Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I'll be very very very busy for the next weeks so further posts and fics will take longer but I'll still write and I have lots of incomplete fics on the way. My love for Law will never die. goodnight!!!
Playing RPG but Law is the game master and he hates how reader keeps flirting with every living thing, so now every campaign has a NPC conveniently alike Law himself and shows up so often you could say he's one of the main characters and always has a connection to reader's backstory and ends in a romantic plot like fated lovers, childhood friends or even enemies to lovers if reader is pissed off with him enough (he will bribe them into dating his NPC by any means and refuse to give them any cursed items so they don't sacrifice themselves for the party)
Plus points for reader later trying to seduce Law into spoiling them about the campaign's mystery and failing cuz he's a nerdy dork and the plot shall be respected and remain untouched but he won't mind if they keep trying tho
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Plot: Law unexpectedly reunites with the girl he once planned a future with.
The first time Law held your hand, he was ten years old.
Law had been waiting outside your room for nearly ten minutes. He denied this when you found him leaning against the opposite wall.
His mouth tightened beneath the shadow of his spotted hat. “Are you coming or not?”
You followed him into the streets of the port town. Law looked back and found you attempting to push through the crowd.
He caught your hand and pulled you free. His palm was warm. The white marks of his illness crossed the back of it.
You looked down at your joined hands.
Law immediately frowned. “You walk too slowly.”
He continued toward the harbor without releasing you.
You followed more easily now.
Law led you away from the busiest part of the harbor and toward the roof of an old warehouse overlooking the sea.
He climbed up first.
You remained below, waiting.
Law looked at you.
“You wanted me to come,” you reminded him.
He sighed as if helping you required more patience than he possessed, but he reached down.
Once you were seated, he let go. The absence of his hand felt immediate.
“You can hold it again.”
“No.”
“You were holding it before.”
“So you wouldn’t get lost.”
You smiled, and Law turned his attention toward the harbor before you could see whether he was trying not to do the same.
For a while, you sat quietly. Law stared at the ships with an intensity that made you wonder whether he was memorizing them.
“What are you looking at?” you asked.
“The ships. I’m choosing one.”
“For what?”
“For when I leave.”
The words made you look at him.
Law spoke often about death. He rarely spoke about leaving as though it were something that might truly happen.
“Which one?”
He pointed toward a black-hulled vessel near the far end of the harbor.
“That one.”
You studied it seriously. “It’s ugly.”
“It doesn’t matter what it looks like.”
“It will if we have to live on it.”
Law went still.
You pretended not to notice.
“We?”
“You said you were leaving.”
“I didn’t say you were coming.”
“You came to get me.”
“I wanted to show you the harbor.”
“Why?”
He opened his mouth and then closed it.
You waited.
Law rarely lacked an answer. When he did, he usually became angry at whoever had caused it.
You placed your hand over his before he could pull it away.
“What would we do?” you asked. He looked down at your fingers resting across his.
“We’d be pirates.”
“You’d be captain?”
“Obviously.”
“I don’t think you’d be very good at it.”
Law stared at you. “Then you can stay here.”
You tightened your hold on his hand.
“I’ll be the navigator.”
“You don’t know how to navigate.”
“I’ll learn.”
You leaned against his shoulder.
His body stiffened at first. Law had not yet learned what to do when someone touched him without trying to restrain or examine him.
After a few moments, he allowed your weight to remain against him.
The harbor stretched below you. Beyond it waited a world neither of you knew, but it was easier to imagine facing it together than alone.
“We’ll need somewhere to live when we aren’t sailing,” you decided.
“We’ll live on the ship.”
“I want a house.”
“I don’t.”
“You can have your own room.”
Law considered that.
“With a lock.”
“You can have two locks.”
You smiled against his shoulder. The future became easier once it had rooms.
You decided the house would stand somewhere near the sea so you could still hear the water at night. Law insisted it should be far from other people.
You did not yet understand that Doflamingo never raised anyone so they could eventually leave him.
Law turned his hand beneath yours. When your palms settled together, he looked back toward the sea.
“If I’m still alive,” he said, “we’ll find somewhere.”
You lifted your head from his shoulder.
“When you’re still alive.”
Law’s expression sharpened, but you did not look away.
For once, he did not argue.
“All right,” he said after a while. “When.”
That afternoon became the first of many.
Sometimes you held hands. Sometimes you sat with your shoulders pressed together and pretended not to notice. When Law’s illness worsened, he rested his head in your lap and complained if your fingers stopped moving through his hair.
The plans grew with you.
The black ship became a yellow submarine after Law saw a drawing of one in a book.
The house changed islands several times. You wanted flowers near the windows. Law said they would attract insects.
He began to speak less often about dying.
He started telling you about operations he wanted to perform and illnesses he intended to cure. You listened even when you understood little of what he said, pleased simply because he had begun imagining years that did not end with his own death.
You never formally promised yourselves to one another.
You were children, and your love existed in smaller things: the food you saved for him, the space he kept beside him at meals, and the future neither of you could imagine without placing the other somewhere inside it.
Then Corazon took him away.
For months, you continued to make room for Law as though he might return. The months became years before Doflamingo finally placed proof of Law’s survival in your hands.
He showed you a report describing a young pirate captain known as the Surgeon of Death.
The relief nearly brought you to your knees.
You read every word.
Law had survived. He had found a cure. He had built a crew and sailed beneath his own flag.
The future you had planned was happening.
Only you were not part of it.
More reports followed over the years. Doflamingo never hid them from you. He made certain you heard when Law’s name began carrying weight in the North Blue, when the Heart Pirates became known on the Grand Line, and when Law took a place among the Seven Warlords.
Every achievement proved he had lived.
Every year taught you that he was living without you.
The waiting did not end all at once.
It wore away.
By the time Law came to Dressrosa, you had learned how to build your life around the place where hope had once been.
—————————————
Law saw you again on Green Bit.
He had spent years imagining what might have happened after he disappeared. In the gentler versions, you had escaped. In the darker ones, Doflamingo had killed you after learning how close you had been to Corazon and Law.
He had never imagined you standing at Doflamingo’s side.
Law recognized you before he allowed himself to believe it. Your eyes met his through the confusion.
For one suspended moment, the years between you disappeared. Then Doflamingo spoke your name, and you turned toward him.
The ease with which you obeyed wounded Law.
There was no time to confront you. Green Bit collapsed into violence. Fujitora moved against him, Doflamingo closed in, and Law escaped with Caesar before either man could take him.
He told himself he had mistaken what he saw in your face. Then the Den Den Mushi inside his coat rang.
Law stopped beneath the trees.
Caesar stumbled behind him and began demanding to know why they were no longer moving, but Law barely heard him.
The snail’s features changed when he answered. Its mouth took on the familiar shape of yours.
“Law.”
Law looked back through the trees. Doflamingo was somewhere behind him, and there was little time before he caught up.
You told him that the route directly toward the bridge had already been watched. There was another way, narrow enough to hide movement from the men Doflamingo had positioned ahead. It would bring Law close to the shore, where the Sunny could retrieve Caesar.
Law listened without interrupting.
When you finished, he asked, “Why?”
“Because I knew you would come back someday.”
The call ended.
Caesar stared at him. “That woman works for Joker.”
Law placed the receiver inside his coat.
“Yes.”
“And you intend to believe her?”
“No.”
He turned toward the route you had described.
“But I intend to find out why she wants me there.”
The passage existed exactly where you said it would.
The guards stationed near its entrance were unconscious but alive. Law inspected them long enough to determine that they had been struck cleanly and recently. Whoever had cleared the way knew how to disable Doflamingo’s men without raising an alarm.
He moved Caesar through the narrow route and reached the shoreline as the Sunny approached.
The exchange happened quickly.
Law waited until the Sunny was safely beyond the immediate reach of Doflamingo’s strings.
Then he heard footsteps behind him. You emerged from beneath the iron bridge.
Alone.
For several seconds, neither of you spoke.
Law had imagined this reunion too many times to know what he had expected from it.
You stopped several feet from him.
“You kept the hat,” you said.
His hand rose toward the brim before he could stop it.
Law looked at you fully for the first time. He noticed the faint scar near your temple and another along the edge of your jaw.
“You cleared the passage,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Doflamingo knows?”
“Not yet.”
“And when he does?”
Your eyes moved briefly toward the bridge. “He’ll be angry.”
“You say that like it doesn’t frighten you.”
“It does.”
The honesty softened something in him.
Law had expected denial, or the blind loyalty of another officer who had spent too long beneath Doflamingo’s control. Instead, you stood before him with fear visible in your face.
He took one step closer.
You did not move away.
“I thought you were dead,” he said.
Your expression changed.
“Did you?”
“More than once.”
“I wasn’t.”
“I can see that.”
A faint smile touched your mouth. It was small and tired, but it was yours.
Law felt the years fold inward.
He could almost see the child who had once sat beside him at the harbor, insisting their ship could not be ugly because she would be forced to look at it every day.
“You look different,” you said.
“So do you.”
“I meant the tattoos.”
Law glanced down at his hands. “You hate them?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“You never liked anything I chose.”
“That isn’t true. I liked the submarine.”
“You said it looked like a sick whale.”
“It did.”
Law laughed before he could prevent it.
The sound surprised both of you.
Your smile widened slightly, and for a moment the reunion became something neither of you had expected it could be.
Law closed the remaining distance between you.
He lifted his hand slowly, giving you time to move. When you remained still, he touched the side of your face.
Your eyes closed.
The gesture carried the weight of every touch denied to you both by time. Law’s thumb moved along the scar near your jaw. You leaned into his palm, and he felt your breath leave you unsteadily.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Your hand rose and closed around his wrist.
“I used to wonder what I would say when I saw you.”
“And?”
“I thought I would be angrier.”
You opened your eyes.
He expected bitterness. Instead, he saw grief softened by something he had not allowed himself to hope still existed.
“I missed you,” you said.
The words entered him quietly. Law lowered his forehead against yours.
“I missed you too,” he admitted.
“You built the crew,” you whispered.
He understood immediately.
Part of the future you had planned together had survived.
Law nodded. “Yes.”
“And the house?”
You tried to make the question sound light, but he heard the old dream beneath it.
“I never found the right island.”
“No?”
“I stopped looking.”
Your gaze lowered.
Law moved his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck, not allowing you to retreat into the loss.
“We could look again,” he said.
You went still.
The words felt reckless as soon as he spoke them, but Law did not take them back.
He had spent thirteen years preparing himself to destroy Doflamingo. He had not prepared for the possibility that something might remain afterward.
Now you stood before him, alive and frightened and close enough to touch.
The future rose between you again with the ease of something that had never entirely died.
“You don’t know who I am now,” you said.
“I know enough.”
Your eyes searched his face.
His hand slid from your neck until his fingers found yours. You looked down as he laced them together.
“Come with me,” he said.
Your fingers closed around his.
For one heartbeat, Law believed you would. Then the iron bridge shuddered above them.
You looked up sharply.
Doflamingo landed at the far end of the bridge. His pink coat settled across his shoulders as he straightened.
His smile was visible even from a distance.
Law released your hand and reached for Kikoku.
You stepped behind him.
Doflamingo’s gaze moved between the two of you before settling on your joined shadows across the stone.
“Touching,” he called.
Law drew his sword.
“Stay behind me.”
Your hand caught the back of his coat.
Law glanced over his shoulder.
Fear had returned to your face.
“Law—”
“I’m getting you out.”
Doflamingo began walking toward them.
His pace was unhurried.
Threads appeared around your wrists before Law saw his hand move. They pulled your arms sharply behind you, drawing a cry from your throat.
Law turned.
More strings tightened around your body and dragged you away.
Doflamingo stopped several yards ahead, holding you between them.
A thread pressed across your throat.
“Doffy,” you gasped.
Doflamingo tilted his head. “You’ve been busy.”
Law opened a Room.
The strain cut through his already exhausted body, but he ignored it. He switched places with a section of broken railing and appeared beside you, severing the strings around your throat before they could cut deeper.
Doflamingo attacked immediately.
Law blocked the first kick with Kikoku, but the impact forced him several feet backward. The fight moved onto the bridge.
Doflamingo’s next attack carried him past Law, leaving the Dressrosa end of the bridge briefly clear. Law widened his Room toward the city.
You remained near the center of the bridge, wrists bound and blood visible along your throat.
He could return once he had recovered enough to fight properly.
Then the strings around your throat tightened.
Your face twisted in pain.
Law abandoned the escape.
He moved to you instead. He cut through the threads around your wrists and caught you before you fell forward.
“I have you,” he said. Your hands closed against his coat.
Law turned his body between you and Doflamingo.
You looked up at him.
His face was close to yours, exhausted and determined. He had given up his clearest chance to escape because you were still somewhere behind him in every future he imagined.
You touched his cheek. The tenderness of it held him still.
“I did want to go,” you said.
Your thumb moved beneath his eye.
“I would have followed you anywhere.”
Something in your voice warned him.
Before Law could understand it, your other hand moved between you. The blade hidden inside your sleeve entered beneath his ribs.
Law looked down at the knife.
Your hand trembled around the hilt.
Then he looked at you.
The blood along your throat came from a shallow, deliberate cut. The strings had restrained you, but never tightly enough to hurt you.
Law’s breathing stopped for one stunned second.
“I wanted the ship. I wanted the house. I wanted everything we said we would have.”
Your eyes filled, though no tears fell.
Law pressed one hand around your wrist, but he did not force the knife away.
“You still can.”
Your face broke then.
Not entirely. Only enough for him to see the child who had waited inside you until waiting became unbearable.
“No,” you whispered. “That future belonged to the girl who was left behind.”
You pulled the blade free.
Doflamingo struck Law from behind. The force sent him across the bridge.
By the time they reached the street outside the Colosseum, Law fell onto the stone.
Doflamingo approached slowly.
You stopped beside him.
Law looked first at your hand. His blood remained across your fingers.
Then his gaze lifted to your face.
The tenderness from the bridge had disappeared behind the composure of a Donquixote officer, but Law knew now how easily you could summon the person he remembered.
That had been the sharpest part of the weapon.
Doflamingo followed his stare and laughed.
Law attempted to push himself upright. Doflamingo placed one foot against his injured shoulder and forced him down again.
“She waited longer than I expected,” he said. “That stubborn little dream of yours survived nearly everything.”
Law’s fingers pressed against the stone.
“But dreams become tedious when only one person continues believing in them.”
Law looked at you.
Doflamingo’s grin widened.
“I gave her something real.”
The claim was vile in its certainty.
Law’s expression hardened, but Doflamingo did not allow him to answer.
“She became one of my finest officers. She learned how to negotiate, how to kill, and how to recognize weakness.”
His hand slid slowly along your side.
Law’s gaze dropped to Doflamingo’s hand and then returned to your face.
Doflamingo laughed softly.
“She’s mine, Law. She serves at my table, sleeps in my bed, and returns to me every time I send her away.”
His fingers pressed possessively into your waist.
You stood motionless beside him.
Law searched your face for resistance.
He found pain.
He found shame.
He found no denial.
The silence hurt more than anything Doflamingo could have described.
Doflamingo drew his pistol.
“Doffy.”
He glanced at you.
For the first time, uncertainty broke through your composure. Doflamingo studied it and then looked back at Law.
He laughed.
“You see?” he said. “Some attachments take longer to kill than others.”
He lifted the weapon.
Law did not look at him. He looked only at you.
“You could still come with me.”
Your breath caught.
Doflamingo’s posture changed beside you, but Law continued before he could speak.
“I meant what I said on the bridge.”
Your eyes glistened.
“We can find the island,” Law said.
The future opened one last time. Doflamingo’s hand settled at the back of your neck.
The weight of it was familiar.
You forced yourself not to look away.
The pistol fired.
The first shot struck Law and drove him back against the stone.
You flinched.
Doflamingo fired again.
Then a third time.
The sound echoed through the street and left the world unnaturally quiet behind it.
Law lay still.
Smoke rose from the barrel of the pistol.
Doflamingo lowered the weapon.
His attention shifted to you.
“You hesitated.”
“But I stayed,” you said.
Doflamingo touched your chin and turned your face toward him.
“You always do.”
He kissed your forehead.
As Doflamingo guided you away, you looked back once. Law lay where he had fallen, one hand open against the stone.
You remembered that hand smaller, warm around yours as he led you through a crowded street.
Playing RPG but Law is the game master and he hates how reader keeps flirting with every living thing, so now every campaign has a NPC conveniently alike Law himself and shows up so often you could say he's one of the main characters and always has a connection to reader's backstory and ends in a romantic plot like fated lovers, childhood friends or even enemies to lovers if reader is pissed off with him enough (he will bribe them into dating his NPC by any means and refuse to give them any cursed items so they don't sacrifice themselves for the party)
summary: your captain has always been terrible at taking care of himself, and after days of forcing through exhaustion, he finally catches a fever. The doctor is sick, and you're left to take care of him and spend the night at his bedside. What you don't see coming is that the fever turns your very stubborn captain into a very... delirious and honest patient.
pairing: Law x gen!Reader
word count: 3.8 k
tags & cw: fluff, sick and silly Law, he's running a fever and also a crush, soft with a bit of yearning.
notes: this was originally a scene that I ended up deleting from my previous fic because I thought it deserved it's own story, and I was initially going to post it as a 900 word drabble. but then I blinked and it's suddenly over 3k lol. I'm happy I finally managed to make some time to finish writing this. hope you enjoy!
Masterlist ⊹ AO3
"How long have you been feeling like this?" you say as you place the back of your hand against Law's forehead, which feels almost as warm as one of the engine room pipes. His fever seemed ridiculously high.
"Uh… three days… Maybe?"
"Three days??" You turn your hand and press your palm against his forehead, just to make sure you aren't imagining it. Maybe your hands are the ones cold as ice— no, they're not. He still feels just as hot. You slide your hand to the side of his neck.
"Law, you need to take the day off. You're literally burning."
"Ghh—" he grunts, pressing a hand against his head, "No, I– I need to work."
"You need to rest."
Law squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, still holding his forehead. His breathing sounds heavier than before. This fool.
"Okay, how about this," you suggest. "You go rest and I'll do it. What is it that you need?"
"What? No, really– it's okay. This is probably just a stupid cold or sumthing—"
"Woah woah, careful!" he stumbles sideways and nearly falls after walking straight into one of the dining room chairs, you barely managing to catch his arm before he completely loses his balance. "Law, hey, don't do this to yourself. You can barely stand."
He sighs.
"Tell me what's so urgent that you need to be working on right now."
He squints against the light, the room probably being too bright for him, and seems to struggle to even come up with a simple answer.
"Law..? What is it that you need?"
"…I– I forgot."
Oh my God.
"Captain?" Penguin stops halfway through as he passes the kitchen and sees the two of you, with you practically holding Law upright. "Everything okay?"
"Yes–"
"No–" you both answer at the same time and turn to stare at each other. "No you're not! Penguin, great timing. Can you give me a hand?"
"Sure," he hurries over and slides one of Law's arms over his shoulder while you take the other side. "You got him?"
"Yeah– woah—!" Law's knees give out without warning, and suddenly all of his weight falls onto the two of you, forcing you to tighten your grip before he drags all three of you to the floor.
"What are we supposed to do with him?" Penguin asks.
"Take him to his room," you say, nearly loosing your hold on him as he slumps against you again. Law's head droops forward, offering no help as you start walking and practically dragging his feet along the way.
Penguin glances over at him with growing concern, but Law only manages to lift his head a little before offering him a tired, hazy smile,
"…Hi."
"Is– is he drunk?" Penguin asks in a lower voice.
"He has a fever."
"A fever?" Penguin frowns, trying to understand how a fever could leave the Captain this out of it. He shifts his grip to adjust himself, but grows confused when he suddenly notices his shoulder feels cold and damp, just where Law's body is resting on him. He looks down, and finds the collar of Law's shirt is dark with sweat.
"My God… He's sweating so much! Captain, Captain!" He raises a hand in front of Law's face, "How many fingers am I holding up?"
Law cracks one eye open just enough to glance at him. He looks deeply offended, "…You think I'm stupid? Six."
You stare at him, "…Penguin, just keep walking."
—
Once you reach his room, the two of you guide him into the bathroom so Penguin can help him clean up and change into something dry and more comfortable. Law is being surprisingly cooperative throughout the whole ordeal, though Penguin still has to repeat himself every now and then whenever Law drifts off halfway through whatever he's doing.
Eventually, Law is finally tucked beneath the blankets.
While Penguin makes sure he's comfortable, you sit at the desk and write down his symptoms, temperature, the time you took it, and the schedule for his medication. With how high his fever is, you want to make sure you have everything noted down. You don't trust yourself to remember it all later.
Penguin sets a glass of water on the bedside table before stepping back to the doorway. He rests one hand against the frame and turns to you, "You need anything?"
Your lips part to answer, but Law beats you to it, "...No." He doesn't even bother to open his eyes.
A smile tugs at Penguin's mouth, "Wasn't asking you, Captain." And Law answers with a groan that sounds vaguely annoyed. "Don't go dying on us, alright?"
"...Mhm."
That draws another amused smile from Penguin before turning back to you. He points towards the hallway with one thumb, silently mouthing, Yell if you need help.
You nod and mouth back, I will.
Satisfied, he quietly pulls the door shut behind him, and you go back to your notes.
—
An hour has passed.
You've been keeping yourself busy flipping through one of Law's medical books, comparing his symptoms to the different infections listed on it. You're certainly not a doctor, but you've seen him do this before whenever one of the crew members fell sick.
You read the symptoms. Fever, yes. Cold sweats, plenty. Excessive sweating where the body rests against a surface… yes. Sweaty hands, mhmm not really. Cold feet–
You glance up to find him sleeping soundly. Sigh, you forgot to check his lower body's temperature. He needs to get as much sleep as he can get, and checking now would probably wake him up.
Still, you should write down every symptom… what if it's something serious?
You quietly walk over to the bed and lift the blanket just enough to uncover his feet. Cold… surprisingly cold, compared the heat radiating from the rest of his body.
The blanket suddenly moves and Law turns with a groan.
"Shit, sorry. I was just checking on you."
"…oh," Law blinks slowly, "you're still here…"
You give him a faint smile, "Of course I am." You tuck the blanket back around his feet before returning to your notes and adding the new symptom, "Someone has to take care of my captain."
"Hmm…", his lips curve into a smile.
The room falls back to the silent turning of the pages. Every now and then, you glance up from the book expecting to find him asleep, but each time you look, he's still awake, staring absentmindedly in your direction.
You can't help smiling to yourself. Usually, catching him staring would've made Law look away the moment your eyes met. This time, he simply keeps watching you through his sleepy and tired eyes, smiling ever so tenderly. It's… strangely endearing.
Moments later, the mattress shifts as Law finally turns to one side, settling back to sleep. Or at least that's what you assume. He remains still for a few seconds before rolling to the other side. A few seconds pass, and he lets out a frustrated but quiet sigh, and turns once again.
"Law? What's wrong?"
Law suddenly sits upright in his bed, his gaze lost somewhere else.
"Law?"
"Hm?" his eyes slowly find yours.
"You need something?"
He gives you a long look through heavy eyelids, almost getting lost in yours. "…No."
"Then why are you sitting up..?"
"…"
You sigh, "Come on, lie back down."
Setting the book aside, you walk over to the bed to help him, and Law offers no resistance as you rest your hands on his shoulders and guide him back towards the mattress. Yet, the moment your hand touches the pillow, you stop. The fabric feels damp… no, it's soaked in sweat.
"Oh, damn…" So that's why. No wonder he'd been tossing and turning this whole time, he was probably very uncomfortable. You help him sit back up, "Law, do you have another pillow?"
"Not really."
Damn. You glance once more at the dark stain of sweat on the fabric. He can't keep sleeping like this, he'll only get worse.
"Alright… then you're borrowing mine." Sigh, "Wait for me, okay? I'll be right back."
"Mhmm."
You hurry towards the door, but Law's voice stops you the moment your hand reaches the doorknob, "Dun't forget the jellyfish."
…What?
You glance back, "Say that again?"
"The jellyfish…" he murmurs, "it's all spiky."
"Right… I– I'll keep that in mind."
You slip out of his room before he has the chance to say anything else and hurry to your cabin. Was that a tactile hallucination? He's definitely delirious. Better hurry back.
It only takes you a minute to grab your fluffiest pillow before heading back.
By the time you return, he's still sitting upright, with his head drooping forward and his eyes closed. You really hadn't been gone that long, and still he must have fallen asleep waiting for you. Poor thing, he really looks exhausted.
You quietly make your way over to the bed and set the pillow beside him. He startles awake, lifting his head and looking confused for a moment.
"Sorry," you murmur. "Let's change that pillow."
When he leans forward, you pull the damp pillow out from behind him and replace it with your own, giving it a couple of light pats to fluff it up.
"Mhm, you know what…" your eyes land on the stain of sweat soaking through the back of his shirt. "We're changing that too."
You walk over to his wardrobe and take a look, searching for something he'll find comfortable to sleep in. You pick one of his softer shirts, and leave it beside him. Then head to the bathroom to empty the water from the basin you'd been using to clean his sweat, and refill it with fresh warm water.
Carrying the basin back to the bedside, you set it down, soak one of the towels and wring it out.
"Come here, let's get you comfortable."
Law obediently leans forward as you help him out of the damp shirt. You place the warm towel across the back of his neck and begin to gently wipe away all the sweat from his shoulders and back.
"Is this temperature alright?"
He nods.
"Why didn't you tell me?" you murmur as you continue to run the warm towel across his back. "Were you really planning on sleeping like that?"
"Sorry... I– I didn't want to bother you anymore."
"You getting worse because you didn't want to bother me would definitely be more trouble." You rinse the towel, wring it once more and continue, taking your time until the clammy feeling on his skin is gone. "There."
The fact that he'd been lying there, wet and feverish because he didn't want to bother you makes your chest ache. If anything, it only makes you want to take even better care of him.
You help him into the clean shirt, smoothing the fabric over his shoulders. You reach for the towel one last time, brushing a few damp strands of hair away from his forehead.
"You're gonna be alright," you murmur as you give him a reassuring smile.
Law looks at you through heavy eyelids. He doesn't know whether it's the fever or the exhaustion, but your voice makes everything feel quieter.
"Here," you reach for the glass Penguin left on the bedside table and slice one arm behind his shoulder to help him steady, "you should drink a little."
Law gives a faint nod and reaches for the glass with both hands. His fingers curl weakly around it and they don't seem steady enough to hold it properly.
"Don't worry," you ease him, "I've got it."
He reluctantly lets go and you guide it to his lips. He takes a few small sips, swallowing slowly between each one.
When you tilt the glass towards him again, he pulls back and grimaces, and you can almost read the word 'enough' that's written across his face. You set the glass back on the bedside table.
Cradling the back of his head, you gently ease him down onto the pillow, careful not to make him any dizzier than he already is. You lean over him to pull the blanket back into place, tucking it around his sides and making sure the dry towel you've placed beneath his back doesn't bunch up.
From Law's perspective, the pounding in his head is still there, but it doesn't seem quite as important anymore. He's not entirely sure what you are doing, all he can focus on is your hair falling forward as you lean over him… the careful way your hands move around him, making sure he's comfortable in every way.
Maybe… maybe he should get sick more often.
He continues to watch you quietly, trying to capture the moment like a photograph tucked away in the back of his mind. He's still warm from the fever, but somehow it isn't the only warmth he feels now.
"You're beautiful... You know that?"
Had he been thinking straight, those words would've never left his mouth. Embarrassment feels strangely distant, and it doesn't even occur to him to take them back. You'd only ever appeared this close in his dreams. Now, he's not even sure whether he's dreaming anymore, everything feels hazy around the edges.
When you hand finds his forehead again, it's tender enough to make him wonder if he's imagined the whole thing.
Hesitantly, your hand lingers against his forehead for a moment. You know the fever is clearly clouding his thoughts. Even so, that doesn't stop warmth from rushing into your face.
Yeah… still burning. A faint smile finds its way to your lips, "Just sleep."
Your hand trails from his forehead to his cheek, cupping it for a second too long before you shyly pull it away.
Law lets out a dissatisfied hum, "Mhhmnn dun wanna."
"You don't want to sleep?"
"I feel funny…"
"Funny how?"
"Like... like I can't think," his brow pinches. "Like– I don't know what I'm saying."
Right…
"I'll take your temperature again."
You reach for the mercury thermometer and give it a few flicks before slipping it beneath his arm. Once the five minutes passed, you hold it up against the light, squinting your eyes as you check how far the silver line stretches this time.
"It's coming down…" you murmur. "Still high enough to make your brain a little mushy though. How's your head?"
"Still hurts... A little."
"Where?"
Law lifts a sluggish hand towards the side of his head, not lasting long before falling back to the mattress.
You try to sit closer to him, resting your fingertips where he'd been trying to point, "Here?"
"No, more to the side… More. There."
"Here?"
"Mhm," a relieved sigh escapes him, "feels better when you touch it."
Feels better when touched…
Your fingertips slip into his hair, your nails barely grazing his scalp so lightly that Law's eyes drift shut almost at once. You trace one, two... three soft circles against his scalp, and Law feels his entire body relax with a warm tingle that spreads from the crown of his head to the nape of his neck.
For the first time since you brought him to bed, the tension in his shoulders seems to melt away, along with the tightness of his jaw that begins to ease, making his lips slightly part.
Law lets out another quiet breath and leans into your hand, instinctively tilting his head in search of the warmth of your touch that's making him forget the heavy pounding of his head.
You can't help but smile… This is probably one of those moments that will stay with you for a very long time.
Your eyes drift to your notes on the desk. Pain relieved by gentle pressure… You should write that down.
You let your fingers linger one last time before pulling your hand away, but as you stand, something catches your wrist.
"Noo… where're you going?"
You can't help but laugh. When you look back, you find his fever-swollen eyes fixed on yours, silently waiting for you to change your mind. How are you supposed to say no to that?
"Sorry, I just need to get your medicine ready. I'll be right back, okay?"
Law's clearly annoyed, but after frowning quietly his fingers slowly loosen from your wrist. You catch his hand before it falls back to the bed and give it a small, reassuring squeeze before you let go and head to the desk.
You compare your notes with the medical book one last time, adding the new symptoms and finally settling on the medication that best matches what you've observed.
With your decision made, you head to one of the cabinets to prepare the correct dose.
—
After measuring the ingredients as carefully as you could, you mix them into a single dose and hurry back to Law's bedside. You're surprised to find him curled up around the pillow, both arms wrapped around it while his cheek had practically disappeared into it. It almost looked as if he were trying to bury himself in it. Pfft.
"Comfortable?"
His arms tighten around the pillow at the sound of your voice, lifting his face just enough to look at you with sleepy eyes.
"…It's soft," his cheek sinks right back into it, fingers curling lazily around it "…Smells nice."
Oh, for God's sake.
"Alright." You let out an exasperated sigh, trying very hard to ignore the warmth creeping to your face once again. You take your seat beside him, set the freshly prepared medicine on the table and guide the spoon to his mouth.
"Open," you say firmly, "Ah."
Law obeys reluctantly and swallows it in one go, but his face immediately twists in disgust.
"What is it?"
"…Tastes awful."
Serves you right. But the miserable look on his face immediately wipes the thought away.
Setting the spoon aside, you reach for the glass of water and help him take another sip to wash away the bitter taste.
"Sorry… The ship's doctor called in sick. Feel free to file a complaint once he's recovered."
Law lets out a small huff, almost a laugh.
"Better?"
He takes one final sip, "Yeah."
You set the glass back on the table and help him lie back down.
As you brush a few loose strands of hair away from his forehead, your fingers linger for a moment before finding their way back into his hair, almost on their own. This time, you don't really think about it; your fingers simply comb through the dark strands before coming to rest against his scalp.
Law relaxes beneath your hand, his shoulders sinking into the mattress. You chuckle when he gently nudges your hand with his head, as if asking for more, which you happily oblige and continue your lazy movements through his hair.
A heavy sigh escapes him.
"You really like this, huh?"
"Mhm," the tension on his brow almost disappears. "I… I like everything you do."
You take a deep breath. Your idiot of a captain isn't making this any easier. You try to gather yourself, "That's not exactly what I asked."
"I know."
His answer is so simple that it catches you completely off guard. Your smile falters for a second, and your fingers come to a stop before you even realize it.
After a few quiet seconds of not feeling you move, Law slowly opens his eyes. When he sees you, his lips curve into a sweet, silly smile, and you forget how to breathe.
You feel as if time has stopped, completely trapped by his eyes that begin to wander over your face, your hair, your cheeks, your lips… then slowly, back to your eyes.
"…You're beautiful."
Heat rushes to your face so quickly that you have to bite your lower lip to keep yourself from smiling like an idiot. Unable to hold his gaze any longer, you slip your fingers into his hair again, forcing yourself to think of something else and hoping your movements would distract him from noticing just how flustered he was making you.
"You already told me that."
"I did?"
You nod. He seems to think about it for a moment before humming to himself, quietly pleased. His eyelids flutter shut again as your fingers resume their slow, gentle caress through his hair.
"Hey," Law lets a long sigh, "…tell me something."
"Hm?"
"What…" his brow pinches slightly as he searches through the haze clouding his thoughts. "What do I have to do… to make you mine?"
You freeze.
"…What?"
Law opens his eyes, blinking slowly. But once he sees your startled expression, his own immediately shifts. "…Did I say something weird?"
"Ah– no no, it's just—"
"Shit, sorry," he says as he covers his face with both hands. It's the first time all day that you can see a hint of genuine embarrassment slipping through the fever. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"No, it's okay, I just—"
"It's just–" his frustrated voice cuts you off again, "It's just…. Hahhh…, I've been trying to give you hints for a while, but you never get them."
You still, staring at him for a few seconds as you try to process everything.
"You… you have?"
"…Yeah."
"Am I really that oblivious..?"
"Yeah."
"Wait, so– what you're telling me is… you've been pursuing me this whole time?"
"Yeah?"
The sheer sincerity of his answer makes you laugh, "Are you serious? Is that what you call that?"
Law frowns, grabs your hand, and tugs it away from his head, giving you the most offended look.
"Are you making fun of my tactics?"
That only makes you laugh harder. You'd never seen him pout before, and you could already imagine the unbearable embarrassment he'd go through once the fever breaks and he comes back to his senses.
"You definitely need better tactics, Captain."
Law actually considers that.
"…Alright," he says after a thoughtful pause, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. "Then promise me something." You turn your attention back to him, "Promise you won't run away."
"And why's that?" you tilt your head, amused. "Are you planning to abduct me?"
A sleepy smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
"Heh, do you want me to?" He lets out a quiet chuckle, his eyes drooping a little lower. "You're right. Maybe that's the only way you'll finally get it."
Smiling to yourself, you release your hand from his grip and return to his head.
"Alright," you say softly, "How about this. If you get some proper sleep, I'll let you steal me for one day."
His eyes beam and open wider, "One whole day?"
"From the moment the sun rises till it sets."
Law looks absurdly pleased with that answer, and you can't help but smile back at him.
the thought of law operating on you and admiring your organs.
"...her anatomy is remarkable."
the heart pirates exchanged confused glances.
law continued as if discussing the weather.
"minimal scar tissue despite the injuries they survived. her liver regenerated cleanly. the blood vessels are intact where they should be, and her lungs are... surprisingly healthy."
he adjusted a clamp with surgical precision.
"i've operated on countless people. pirates, marines, civilians." his golden eyes briefly flickered toward [redacted]'s unconscious face. "very few have organs this resilient."
bepo blinked. "captain... are... are you complimenting her organs?"
"they deserve it."
the room fell silent.
law continued stitching.
"her heart rhythm is stable even under severe blood loss. efficient. strong." a faint pause. "it's a good heart."
shachi snorted. "captain, you make that sound romantic."
law ignored them completely.
"her kidneys show no long-term damage despite chronic dehydration." he examined another monitor. "healthy pancreas. excellent spleen. her body recovered from malnutrition far better than expected."
he nodded to himself in quiet approval.
"i'd give her organs a perfect score."
"CAPTAIN," bepo whispered, horrified. "normal people compliment someone's eyes..."
law didn't even glance up.
"i notice organs first."
first time writing, sorry if this sucks. i love freaky law and i just had surgery <3 please do not feed my work to ai, copy, nor translate it to any other language. thank you.
Reader dating Law and instituting a apple a day keeps the doctor away rule where they eat apples every time they're mad at him for some reason and Law has to wait for them to finish eating it otherwise he can't approach like a European vampire that can't enter houses without being invited
Law tried to cheat by hiding the apples or giving them to Bepo but reader always have a infinite supply of them for some reason
At some point he's so fed up by being ignored that he bans apples from the ship entirely so reader decides to wear apple stamped clothes instead and they look terribly cute but Law has nightmares reader turns into a actual apple forever
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Reader dating Law and instituting a apple a day keeps the doctor away rule where they eat apples every time they're mad at him for some reason and Law has to wait for them to finish eating it otherwise he can't approach like a European vampire that can't enter houses without being invited
Law tried to cheat by hiding the apples or giving them to Bepo but reader always have a infinite supply of them for some reason
At some point he's so fed up by being ignored that he bans apples from the ship entirely so reader decides to wear apple stamped clothes instead and they look terribly cute but Law has nightmares reader turns into a actual apple forever
I imagine their full deadly stare towards Law while biting into the apple and making that loud and slow apple crunch and each bite makes him die a little
Reader dating Law and instituting a apple a day keeps the doctor away rule where they eat apples every time they're mad at him for some reason and Law has to wait for them to finish eating it otherwise he can't approach like a European vampire that can't enter houses without being invited
Law tried to cheat by hiding the apples or giving them to Bepo but reader always have a infinite supply of them for some reason
At some point he's so fed up by being ignored that he bans apples from the ship entirely so reader decides to wear apple stamped clothes instead and they look terribly cute but Law has nightmares reader turns into a actual apple forever
i have a whole script written out for a modern au rockstar boyfriend law series, i really hope someone wants to read this because i will write this and yes this is a threat i even have a mood board
Hi!! I hope you’re having a good day!! I have a request for law with a jealous reader, I love some good hurt/comfort. Thank you!!
okay i'm so sorry this took me so long! here's some hurt and comfort for you <3
tell me again, tomorrow
trafalgar law x reader
"but there's nothing there, no blade, no wound, no blood. just the unbearable pain of feeling your heart break in real time. you would've preferred a stab wound."
you pull the door open and immediately get hit with laughter, the smell of booze and smoke stinging in your lungs. it's one of those rare nights where the air is sticky, the music is loud, and your captain for once has agreed to a night off. you won't be setting sail till morning anyways, so why not have some fun while waiting?
the crew slowly pile into the dimly lit pirate bar, some directly going for drinks, some aiming straight for the dance floor. you grab a table with ikkaku and bepo, laughing at a joke penguin makes in passing.
and then there's law. who has already settled into the darkest and most quiet corner, furthest away possible from where the actual fun is happening, silently observing the room.
gloomy, brooding, wonderfully sinister, and unfortunately incredibly handsome trafalgar law.
"you're staring", ikkaku informs you.
quickly averting your eyes, you suddenly find the battered table in front of you to be much more interesting than your captain's scowling face.
"i wasn't", you lie.
you don't need to look up to be aware of the look ikkaku and bepo give each other.
it's not like you actually even care that they know, they're your friends after all. it's just that you usually try not to acknowledge the feelings you harbour for your captain.
of course you are aware of them. you've got it bad. but it's hard to come to terms with the pain of being in love with someone who is always just out of reach. just the thought of it is almost unbearable, it stings somewhere deep within your soul.
because you know that harbouring any kind of feelings towards a man like law will only end in disaster. you know well enough that he's got anything but love on his mind. and even if he did you would still be his crew mate and he would still be your captain and it would still be inappropriate.
so you hover within your unrequited feelings like a ghost in an abandoned church, like a fly on the wall observing your very own ruin.
it's easier to deny these type of things. it's easier to pretend you don't have the urge to go over to him, to sit by his side, be close to him.
a bottle of beer is slammed down in front of you at the same time that someone pulls back the chair next to you. penguin and shachi join you at the round table.
"who's ready to play some cards?", shachi grins, but your mind is only halfway present.
instead, your eyes wander back to the place law has made himself comfortable. tucked away in the corner like he doesn't want to be seen. and yet, your eyes always seem to find him.
he notices you looking and your eyes lock for a moment. you give him a small smile and he gives you a nod. just the tiniest hint of attention makes your breath catch and your heart flutter. you're truly hopeless. pathetic even.
and so you sit there, with your heartbeat so loud it clashes with the music, playing cards with your friends and stealing occasional glances at your captain.
the night goes pretty smoothly. or at least as smooth as a night you spend trying to swallow down your feelings for a man you can't have with booze, and losing every single round of cards in the process can go. shachi cheats anyways.
everyone's already half-drunk when penguin swings an arm around your shoulders all of a sudden, and looks at you in mocked seriousness.
"so", he begins. "are you finally gonna tell him tonight?"
you almost choke on your drink.
"yes please", shachi agrees, dramatically placing a hand on his chest. "i can't take the yearning looks any longer."
at that you chuckle and playfully elbow him in the side.
"that's mean", you say. "it's not that bad."
you watch your friends exchange a deadpan look.
"honey, you know we love you, but you're a walking train wreck whenever the captain is around", ikkaku says kindly, like the best friend she is to you.
she gives you a well-meaning glance and you feel your shoulders slump.
"i can't", you sigh. "it would be so out of line. he's our captain."
you drop your head slightly.
"besides", you mutter. "he doesn't like me like that."
and you can practically hear the whole table roll their eyes.
"that man is head over heels for you", ikkaku protests.
"you're literally the only one on the crew he more than tolerates", shachi says.
"you're the only one allowed to go in his room", bepo states matter of factly.
"that was one time", you yelp. "to help him find a book he was looking for."
penguin snorts.
"even just asking you for help is basically a marriage proposal from law."
"he's -", you're about to laugh it off, before the conversation gets too serious, before you get sucked in too deep into the knot inside your heart, when something catches your eye. or rather someone.
"he's currently flirting with a waitress", you finish.
and the words taste bitter on your tongue, as you stare ahead, taking in the scene unfolding before you.
there's law in the same corner he's been hiding out in all night.
except that now he's got company.
a woman, a beautiful one at that, has taken the place next to your captain, and is animatedly talking to him.
she's close.
she's too close.
and she's sitting right where you've been wishing to sit all night.
"huh", you hear someone say.
"she's probably just taking his order", someone else muses.
your eyes are glued to law and the beautiful waitress who is now grabbing his arm and laughing and law doesn't even move away, why is he not moving away?!
you try to swallow down the sour taste in your mouth, along with the whirling thoughts that are clouding your mind, but the tightness in your chest remains.
someone places a warm hand on your shoulder.
"hey", ikkaku says softly. "you know that law doesn't flirt with strangers. you have nothing to worry about."
and of course ikkaku is right. law doesn't flirt. ever. you would know.
you're about to agree with her, trying your best to not let your emotions overwhelm you, to stay calm - but in the same moment you watch in horror as law leans over to said stranger to whisper something in her ear.
and she has the audacity to laugh as law slowly leans back, but not far enough, at least not far enough for your taste. you have too look away.
something deep inside you shatters, something that shouldn't even have been there to break in the first place. it's not like law owes you anything. it's not like you lost him. it's not like you ever had him in the first place.
and in that exact moment you find yourself having to admit that maybe there was a part of you, buried somewhere deep inside your ribcage, that thought you actually had a chance. you thought you had swallowed down your hopes of ever acting on your feelings, you thought you'd killed them all with your striking rationality - after all you keep reminding yourself that it's just stupid feelings, they will go away if you just push them down hard enough.
but maybe you failed. maybe the hope of ever being something more to law still lingered somewhere within you. and maybe that hope is what just shattered into a million pieces inside of your chest. and now you can feel the sharp-edged fragments dig into your flesh, your skin, your bones, and god it hurts.
suddenly the music is too loud and the place is too crowded and ikkaku's hand on your shoulder feels way too warm and you can't breathe.
"i need some air", you say, already pushing back your chair and getting up.
ikkaku grabs your hand.
"are you sure? i can come with you if you want", she offers.
you look back at her, the first hints of tears already welling up in your eyes.
"it hurts", you manage to press out. "i can't take it."
"i understand", she gives you a sympathetic look. "are you sure you don't want company?"
you shake your head.
"i think i'll just go back to the ship."
"okay", ikkaku pulls you into a quick hug before she lets you go. "i'll see you later. be careful."
you stumble out of the bar and onto the street and suddenly your head is spinning so much that you start to wonder how much you really have had to drink.
the air outside is cold and it makes the tears that are beginning to spill down your cheeks feel even hotter against your skin.
it's nothing, you try to reassure yourself. you shouldn't even be upset, even if he was flirting with someone else. it's not like he ever would have wanted you in the first place.
your head spins with thoughts faster and faster as you stagger down the deserted street. your mind feels clouded, your legs feel heavy and your chest feels like you've been stabbed.
it hurts so much that you tilt your head down to check if maybe you have been stabbed, maybe you're so drunk you just didn't notice, maybe someone did shove a knife between your ribs, maybe there's a reasonable cause for your pain.
but there's nothing there, no blade, no wound, no blood. just the unbearable pain of feeling your heart break in real time. you would've preferred a stab wound.
the moon hangs low on the sky when you look up to curse out the stars for torturing you like this. does the sky not deem you worthy of love? does the universe want you to suffer?
you've never thought of it before, seeing him with someone else. but you probably should have seen it coming. it's law after all. he's way too good to end up alone. he has always been too good to be true in your eyes. and maybe you were wrong. maybe he does have love on his mind, maybe it's just you who has never been in the picture.
you simply were not prepared for the reality of having to witness him be close like this with someone else.
you touch your hand to your aching chest.
is it possible to die of heartbreak?
you don't get to finish that thought because suddenly you're overcome with an overwhelming sense of nausea and you bend over in a dark street corner to throw up next to a couple of trash cans.
this is a new kind of low, you think, as your stomach empties itself out.
a few rattling coughs leave your mouth when you try to stand back up.
and then there's a hand on your back and another one on your shoulder, carefully trying to steady you.
"easy", he says quietly as you try to get your legs to stop shaking.
and just the sound of his voice makes you feel like bending over and throwing up again, even if it's just blood, tears and spit left.
but you don't do that. instead you follow the impulse to take a step back, away from him (and your vomit). unfortunately you underestimate how much your sense of balance has suffered from all the alcohol and throwing up, making you wobble so much that you almost fall.
except that you don't. because law catches you. because of course he does.
you want to hate him for it, hate him for showing you such care even when he's the reason for your pain. but you can't. you could never hate him. it's not his fault anyways.
law carefully helps you balance yourself on your legs again and gives you a quick once over, checking you for any potential injuries. in any other situation you probably would have been embarrassed but your head is still spinning and your legs feel like jelly and you really want to go to bed.
"i was going to ask if you can walk, but i think you just answered that question", law mutters.
and then, without hesitation, he steps forward and picks you up. and suddenly you find yourself being carried down the empty street, bridal style, by none other your captain.
it takes you a second to realize what is happening. once you do, you immediately feel your cheeks flush. you try to look anywhere but law's face. law, who is silently carrying you back to the ship, as if it's nothing.
for a moment you wish you could stay like this forever. you wish you could stay inside the comforting dream of being able to be close to him like this, to be cared for, to be his.
but now that the alcohol has found it's way out of your system you're hit with a new sense of devastating clarity.
the clarity being that trafalgar law deserves to be happy.
yes, you want law, but the one thing you want more is for him to be content. even if it isn't with you. you can't stand in the way of his happiness. you couldn't live with yourself if you did.
"stop", you croak, your throat sore.
law pays you no mind.
"put me down."
he keeps walking.
"you don't have to do this", you try again. "i don't need your help."
at that, he looks at you and raises a challenging eyebrow.
"law, listen", you say. "please."
he stops.
"i-", you start. but his face is so close to yours and suddenly you're very aware of the way his arms are wrapped around you and you can't focus when your heart is beating this fast.
it almost pains you to say it, not wanting to ever be let out of his hold.
"can you put me down, please?"
"can you stand?", he deadpans.
"just put me down."
he carefully lowers you back down to your feet. it takes you a second to steady yourself before you determinedly look up at him.
"i can't stand in the way of your happiness", you say.
law looks at you like you're stupid.
"what?"
"you should be with whoever you want to be", you continue. "i don't want to keep you from finding love."
"what are you talking about?", he says, confusion flaring up in his eyes.
"you can go back to the bar, i'll be fine on my own, i promise."
law takes a closer look at you.
"are you concussed?", he reaches out his hand to check your head for injuries probably, but you flinch back.
"what?", you shake your head. "no!"
"and why would i go back to the bar?", he questions.
"well", you begin, realizing you have no idea how to say this.
how do you tell someone you love that you want them to leave so that they can be with someone else?
"talk to me", law says in a way that is so soft, so reassuring, so genuinely kind, that it shouldn't be possible for someone who gets called the "surgeon of death."
it takes all your strength to face the man in front of you and be honest like this. but you have to do this. even if it means hurting yourself, even if it means agonizing pain, even if it means picking up whatever's left of your heart all by yourself in the aftermath. you have to let him go.
you take a deep breath.
"i saw you", your voice shakes as you explain. "with the waitress."
something flashes over law's face, something close to recognition, something you can't quite place. it's gone almost the same second it appears.
you swallow.
"listen", you take another breath. "law." your voice cracks. suddenly it hurts to say his name.
you try to look into his eyes but they're too genuine, too open, it's too hard like this and you have to look away. you cant get sucked in right now, can't afford to give in to the comfort of false hope again.
why is he looking at you like this? can't he see how badly you're suffering?
"i really want you to be happy", you say, and it's the closest thing to the truth you can come up with, without completely falling apart.
"and you looked happy earlier", you continue.
"with the waitress", law says straight-faced.
you shuffle your feet uncomfortably.
"yeah", you breathe. "you should go back to her before it's too late."
law inhales.
"why are you telling me this?", he asks and you can feel yourself grow frustrated.
why doesn't he get it? how can he not understand? why does he have to make it so hard for you?
"because i don't want to stand in the way of your happiness", you repeat your words from earlier.
"and you think my happiness will come from a waitress", law repeats after you. "who i don't know", he continues. "and who i told to leave me alone."
"you-", you pause. "what?"
and then he laughs.
trafalgar law laughs in your face.
and it's the most beautiful and simultaneously horrifying moment you have ever lived through.
you'd probably be offended if you weren't so enamoured with the warm sound of his laugh.
you see, trafalgar law never laughs. and when he does it's usually out of spite, it's evil and threatening.
but this feels like a hug. this feels like sunshine and coming home to a warm cup of tea. this feels like everything you can't have with him thrown right at your feet like some kind of sick joke.
it almost makes you feel like throwing up again.
but then there's hands cupping your face, and law tilts your chin up, his fingers softly grazing your jaw.
suddenly you're wrapped in utter silence. the streetlights stop buzzing, the cicadas stop humming, the sound of waves crashing by the shore drifts away and the world stops moving all together.
there's only law now, only you and him.
his amber eyes stare deep into your soul, glazed over with something you can't name, or maybe you're afraid to. you feel the warmth of his fingers on your skin, watch his breath mix with yours - when did he get so close?
there's ugly remnants of false hope clawing at your heart, trying to pry open what you swore to close off in favour of your own well-being.
there's fear and resignation and then there's the love. fuck, there's so much love and it all comes bubbling up again. because as it turns out you can't simply push your feelings down, you can't will your love away. for the second time tonight, your pent-up feelings come crashing down on you all at once, and the pressure almost crushes you.
it's all too much.
"law", you croak in an attempt to make time move forward again, to release some of the pressure of this agonizing silence.
he looks at you like you've just pulled him out of a deep haze. then, finally, he speaks.
"i'm sorry."
you furrow your brows in confusion. his eyes never leave yours.
"what?"
he sighs. his thumb strokes away a single tear running down your cheek that you didn't even notice.
"i'm not good at these things", he states.
"what are you talking about?", your voice is barely a whisper, shaky and uneven.
there's a moment of hesitation, a shift in the flow of the universe, as you silently watch law contemplate something.
and then he kisses you.
carefully, uncertainly, as if you might break from the impact of his lips meeting yours.
you freeze. suddenly there's nothing in your head but a stark white emptiness, a hot feeling flashing behind your eyes.
and then you kiss him back.
and time starts moving again.
law holds your face in his hands and you wrap your arms around his neck as you share the slowest, most fragile of kisses. it tastes like years of suppressed feelings and tears.
you only notice your tear-stained face once he pulls away. a helpless chuckle escapes you as you wipe your eyes with your sleeve.
"this is embarrassing", you say.
law pulls your hand away from your face by your wrist and instead places his own hand on your cheek, using his thumb to wipe away any leftover tears.
"no it's not", he says quietly. "i'm sorry for making you cry."
you shake your head, about to tell him that he shouldn't apologize, but he stops you.
"please", he says. "let me say this."
and he looks at you with more emotion than you've ever seen him show in all these years that you've known him. you feel yourself tremble.
"i never meant to wait so long to do this.", he averts his eyes and just then it hits you how hard it must be for him to say these things out loud. "i just never knew how to-"
he sighs. law's other hand finds yours, interlocking your fingers between you. then his eyes are on yours again.
"i love you."
your breath catches in your throat. the broken pieces of your heart stitch themselves back together in your chest, just so that your heart can stop beating.
and before you can help it there's more tears welling up in your eyes. but you're smiling now. you're smiling and crying as law tells you again:
"i'm in love with you."
he cradles your face in his hands.
"my happiness is where you are. and i should've told you this sooner", he lets out a breathy chuckle. "you're not even going to remember this in the morning."
you lean into him, resting your head on his chest. you feel him wrap his arms around you and you let yourself be embraced by the man you love.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Summary: Law had always believed that everything eventually disappeared. People, places, memories. Then he met you, and somehow, ordinary moments became the one thing he wanted to keep forever.
Word count: about 6200
A\N: I got carried away again, so a short museum date drabble turned into a 20+ page story 😅
Contains: fluff, established relationship, slice of life, soft Law, dork\nerd Law, gift-giving, museum date, bookstore date, protective Law, light humor, mild angst, hurt-to-comfort, mild emotional vulnerability, references to Law’s family.
After what had felt like an eternity spent beneath the sea, deprived of fresh air and warm sunlight for far too many weeks, the captain of the Heart Pirates finally decided it was time to replenish their supplies and allow the Log Pose to adjust to a new destination.
The island they chose to dock at was hardly famous. If anything, it seemed almost suspiciously ordinary. There was no Marine base, no bounty hunters prowling the streets, no sign of chaos waiting to erupt around the next corner. There were only cobbled streets lined with flowerbeds, quiet parks, fishermen arguing over the price of the morning’s catch, lively marketplaces, little bookshops, family-ran restaurants, and even a modest museum so thoroughly unremarkable that not even Law had ever come across a single mention of it in all the books and reports he had read.
He was dissatisfied with the place from the moment he laid eyes on it, and deeply suspicious in the particular way only a professional grouch could be.
“There’s is absolutely no way a place like this actually exists.”
You laughed.
“What? Disappointed?”
He looked at you through narrowed eyes.
“I’m waiting to find out what the catch is.”
There wasn’t one.
No hidden trick. No elaborate scheme. No sinister twist waiting to reveal itself.
Nothing at all.
“Oh, Your Majesty, King of Optimism, Captain Positivity,” you teased, patting him lightly on the shoulder, “places like this do exist. There are countless islands where life is just… normal. I visited plenty of them before I joined the crew. Try relaxing for once.”
He stiffened beneath your touch before forcing himself to relax again, though the suspicion never quite left his expression.
You and your impossible ability to believe the world would simply behave itself, he thought.
The Heart Pirates scattered almost the moment they stepped ashore.
Bepo discovered a local bakery overflowing with pastries, both old favorites and entirely new ones he insisted he simply had to sample before meeting up with Shachi and Penguin at the marketplace to hunt down the freshest fish they could find.
Ikkaku wandered off toward a boutique before settling at a nearby café, savoring the rare luxury of peace and quiet at a safe distance from her wonderfully unruly crewmates.
And, much to the Surgeon of Death’s annoyance, no one was chasing them.
No gunshots echoed through the streets, no rival pirates appeared on the horizon, and no one’s life was in immediate danger.
Law seemed almost personally offended by the very concept.
As though the island itself had orchestrated some grand deception.
Yes, peaceful islands were not unheard of on the Grand Line, but they had never encountered one where he could truly lower his guard and blend in among the townspeople without expecting disaster to strike.
Something wasn’t right.
And so—for what he reminded himself several times was purely strategic reasoning—he decided he would have to keep an even closer eye on you than usual, lest his hopelessly trusting and infuriatingly kind crewmate managed to wander straight into trouble.
He found you exactly where he had expected to.
Inside the tiny local museum.
You were sitting on a bench in front of several large landscape paintings, quietly taking them in one by one.
Without a word, he sat beside you, nudging your shoulder gently before resting one hand on your knee.
Now that the two of you weren’t constantly surrounded by the crew, now that you were somewhere unfamiliar where no one knew either of you, he allowed himself this tiny gesture of affection.
It might have seemed insignificant to anyone else, yet between the two of you it carried a quiet intimacy neither of you took for granted.
Meeting his gaze from the corner of your eye, you smiled softly before resting your head against his shoulder—if only for a fleeting moment—and threading your fingers through his, your thumb absentmindedly tracing the black letters tattooed across his fingers.
A… T… H…
A pleasant warmth crept slowly from the base of Law’s neck to the tips of his ears.
Life aboard the Polar Tang offered remarkably little privacy, yet it also offered the perfect excuse for your closeness. The submarine was, after all, exactly that… a submarine.
Space was limited, everyone spent most of their time together, and you often worked alongside the captain anyway, helping him sort through medical journals, reports, books, and endless stacks of paperwork.
As far as the crew was concerned, nothing had changed.
No one had noticed that somewhere between long nights spent researching and quiet conversations over coffee, the relationship between the Heart Pirates’ beloved strategist and the Surgeon of Death had become something altogether different.
It wasn’t as though the two of you had been together for very long.
Still, companionship had blossomed so naturally into love that neither of you had truly noticed where one had ended and the other had begun. If anything, Law had probably recognized the truth long after it had already become obvious, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge what he privately considered a thoroughly inconvenient development.
By the time he finally admitted it to himself, the matter had already been settled beyond dispute, cemented by trust, unwavering loyalty, and a quiet certainty neither of you questioned.
Praised for his brilliance since childhood, the gifted doctor had never learned how to express his emotions, least of all in front of other people.
Every gentle touch, every instinctive act of affection, every overwhelming wave of warmth that filled his chest whenever you were near felt entirely unfamiliar, as though his rational mind and his heart had spent years speaking different languages without ever learning how to meet halfway.
It was difficult enough for him to understand how the two of you had found each other in the first place, how fate had smiled upon him for what felt like the first time in his life and somehow allowed things to unfold so naturally between you, at least as naturally as one could reasonably expect from a hopelessly reserved surgeon.
The rest of the crew didn’t need to know.
He had no desire to announce it to them.
Not because he expected endless teasing, nor because he was desperately trying to hide your relationship. Simply because there was no reason for them to know.
If they weren’t perceptive enough to notice the subtle changes in their captain’s behavior, then frankly, they didn’t deserve the answer.
It wasn’t any of their business.
Better to enjoy the peace while it lasted.
God only knew how insufferable they would become once they figured it out.
As the two of you wandered through the museum’s modest collection of paintings, the spoiled child disguised as a distinguished pirate captain began complaining that he was bored.
“This is a waste of time.”
He practically pouted as you moved from one painting to the next, occasionally bumping your shoulder or giving your sleeve an impatient tug in a none-too-subtle attempt to hurry you along.
Rolling your eyes, you gently peeled his arm from around your waist, only for it to reappear around your shoulders a heartbeat later. With no other visitors nearby, he seemed determined to take full advantage of the rare privacy.
“If you’re that bored,” you sighed, unable to suppress a smile, “go sit down somewhere and wait for me. Or go find Bepo and the others.”
Law huffed dramatically, puffing out his cheeks in quiet protest.
“As if. It would be irresponsible to leave one crew member unattended during reconnaissance.”
You laughed under your breath.
“Reconnaissance? Law, we’re inside the museum of what has to be the quietest little town on the entire Grand Line. Are you worried that the oil paint is secretly a portal to a Marine base? Or that this portrait of a little girl with her puppy is about to fire a chunk of Seastone at you before the terrifying museum curators reveal themselves as Marines in disguise?”
He rolled his eyes, though he would sooner die than admit that the corner of his mouth had twitched upward.
“You’re far too relaxed. Anything could happen.”
You met his gaze without wavering.
“And you’re far too uptight. If we combined our personalities, we’d probably create the perfect human being.”
You slipped your fingers between his and gently tugged him toward the next gallery.
“Besides,” you added over your shoulder, “I’m fairly confident we could handle whatever obstacle this sleepy little town manages to throw our way.”
He clicked his tongue in mock annoyance, though he made no effort to pull away as your fingers laced together.
“Now come with me. I found a section of the permanent exhibition that’s perfect for an insufferable nerd like you.”
He sighed with theatrical resignation and rolled his eyes once more.
Even so, he let you drag him along.
The next room was devoted entirely to antique coins, a quiet little paradise for lovers of numismatics.
And, more importantly, for your hopelessly nerdy boyfriend.
Law’s expression remained as unreadable as ever, yet, as always, his eyes betrayed him. They brightened almost imperceptibly, as though someone had quietly lit a pair of stars behind them.
My adorable little nerd.
He wandered from one display case to the next, studying coins from different eras through the glass with increasing concentration. Curious, you leaned against his shoulder to see what had managed to capture his attention so completely.
It was nothing more than a small, worn silver coin.
The plaque beneath it contained barely three short sentences.
“It looks exactly like all the others.”
“It doesn’t.”
“It absolutely does.”
Law sighed with the weary resignation of a man confronted by profound ignorance, even if that ignorance happened to belong to his favorite person in the world.
“No. Look at the edges.”
You leaned closer.
“I don’t see anything.”
“The wear pattern.”
“...The what?”
“The wear pattern.”
He pointed toward one side of the coin.
“See? This edge is smoother.”
You nodded thoughtfully, squinting at the coin as though greater concentration might suddenly reveal whatever miracle your brilliant, beautiful boyfriend was seeing.
It didn’t.
Law glanced at you.
Then back at the coin.
Then at you again.
And suddenly you recognized that look.
The one he wore whenever someone asked him a medical question.
The one that meant you were about to receive a lecture whether you had asked for one or not, delivered with varying degrees of insufferable smugness and academic pretension. To give him credit, he always made an effort to tone it down for you.
“Coins aren’t interesting because they’re valuable,” he began, his attention already drifting back to the display. “Most people focus on the metal or the rarity. That’s the least interesting part.”
“Then what’s the interesting part?”
“The people.”
He nodded toward the coin.
“Someone carried this around for years. Maybe decades. It passed through hundreds of hands. Thousands, depending on how long it stayed in circulation.”
His voice had softened without him noticing.
“The merchant who minted it is dead. The ruler whose face was stamped into the metal is dead. The people who spent it are dead. The country that produced it may not even exist anymore.”
There was an unmistakable spark in his voice now, the kind that surfaced only rarely—a quiet passion that few people ever had the privilege of seeing from the captain.
His fingertip tapped lightly against the glass.
“But the coin remains.”
Even the pieces that had spent a century at the bottom of the sea fascinated your boyfriend without measure.
And he fascinated you.
Many were scarred by time. Corroded. Their details worn nearly smooth.
Yet your captain regarded every worn edge and faded engraving with quiet admiration, and somehow it felt as though he were sharing something deeply personal with you.
This had become about far more than the exhibit.
Slowly, you began to understand his fascination with things that should have disappeared long ago, yet somehow endured. Things that bore every scar time had left upon them and still survived to tell their story.
Impossible as it seemed, your heart somehow found even more room for tenderness toward the tall surgeon standing beside you.
You nudged his shoulder.
“Giant nerd.”
Law looked genuinely offended.
“I’m not a nerd.”
“You’ve been talking about coins for twenty-three minutes.”
“Twenty-one,” he corrected automatically.
A second later he realized what he’d done, cleared his throat with all the dignity he could salvage, and continued as though nothing had happened.
“I’m merely trying to convey the importance of numismatics in a world that’s constantly changing.”
Smiling, you slipped your hand into his.
“You are. And I love listening to you whenever you get carried away like this.”
A faint blush crept onto his cheeks.
Without letting go of your hand, he muttered,
“I don’t get carried away.”
You simply rolled your eyes and let him guide you toward the next display of coins, already certain you were about to hear the complete history of their circulation, the role they had played in the World Government’s propaganda, and the economic significance of the era in which they had been minted.
You weren’t disappointed.
Even after the two of you finally left what was undeniably his favorite section of any museum and returned to the paintings, sculptures, and historical artifacts, he remained in that wonderfully animated mood you had grown so fond of since joining the Heart Pirates.
He stopped to read every single plaque.
Every description.
Every historical note.
Even those detailing centuries-old farming tools, weapons, and household objects that held little interest for you.
He rarely strayed far from your side, absentmindedly keeping a hand around your waist, on your sleeve, or intertwined with yours as though he had forgotten he was doing it.
You bit back every teasing remark that came to mind.
You knew perfectly well that the moment you pointed it out, he’d stop immediately.
Instead, you chose to quietly treasure these rare moments of clinginess he unknowingly allowed himself.
A few galleries later, you found him standing before an exhibit dedicated to early medicine.
Ancient surgical instruments rested beneath polished glass beside faded ceramic jars that had once held herbal remedies.
Law had already begun reading every label.
"This would've been used to treat infections," he murmured, almost to himself. "Though it was eventually replaced by—"
Before long he was explaining not only what each remedy had been prescribed for, but what physicians had eventually discovered to be more effective.
For someone who had spent the better part of the afternoon insisting that seventeen flower paintings had nearly destroyed his sanity…
“There were six,” you reminded him.
“…six flower paintings,” he amended without missing a beat.
“…you were still being dramatic.”
“…I wasn’t.”
…he seemed to be having an awfully good time.
You could see it in the way his eyes lingered over each exhibit, in the ease with which he spoke whenever something genuinely interested him.
Then he stopped in front of a series of anatomical sketches and his expression softened.
For the briefest moment, he wasn’t the captain of the notorious Heart Pirates.
He was simply an endlessly curious doctor.
The boy who had once dreamed of becoming a physician like his father.
The man Corazon had believed he could become.
When he noticed you watching him, he immediately composed himself.
“These diagrams are inaccurate.”
“Of course they are.”
“See here?” he said, already pointing toward one of the illustrations. “This mistake was fairly common because artists relied on animal dissections for centuries. The liver can’t have multiple lobes like this.”
He let out the faintest amused huff.
“And the uterus is often illustrated as…”
He continued explaining while you were too busy watching him.
The smile on your face refused to leave.
My sweet, giant nerd.
When the two of you left the museum and made your way back toward town, planning to stop somewhere for lunch before you indulged in a little shopping, Law walked either a step ahead of you or on the side closest to the street, positioning himself where he could react immediately should anything suspicious happen in this impossibly peaceful little town.
Which, paradoxically, made him all the more uneasy.
Then, out of nowhere, an elderly fisherman rounded the corner and bumped straight into him.
“Oh! Sorry, son,” the man said with an apologetic smile and a slight bow before continuing on his way as though nothing had happened.
No fear.
No flicker of recognition.
Nothing.
Law actually turned to watch the man disappear into the crowd down the street.
He’s undercover, he concluded, narrowing his eyes. Has to be.
You couldn’t help laughing.
He shot you a look that was meant to be annoyed, though beneath it was little more than a pout because you refused to take him seriously.
For Law, the interaction felt almost surreal.
No one had looked at him and saw a bounty poster.
No one had looked at him and seen the infamous Surgeon of Death, the pirate who had delivered one hundred hearts to the Marines in exchange for the title of Warlord. Back when that title had still belonged to him.
Here, he was simply another man passing through town.
It was a feeling he could scarcely remember, not since he had still had a family of his own. Strange as it was, the unfamiliar normalcy filled him with an equal measure of discomfort and quiet longing.
If that ordinary life existed…
…he found himself wishing, almost despite himself, that you would be part of it.
Before settling down at a café, where Law immediately spotted Penguin and Shachi laughing loudly enough to be heard from halfway down the street, took one look at them, and silently decided to keep walking, the two of you ducked into the little bookshop on the corner.
You wandered leisurely through the shelves, browsing beautifully bound editions, notebooks, fountain pens, and small souvenirs before finding yourself hopelessly torn between two antique editions of your favorite novel.
Just as Law collected coins from every place he visited, you had your own delightfully nerdy tradition.
Whenever the crew reached a new island, you searched for another edition of your favorite book to add to your growing collection.
Law lingered nearby, pretending not to care while secretly watching you deliberate.
He failed spectacularly.
The shopkeeper smiled warmly as she noticed your indecision.
“You could always ask your husband what he thinks.”
Law froze.
The woman had already moved on to another customer before either of you could respond.
Your boyfriend, meanwhile, looked as though someone had struck him square in the chest with a cannonball.
Or informed him that every issue of Sora, Warrior of the Sea had been permanently discontinued.
“Did she just…?”
The tips of his ears turned the exact shade of poppies.
“T-That’s ridiculous.”
You simply continued comparing the books while he suddenly became intensely fascinated by a nearby shelf.
A moment later he leaned over your shoulder, gently plucked one of the editions from your hands, and examined it with surprising seriousness.
“This one is much nicer,” he decided. “The navy cover with the silver embossing reflects both the tone of the story and the psychological state of its characters much better.”
Before you could even answer, he had already walked to the counter with the book.
“Oh,” the bookseller smiled as she rang it up. “Has your wife finally made up her mind? Or did you help her decide?”
Law visibly bristled for the briefest instant.
Then something unexpectedly gentle flickered behind his golden eyes.
Contentment.
Perhaps even… pride.
If anyone had been paying close enough attention, they might even have sworn the corners of his mouth lifted.
“Yes,” he replied after clearing his throat.
Then, not without a trace of quiet satisfaction, he added,
“I usually have to give her a little push.”
After the Surgeon of Death once again insisted on steering you away from the rest of the Heart Pirates, despite your increasingly dramatic protests that your body would soon enter a medically critical state without its recommended daily intake of caffeine and sugar…
“Really?” he deadpanned. “And which highly qualified physician issued that recommendation? Would that happen to be… you?”
…the two of you eventually found yourselves strolling along the small harbor.
"Stop pouting," he said, taking your hand. "There's another bakery a little farther down. Or a café. You can satisfy your sugar addiction there."
You continued staring stubbornly ahead, cheeks puffed in exaggerated indignation after being denied coffee for the third time by your cruel, tyrannical doctor.
You refused to dignify him with a response.
Law sighed.
“Don’t be a brat.”
Then, after a brief pause, his voice softened.
“Here.”
He lifted your hand and brushed a kiss across your knuckles.
Then your palm.
Then your wrist.
Your heart stumbled unexpectedly.
You swallowed hard, trying not to let your emotions show, though a faint blush spread warmly across your cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured almost too quietly to hear, looking at you through lowered lashes with those familiar golden eyes.
“I’ll make it up to you.”
You leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.
“I’m not upset,” you smiled. “I’m just hungry.”
He looked at you with unmistakable fondness.
Then a child’s cry shattered the moment.
A little girl had tripped while running along the waterfront and now sat on the pavement surrounded by several equally panicked friends, fresh tears streaming down her face as she stared at her badly scraped knees.
You had barely begun to step forward before Law moved first.
Doctor's instincts, he would insist later, using the same excuse he always reached for whenever he was caught doing something kind.
He crouched beside the little girl and attempted a few awkward words of reassurance, which, judging by the volume of her crying, achieved absolutely nothing.
By the time he reached for her injured knee to examine it, she had escalated into full-blown panic.
“I-It hurts! Help me!”
Law looked up at you with an expression that silently pleaded for rescue.
Kneeling beside them, you gently stroked the girl’s hair.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart," you said warmly. "He’s a doctor. There isn’t anyone better to help you than him.”
The little girl calmed almost immediately.
Almost.
"And I promise, he's a very good one," you reassured her.
She tensed again as the two of you carried her over to a nearby fountain to rinse the scrapes clean.
“So,” Law began in the calm, measured tone he reserved for patients, “first we clean the wound. Clean running water is ideal, like we’re using now. Before that, of course, your hands should always be disinfected.”
As he spoke, he carefully adjusted the pressure of the water while you held the little girl steady.
By now, she was listening.
“Next comes antibiotic ointment,” he continued, never quite meeting anyone's eyes as he concentrated on his work. “It may sting a little, but it will help prevent infection.”
The moment his fingers brushed the scrape, the little girl squeezed your hand tightly as you rubbed soothing circles over her back.
Then she leaned toward you and whispered in the wonderfully unsubtle way only children could.
“Why does he have such scary tattoos?”
You laughed.
“Him?” you whispered back conspiratorially. “They’re just part of his disguise. Otherwise everyone would realize what a softie he really is.”
The little girl giggled.
Law shot you an unimpressed glance over her head.
Which only made the two of you laugh harder.
By the time he finished wrapping the bandages, she had almost forgotten she’d been crying.
She took a few cautious steps, wobbling dramatically like a soldier returning from battle.
Both you and Law watched with poorly concealed amusement.
Then one of her friends called her name.
Miraculously cured, she broke into a full sprint.
Halfway across the square she turned around, cupped her hands around her mouth, and shouted,
“Thank you, Mister! Thank you, Missus!”
Then she waved enthusiastically before racing off again.
Law watched her disappear for several long moments.
There was something almost unbearably ordinary about all of this.
No desperate chase.
No terrified civilians running from the notorious pirate standing in front of them.
Just a scraped knee.
An afternoon spent helping because someone needed it.
The kind of insignificant, everyday moment he had almost forgotten people were allowed to have.
He looked over at you, took your hand again, and started walking.
“What a little actress,” he muttered with a quiet snort. “Did you see how fast she ran the second her friends called?”
A beat passed and he gave your hand a gentle squeeze.
“And stop telling people I’m a softie.”
He glanced sideways at you.
“It's unbecoming of a captain.”
At long last, after an entire day spent avoiding the crew and your relentless attempts to convince him to stop somewhere for coffee, the two of you finally settled in the garden of a charming little café run by an equally charming, endlessly talkative elderly woman, the sort who somehow seemed to know half the island by name.
While you flipped through the menu in search of something sweet, eyeing buttery croissants and every cream-filled pastry your boyfriend dismissed with open contempt as “just bread in disguise,” Law ordered onigiri without a second glance.
He shot you a look of pure medical disapproval when you completed your order with an alarmingly large mug of coffee, while he, in sharp contrast, took an unhurried sip of his green tea.
“How can you eat that much sugar?” he clicked his tongue, sounding less judgmental than genuinely compelled to lecture you. “You’re addicted. You think that’s what your body needs, but what you actually need is a balanced intake of protein, healthy fats, and complex carbohydrates.”
You rolled your eyes and stuck your tongue out at him.
“You’re boring.”
Then, just to make your point perfectly clear, you ordered a warm chocolate soufflé accompanied by vanilla ice cream, explaining that it would serve as dessert after your sweet meal.
Or rather dessert alongside dessert.
A breeze drifted in from the sea, carrying the scent of salt and gently lifting a few loose strands of your hair. It also carried your familiar, comforting fragrance to him.
Something tightened pleasantly around Law’s heart.
He found himself wondering how many years he would get to spend nagging you about things like this.
He imagined years filled with little moments exactly like this—years in which he would continue scolding you over your diet, continue reminding you to sleep more, drink more water, stop skipping meals, stop stealing caffeine in quantities no reasonable person should consume.
Hopefully forever.
Not only about those things, either.
About everything.
His long fingers wrapped gently around your hand, lifting it onto the table as he absentmindedly played with each of your fingers, tracing their shape as though committing them to memory.
You smiled, and the sight, still his favorite after all this time, made him raise your hand to his lips and press a lingering kiss against your knuckles.
“What a lovely wife you’ve got.”
The elderly owner had returned, carefully setting down your dessert and Law’s meal as if she’d merely commented on the weather.
Law nearly choked on absolutely nothing.
Across the table, you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.
“You’re a lucky young man,” she continued, blissfully unaware that the infamous Surgeon of Death had turned every conceivable shade of pink.
His mouth opened.
Closed.
Opened it once more like a fish gasping for air.
“N-No… she’s not my…”
The words never came.
He realized there was absolutely no point trying to explain.
The old woman simply patted his shoulder before gently pinching his burning cheek, completely oblivious to the horrified look in his usually composed golden eyes.
“Take good care of her. Girls like that don’t come around often.”
Then she wandered off as though nothing unusual had happened.
For most people, nothing had.
Unfortunately for the world’s grumpiest doctor, he was very far from most people.
You couldn't hold it in anymore.
Laughter bubbled out of you before you had any chance of stopping it.
As Law listened to it, something strangely familiar stirred within him.
It was like hearing a melody he could have sworn he’d known once, long ago. One he’d forgotten somewhere along the way, buried beneath years of grief and survival. As though it had spent his entire life trying to reach the surface of his battered soul, only now finally breaking through.
“That’s right,” you teased between giggles, reaching across the table to give his flushed cheek a gentle pinch of your own before leaning in to kiss it. “Better make sure I don’t run away.”
Law let out something suspiciously close to a growl, unable to escape either his embarrassment or the situation. Crimson from ears to neck, he merely tightened his grip on your hand before leaning fully into your side.
His palm came to rest against your cheek.
Then, gathering every ounce of tenderness he possessed, despite how thoroughly “humiliated” he would later claim he’d been, he kissed you.
I wouldn’t let you go for anything in this world.
For the rest of the day, Law behaved differently, however subtle the change might have appeared to anyone else.
He walked just a little closer than usual, his shoulder brushing yours whenever the streets narrowed. Every so often his hand found yours for only a heartbeat before slipping away again, or his fingers grazed your waist as though reassuring himself you were still there.
Whenever the streets became crowded, he instinctively guided you around the busiest parts without a word.
And every time he spotted one of the Heart Pirates in the distance, he silenced them with a single look that clearly said:
Not today.
He already knew they’d make him pay for this later with relentless teasing.
After completing one last leisurely walk around the harbor, he stopped at an ice cream stand and, entirely of his own accord, bought you both a few scoops.
As though it were something he’d done a hundred times before.
As though this had always been your life together.
As though the two of you belonged not aboard a submarine endlessly sailing through the unpredictable Grand Line, but inside a quiet routine where afternoons like this simply… happened.
He knew, of course, that once you returned to the Polar Tang he would carve out moments like these whenever he could, however small they had to be, even if you insisted the two of you already had plenty of them.
Still, one quiet part of him mourned the fact that he couldn't devote every day to things like this.
Aimless walks.
Coffee dates.
Ice cream melting faster than either of you could eat it.
Bookshops.
Lazy afternoons with nowhere particular to be.
Long conversations unhurried by the next battle or the next destination.
Your hand finding his almost unconsciously.
Most people called moments like these ordinary because they believed there would always be another tomorrow filled with more of them.
Law had never possessed that luxury.
Perhaps that was why he already knew, somewhere deep inside himself, that if life ever granted him the unimaginable gift of letting days like these become routine, he would never allow himself to mistake them for something guaranteed.
Every single one would remain a gift.
Never an expectation.
Especially with you.
To bring your wonderfully ordinary day in the most ordinary little town imaginable to a close, the Surgeon of Death and his favorite person climbed the grassy hill overlooking the harbor, where the Polar Tang waited patiently offshore.
The town lights slowly flickered to life, bathing everything in warm gold and amber.
It felt like an evening borrowed from someone else’s life.
Something that had never really belonged to either of you.
Something temporary.
“It was nice pretending to be normal,” you said quietly, your voice carrying the faintest trace of melancholy. “I’m just happy you got to rest, even if only for a little while. Places like this are so rare.”
Law remained silent for a long time, his eyes fixed on the submarine in the distance.
“I wasn’t pretending.”
You looked at him.
He still hadn’t taken his eyes off the horizon.
“Maybe expecting a normal life isn’t realistic,” he murmured after a thoughtful pause. “Maybe that part wasn’t real because people like us aren’t promised ordinary.”
Only then did he turn to face you.
“But being here…”
He stepped closer until you could hear the hurried rhythm of his heartbeat answering your own.
“…beside you…”
His forehead rested lightly against yours.
“…that’s the most natural thing in the world.”
His voice dropped to almost a whisper.
“I don’t intend to spend a single day without our version of ordinary.”
When your lips finally met, the rest of the world quietly dissolved into nothingness.
Their hands found one another without urgency, moving instead with the fragile, trembling desperation of two people making a promise neither intended to break.
Even if time itself had stopped, Law didn’t think he could have pulled away.
By the time the Polar Tang had submerged once more and resumed its voyage beneath the sea, you were both back in his office, sorting through the paperwork you’d agreed—largely thanks to your insistence—to leave for tomorrow instead of working yourselves into the middle of the night.
You were stacking tomorrow’s reports into neat piles when Law came to stand behind your chair, resting a gentle hand on your shoulder.
“I have something for you.”
He placed an elegant engraved brass bookmark into your hands.
Its surface bore a beautifully detailed engraving of your favorite painting from the museum.
You let out a quiet breath as your fingertips traced the delicate lines.
“It’s beautiful…”
“You always fold the corners of your pages,” your resident nuisance pointed out.
“I do not!”
“…You absolutely do.”
“I use whatever happens to be nearby.”
“I noticed.”
He looked unbearably pleased with himself, both for winning the argument and for making you smile.
You kissed his cheek.
“Thank you. I loved that painting.”
“I gathered as much,” he teased, a faint blush already dusting his cheeks. “You stood in front of it for nearly forty minutes.”
You laughed before wrapping your arms around his neck and peppering his cheek with several quick kisses.
“I love it.”
Then your eyes brightened.
“I have something for you, too.”
Law blinked in surprise as you placed a small decorated box into his hands.
When he opened it, his throat tightened.
Resting inside was a beautifully minted commemorative coin depicting the very episode from the town's history that had fascinated him most during your visit.
He turned it slowly between his fingers, thumb running instinctively along its worn edge, quietly overwhelmed that you’d noticed something so small, so deeply personal.
Not only had you remembered his strange fascination with coins…
You had honored it.
A hobby everyone else had spent years teasing him for, filing it away with all his other odd little obsessions.
What did I ever do to deserve you?
Several quiet minutes passed before Law finally spoke.
Perhaps the greatest gift he could offer in return wasn’t another object.
It was himself.
“My father bought me my first coin.”
You looked up immediately without saying a word.
“It wasn’t particularly valuable,” he continued softly. “Just an old coin from a market in Flevance. I kept asking questions about it, so he told me that if I wanted answers… I should start collecting them.”
A faint smile touched his lips, fragile enough that it almost disappeared before it fully formed.
“He used to tell me every coin had already lived an entire life before it reached my hand.”
His fingers intertwined with yours.
“After that, every time he returned from one of his business trips, he’d bring me another coin from wherever he’d been. That’s how the collection began.”
His gaze drifted somewhere far beyond the cabin walls.
“It eventually became a habit. A part of me.”
He fell silent again.
“Another invisible thread connecting me to my father, to my family and to everything I lost.”
He lowered your hand to his lips, kissing it once.
Then again.
And again.
“I’ve never added someone else’s coin to my collection.”
His thumb brushed gently across your knuckles.
“Until yours.”
Silence settled between you, warm and unhurried.
As the two of you made half-hearted attempts to finally call it a night, disentangling intertwined hands and hopelessly tousled hair proved far more difficult than either of you pretended.
As Law drew your lips to his once more, slow and impossibly tender, he found himself grateful—to the universe, to fate, to whatever force governed a world as cruel and chaotic as this one—that even amidst endless voyages, battles, and uncertainty, he had somehow been granted moments like these to share with you.
Selfishly, he hoped for countless more.
After so many years spent carrying grief that had hollowed him from within, his soul had finally found something capable of soothing it, something gentle enough to make him believe that happiness might not be a privilege reserved for other people after all.
You.
My little piece of peace lives in the depths of your eyes, in the sound of your voice, and in the smile that brightens your face.
I swear I’ll protect it until my very last breath.
Shachi was yelling about something across the table. Penguin was arguing right back. Bepo was laughing. Someone had started a game involving darts that Law was fairly certain would end in property damage.
Normally he would've left an hour ago.
Instead, he sat with a book in his hands and pretended to read. Pretended being the important word. Because every few minutes his eyes kept drifting to the same place.
You.
Specifically, you curled against Bepo's side.
Law's eye twitched. You weren't even doing anything inappropriate. You were just drunk.
Everyone knew what happened when you got drunk. You became unbearably affectionate.
The first time it happened, you'd nearly given Penguin a heart attack by climbing into his lap because he "looked lonely."
Tonight's chosen cuddle target happened to be Bepo. The navigator didn't seem to mind in the slightest. If anything, he looked delighted. You were currently using his arm as a pillow.
"Bepo."
"Yeah?" he answered.
"You're really fluffy."
Bepo laughed, but before he answered, he caught Law looking.
Not just once.
Again.
And again.
Every few seconds, the captain's eyes drifted back toward the two of them before he forced himself to look down at his book.
Ah.
Bepo bit back a smile.
Captain... you're making this way too obvious.
Law turned a page. He hadn't read a single word. When he glanced up again, he locked eyes with Bepo.
Bepo's expression immediately brightened. Law knew that look and he hated that look. Because it meant Bepo had noticed something.
Again.
The bear's gaze shifted deliberately toward you, then back to Law, and he smiled. Law immediately looked away.
Absolutely not. Whatever Bepo was planning, he wanted no part of it. Unfortunately, Bepo had never once respected that boundary.
"Oh!" Bepo suddenly announced.
You looked up.
"Hm?"
"I need to get another round."
"No you don't."
The words left Law's mouth before he could stop them, and the entire table went quiet. Bepo blinked innocently.
"I don't?"
"No."
"You sure?"
"Positive."
Bepo considered this. Then smiled even wider.
"Well, I want another round."
Law felt dread settle into his stomach.
The bear stood, and you immediately grabbed his sleeve.
"Don't leave."
"It's okay." Bepo gently patted your head. "Captain can sit here while I'm gone."
Law nearly dropped his book.
"Bepo."
"What?"
"Bepo."
The warning was obvious. The bear ignored it completely, and you were already patting the empty seat beside you.
"Come sit."
Law stared.
You stared right back with wide, adorable doe eyes.
...
Damn it.
The crew stared at both of you.
This was a trap.
An obvious trap.
A stupid trap.
And yet somehow he found himself standing anyway. The moment he sat down, you leaned against him.
Immediately.
No hesitation.
No warning.
One second there was space between you. The next your shoulder was pressed against his side.
Law's entire body locked.
Warm.
That was the first thing he noticed.
The second was your shampoo.
The third was the horrifying realization that you fit against his side as though you'd always belonged there.
You sighed contentedly and settled closer.
Apparently completely unaware that you had just shortened his lifespan by several years.
Around the table, grins started appearing.
Law glared.
Nobody looked even remotely intimidated.
"Captain?"
Penguin's voice carried far too much amusement.
"What."
"You okay?"
Law frowned.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
Penguin and Shachi exchanged a glance.
"You look uncomfortable."
Uncomfortable? Law looked down. You were practically asleep against his shoulder.
Actually....
You looked comfortable. Very comfortable. A strange sense of satisfaction settled somewhere in his chest.
Before he could stop it, Shachi stood.
"I can take them."
"No."
The answer came instantly. The crew and Law blinked. That had come out significantly more aggressive than intended.
"I mean," he corrected, clearing his throat. "They're fine."
You responded by wrapping an arm around his, like you were proving his point.
Without opening your eyes, your fingers found the front of his coat, bunching the fabric in your fist before you let out a quiet, content little sigh.
Law forgot how breathing worked.
Across the room, Bepo nearly walked into a chair.
Traitor.
Absolute traitor.
When the bear finally returned with drinks, he looked entirely too pleased with himself.
"Want me to take my spot back?"
"No."
Again. Immediate. Instinctive.
Law didn't even think before answering. The smile Bepo gave him afterward was insufferable.
The worst part was that he couldn't take it back. Because by now you were half asleep. Your head rested against his shoulder. One hand loosely gripping the sleeve of his coat.
Your thumb absentmindedly rubbed back and forth against the fabric, as though making sure he was still there.
You never opened your eyes. You didn't have to. You trust him, are comfortable with him.
The idea of moving you suddenly felt ridiculous.
Every now and then you'd mumble something unintelligible and burrow closer. Each time it happened, Law's heart did something profoundly annoying.
Eventually, the crew began heading back toward the Polar Tang. Law carefully stood, making sure not to jostle you awake.
You stirred anyway.
"...Law?"
His name, spoken so softly and without a hint of hesitation, nearly stopped him in his tracks.
"We're heading back," he said quietly. "Think you can walk?"
You blinked up at him, clearly trying to process the question.
"...Mhm."
You took exactly three steps before slowing to a stop.
Law looked over his shoulder.
You were standing there staring at him with sleepy, unfocused eyes.
"...Law?"
"What."
"...Can you carry me?"
...
Damn it.
He knew he should say no. He knew everyone was watching. He knew Penguin was already trying, and failing, not to laugh. He knew Bepo looked far too pleased with himself.
None of that mattered.
With a quiet sigh that fooled absolutely no one, Law stepped back toward you.
"Come here."
The smile that spread across your face was small and sleepy.
You leaned into him without a second thought as he slipped one arm beneath your knees and the other around your back.
"Comfortable?" he asked before he could stop himself.
You nodded immediately, curling against his chest. Tucking your face against the crook of his neck with a sleepy sigh, as if you'd done it a hundred times before.
"...Very."
Law looked away before anyone could see the faint color creeping into his ears.
Behind him, the crew had gone unusually quiet.
Then...
"Ten thousand berries says they're together before the end of the month," Penguin whispered.
"You're on," Shachi whispered back.
Bepo simply smiled.
He'd never seen his captain hold someone so carefully or look quite so content while pretending he wasn't.
— 🌊 —
If you enjoyed this, reblogs are always appreciated ♡
And if you’d like to support my writing, you can buy me a coffee here
