, in a move both sweet and corny and quintessentially Sanji. “I fell for you the moment I saw you, I had no idea you didn’t know.”

“You thought I knew?”

“I thought you were very kindly rejecting me.” He gives you another smile, this one boyish and giddy. “It’s nice to learn that isn’t true.”

“I could never reject you. I–” Your voice catches, unpractised and clumsy, but you force yourself to be brave and push through. “I really like you, Sanji. More than I’ve ever liked anyone. More than I know what to do with, honestly.”

He chuckles at that. “I know how you feel.” You take a closer look at him and suddenly it’s like you’re looking in a mirror: shaking hands, red face, nervous knee bouncing. How did you not see it before?

Maybe you can keep being brave. Maybe you can let him know you feel just as strongly as he does. “Can I kiss you?”

His face lights up, and his shine truly rivals the sun. “Oh my god, please. Yes, I mean. Yes. You can. Should, even.”

His eyelids flutter shut, and before you can doubt yourself you press your lips together. They’re sinfully soft, and they taste like cigarettes and a little spice. Somehow it’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever tasted.

You don’t know how long that kiss lasts. Every time you move to pull away and catch your breath, his hands grip you desperately, like he’s terrified you’ll fade away the moment it ends. For such a tender thing, it leaves you both panting and breathless in the end. He stares at you like you’re something miraculous, something wonderful, and as you try to catch your breath, you’re surprised to find you feel…wanted.

You think you’ll have to get used to the feeling.