✨Bloop✨

Neither can you answer his question, despite the fact it’s not that long since the scholar started to acknowledge your presence beyond barked orders and suspicious glances. Actually, you think that him telling you to straighten up must’ve been one of the first things he told you.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you whisper. The lab is quiet, as it often is in the early morning. You could hear a pin drop, but all you hear is your own breathing.

His hands move. Your body threatens to move away, as if your back and his hands were the same poles of a magnet. You’ve never been stabbed but somehow you expect to be now.

Instead, his hands come back down from hovering over your shoulders, slowly, and instead, tentatively, give the tense muscles a slight squeeze. You bite your lip, trying not to make a sound. It soon turns impossible.

“Look at you,” the doctor scoffs, “This is all your fault.”

He kneads your shoulders with surprising care and not so unexpected efficiency. Despite it being painful, you’re aware it is simply the inevitable result of allowing your body to get this bad, not because he’s trying to make his touch painful.

His thumbs run along the column of your cervical spine and you hiss in pain, gripping the edge of the desk tightly.

“You need to relax,” he hisses, “It wouldn’t be this painful if you listened to me.”

You know, you truly do know. Although you did not expect for his words to be anything beyond common courtesy. He didn’t exactly seem like the type to show much care - though you can’t blame him. Your presence here was forced upon him, after all. 

His fingers dig deep into your tissue, he doesn’t seem to mind the embarrassing grunts and whimpers occasionally slipping past your lips. It feels strange. Uncomfortable even, or at least you’d say so if the relief didn’t feel so good. Your muscles give into his demands, all the knots easing under his fingers. 

Still, his movements are rough. His gloves do not make for easy glide, but it’s much better than nothing - an emergency intervention before you would be rendered unusable. You hope Dottore doesn’t realize how severe your condition was, and at the same time you doubt he wouldn’t. 

“Stay here,” he growls, and then his hands are gone.

You feel colder without his body hovering behind yours and his touch on your shoulders that feel like the weight of the world was lifted off them. You almost feel like you could fly. Carefully, you try twisting your neck slightly and feel no pain, no daggers stabbing into the back of your skull.

“Who told you to do that?” 

You jump hearing his voice so close again. He walks with unnatural silence, you missed his approach both times today. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

One of his hands rests at the crook of your neck with more force than before, as if pinning you in place. In the next moment it becomes clear that that was indeed the point as you feel a needle prick the back of your neck, easily injecting something into your abused muscles.

“What-”

“It’s just a relaxant,” he informs you, “Nothing to be scared of.”

Well, you are scared nonetheless. His reputation does precede him, after all.

“You’ve been helpful in eliminating the most basic of tasks,” he continues, “Consider this a show of gratitude.”

You wish you could but your mind stutters trying to comprehend that what he had you do he considered basic or that he could sound so bored just mentioning it. You thank him nonetheless.

And as soon as the injection is done and the puncture wound is patched, a list of tasks for today is laid in front of you. Dottore himself leaves to start with his own part of the work waiting to be done.

now, with everything finally done, the dorm smelled faintly of soap and fabric softener. you were tucked into bed, movie flickering softly on the laptop, zoro half-asleep against you. one arm firmly around your waist, head buried against your chest, his breathing slow and steady—the kind of quiet that makes even your heartbeat feel too loud.

then—thump. loud, sharp. shattering your perfectly built peace.

you sighed, pushing zoro’s arm away, dragging the blanket off, and stomping to the door. you didn’t even think—you just opened it, already mid-glare.

a guy stood there holding a football, grin too smooth to be real. his friend beside him had a phone out, recording.

“uh, are you ladies alright?” he asked, voice dripping with fake charm. you could tell he had practiced this smooth tone for a while, but still failed.

you crossed your arms. didn’t even bother answering—just stared, unimpressed. from head to toe.

then zoro appeared behind you, shirtless, hair messy, eyes dark and sharp like a blade. the air seemed to drop a few degrees.

“uh—hey man, i didn’t mean to disturb. it’s just a trend,” the guy stuttered, taking a step back.

“a trend,” zoro said flatly, voice low, “that nearly broke the door?”

“we were just having fun—”

“take your fun somewhere else before i shove that ball so far in your ass you’ll taste it,” he cut in, tone calm but deadly.

the two boys froze, mumbled a terrified “sorry,” and bolted down the hall.

zoro slammed the door shut, muttering something under his breath before scooping you up and tossing you back on the bed.

“the fuck those idiots think they are,” he grumbled, burying his face in your chest again and unpausing the movie like nothing happened.

you blinked, then started laughing—that low, amused kind that only made him hum sleepily against you. zoro really did hate when people disturbed his naps. especially with you.

and of course, the video went viral on campus—captioned: “just wanted to make a trend, ended up receiving a death threat.”

comments:

— user girl opened that door like she was about to tax their souls 😭

— user her face alone said “you picked the wrong dorm today.”

— user zoro coming out looking like the final boss 💀💀💀

— user next trend idea: letting the mosshead shove that ball

— user not her man appearing half-naked like a summoned demon of rage 😭🔥

— user zoro and his girl waking up and choosing violence every day man

TRAFALGAR D. WATER LAW

you’d been buried in books for hours. papers scattered everywhere, notes highlighted to death, coffee cup long empty. you were so deep into your studying you barely noticed law leaning against the doorway, quietly watching you like he was calculating how much longer you could last before passing out.

“you haven’t moved in three hours,” he finally said, voice low.

“i’m fine,” you muttered, eyes glued to your notes.

he didn’t answer—just walked over, plucked the pen from your hand, and shut the book. “no, you’re not.”

you gave him a weak glare, but before you could argue, he was already guiding you up from the chair. one hand at your back, the other tugging the blanket from the couch. it wasn’t even a discussion—just law doing what law does best: deciding for you when you wouldn’t take care of yourself.

“lie down. i’ll bring you water,” he said, tone final.

you sighed, but didn’t fight it. within minutes, you were half buried under the blanket, head resting on his thigh as he absentmindedly rubbed circles along your arm while scrolling through his phone.

the peace didn’t last long. a thump at the door made you flinch and law’s hand immediately paused.

he stood up without a word, expression unreadable, and opened the door just enough to see two guys—one holding a football, the other holding a phone.

“yo, sorry—wrong dorm, i think,” one of them said with that nervous laugh people use when they know they’re about to get in trouble.

law tilted his head slightly, eyes cool. “you think?”

the boy blinked. “we were just doing a trend, man—”

law’s tone didn’t rise, but the silence between each word cut sharper than a yell. “so your ‘trend’ is disturbing people trying to rest?”

the boy laughed again—weak, forced—until law’s gaze darkened a shade.

“take your ball,” he said, voice like ice, “and your friend. before i show you what a real disappearance looks like.”

they were gone before he even shut the door.

law exhaled quietly, locking it, then returned to you like nothing happened. you were still blinking up at him, half shocked, half impressed.

“they’re gone,” he murmured, sitting back down and brushing his thumb over your temple. “now, where were we? ah. you—resting.”

you couldn’t help a tiny laugh. “you didn’t have to threaten them.”

“i didn’t,” he replied simply, eyes flicking back to his phone. “i just explained the options.”

and of course, the video made its way online. captioned: “just wanted to make a trend… accidentally met the grim reaper.”

comments:

— user bro didn’t even raise his voice and i STILL got scared 😭

— user that “you think?” felt like a death sentence

— user i’d drop out if law ever looked at me like that 😭😭

— user why does he sound like he’s about to perform an autopsy instead of arguing 💀

— user her just standing there in the back all tired and pretty while he handles it 😭💞

PORTGAS D. ACE

you were tucked against him on the couch, half on his lap, half melting into his chest. the night outside hummed soft and quiet, the kind of peace you only ever found when ace wasn’t on the move.

he had one arm slung lazily around your waist, fingers tracing random shapes against your side. every few seconds, he’d press a kiss somewhere—your temple, your jaw, the corner of your mouth—like he couldn’t go too long without touching you.

“you good there, sweetheart?” he murmured, grinning against your skin. “’cause i could stay like this forever.”

you tilted your face up to kiss him properly. slow, a little teasing, the kind that made him smile mid-kiss, when something thumped against the door.

“the hell was that?” ace muttered, instantly alert.

you sighed, about to get up, but he was already halfway there—shirtless, hair messy, the picture of protective irritation. he yanked the door open and found two idiots: one holding a football, one recording.

“oh, sorry man! wrong door!” the guy stammered.

ace blinked, confusion melting into that crooked grin that never meant anything good. “wrong door, huh? funny how that happens after you kick it.”

“it’s just a trend, bro! no harm—”

“yeah? well, next time your ‘trend’ messes with my girl’s peace, i’ll make you go viral,” ace said with a laugh, easy, playful, but the kind that made you wonder if he was serious. (he was.)

the boys didn’t wait to find out. they muttered a rushed apology and bolted down the hall.

ace shut the door, shaking his head with a grin. “kids these days,” he said, turning back to you.

you were staring at him, half amused, half exasperated. “you scared them.”

“good,” he said, flopping back beside you, tugging you against his chest again. “they deserved it for interrupting our break.”

“you mean my break that you forced?”

“same thing,” he murmured, smiling against your hair.

and of course, the video went viral—captioned: “just wanted to make a trend, but the guy who opened the door laughed like he was gonna kill me.”

comments:

— user not him smiling like a maniac the whole time

— user “funny how that happens after you kick it” is CRAZY 😭

— user the way she just stood there behind him all cozy while he handled it ❤️

— user that laugh said ‘i will commit arson for love’ 😭🔥

— user imagine getting death-threatened by a guy who still looks like sunshine

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