Your thighs rubbed together. Law stiffened as if he’d noticed.
“Can we keep going?” You gently pressed your lips to his. “Please?”
Law’s fingers danced down your stomach. This time your body kept itself in check, erupting in delightful little tingles from his touch.
“Of course.” Law’s hand traveled down, between your thighs —
You caught his wrist.
“Um…” you swallowed. You wouldn't say no to another round with his fingers, but you had other plans for tonight. Ones that were a little more…involved.
“Actually, I…I was hoping you could put something else inside. Something bigger,” you said. And the object in question may or may not share a deep resemblance to a massive, unnamed elephant…
Law’s face was close enough to yours that your lashes brushed together when either of you blinked. They sent exciting shivers down your spine.
“You sure?” Law rasped.
“Positive.” You met his smoky gaze head-on. The lightheadedness from your squirting episode was fading. You had returned to your quick-minded, horny self.
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Law was still hunched over his desk (big surprise). His deft fingers flew a pen across the page in front of him.
“I’ll be there soon,” said Law, eyes still on his work.
You raised a brow. You knew Law well enough to doubt that.
You perused the nearby shelves for something interesting. Part of you wanted to check out the comic books in Law’s room, but you weren't sure if those could be borrowed yet. You settled for a book on the similarities between human and plant cells.
You stood beside Law’s chair. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”
Law tore his gaze away from the stack of papers. His pen still moved. Then he realized what you were wearing.
You fidgeted with the hem of Law’s shirt. It ended somewhere near your mid-thigh. As comfortable as it was, it provided little protection from the Polar Tang’s merciless AC.
Law’s hand froze. The metal organs of the pen clicked in his grasp, like his fingers were applying too much pressure. His stare was heavy enough to feel on your skin.
You shifted from one foot to the other. Law’s eyes traveled to the hem of his shirt as it fluttered around your thighs.
“Law?” you said.
“...Hmm?” Law blinked, his eyes returning to your face. It was hard to tell in the dim lighting of his office, but you were sure his ears were a darker shade than when you first approached him.
You bit back a smile. “Um…can I sit on your lap? Or would that be too distracting?”
Law went statuesque for another half minute. Had you broken him? Good thing you hadn't touched the comic books.
Just when you were about to poke Law and make sure he was still conscious, he straightened in his chair. Law scooted away from the desk and awkwardly patted his knee.
You blushed.
This is a sneak peak of my work Proserpina on AO3! Check it out here!
Imagine: dating Law and leaving for a few days to spend some quality time with your old captain. Check it out on AO3 here!
Potential Arc Spoilers: Dressrosa (minor)
Words: 1,156
The Polar Tang pulled up to a familiar riverbank — your riverbank. The one where you’d met Law so many times in the past.
You gripped the railing with numb fingers as you overlooked your muddy stop. It was a rush of déjà vu to see your old meeting place. So much had changed since you’d been here last…
Hancock was waiting onshore. She jumped on the balls of her feet (how she managed that in heels — and in the mud — you had no idea), waving at you. Her drooping sleeve whipped back and forth.
You bit back a smile when you spotted your other tall, dark-haired captain (boy, could you pick ‘em). Even on this somber occasion, seeing Hancock still raised your spirits.
That smile fled your face when you glanced in Law’s direction.
He stood next to you, eyeing the riverbank like a battlefield. His jaw was set at an uncomfortable angle. He’d barely said a word all morning.
You should’ve tried harder to break the ice, but part of it was your doing, too. You were too busy memorizing how long it took Law’s icy fingers to warm up when you held his hand, and how his goatee always managed to tickle you with each kiss…
Both of you were in mourning, dreading the moment that lurked at the end of your encounter:
Saying goodbye.
Law’s arm curled around your waist. He gave you a look that silently said, are you ready?
You grimaced. He might’ve been sparing you by not asking out loud, but it was twice as bad with the spell of silence: it made you realize how easily you could read each other now.
You forced a nod. You hoped you could manage an authentic smile for Hancock when you got closer. The ones you’d practiced in Law’s bathroom mirror this morning weren't very impressive.
Law raised his free hand. “Room — Shambles.”
You and Law popped into existence on the riverbank, just a few yards away from Hancock. Your ears ached a little from the change in air pressure, but your limbs no longer locked up after Law used his Devil Fruit powers. You were used to them now.
You had planned to meet Hancock at the palace: that, at least, would postpone your inevitable farewell — just a bit. It was only a handful of minutes lost, but your chest ached like you’d suddenly developed a coronary disease.
“It's only a few days,” you muttered, mostly to yourself.
Law’s nod was stiff. “I won't be far.”
Your face puckered. The idea of being in separate rooms was unbearable enough. Now there would be literal miles between you.
You hadn't been that far from Law since…well, since before your last trip to Punk Hazard (Luffy dragging Law across Dressrosa was an honorable mention).
Law shouldered the only bag you’d packed. Most of it had been thrown together last minute, with a few stolen additions from Law’s wardrobe (if you couldn't rely on Law to warm you up at night, his hoodie would have to suffice).
You couldn't remember what was in your bedroom up at the palace — hopefully you weren't low on anything.
As if Law could hear your thoughts, he murmured, “There are a few extra travel-sized bottles in the side compartment if you need them. I packed some extras of your meds, too. They’re all labeled.”
Moisture gathered in your eyes. You looked away as you blinked furiously.
It was just three days. Seventy-two hours. You could do this. You had done this, multiple times in the past. How was this trip any different?
“Thanks,” you mumbled.
With a great heaviness (although you knew it didn't weigh much, and Law was too strong for something so light to bother him), Law slid the bag’s strap off his shoulder and passed it to you.
The back of his hand caressed your cheek before he pulled away. Electric currents tickled your skin.
When you lifted your gaze to Law’s, ice seized your chest. It had been some time since you’d seen such steel-like hardness. Lately, his eyes reminded you of mist. Soft, almost doting…now all of that gentleness had frosted over.
“I love you,” you said.
“Mmm…”
Law’s hand lingered by your jaw, tracing it with a finger. Then he moved to capture a strand of your hair, twisting it around. You had to resist the urge to touch him in kind: you wouldn't pull away if you did.
You would only be apart for a few days. But the fragile air and prickle in the corners of your eyes felt like you’d be separated for weeks (ugh, the very thought!).
You wet your lips. “I —”
“Number One!” Hancock pounced on you then, crushing you into a hug with the strength of ten sumo wrestlers. Salome appeared at her side, flicking his tongue at you in greeting.
You were grateful for the way Hancock held you: it kept your insides together as you watched Law’s face morph over her shoulder.
Law’s fists tightened. His steel gaze could’ve cut glaciers in half. Stabbing one of your ice picks into your own heart would’ve hurt less.
Law pulled the rim of his hat over his eyes. “Room —!”
You reached for him, but your hand only grasped at air. Law was already gone.
Your head snapped towards the Polar Tang. A black and white spec watched you from the top deck. A larger white dot that must’ve been Bepo padded up to him, but Law didn't seem to notice.
A couple of your bones cracked as Hancock tightened her grip. You squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on the pain instead.
“I missed you,” you said (more like croaked — and you convinced yourself that it was because of Hancock’s embrace, and not the way your eyes stung).
Hancock gave you another life-threatening squeeze. More bones snapped. She might’ve just rearranged your ribcage. But that area was already so mangled, you hardly noticed.
“Welcome back!” said Hancock.
It sounded like she was saying welcome home.
When Hancock pulled away, the pain in your chest swelled. Maybe she had broken some of your ribs. You hoped that was the case, but your doctor probably wouldn't find it too amusing.
Hancock clasped your hands, chattering at lightspeed. You knew it was rude, but you couldn't bring yourself to listen. All you could think about were the steel eyes that watched you from above. Your legs tensed up as if your body wanted to sprint towards the source.
You debated lying and telling Hancock you forgot something, just to give yourself an excuse to see him one last time —
Before you could form the words, Hancock was dragging you away. Salome had somehow grabbed your bag, holding the strap in his mouth as he slithered beside you.
You stole more than a few glances at the yellow submarine before it disappeared from view. The black and white spec never moved.
This is a sneak peak of a future chapter for Proserpina on AO3. Check it out here!
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“I want to be rougher this time,” said Law. “Is that all right?”
Your pulse stumbled. Law’s voice thrummed across your skin like static from an oncoming storm.
You nodded. His stare demanded more than silence. You added a soft, “Yes.”
Law’s gaze licked over your form. You were used to it being cool and detached, like steel. Now it reminded you of heavy smoke from rampaging flames, leaving a scorching trail across your skin.
Two tattooed fingers slipped under your chin. “Pick a safe word.”
Your mouth would’ve fallen open if not for Law’s hand. You fought against the sudden urge to rub your thighs together.
“Rosemary,” you blurted. If you slurred it enough, it might sound like “mercy.” How fitting.
Law dropped his hand and turned away. With his back to you, he uttered his first order.
“Strip.”
[Potential Spoiler Warnings for One Piece Arcs will be included before each chapter (if applicable).]
Content Warning: Mentions of really great sex, she/her pronouns briefly used.
Potential Arc Spoilers: None.
This is a snippet of a future piece I'm working on! Check out the prequel here on AO3.
You had to be dreaming.
You were a little sore for just a dream. Kind of like the aftermath of a weightlifting session you’d never tried before, but a lot more satisfying. That was a point towards the “real” category.
Your eyes remained shut as you felt out the rest of your body. The aches (mostly in your thighs), the warmth pressed against your cheek and the slow rhythm of beats that thundered against your ear. Point? Real.
You almost dismissed it and slipped back into the depths of slumber. Then lips pressed against your brow. Long fingers gently played with yours.
Your eyes fluttered open.
Your pillow of choice was his tattooed chest. You laid there in disbelief, even as you moved up and down from his gentle breaths. You debated pinching yourself.
Last night was too good. The most vivid dream you’d ever had. It played like a movie on repeat in your mind. It couldn't possibly be real.
And yet, you were lying on the evidence that definitely counted towards the “real” category.
You shifted just enough to push yourself up. Ah, yes. Your legs were done for. There might be a few days ahead of you with no walking. You’d have to come up with some sort of way to get around —
You forgot all of that when you looked up and met Law’s gaze.
His expression was soft. It was nearly unrecognizable: the sweetest you’d ever seen it. It was almost like staring at someone else’s face, it was such a drastic change from Law’s classic deadpan look.
Steel couldn’t describe his gray orbs: they were too gentle. Like rain clouds that gave off a light drizzle. There was a crinkle around his eyes instead of a slanted furrow in his brows. The person below you radiated pure…joy.
You grinned. “Good morning.”
Law smiled back. He idly tucked a stray hair from your face, hooking it behind your ear. “Good afternoon.”
You blinked a few times. Had you heard him right?
Reluctantly, you turned away from Law to glance at the glass french doors of your bedroom, past the balcony.
Your jaw dropped. The sun was inches away from meeting the sea’s horizon. A veil of violet dripped from the tips of the sky to overwrite the bright, stunning orange.
You turned back to Law. His hand curled under your chin, inspecting you.
“Was it too much?” A hint of that furrow in Law’s brows ghosted his expression. His intense stare licked over you, too warm to be clinical.
“No, not at all,” you shook your head. “Hancock’s been keeping me up with sleepovers every night since I got here. I think that’s the most I’ve slept since coming back. Or ever.”
“Good,” said Law.
Law’s thumb gently pressed down on your bottom lip. You jolted on top of him. He smiled.
“I’ll get you a new headboard,” he added nonchalantly.
“What?”
Your eyes drifted from Law to the pillows propped up behind him. For the first time, you realized he was slightly at an angle. The whole bed was.
Sure enough, the headboard was littered in splinter-riddled cracks and punctures. Finger-shaped indents marred the top of it.
Smugness oozed from Law as your gaze returned to him.
“You don't look very guilty,” you said.
“You don't seem that remorseful, either.” Law’s fingers continued their tracing along the outline of your lips, caressing your jawline, trailing down your throat. An electric current crackled under your skin from his touch.
“What’s sad is I don't even remember it breaking,” you admitted.
“It was round three.”
“Oh.” A blush seared your cheeks at the memory. You had been very preoccupied then. “That…makes sense.”
“Mmm.” Law leaned forward. His fingers curled under your chin, guiding your lips to his mouth.
Another jolt ran through your body. His lips were soft, especially when they just brushed up against yours like this.
It was a slow, simple kiss, yet it was enough to completely wipe your brain and clench your thighs together (which ached in protest).
Law pulled away. He wore the new lovesick smile of the happy stranger again. “You really need to brush your teeth.”
Your eyes widened. A hand flew to your mouth.
Law’s chest rumbled as he chuckled beneath you. He pulled your hand away to steal another kiss.
It suddenly occurred to you that you might be due for a shower. Law had helped you clean up last night, but you were suddenly self-conscious of whatever glow you had about you now. There was a crick in your neck that only hot water could solve. And you didn't even want to think about your hair…
“Um, can I have a human minute?” you said.
“Of course.”
“Thanks.”
Law sat up, pulled you with him. The bed groaned in protest. You had a feeling that more than just the headboard had been broken last night. But that was future Y/N’s problem. Current Y/N faced a far more hazardous foe.
The bathroom door was so far away. You’d never thought much of it before, but there was a lot of ground to cover from your bed to the door.
You wiggled out of Law’s lap and swung your legs over the bed. Your head swam. It took a full minute for the vertigo to wear off, and when it did, multiple muscles were yelling at you.
Law scooted to your side and planted a kiss on your shoulder (on top of one of the hickies he’d left). He said, “Think you can walk that far?”
“Ha-ha.” You rolled your eyes, but you doubted an attempt to stand would go well. Falling on your ass was not very attractive.
An amused hum from Law promised teasing later. “Would you like an escort?”
“...Yes, please.”
Law gathered you in his arms again. He rose from the bed, lifting you effortlessly. What a showoff.
Your dreaded hike to the bathroom was conquered in seconds. You breathed a silent sigh of relief.
Law set you down, his hands lingering at your hips as you teetered on your feet.
“Okay?” said Law.
“I’m fine,” you promised. Thankfully, your voice was steadier than your legs. “Thank you.”
Another hum rumbled in Law’s throat. His lips brushed your hairline. “Take your time.”
You tried not to wobble too much as you slipped inside.
You went straight to the mirror once the door was shut. You braced most of your weight against the counter as you leaned in, inspecting what view Law had woken up to this morning (err, afternoon).
You noticed the hickies first. That was no surprise: Law was a biter. He’d left a fair share of marks along your throat and spotted across your collarbone. You randomly traced a few with your finger.
You didn't notice any bruises. With Law treating you like glass all the time, and his ungodly restraint, that was hardly an issue (but something to consider when you’d just fucked an ex-Warlord). Your headboard had taken more damage than you did.
The broken remains of it flashed across your mind. Was Law really a virgin?
Your reflection’s eyes narrowed. You doubted Law would lie, but still. He was good. Too good. What virgin could make you squirt during foreplay, with just his mouth and fingers —?
Your reflection bit her bottom lip. You’d been a little weak in the knees for those specific attributes of Law, anyway. That didn't help your case much.
Your gaze trailed up to your hair. It was a hot, frizzy mess. But your reflection wore a giant grin on her face like she didn't care at all.
You followed Law’s advice and took your time. It was hard not to, especially in the shower. Memories flooded your brain, flushing your cheeks as your hands drifted over where his fingers had been, which parts of your body he’d lingered on, the little echoes of pleasure from how it felt…it definitely did not help you think straight, but the warm water did wonders for all the soreness.
When you were done, you wrapped yourself in a towel and paused at the door. Your heart slammed against your ribcage like a wild animal. You would’ve thought it had been thoroughly tuckered out after last night. How could it possibly keep going like this?
You took a deep breath. You could still feel that giant grin on your face, pinching your cheeks.
You wedged the door open wide and slipped back into your bedroom.
Law lounged across your broken bed in his jeans. He looked through one of your books until you stepped out.
You traced the lines of his tattoos with your eyes, admiring the sheer, lean mass of him — you had to stop yourself.
It was a shame (not) that Law didn't follow his own mandatory boiler suit rule: sentences were a lot harder to form with him like this.
Law’s rain cloud gaze found yours. Little static shocks trickled over your bare skin.
Law left the book and the bed behind. His eyes freely roamed your body now. It gave you a little sense of power, captivating someone so completely in just a towel.
Law leaned in for another kiss. You halted him with a finger. “I need to put some stuff on my face first. Do you mind?”
Law hummed his answer as he pulled back.
He followed you to your vanity. You let him sit first, then settled in his lap.
“I got food when you’re ready,” said Law over your shoulder.
“You’re amazing. Thanks — wait, how did you manage that?” Your eyes darted to Law’s face in the mirror.
You were under the impression that Law only trespassed to your bedroom on Maiden Island, mostly because if he went anywhere else, he’d be pelted with arrows or knives (ah, the thrill of your boyfriend trespassing on a women-only island just to see you. How romantic. And deadly).
Law raised his hand. “Five-finger discount.”
“You’re impossible.” You shook your head, smiling.
“I was taking a cut on your behalf. You make snacks for Hancock-ya all the time.”
“She’s got a weak stomach…probably from all the wine,” you muttered.
Law watched over your shoulder as you went through your face routine. Your fingers were way more awkward with him watching, but he didn't seem to notice.
Law’s arms remained wrapped around your waist, entranced as he watched over your shoulder.
“What’s that do?” he asked as you uncapped a bottle.
“It's moisturizer. Want some?”
“Another time.” Law kissed your shoulder, right on another hickey. “You do this every day?”
You nodded. “Morning and night — you know, except for earlier today.
Law hummed against your throat. He breathed deeply into your hair and coaxed a yelp out of you when he squeezed your thighs. It was the most touchy Law had ever been with you.
“And you say I’m needy,” you said with a smile.
“I’ve been in close quarters with Luffy-ya for over a week.” Law buried his face where your throat and shoulder met. He inhaled deeply and sighed, holding you tighter. “Compared to that, this is heaven.”
This is a snippet of a future piece I'm working on! Check out the prequel here on AO3.
This is a snippet of a future piece I'm working on! Check out the prequel here on AO3.
The day you’d longed for was finally here.
You tried very hard to dull the excited glint in your eyes. Even during your goodbyes on Zou, you bit back smiles and quenched more than a few mindless hums. You’d miss everyone, of course…but your departure meant one thing. Well, two.
Returning to the Polar Tang, and (drumroll, please:) alone time with Law.
You had very high hopes for the second one. You practically skipped through the Polar Tang’s familiar stormy gray halls laced with lightning yellow trim. The familiar hum of the submarine tingled across your skin (that might’ve been the AC, but whatever).
Then Law opened the door to his office.
An avalanche of papers spewed out, pouring into the hall.
You and Law stood trapped in the doorway, ankle-deep in Paper Cuts Central. Your stomach took a plunge: it wasn't exactly the homecoming you’d been dreaming of.
Law’s face defaulted to its natural deadpan expression, as if he’d expected this. “Y/N-ya, put on some gloves.”
“I’m not that danger-prone — ouch! Kidding, I’m kidding…”
Law cleared a path to his desk as you plucked random papers from the heaps. Some of them were old Warlord missives. That was good: with Law’s title revoked, you could toss them into the shredder. A tsunami-sized pile of diagnoses would have to be tended to, though…
Law lent you a pair of fancy leather gloves as you sorted through the stacks. You thought about turning them down, but if it made him feel better, fine. Law had more to worry about than your old opponent: paper cuts.
When you could finally see the floor, Law abandoned his stack.
“That's enough. I wanted to show you something,” said Law.
You stopped in your tracks. The mess of documents you held bit into your forearms. You barely noticed the prick of the fang-like corners.
Trafalgar D. Law didn't believe in his breaks. It was almost a routine to drag him away from his desk at two a.m. or drug him with nighttime cold medicine.
Whatever Law had in mind, it must’ve been massive.
“Okay,” you said.
Law relieved you of your pile of papers, dumping it on his desk with the others. You watched, mystified, as he turned his back on the trembling heaps and moved to the corner of his office.
You followed him to a little nook between bookshelves. Shadows concealed the area like cobwebs. Your eyes widened.
“What's this?” You gestured at the metal door before you.
You’d never given it much thought before. You assumed it was a closet where Law stored office supplies or medical knick-knacks (Law insisted those weren't “knick-knacks,” but that was easier to pronounce than what was printed on the labels).
Law propped the door open. He flicked on the lights.
“My room,” he said.
You had to physically make an effort to keep your jaw off the floor.
You’d visited the Polar Tang for two whole years, and you had never seen Law’s bedroom. You’d come to the conclusion that he probably crashed on the couch behind his desk.
No one had ever mentioned Law’s room in passing, either…
You steeled yourself, squaring your shoulders. This was a big gesture on Law’s part. You weren't going to squander it.
You squeezed past him and stepped inside.
Law’s scent hit you as soon as you entered. You took a deep breath, filling your lungs with spearmint. The smell had a weird way of silencing your brain and making your heart race at the same time.
Warm lamplight melted the cool blue tint from a panel of glass lining the walls, looking out at the ocean’s depths. The spectacular view was the only comparison Law’s bedroom had with his office.
You waded deeper into the room. Gentle grays mixed with a blue that reminded you of deoxygenized blood running through veins. It seemed like the perfect place to snuggle in, if you were a polar bear looking to hibernate for a couple of months (you wondered if Law had designed it that way on purpose).
You parked your shoes by the entrance, next to another pair of Law’s. Little tufts of the black carpet curled between your toes.
You looked back at Law as if for approval to go deeper in. You were itching to explore, but it was still Law’s space.
The door fell shut at Law’s back. He mirrored you, slipping off his shoes and stuffing his hands into his jean pockets.
When Law straightened, he bowed his head in your direction — you took it as a sign to keep going.
You approached the nearest wall first. Glass cases glittered across it. You bit back a smile: you had found Law’s famous (yet supposedly secret) coin collection.
You pointed to one of the glistening coppers. “I like that one.”
Law leaned in, looking over your shoulder. “That’s one of my favorites. It's from Sabody. Found it the day I met Straw Hat-ya.”
“A memorable day.” You smiled back at him.
“Seared into my memory, that's for sure.”
You laughed and continued your browsing.
The bookshelves were next. There weren't as many medical encyclopedias as you expected.
You crouched down to skim the lower shelves. Most of them were Sora: Warrior of the Sea comic books (and the occasional limited-edition graphic novel). The ones with elaborate covers that shone in the lamplight were on display.
You pointed to one of them. “That’s really cool.”
Law crouched down next to you. “Only a few hundred of those were made. They were released at a con a few years ago.”
“I didn't know you liked those,” you said.
“Some,” Law lamented. “I prefer when they’re not busy. The crew likes to go.”
Both of you rose to your feet. You were nearing Law’s bed, but that wasn't your end goal per se. You were too busy relishing in all the new secrets you’d just unlocked.
You paused in front of Law’s nightstand. It mirrored yours on Maiden Island, decorated with photos in frames or taped to the wall.
The Heart Pirates dominated most of the photos. Candid snapshots of crew gatherings, birthday parties, and bar hangs were captured in each one. There was also the classic foursome: Law with Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin. They looked a lot younger in those.
Your gaze drifted down to the framed pictures on the nightstand. One was a little too familiar.
“Is that…me?” you said.
The photo was definitely not recent. You could tell from your hairstyle and the clothes you wore. If you had to estimate, it looked like it was from your time under Pops — before you’d even met Law —
Law snatched the photo before you could inspect it further.
“Sorry,” mumbled Law. “Marco-ya gave it to me years ago.”
“Oh.” Your brows furrowed. You sensed a story, but you decided to keep quiet. You didn't want to push Law too much.
Law’s steel gaze fixated on the floor. The flaming tips of his ears were even more noticeable in the cool-toned room.
“I have pictures of you, too, you know,” you added. “They’re your wanted posters, though. We should fix that.”
You and Law shared a smile. You returned to your self-guided tour.
When you reached the next photo, your heart twisted like a wrung-out towel.
It was an old newspaper clipping. The article itself had been snipped away, leaving only the photo: a couple and two kids smiling at the camera, posing in an old hospital waiting room. Their eyes were bright and sparkling despite the lack of color.
You felt yourself lean forward for a closer look. Law stiffened next to you.
The man looked like an older (and less buff) version of Law. A light stubble clung to the bottom half of his face, and even though his hair was shorter, it had the same choppy, haphazardness to it.
The woman beside him reminded you of the color brown: everything about her seemed to radiate warmth, even in black and white. The only exception was her eyes — like Law’s, there was a heavy intelligence to her gaze. Something that could cut.
“They’re beautiful,” you murmured. If there was ever a photo that was picture-perfect, it was this one. “You look so much like your dad. And you have your mom’s eyes.”
Law remained silent.
You hesitated before the photo, wondering if you should linger. You didn't want to make Law uncomfortable, but this was a golden opportunity you never knew you’d have: a chance to see part of Law’s childhood up close. A chance to see his family.
You couldn't pass it up.
Your eyes lingered on the little girl. Everyone on the Polar Tang knew her birthday.
“I love Lami’s smile,” you murmured. “She looks like someone who would be fun to talk to.”
Law’s hands were shoved back into his pockets. When he looked at his sister’s full-toothed grin, his steel gaze softened to mist.
“...She was,” he said.
Your eyes drifted to the boy next to Lami, holding her hand. You muffled a gasp.
“And that's you right there, beside her?” you said.
Law nodded.
You grinned. The fangirl in you took over.
“You look so cute! You still had your hat back then, too —! And the look on your face, that deadpan expression —!”
Law reached over you and flipped the photo down.
You looked back at Law, then bit down on your lip. Hard. It took every bit of self control you had not to burst out laughing.
You thought you’d seen Law blush the brightest anyone ever has the night of your first kiss when he nearly bit your tongue off. Bubbling magma was cooler than the red tones that currently warmed his face.
“Should’ve scrubbed the place before you came in,” Law muttered to himself.
“Aww, don't say that! I like it here,” you pouted.
Law tugged down the rim of his hat. His eyes were hidden from view. “You don't have to lie.”
“I’m not.” You plopped down on Law’s bed, arms crossed. “There’s a lot to like.”
A doubtful hmph escaped Law. He returned your picture to the nightstand and righted the one of his family (facing them away from you) before taking a seat next to you.
The air crackled with Law’s new closeness. You swallowed. Static shocks and racing hearts were common when Law was near, but this was…different. Your body tensed for something unknown, something thrilling — like a tornado forming in the sky.
Law’s breath hitched next to you. You wondered if he felt it, too.
You absently stroked his sheets, focusing on their silky texture and not on the way the skin of your hand was buzzing.
“Your sheets are nice.” Your voice came out a lot calmer than you felt.
Law shrugged. “It's a seal blanket from the North Blue. It stays cool.”
“I like it — it reminds me of the silk sheets I was trying out on Maiden Island…” you took a deep breath, hoping the delivery of your next line was smooth. “I hoped they wouldn't be uncomfortable for you…if you ever spent the night.”
Law froze. So much for being smooth.
This is a snippet of a future piece I'm working on! Check out the prequel here on AO3.
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The Heart Pirates were convinced you were of magical origin. There was no way that Trafalgar D. Law, Warlord, Casual Coin Collector, Tattoo Enthusiast, Replacing-Heads-With-Bombs Surgeon of Death, would ever go near a baby shower.
Well, the Grand Line was the place for impossible things.
The Polar Tang bobbed in the water next to what you could only describe as a floating castle. The ship(?) waded in the middle of the sea like its own island. Its towering, stone walls threw a shadow across the water.
As soon as you boarded, gunmen pointed rifles at Law’s head.
You dove in front of Law, arms spread. “Um, can you not? He’s my date.”
Law glared over your head. A low growl escaped his lips. “Beat it.”
The night was off to a great start.
You were escorted inside. Another barrier awaited you: anyone that met with Bege was to be spotless and spectacularly dressed.
You waved timidly to Law as you headed to the woman’s bathing suite. He looked ready to tear off the head of the gangster next to him.
~*~
When you and Chiffon arrived at the sitting room, the men were already gathered.
“Try anything funny, Trafalgar, and I’ll stick a bullet in your brain.”
“You return Y/N-ya to me in less than perfect condition, they’ll never find all the pieces left of you.”
“Hey, is that your submarine outside? It’s real nice! Just like a Germa ship-rero!”
“It is NOT like those Germa vermin. Don't insult my ship!”
Bege’s eyes sparkled when Chiffon entered the room. All death threats were forgotten. His coat billowed behind him as he went to his wife. “Chiffon!”
Chiffon chuckled as he placed a kiss on her hand. Your gaze drifted to Law. Your breath stopped.
You’d never seen Law dressed up before, and it made your brain short-circuit. Law’s hat was missing, revealing his spiked hair. Based on the way the strands glistened in the light, hair gel fought to keep it down, and lost. A black-collared shirt was rolled up to his forearms, teasing some of his tattoos. A tight-fitting, navy blue waistcoat clung to his torso.
The longer you stared, the more your throat started to constrict in new, uncomfortable ways. Would you stutter if you spoke to him? You hoped not.
You ignored the way your heels wobbled under you and walked up to Law.
“You look amazing,” you said (your internal monologue cheered you on for not tripping over your words).
A rare smirk tugged at Law’s lips. His gaze licked over you, making you shift uneasily.
“What is it?” you asked.
Law gestured between you. “We match.”
You glanced down at your dress. You’d already forgotten its existence. It looked like it was cut from the same fabric of Law’s waistcoat, with gentle waves of blue cascading down your shins. You grinned at the comparison.
It dawned on you that the room was dead silent. When you glanced around, everyone was looking at you and Law.
“Hmph,” a puff of cigar smoke escaped Bege, as if he were trying to hold back a laugh.
Your brow dipped. Before you could question it, one of the gangsters rolled out a dessert tray.
Everyone seated themselves as the gangsters set the coffee table. Law sat with you on one of the settees. Chiffon and Bege took the one across from you.
“We have some more healthier options if you’d like,” Chiffon offered as Law eyed the platters of glossy cakes. “Can you please bring out some bread —?”
You made a face. Chiffon paused, looking at you.
“Law doesn't like bread,” you explained.
Law stiffened beside you. Bege’s cigar bobbed up and down as he spoke, “You don't like bread?”
Law turned to you. His voice was low. “I never told you that.”
You shrugged. Law avoided most carbs, except for rice. Maybe it was a health thing, tied to being a surgeon? Nevertheless, you had picked up on his aversion to it.
“You never eat it. Sometimes you make a face at it, like you’re trying to pulverize it with your eyes,” you chuckled.
A soft snort escaped Law. When he looked away, you could’ve sworn his lip was slightly curved up.
“How far along are you?” asked Law.
“My due date’s in two weeks,” said Chiffon brightly.
You glanced around. Aside from the four of you, only Bege’s men were present. You didn't spot any of Chiffon’s relatives. “Is it just us?”
Baby showers were typically thrown by a friend, not the person who was pregnant. If anything, Bege and the gangsters seemed to be playing that role.
“Yes,” Chiffon’s smile was apologetic. “Brulee stopped by earlier. I thought it would be easier for you, since last time…”
“Oh! We got something for you,” you tiptoed past that topic as diplomatically as you could. You refused to let your adventures on Whole Cake Island dampen Chiffon’s evening.
Law held up the gift bag for you. He set it on the coffee table.
“You didn't have to do that,” Chiffon’s cheeks bloomed a delicate, rosy hue as Bege took the present. He removed one of the packages sticking out of it. Similar to Law opening your letters, Bege sliced open the wrapping and handed it to Chiffon.
Chiffon carefully removed the contents. Bege looked over her shoulder with wide eyes. “Oh…”
You tucked a hair behind your ear as it was unveiled. You didn't know much about Bege, except for the fact that he seemed to have a classy aesthetic. Chiffon was also one of the best bakers in Big Mom’s territory. You’d settled on fancy baking utensils with elegantly-twirled metal; the cutting board Chiffon held could’ve been mistaken for a painting without a frame.
“It’s nice,” Bege’s voice was low with awe.
Chiffon giggled. “This is perfect, Y/N! Bege loves art. You know us well.”
“There’s more baby stuff at the bottom, but I thought you’d like it,” you smiled. “If you’re into art, you should check out Law’s tattoos.”
Everyone’s stares sank heavily upon you. The comment had just slipped out. You didn't know where it came from — or that it was even there, swirling around in your head. Your internal monologue screamed obscenities at you in the awkward silence that followed.
“Do tell.” Bege eyed Law with interest.
Law sighed. He sat up as he unfastened the buttons to his shirt.
You swallowed louder than necessary. It hadn't been an invitation for Law to undress, but you certainly weren't going to tell him that.
Bege leaned forward as Law pulled the flaps of his shirt away, revealing the flaming heart underneath. Your gaze lingered longer than necessary on the chiseled lines of muscle. Was Law more…well-endowed than before? The memory of his bare chest in the woods was seared into your memory. He seemed in impeccable shape then: it was nearly ridiculous to think he could look any better.
“Captain of the Heart Pirates is very fitting,” Chiffon looked between you and Law’s chest, as if clearly stating, you haven't done anything about that yet? What are you waiting for?
“Who’s it meant for?” said Bege.
Law’s expression darkened. He didn't bother buttoning the rest of his shirt; he settled for knotting one and letting his tattoos peek out.
“Sorry, contemplating art is a hobby of his,” Chiffon gently squeezed Bege’s arm. “If it's too intrusive —”
“It’s for Cora-san,” said Law.
Law’s arms crossed over the heart tattoo. You could feel his resistance to discuss the subject further. The same emotion that tightened his eyes on Punk Hazard returned.
“He was…” Law’s lashes fluttered. He glared at the ground as he searched for the right word.
“Someone very dear to you?” Chiffon added softly.
Law dipped his head. Chiffon’s smile touched your heart. “They look beautiful. I’m sure Cora-san would be very proud. You’re right, Y/N: he’s practically a walking work of art!”
Heat inflamed your face. “I — I didn't say that!”
“Sure,” Chiffon winked at you. Bege laughed as you groaned.
“You’re lucky to have a woman who puts up with you, Trafalgar,” Bege removed his cigar briefly. Smoke curled around his words.
It was easier to spot the red tips of Law’s ears without his hat. He continued to glare at the ground.
One of Bege’s men leaned over the couch towards you. “You should’ve seen him when you weren't in the room-rorero! He was a real grouch, and then the minute you walk in, he's all smiles — just like Father with Madame!”
Law scoffed. “You compared my ship to Germa. They’re the worst!”
“What’s Germa?” you asked him.
You settled back into the cushions, enjoying the tales you just unlocked as Law dove into Sora: Warrior of the Sea (which was apparently very popular in the North Blue). You’d never seen Law so animated in the time you’d known him. His arm was draped along the settee behind you, tattooed hands flourishing in the air between you as he described everything.
The conversation morphed, returning to Chiffon and Bege’s baby.
“I can give you a physical if you want,” offered Law.
Chiffon’s eyes sparkled. “Really?”
“Don't try anything funny, Trafalgar,” Bege warned as he scooted aside to make room. “How’s it look?”
As Law kneeled before Chiffon, he waved you over. “Come on, come look at this, Y/N-ya.”
You sat next to Law on the carpeted floor. Gangsters looked over your shoulder in awe as Law’s fingers delicately probed beneath Chiffon’s ears.
Chiffon gave you a knowing smile, but you were too busy watching Law in the zone. He guided your hand to Chiffon’s stomach as he explained what to look for.
Not long after, Bege’s gangsters gathered the used dessert plates and fawned over Chiffon with compliments on the food as they passed. Everyone stood as the end of the evening neared.
“Thank you so much for having us, Chiffon! Let’s do this again, I can't wait until the baby comes,” you said.
“Of course,” Chiffon took your hands and lightly squeezed them. “Thank you for coming. I’m so glad I got to see you again. Let us know if we can ever repay you for your kindness.”
Bege had lingered silently at Chiffon’s side for most of the evening like a second shadow. He nodded along as his gray eyes pierced you. “Thank you. For protecting my Chiffon when I wasn't there.”
You were speechless. You barely knew Bege, but it was evident that thanks of any kind were rare from him. You bowed your head and smiled.
“You mentioned that before,” said Law. “What happened last time?”
Chiffon gasped. “You didn't tell him? About the proposal?”
Your back went rigid. Law noticed. “What proposal?”
You had worried about Law learning about the marriage proposal before, but to find out about it now…unseen horrors thrashed against your insides.
Chiffon quickly caught on to your panicked gaze. She tried to deter Bege, but it was too late.
“Y/N helped Chiffon after one of Big Mom’s outbursts. For her act of chivalry, one of Chiffon’s brothers asked Y/N to marry him,” said Bege.
You cringed. Law’s steel gaze flashed to you.
“Bege,” Chiffon muttered out of the corner of her mouth. “Not common knowledge.”
Eustass Kid: What? Not gonna call your wife to come and fight your battles for you?
Trafalgar Law: *sigh* What do you want, Eustass-ya.
Eustass Kid: Remember my wife —
Trafalgar Law: You mean your ex-wife? The one that looks suspiciously like an uglier version of my wife?
Eustass Kid: She's got a name! Think it's Roxanne. But I heard that our son is seeing someone...
Trafalgar Law: A fully licensed therapist, I hope.
Eustass Kid: I certainly hope you've got one. For your daughter.
Trafalgar Law:
Trafalgar Law: NO.
Eustass Kid: lmao
Trafalgar Law: ROSIE-YA WOULD HAVE MORE TASTE THAN THAT GREASY SLIMEBALL
Eustass Kid: Hey!! It's called hair gel, thank you very much
Trafalgar Law: It's called not showering for two weeks straight! The lack of hygiene is practically hereditary. I REFUSE to let it stink up my household AND genetics.
Eustass Kid: Careful, Law. We could be in-laws.
Trafalgar Law: ...I'm getting my wife.
Eustass Kid: Oh, come on!!!! Don't be like that...! Seriously, please don't call her.
Trafalgar Law: Y/N-YA!!!!!!!!!
Eustass Kid: KILLER!! GET THE SHIP READY!! WE SET SAIL NOW — SCREW THE DAMNED PIES! LET 'EM BURN!
Zoro: Aren't you second-in-command to the Revolutionaries?
Sabo: Yeah! Figured that was first-mate adjacent
Vito: Let's keep him. He knows how to dress-rero.
Y/N: I mean...we let Marco and Rayleigh stay
Zoro: That was mostly because they wouldn't leave.
Killer: All right, time for a group vote: show of hands, people
*Hands, swords and paws go up*
Killer, with a chainsaw raised: All right. Sabo stays. Now, the point of today's meeting is validation. Giving yourself your own personal pat on the back because you know you did well...and when you baked an apple pie for five hours straight and someone flung it across the ship like a frisbee, you should still feel proud of yourself.
Bepo: GASP!!!11!! Not your apple pie!
Y/N: Oh, Killer! I'm so sorry. You're an amazing cook!
Zoro: I can honestly say you're the best cook I know.
Killer: Thank you, thank you *sniffles under mask*
Sabo: You should do something for yourself! I think that's a good way to feel validated.
Daz, sharpening his arm blade: Or...you could avenge the pie.
Everyone: ...
Killer: We've been over this before: we have to be careful about acts of revenge because it can lead to inner crew turmoil.
Zoro: OR you could make another pie and shove it in Kid's face.
"Don't," he whispers, giant hands pressing gently against yours. "It's...not normal. You'll probably not like it."
A dull ache grows between your ribs. You take a moment to observe Katakuri, how his fingers stop your own from tugging his scarf. His eyes are tired and exposed, a tiny glint of fear creeping in their corners. The ache further spreads when he squeezes your woven hands.
You crinkle your mouth, not quite smiling. "I'm sorry. I'm being selfish."
"Not selfish," he hums. "Human. It's natural to be curious."
"I suppose I wanted to see the full face of the man I'm marrying tomorrow."
He hesitates, lowering your hands so they are fully away from the striped cloth upon his face. His eyebrows wrinkle, deep in thought. "I promise you'll see in due time."
"I won't hold you to it," you shake your head. It is strange, perhaps something straight from a storybook: a giant, one so feared, who is gentle, almost hesitant to allow you to see a different part of him. One thing he's probably been told to cover, that it is a curse and horrid--will sponsor nothing but ugliness.
The usual wedding tradition to further claim the marriage is a kiss, you realize.
Glancing towards his hands, you see they are trembling. Perhaps he came to the same conclusion.
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In one fluid motion, you ripped off your left shoe. You flung it. Hard.
“ASSHOLE!”
You hit your target dead center: your shoe slapped up against a head of blond hair.
The pink blob froze.
The world went silent. Blood thrummed in your ears. Just barely, you made out a little voice in your head screaming — mostly about all the decisions you’d made in the past five minutes, and what the hell you were thinking.
“Ow.” Doflamingo muttered.
You watched with wide eyes. You couldn't look away. You couldn't even run. Suddenly the whole day came crashing down on you — running through the streets, hitting metal genitals, air-walking. Your legs were too sore to move.
You were completely locked in place, deer before the rifle, as Doflamingo turned on his heel to face you.
