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Always a duo, never far from the other. You're by his side as he is yours when it comes to sailing the ocean blue or during the late nights of cooking up new dishes in the empty kitchen of the Baratie.
But what are you to do when a certain boy donning a straw hat comes crashing into his life and yours, promising a dream of adventure and a chance to find your All Blue?
Archive of Our Own
a/n: part 3!!! enter luffy, and the all blue!
taglist: @mystic60 @0sobamask1lvr @w1ckedkris
feel free to let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!
Sailing at the break of dawn, you bask in the sounds of the peaceful sea and the rhythmic waves that lap at the side of your boat. It had been a week since youâd seen Sanjiâ having to stay on the mainland to help your uncle out with the market. Heâd slipped on deck, spraining an ankle during one of the stormy trips you made a few days ago, and you had to take care of most of the fishing trips with the crew, as well as heading to the markets afterward to sell your catch.
Safe to say, youâd done both arm and leg day for the past week, lugging the heavy nets of fish to the marketplace and having to take up boat maintenance for that entire time. Youâd been more exhausted after returning home, nearly passing out the moment your head hit the pillow. Which also means you havenât written to Sanji as often as you wouldâve liked.
The last letter youâd gotten from him spoke about some stuck-up Lieutenant he had to deal with, as well as the addition of a chore boy who caused some sort of damage to the Baratie. A hole in the ceiling, you recall.
How? You have no idea, but you apparently missed out on some juicy drama, for better or for worse.
At the end of the week, the fishing crew had insisted you take the day off to go to the Baratie. Well, not exactly, but youâd rather ignore the way theyâd worded itââLeave it to us for today! You go see lover-boy out at the Baratie!â
Of course, all you could do was frown and avert your gaze, feeling warmth flood across your cheeks as the guys all encouraged you to go. Theyâre all good men that youâve known for nearly a decade and longer, but of course itâs embarrassing for you, having these middle-aged, mostly married men cheer you on for your own love-life. You have no doubt theyâre protective of you like their own daughter, but theyâre all fans of Sanji and his cooking, granting him their approval, unbeknownst to him.
So here you are, sailing towards the floating restaurant on your own, personal boat, Wave Wonder. Sheâs much smaller than Tide Caller, but sheâs all yours, once a fixer-upper project you and your uncle took up together after getting it for a decent price from the marina in town. You can get to the Baratie on her without much trouble, and she still sails well despite her older touch.
Yet as you sail closer to the Baratie, your breath hitches once your eyes lay over the destruction across the entire deck. While the body of the ship seems mostly unharmed, the smooth wooden panels that lined the surrounding deck are splintered and raisedâcracked like the ground as if an earthquake had shaken through it all.
A panicked urgency pushes you to hurry and dock, hopping off the boat and carefully making your way to the entrance, slamming the lopsided doors open, only to be met with complete silence.
Your heart stops. Not a single customer or chef or waiter is on the floor, a sight that youâve never seen in all your years. You quickly make your way into the kitchen, the tiniest bit of relief filling you as you hear the telltale clink and clank of pots and pans and the roar of the stove fire as you near, and you open the door.
All the cooks are busy across the kitchen, but they all look towards you, brightening up and greeting you heartily. But you notice immediately that they all adorn a bandage or two, whether itâs across their arms or plastered on their face.Â
âLil fisher is here!â Patty bellows loudly, and everyone greets you heartily, not at all sharing the sense of doom that youâd felt just moments ago.
âWhat⊠What happened?â you barely manage to ask, more taken aback by their jolly mood as they pat you on the shoulder and usher you close. âAre you guys alright?â
âWeâre right as rain!â Carne laughs, and as the others chime in, a familiar tapping sound of a peg-leg approaches from behind, and you whip around to meet Zeffâs calm smile.
âNothinâ to worry about,â he gruffs, reaching out to mess up your hair. âJust had to deal with some pirates these past few days. Lil chef is fine, heâs resting in his room if you wanna go see him.â
âIâm glad you guys are alright,â you let out a sigh, letting the tension release from your shoulders. âIâll go check on Sanji, then.â
âGet him and chore-boy down here!â one of the chefs calls out. âWe got lunch ready!â
âChore boy?â you echo in confusion, but Zeff pats your shoulder, ushering you to head upstairs before you can ask any more questions.
As always, you head up the stairway to the quarters upstairs, finding Sanjiâs door and knocking on it gently. âDoorâs open!â
And to your surprise, heâs not the only one in his room.Â
âHoneycomb?â Sanji is quick to get to his feet from where he was seated on the windowsill, and on his bed is another boy, maybe just a few years younger than you.Â
âHoney?â The boy echoes excitedly, but you donât hear it as you close the distance between you and Sanji, hurrying to reach up to his cheeks.Â
âOh, Sanji,â you breathe out, brushing your thumb against the bandage plastered right beneath his eye. âAre you ok? What happened while I was gone?â
âMy sweet honeycomb,â he sighs out, cupping your hand with his own, and you pray he doesnât feel your heart pound against your chest. âIâm fine, promise. We had to protect the Baratie from pirates, but it worked out in the end. With some help fromââ
âIâm Monkey D. Luffy!â the boy greets you loudly, fixing the straw hat on top of his head as he beams at you brightly. âAnd Iâm going to be King of the Pirates!â
You offer him a smile back, stepping away from Sanji to greet the boy still seated on the bed. âThank you for keeping Sanji and everyone safe, Luffy.â
You introduce yourself, and Luffy laughs, a bright sound that makes you chuckle with him. âSo? Are you a chef, too?â
âOh, Iâm not,â you answer with a shake of your head. âIâm an angler. I catch fish and supply the Baratie with all their seafood with my uncle.â
âA fisherman!â Luffy exclaims in awe. âAre you good at it?â
âIâd like to say I am,â you answer amusedly, unable to fight back his infectious smile. âIâve done it for a long time now.â
Luffy considers your words with a hum, before he says, âWell, why donât you join my crew, too?â
âToo?â you repeat curiously, before it clicks in your head, looking over to Sanji who is shaking his head. âWait, your crew?â
âWeâre not going to become pirates and join your crew,â Sanji states with a sigh, heading outside to lean against the deck railing. âLuffy, I told you my answer already, stop asking.â
âYou? Become a pirate?â you say in disbelief, before you chuckle quietly. The last thing youâd expect for prim and proper Sanji is to become a pirate. Sure, he works alongside former pirates, but you canât imagine himself to become one himself.
âExactly,â Sanji answers. âAnd I canât possibly leave any of them when theyâre such a mess. Who knows what would happen to this damn restaurant if I did.â
Luffy pouts. âBut we can go find your Blue All together!â
âThe All Blue,â Sanji corrects him, and you feel your breath hitch. âAnd sure, but like I told you, I canât just leave.â
âWhat about you?â Luffy asks, redirecting his attention to you. âWould you join my crew?â
âI canât just become a pirate either,â you quickly say, putting your hands up as youâre put on the spot. âSorry, Luffy. Itâs not in the cards for me.â
Despite your refusals to join, he doesnât seem that fazed, merely appearing more determined as he nods.
âAlright,â he acquieses, and before you can speak up to finally mention about lunch downstairs, something shoots out from Luffy, and you yelp at the fact that his arm stretches across the entire room, latching onto Sanjiâs neck like a snake wrapped around its enemy.
âYour hand⊠says otherwise!â Sanji chokes out, and youâre still way too shell-shocked to even process what youâre seeing, Luffy elongated limb, stretched at least ten feet, and just inches away from your own face.
Thatâll be an interesting story for you to hear over lunchtime.
By the time Luffy lets go of Sanji at the promise of food and meat, the three of you make your way downstairs. The chatter of chefs and clinking of silverware greet you upon opening the door, and as you watch Luffy bound inside with unrestrained eagerness, you reach out to Sanji, catching his sleeve between your fingers and pulling him back.
âDo⊠Do you really not want to go with him?â you ask. âWhat if itâs true? Itâs⊠itâs your chance to go find the All Blue.â
Sanjiâs gaze softens with a smile that doesnât quite reach his eyes. He knows it full well, too.Â
âJust like I told him, I canât just leave Zeff and Baratie,â he shakes his head. âAnd I couldnât possibly leave when youâd still be here. How could I just pursue our dream without you, honeycomb?â
Your heart drops at the realization of it, recognizing that youâre part of the blame. The promise made when you two were children are the shackles that keep him at the Baratie, where he fights tooth and nail to cook alongside the chefs and trying desperately to show the world something new. He must see the gears turning in your head, grasping your shoulders with gentle hands, as he forced you to face him.
âYouâre not stopping me from my dreams,â he reassures you, his tone gentle. âItâs our dream. I want to go find it with you, and I wouldnât have it any other way.â
Our dream. He says it so easily, as if itâs blatantly obvious, like pointing to the sky and calling it blue.Â
Our dream, he says, knowing youâve made your decision from an insanely sudden question. But what if you secretly want to go, too?
With another smile that doesnât quite reach his eyes, he turns to head inside the restaurant, and you have no choice but to follow behind, watching as he makes his way to Luffyâs side. Said boy is currently skipping from table to table, in awe at the spread of foods that the cooks are all plating and handing off to one another.
âWhere do we sit?â Luffy asks excitedly, head on a swivel as he looks left and right, licking his lips in anticipation. Â
âSit on the floor,â one of the cooks gruffs. But he turns his head to look past them, calling your name. âWe got a seat for you right over here, though!âÂ
You share a look with Sanji, then Luffy, but you donât make a move, frozen in place. Something's not right, and your stomach churns at their sudden coldness.Â
âHoneycomb,â Sanji whispers to your side, and you frown at him, about to protest until he shakes his head. âItâs fine. Luffy and I will sit over there.â
You muster a nod, making your way towards Patty as he slides the seat back for you to sit, handing you a plate of food and a bowl of soup. He sits back down, and you watch from the corner of your eye as he clenches his hands together and he lets out a deep breath. Itâs when you realize a nervous tension blankets the rest of the chefs, all glancing nervously at him as he sighs once more, before he reaches for his spoon to take a sip of the soup.
You do the same, and just as you taste the warm flavors of Sanjiâs cooking, you nearly choke as Patty slams both of his hands on the table, rattling the plates and silverware as he growls in anger. âWho the hell prepared the soup this morning!?â
Sanji. Your brain supplies, because youâd know his food from the others in an instant. The way his flavors meshed and danced along your tongue, a distinct taste and scent that you can easily differentiate from the other chefs. Thereâs always a few differences when the others prepare itâa little too salty, a little too spicy, and in Pattyâs case, a little too garlicky. But Sanjiâs was always perfect.
Which is why youâre rendered speechless as Patty spits out his soup, nearly gagging as he curses. âYou call this food? How can I eat this damn soup when it tastes like garbage!?â
In shock, you watch as Sanji stands, anger radiating from him in waves, growing stronger and stronger as the other chefs begin to speak up, slamming their spoons on the table and turning to Sanji in disgust.Â
That canât be right. It just canât be. You know how much the cooks love Sanji. Despite their gruff exterior and tough love attitudes, theyâve always cared for the boy as he grew up over the years. They taught him everything he needed to become such a talented cook, and not a day goes by when they arenât of him.
And thatâs when you realize in an instantâitâs on purpose.Â
It has to be.Â
But why, why would they make him upset and try to drive him awayâ
Your eyes widen at the obvious answer.
Theyâre trying to make him leave.
They must have been aware of Luffyâs invitation for him to join his crew. And just as you had believed, perhaps they knew too, that itâd be best for him to leave the Baratie in search of his dreams, to grow even more as a chef. The tension simmers, even as Zeff sternly reminds Patty not to waste a drop of soup, and everyone watches with bated breath as the old man finishes the last of his own bowl.
You hold your breath as he stands, and your heart drops just as he throws the bowl to the floor, shattering it into pieces on the floor.Â
âYou damn geezerâŠâ Sanji grits out, the last of his restraint gone, shattered like that damn bowl. In his rage, he quickly closes distance, grabbing onto the front of the old manâs uniform, staring at the man in vivid anger. âHow is this soup different from yours? Tell me!â
âDonât flatter yourself!â
And for the first time in your life, you watch as Zeff raises a fist, striking Sanji across the cheek. Itâs hard enough to knock the boy down to the floor, and he's just as stunned, raising a hand to where heâd been hit, jaw dropped in disbelief. The other chefs donât try to hide their shockâmurmurs shaking through the entire crew. It's the first time Zeff had ever used his hands for violence; the very same hands that had taught Sanji everything since he was so young.
âItâll be a billion years before you can give me a lecture on cooking, you little brat!â Zeff spits out, glaring down at the fallen boy. âIâm a man who has cooked on the seas all around the world.â
Silence covers the entire floor, and as Sanji gets to his feet, he clicks his tongue before turning on his heel, running out the door. Distantly, you hear him yell and curse, and you watch Zeff as he turns away from the window, closing his eyes.
âZeffâŠâ you murmur quietly, but you make no move to intervene. Because what heâd done is right. Itâs for the better, for Sanjiâs sake.
And itâs something that you canât seem to do. All because you selfishly want him by your side.
(But what if you went with Luffy? Even if it meant treading the unknown and leaving behind everything youâve known? If you were by Sanjiâs sideâŠ)
âSay, kid,â Zeff starts, huffing as he sits down on a nearby chair. âYou said you wanted a cook for your ship, right?â
Luffy nods, eating the soup using the ladle and pulling it from his mouth with a pop.
âThis isnât a favor or anything, but would you take the little brat with you to the Grand Line?â Zeff asks, staring straight at Luffy. âThe Grand Line⊠itâs his dream.â
And then, Zeff looks at you. âI know itâs yours, too. And I canât force you to go either, but itâd be good for the two of you to go see the world and find it together.â
It.
The All Blue.
You purse your lips together, a war of emotions raging in you. Itâs all so sudden, with barely any time to consider. Leaving your home, your uncle and your fishing crew and Zeff and the Baratie, just to sail the great wide seas full of uncertainty?
It sounds too much like a risk to take, regardless of how much you want it.
But it doesnât matter, sinceâ
âNo,â Luffy says suddenly, breaking your mental conflict in a mere instant, right before he gulps down another helping of potatoes. After seeing how much he wanted you and Sanji to join, you wonder why he suddenly seemed to change his mind, and Zeff makes a noise of disbelief, loudly echoed by the other chefs listening.
âHe wants to keep working here,â Luffy explains simply, before he looks at you. âAnd you want to stay here, too. I won't force either of you, even though I really want you guys to join.â
You remain quiet, meeting Luffyâs gaze head-on as Zeff hums.
âSo youâre saying you cannot agree to it unless the two agree themselvesâŠâ Zeff murmurs to himself. âI know youâve made up your mind to stay, and that damn brat is an idiot heâll never say it outright.â
âI doubt he can make a decision,â Patty jokes from beside him. âHeâs too sentimental, that boy.â
As the other chefs laugh and joke, returning to enjoying Sanjiâs soup, you turn to Luffy, letting the chatter drown out your own voice. You eye the open window, before lowering your head closer towards the young boy who looks to you curiously.
Youâd made a decision, butâŠ
âLuffy,â you say quietly, steadily. âWill you truly help us find the All Blue? Will you be a Captain worthy to become the King of the Pirates?â
Luffy, without a beat of hesitance, nods firmly. âI will!â
And even in your eyes, you can tell he means it. Honest to god and with absolute certainty, he believes in it like itâs one of the very truths of the world. You don't break your gaze from him, and he doesnât falter, either.
Impulse is not familiar to you as to others. The idea of jumping into things has never appealed to you, and with a trade like yours, youâve always learned to be cautious, to calculate the tide and the seas and to set off when itâs right and do the things as youâve done. A routine has always led your life, a monotonous routine, brightened up by the few times you could see Sanji.
But becoming a pirate would go against all of that. Youâd explore new places and fight with enemies of all kinds, youâd grow stronger and wiser and learn an infinite amount on seas youâve never treaded on before. And the chance of finding the All Blue would grow bigger and bigger as you sailed.
Considering Luffyâs kind heart, youâd join a crew who would do good. Even if the label of âpirateâ is slapped onto your name, you know without a doubt that Luffy would never resort to meaningless violence and plundering. He would lead a crew that would continue to help those in need, a crew that would change the world for the better.
And you have the opportunity to join him at this very momentâ the chance to change your life forever, and hopefully, by Sanjiâs side.
With a deep sigh, you calm your rattled nerves, you calm your racing heart, you calm all the worries and anxieties and the âwhat-ifâsâ that pop into your head.
And you gently hold onto what you desire the most.
âThen, Iâll go with you.â It takes a bit for you to say it, for your voice to stop trembling and your resolve to power through. You mean every word. âIf it means Sanji will go, I will. I hope thatâs alright with you, Captain.â
Luffy smiles, and itâs near blinding. The smile of your new captain, the smile of a boy who will become the King of the Pirates.
The smile of a boy who will help you and Sanji find your dreams of the All Blue.
Sanji buries his head into his hands, pulling his knees closer to his chest. The unlit cigarette between his lips trembles as he chokes back a sob, listening to the chefâs loud clamor, and listening to you.Â
âCaptain.â
For him, youâd drop everything and become a goddamn pirate.Â
For him, youâd leave home to sail the ocean in search of the All Blue.
All for him. For pathetic, pitiful, lying, Black Leg Sanji.
He doesnât deserve it by any means.Â
Yet all he can do is bask in the love you hold for him, wondering what heâd done to deserve your kindness.
The cooks begin to clamor about, cleaning up their lunch and taking the dirty dishes back to the kitchen. One of them finally closes the windows, and you sigh, wondering if Sanji had heard your decision, or if heâd still been away, taking out his anger on the rubble of the deck farther away.
Either way, he still hasnât returned, and youâre still somewhat reeling over the fact that youâd made the decision, one that you have no idea how youâll bring up to your uncle later.Â
âIâm glad youâre going to come with us,â Luffy laughs, a shi-shi-shi that you have no doubt youâll get used to. âAnd that means the two of you wonât be sad!â
âSad?â
âYeah!â Finally, he finishes the last of his meal (and the leftovers of at least six other chefs that heâd somehow grabbed), plates left squeaky clean as he rubs his belly in satisfaction. âHe wouldâve been sad to leave you if you didnât go, and then you wouldâve been sad if he went, since you loveââ
You slap a hand over his mouth in panic, ignoring the way he struggles against you. âSince what!?â
He says it again, and though itâs muffled completely by your hand, you know exactly what he says against your palm.Â
Since you love him.
âOh, no, no,â you quickly deny, your heart beating faster in your chest as you grow more flustered by the second. âNo. He and I? Weâre justâŠâ
You hate to say it. Close friends, best friends, childhood friends. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, when you know heâs more than that, and you want more than that with him.Â
Since you love him.
And hell, itâs true. But Sanji canât knowânot when he doesnât feel the same. Not when he kneels before other women, lavishes them in sweet words and worships them like goddesses. Not when heâll never treat you the same like them.
âWeâve known each other since we were kids,â you respond instead. âAnd I want him to chase after his dream and be happy.â
Luffy blinks, and you take his sudden silence as a sign to pull your hand away. It hovers near him, just in case he says something out of line, or even worse; loudly.
âIf you say so,â he answers simply to your relief. âBut what about you?â
âHuh?â
âWhat about your dream?â Luffy asks. âYou want to find the All Blue, too. But is there something more?â
âA dreamâŠâ you repeat slowly, and you feel your resolve harden. âYes⊠Youâre right, butâŠâ
And for the first time in your life, you share your secret with the boy youâd just met, putting your faith into his power, his smile, and he grins.
âGood!â Luffy declares. âThen that settles it!â
âYeah,â you breathe out, the weight off your chest. âThank you, Luffy.â
Lunch ends with the plates nearly licked clean (courtesy of Luffy and his neverending appetite) and the cooks all chattering loudly once more, headed back into the kitchen to prepare for the evening dinner rush.
Itâs also time for you to head home, too, mind scrambling for solace as you consider the words youâd told Luffy.
Your new captain.
Sanji had returned to your side just as youâd prepared to head out. Quietly, youâd let Luffy know that youâd have to head back home before you could leave with him. The boy had no complaints as long as you came back as soon as possible, and while you couldnât quite promise him when youâd return, you let him know you could reach Sanji via snail or Doval.
As you make your way across the splintered deck with Sanji, you find yourself staring at his back, thoughts heavy and lingering on your mind. You can only think about Sanjiâs words from earlier, how he canât leave Zeff, or you, for that matter. And itâs not like you donât understand his intentionsâyou share the sentiment full well with your uncle.Â
But despite that, you also know itâs his dream, the one heâs been wanting since he was so young.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â Sanji asks, peering down at you as you shake your head.
âWhat do you think of Luffy?â you ask, and Sanji seems a bit surprised by your sudden question, eyebrows hiking up before he hums in thought.
âThink heâs a good kid,â he answers vaguely. âWhy?â
Perhaps he didnât hear you earlier, you think to yourself, eyeing him as he faces away from you, taking out a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it with practiced ease. âJust considering his offer again. Maybe⊠Maybe itâd be good for you. For us.â
Sanji sighs out a puff of smoke. You donât see his eyes. âHe has a foolish dream. Becoming the King of Pirates?â
A beaming smile as bright as the sun, a heart of gold brimming with kindness.
âI don't think itâs foolish,â you whisper. âNot when we dream of something just as great.â
Not when you dream of him, just out of reach from your very fingertips.
He remains quiet, back turned to you as you approach him, footsteps tapping against the wood, the same sound youâd grown up listening to. And gently, you wrap your arms around his middle, pressing against his back and leaning your head against his shoulder blades. He flinches, a soft jolt of surprise that you feel against his frame, but he makes no move to step away.Â
âSanji,â you call his name softly. âLetâs go find the All Blue, together.â
His breath hitches, and you wonder what thoughts run through his mind as he stays completely still in your hold. And then, he moves ever so slightly, and you loosen your grasp, letting him turn around to face you, before he hugs you tight into his chest, one arm around your shoulders, his hand resting against the back of your head. The scent of smoke fills your nose, mixed in with everything thatâs Sanji; a melody of citrus and the sea and a hint of musk underneath it all.
âYou make it hard to say no, you know,â Sanji murmurs into your hair. âBecause Iâd follow you anywhere.â
Itâs not an answer. Itâs not something you expect him to say. Yet somehow, it makes you feel as if youâre on cloud nine. Thereâs a fog of guilt and pity and anxiety and worry, but thereâs also a glimmer of hope as you squeeze your arms tighter around him, to which he responds similarly.
After what feels like eternity, you finally force yourself to let go, letting your touch linger, as his hands do. âI want you to go. Not just because of me, but because you want to.â
âI know, honeycomb. And I do,â he admits softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. A pained smile barely reaches his lips. âI do. I justâŠâ
He trails off, the words dying in his throat as he gazes down at you, and you offer him a reassuring smile in return. âI know. But think about it?â
He musters up a smile and a nodâa promise, and you finally tear yourself away from his gaze, preparing to set off back home. As it is, you can only wait for him to make up his mind, and you can only assume that Luffy will head out in the next few coming days, leaving you with too little time to prepare yourself. But surprisingly, you feel resolved with your fate, keeping it locked and unshaken even as you turn away from a conflicted Sanji. Like always, you go to undo the mooring line from the dock before hopping into your boat and making sure everythingâs good to go. Sanji watches, and just as the engine revs to life, you raise a hand to wave, and he waves back, the trail of his cigarette smoke wafting between his fingers at the movement.Â
As you turn the boat around to set sail towards home, you have no doubt heâs still watching youâjust as he always does, until youâre barely a speck visible against the neverending blue. Whether out of habit or out of caution, heâd always wait and watch you sail away, up until the very last moment he can see you, before he finally heads inside himself.
But soon, if you were to live a pirate life with Sanji, you wouldnât need to separate from him again, you wouldnât need to say farewell every night, waiting days before the next time youâd see him.Â
As you sail back, mind distracted by everything, you barely catch in the corner of your eye, something swimming incredibly fast in the opposite direction youâre headed. Something like a muffled scream reaches your ears, but it passes you in an instant, the sound growing more and more distant as it continues to zoom along.
The white and black pattern reminded you of a panshark, but you had no idea what it was holding in its mouth, and youâre pretty sure they didnât normally scream.
Oh well. Perhaps it was on the hunt for some prey or trying to find a mate. It's the time of the year, after all. But besides that, you had bigger fish to fry, and you let the waves comfort you as you head home.
The next morning as you prepare breakfast for you and your uncle, you nervously wonder how to strike up the conversation regarding your decision. After returning home the previous night, heâd already fallen asleep on the couch, snoring to the late night show on the television snail. Quiet as a mouse, youâd snuck into your room, letting your decision simmer and keep you up late into the night, burning the midnight oil as you began to pack up a few necessities and try to figure out how youâd break the news to him before the sun rises.
But now itâs well into morning, and you have no idea how to bring it up as he reads the paper, grumbling about pirates causing trouble across the East Blue again.Â
Before you can finally speak up, a peck at the window makes you bite your tongue, and both you and your uncle turn to see Doval sitting outside, perched upon the sill and waiting to be let in. You hurry to open it so he can hop inside with a satisfied hoot.
âHeâs back pretty early,â your uncle comments around his mug of coffee, and you agree, until you realize a note is sticking out of his satchel, and you quickly reach for it. âHm? Did Sanji write to you?â
You vaguely hear him, instead focused on the words inked on the paper.
My honeycomb,
By the time you get this from Doval, Iâm enroute to Cocoyashi Island to go save our navigator from Arlong. Luffy believes she is not evil, and I believe so, too. There was no way she could be on their side, not when she looked so lonely when I saw her.
And afterwards⊠I convinced Luffy to head to Landel, to pick you up.Â
I know I said I could never leave. I owe Zeff my life, I owe so much to the Baratie and all of those damn cooks. But thereâs so much out in the world, the Grand Line and everything beyond it. I want to find our dream.Â
Letâs go find the All Blue, you and me, together.
Yours,
Sanji
Sanji had made his choice.
Itâs becoming true, itâs real. Youâre going to set off into the unknown waters, adorning the name of a pirate at sea. Surprisingly, you feel rather calm for such a realizationâalmost numbâuntil you realize your uncle is still waiting for an answer. âYeah, yeah. He just wrote to me about some stuff that happened. You know, with that chore boy and whatnot.â
Your captain, you correct yourself in your mind. Oh, how the tables have turned.
He hums, before turning back to the paper, cutting his waffles on the side as he takes big bites at a time. A nervous breath quietly escapes youâheâs not suspicious of you, good.
Your eyes trail over Sanjiâs words one more time, just to make sure. The All Blue, the life of piracy, the sea, and the world well beyond your home. Just how will you break the news to your uncle, unaware of everything thatâs happened in the past few days? How will you tell him that youâll set out from home to the vast ocean in a matter of days, to become an enemy of the Marines and a criminal to many?
And of course, it comes to you in a sudden thoughtâone that pops into your head like a fish snagged on a hook.
Golden-Scaled Tilapia.
They're a species of fish highly raved about by anglers and cooks alike, with valuable scales that glimmer like gold and rich meat that are worth every berry of its high price. Traditionally, itâs cooked over flames with slices of pineapple stuffed into deep cuts along their bodies, with a sprig of rosemary and lavender in its mouth, said to signify protection out at sea. Itâs a meal youâve grown familiar with, enjoying it when some members of your crew who had departed to other islands and across the world, to even fellow fisherman across the island who have moved on. Without fail, theyâd follow this longtime tradition of fishermen and sailors as a heartfelt farewell.
Pirates, you clarify in your head, but itâs almost the same. But itâd be perfect and proper, before you set out to the seas, across the East Blue and to the waters far beyond it.
You hurry to pull out your fishing journal and unfold your map across your desk, checking for where they should be during this season. Theyâre not the most common around these parts, but itâs not impossible to catch, especially when there should be some close byâŠ
When you find your notes regarding said fish, you check the map, tracing the coordinates with your finger before you find it.
Organ Islands. Just a few miles eastward, and they should be plentiful due to their current migration season.
Itâs a perfect opportunity, and you have no time to waste.
⥠mutual pining, fluff, unintentional confession, botanist!reader, strawhat!reader, floriography/language of flowers, zoro gets lost again
⥠summary:
you end up drawing the short straw, but you don't mind when it's to go find your favorite swordsman.
Archive of Our Own
a/n: another short prompt from my bestie for her favorite man
[ Zoro gets lost and you drew the short straw, so it's up to you to bring him back to the sunny (but secretly you wanted to spend time w him anyway :>) ]
âGot the straws?âÂ
Usopp nods and salutes, holding up the nine straws in his other hand. âYes, maâam!â
Nami nods sharply in approval. âOk! Everyone on deck! You know what time it is!â
You hear an audible groan, courtesy of Sanji who then mutters a few curses under his breath. At that, you offer him a small smile as you go to stand next to him, appeasing his frown in an instant. The rest of the crew follow suit, and everyone, minus a certain someone, is in a circle at the center of the deck, Usoppâs arm outstretched so the straws are in the middle. One by one, everyone reaches for one, and you reach for the one that calls to you.
Unlike the chef, who whispers prayers to not pick the one with the painted tip, you secretly hope that the one pinched between your fingers has the little stripe of red at the end.
âAlright, one, two,â Nami counts down, and everyone waits with bated breath. âThree!â
You all pull the straws from Usoppâs hand, and to your surpriseâ
A stripe of red paints your chosen straw.
âLooks like youâre on Zoro Retrieval Duty!â Nami announces, and everyone looks unfazed, except for Sanji who looks equally relieved and guilty at your supposed misfortune. âTry to find him before dinner, but let us know if you canât find him by sundown!â
âNo worries, Nami. It canât be too hard to find him,â you reassure her, waving a hand. âIâll see you guys later!â
The crew bids you off and you make your way down the gang plank to head into town. From what Chopper had told you, Zoro had gone off to explore the forest further inland, curious about what it has to offer. So, you head deeper into the town, making your way across it before entering the forest past its gates. Thankful for the temperate climate of the island, you take in a deep breath, enjoying the warm sun and the fresh air that fills your lungs. Itâs a calm respite from the chaotic islands youâve visited before, and you bask in its peace. Youâre not quite sure if it will stay that way, and you keep your fingers crossed that trouble doesnât find you.
Or perhaps, Luffy doesnât find trouble in the next few nights youâre here.
Regardless, you take the time to traverse forest, following the dirt path as you listen for any sign of the swordsman. The trees seem endless as you continue forward, and eventually, they open up, revealing a beautiful stretch of green, speckled by a myriad of blooms and hues. Itâs a perfect spot to relax, itâs a perfect spot for a daytime nap.
âZoro!â you call out, scanning the meadow. The breeze makes the grass and flowers sway, the movement reminiscent of ocean waves that youâve grown accustomed to in the past few years of becoming a pirate.
Still, to this day, youâre not quite sure how fate had led you here. It had never been your plan to sail the seas. Originally, youâd lived a peaceful life, studying to become a botanist and having worked in your townâs research labs for years.Â
That is, until it had been taken over by your islandâs government. Theyâd forced you into corrupt projects that went against all your morals and ethics, yet you had no choice but to lower your head and follow their orders to survive.Â
For months, you had suffered quietly alongside your team, until a fateful day had arrivedâ the Straw Hats arrival to the island, and their rebellion against the evil ruler.
And of course, the one to save you from the lab was none other than the green-haired swordsman, Roronoa Zoro.
It had concerned you quite a bit when he had nearly led you back from the way he cameâaka, where heâd burst into the lab, a hoard of guards and enemies in tow. You had to lead him out of there and back to where his crew was in the aftermath of the battle, where you were introduced to everyone.
If not for your chance meeting with Zoro that led you to meeting the infamous captain of the Straw Hats, you would never have been invited to join the crew. You couldnât help it thoughâ not when Luffy was about to eat one of the most lethal fruits on the island. It snowballed from there, once Luffy realized you had all sorts of plant knowledge that even Robin commended on. It was helpful for himâ especially when there was so much native vegetation on the island that he didnât recognize, but smelled absolutely heavenly.
Yes, youâve had to stop Luffy from eating other poisonous plants that resembled grilled meat and yes, you had to do it multiple times during their stay in your hometown.Â
Same with Chopper, who had nearly eaten a deadly flower that looked and smelled like cotton candy.
That alone was enough for an invitation (along with Nami and Usopp pleading you to keep the crew safe), and itâs how you find yourself as the Straw Hatâs dedicated botanist. Did pirate crews normally take in botanists?Â
Well, you consider Robinâs role as the archaeologist, and realize perhaps maybe itâs fine.
But back to your current searchâcarefully, you trek through the meadow, you do your best to navigate around patches of dirt and grass, eyes scanning the picturesque scene until you notice something in the distance.
A hiltâthree, actually, stick up from the blooms, and as you grow closer to it, you find Zoroâs swords laid against a low tree stump, their owner lying comfortably in a patch of flowers. You canât help but chuckle at the irony of it, recognizing the blooms to be gladioli, as Zoro sleeps away unbothered on his back, hands behind his head as a makeshift pillow.Â
âZoro,â you murmur a bit quietly, crouching down next to him. âWake up. Itâs time to head back to the ship.â
At the sound of your voice, he grumbles a bit, but he cracks open his eye, blinking a few times before he focuses on you. âOh? Whenâd you get here?â
You offer him a small smile. âJust now. Did you have a good nap?â
With a grunt, he sits up, yawning as he stretches his arms above his head. âYeah. It was nice and peaceful. Couldnât just pass up on a nice spot like this.â
âItâs perfect for you, too,â you point out, and Zoro raises an eyebrow.
âWhat do you mean?â
You gesture to the flowers that surround him, gently swaying with the breeze. âTheyâre gladiolus flowers,â you explain, gently caressing one of them near you. âIn ancient languages, the word, gladius, means âlittle sword.â Quite fitting for a swordsman like you to be around them, donât you think?â
Zoro cracks a smile at that. âGuess so.â
You continue, âWarriors wore them around their necks for protection. Gently, you pick three and hold them in your hands. âTheyâre a symbol of strength and fierce loyalty.â
And with that, you offer them to him, holding out the bundle of flowers toward him. You watch as he sits up, eyeing them curiously until you flinch, realizing, âSorry. This must sound quite foolish for someone like you.â
Just as you go to pull away, Zoroâs hand wraps around yours, his fingers curling around your own as he stops you.Â
ââCourse not,â he mutters quietly as he takes the flowers into his own fingers. They look much smaller in his calloused hands and he peers down at them with a gentle look in his eyes. âThanks for teaching me.â
And your heart flutters at his words. âOf course.â
The sun melts into the expanse of the ocean by the time you return to town. Strolling through the dwindling foot traffic, you diligently stick by Zoroâs side, careful to keep him on the right path. While usually annoyed when someone corrects his path, he follows your lead without complaint, letting you reach out and tug on his arm to lead him down the right way. Heâd given you the flowers back to hold onto, in case the two of you were to be ambushed by enemies or bounty hunters.
You never thought heâd cared much about your ramblings or your knowledge of flowers, but something about the three little gladiolus flowers in your hands says otherwise, and you canât help but let the warm feeling bubble inside you as you make your way back to the ship.
At one point, you realize your footsteps have lost the echo of another, and you stop immediately, realizing that his presence is nowhere to be found. You sighâit really does only take a split second for him to sneak away somehow, and itâs rather impressive heâs able to achieve such a feat. To be fair, you shouldnât have been so distracted over the flowers in your hands or your bubbling emotions in your chest.
Feeling just a bit embarrassed, you backtrack, making sure to check every street and crossroad in search of the man, and you even go as far as peeking into the taverns and bars youâd passed by, wondering if he was just thirsty for some sake.
As soon as youâre turning around the corner, your heart leaps up as you crash into someoneâonly to yelp in surpriseââZoro!?â
He makes a startled sound, maneuvering one of his arms upwards and steadying you with his other as you barely catch yourself against him. âShitâsorry!â
You feel yourself grow warmâwhile one of your hands is still clutching the small bundle of gladioli, the other is splayed across Zoroâs bare chest. Fuck, fuck, your mind is going haywire at how firm his muscles are and how warm his skin feels under your fingertips and youâre absolutely mortified at your train of thought that continues down in a spiral.Â
âWhere did you go?â you muster out, hoping you donât sound frantic as you focus on the edge of his green coat and not his bare chest. He relaxes his hold on you, but makes no move to let go or step away.Â
âSaw something that caught my eye,â he answers nonchalantly with a small shrug. âDidnât think youâd come running into me.â
âHey, I was worried youâd end up back at the meadow with that compass of yours,â you joke lightly, tapping his forehead for emphasis. Zoro chuckles, and finally, he unwinds his arm from around you, and you take a small step back. âSo, did you find something?â
Zoro nods, revealing the little item of interest that heâd been holding onto this entire time.Â
A small potted cactus. An Alabastan Spire, to be more specific.
âFor you,â he says simply, and you shift the flowers to rest in the crook of your elbow, reaching out to accept the pot gently into your hands.Â
Your eyes land on the blooming flower at the side, the light pink petals beautifully flaring out despite the long needles that surround it.Â
âWhy⊠Why a cactus?â you ask curiously, knowing your voice trembles a bit. You canât help itânot when the botanist side of you pulls out any and all cactus related information from your brain in an instant, and the implications of it hitting you full blast. Floriography isnât your strongest suit, but you remember some meanings well enoughâincluding the meaning of gifting a blooming cactus. But to your surprise, a flush of pink dusts his cheeks, and as he turns his head away to avoid your gaze, you notice the tips of his ears are painted a similar hue. Your breath hitches as your heart beats faster.
âTheyâre resilient. Not sure if thatâs what they mean or symbolize, but it made me think of you,â he answers a bit bashfully, before he musters up the courage to finally meet your eyes. âDonât laugh.â
Rough and tough Supernova Roronoa Zoro may as well be pouting at this very moment, barely meeting your gaze with rosy cheeks, and you can't help but smile to the point your own cheeks hurt.
âI would never,â you breathe out, half in relief and half in adoration. âI love it. Thank you, Zoro.â
He perks up and grins, a beam of pride as he looks down at you. âGood. Now letâs head back. Iâm starving.â
With a smooth step, he takes the gladioli from your hands, before making his way down the path. With a chuckle, you shake your head before catching up to him, slipping an arm around his and tugging him the right way back home. With your arm entwined with his, and your new little cactus in your other hand, you make your way back to the Sunny by his side.
But youâd never tell him the true meaning of giving one a blooming cactus. Youâll save him the embarrassment, but perhaps one day itâd be a humorous story to tell him.
"In the Japanese tradition of Hanakotoba, giving the gift of a flower from a cactus is a clear way to indicate youâre sexually attracted towards someone due to its connection with lust." (thank you flower meaning dot com)
⥠established relationships, heart pirates!reader, angst, hurt and comfort
⥠warnings: violence, blood/injury
⥠summary:
you get hit by a nightmare-inducing devil fruit, and it's up to your boys to help bring you out of it.
you find yourself on swallow island once more, facing the nightmare that has haunted you since that fateful day.
Archive of Our Own
a/n: the first part of my nightmares fic!! i love some angst and hurt and comfort for my favorite trio <3
When you open your eyes, youâre met with the snowy, snowy forest. One blanketed in a familiar white, one that makes you sick to your core.
It doesnât make sense. It canât be real. But it looks the exact same as it did back then. The same place you were, just moments before the bomb had gone off, nearly taking both Penguin and Shachiâs lives, thirteen years ago.
You were fourteen, the same age as Shachi, just a year younger than Penguin. surviving in a small little shack, deep in the white forests of Swallow Island. It was a little bit after running away from Shachiâs terrible relatives, you recall. Youâd somehow survived for a few months or so, living off of foraged berries and edible plants while the other two hunted and fished.Â
The town was just a bit away by foot, but you never dared to approach the town bathed in warmth, always hiding in the snow and forest, even when people would trek and travel to the ports a few miles away. There was no way they would welcome you back, not with what you had done, what you all had been forced to do. But the three of you had each other, and that was enough.
You remember that day clearly, the frigid cold biting your fingertips with gloves much too thin for the weather. Penguin had given you one of his scarves, wrapping it around your neck to keep you warm, and you clung onto his scent, letting it comfort you as you trudged through the snow. There wasnât much nearby, and youâd gone deeper into the woods to find more food; herbs and mushrooms that you learned were edible from some old books that the two had gotten you.
Stolen, probably, but you knew they had no other choiceânone of you did. You didnât say anything when Penguin gave them to you, only smiling and thanking him instead. Equipped with a little woven basket, youâd set out, promising to return before nightfall.
But that never came. You never met them at sundown to cook the fish they caught or to doze off afterwards, sandwiched between them and bundled in the threaded blankets you had to share to stave off the cold. You couldnât curl up against Penguinâs side, clinging to him as the cold storm howled in the dark night, listening to the remnants of the tiny fire crackle and fizzle out as the night stretched on.
Youâre not the child you once were.Â
Youâre fitted in your boilersuit, youâre twenty-six, and in moments, the explosion will go off andâ
BOOM!!
The tremors of the bomb shake your entire soul, making the white forest tremble. The heavy sound bellows in your ears, just like it did all those years ago, leaving behind a high pitch ring in the aftermath that pierces your head.
It fills your stomach with a familiar dreadâone that youâve never quite learned how to move past from.Â
It doesnât stop your feet from moving through, heading towards the trail of smoke that wisps upwards from the treeline ahead. The scent of gunpowder and smoke fills your nose as you near, and itâs only when you reach where your home once was that you realizeâ
âPenguin⊠ShachiâŠâ their names leave your lips, but the scene in front of you is not as you remember it.
The boar lays dead and bloodied in the snow, and the cabin the three of you had worked so hard to build from wood and scrap is half destroyed. And in front of it all, are Penguin and Shachi, the grown-up versions of them who are pirates, your crewmates, who lay bloodied and still against the clean white of the snow. Shachi lays unmoving, surrounded by red that blossoms from his torso, and Penguinâ
Your name is gasped in his voice. Itâs just like back then, when he was still conscious when you found him. With shaking legs, you run to his side, falling to your knees in front of him, reaching out to cradle his head in your lap.
âShachi⊠HeâsâŠâ Penguinâs voice dies as you turn to look at the redhead, buried in snow that quickly turns crimson around him. âDead.â
His blue, blue eyes, dulling with each moment, stare up at the sky, and you grasp at his handâ his left handâwhile you desperately try not to look at his detached arm just a few feet away. âHeâs notââ
âYou⊠You left us here to die,â Penguin groans, his voice broken as he tilts his head upwards. You feel your limbs lock up, fear washing over you in a cold, cold wave.
Is that what he said back then? Did he blame you?
âItâs your fault we ended up like this. Itâs your fault Shachiâs dead and Iâll be dead soon.â
âNo, no, no thatâs not true,â you canât help but quickly say, shaking your head as tears threaten to fall. Everything starts to blurânothing seems real, but at the same time, you canât deny the way the ice bites at your legs where theyâre buried into the snow, the warmth of Penguinâs blood seeping through your hands. The fear you feel is the same as the one so long ago. âThatâs not true, you guys are ok andââ
âShachiâs dead,â Penguin repeats, and you finally realize his eyes, dark like the bottom of the sea, stare directly into your very soul. âYou left us to die. You killed him. You killed me.â
Snow falls. Or perhaps itâs ash. Shachiâs body lies incredibly still just a few feet away.
âI didnât, I didnât!â you plead, holding him closer, eyes glued to where his arm is bleeding out, a crimson flow that seems endless through your fingers. âI didnât leaveâI didnât kill you guys. Law and Bepo came and saved you andââ
âTheyâre not coming.â
His words cut through you like a knife. And heâs right. Law and Bepo should have been here by now. Theyâd arrived while Penguin was still conscious, while there was less blood splattered across the snow underneath your fingers. You remember seeing them, blurry through your tears as they stared at the scene in horror, only hesitating for a moment as you pleaded for their help through thick sobs.
But a chilling silence fills the air instead. The forest surrounding you turns dark, trees growing impossibly taller, caging you in slowly.Â
You know that the forest wasnât like this. You know Law and Bepo come, bursting through the trees and into the clearing, you know all this yetâ
The memory slips away from your fingers like sand, the line between imagination and reality blurring violently. Scrambling for the truth, you rack your head for memories of the past, your crew and Law and Bepo and Penguin and Shachi and Wolf andâ
Who?
Who is Wolf? What crew?
Everything turns blank.
What happened?Â
Did you actuallyâŠ
Panic overwhelms you in an instantâyou donât remember, you donât remember anything. All you know is that Shachi is dead because of you, and Penguin is dying in your arms, and you canât do anything about it.Â
Had you truly killed them in the past? Could you have protected them if you were with them?
Penguinâs eyes grow dull and gray and his head lolls over your lap, his hatâhis precious hatâsoaking into the puddle of blood that grows and grows around you.
âPenguinâŠ?â you whisper, your throat tight and your hands growing still. âPenguinââ
And all of a sudden, youâre surrounded by an ocean of blood red. It soaks through the legs of your own boiler suit and stains Shachi and Penguinâs white and theyâre both still and dead and lying on the groundâ
Their blood seeps into the fabric, an oozing warmth that makes your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. And suddenly, they both slowly sink into the sea of red, and your fingers barely grasp at Penguinâs boilersuit until heâs disappeared from under your very fingertips. Your hands are drenched in warm, sick redâis it Shachiâs or Penguinâs? No matter, the crimson stains your skin all the same, like a persistent reminder of your responsibility, of your failure.Â
Youâre alone.
You close your eyes, curling into yourself, chin digging into your chest as your fingers claw at your headâNo! No, you didnât kill them, you swear you didnât kill them back then butâ
Theyâre dead. Theyâre dead and gone and cold and lifeless and youâre alone and itâs your fault.
âNo! This isnât real!â you cry out, voice muffled as you tremble, an overwhelming grief cutting through your very being. âItâs not true, itâs not trueâI didnât mean to kill themâIââ
Something grabs your shoulders, but you can only choke on a sob that shakes your entire core, a desperate cry as white noise fills your ears. Your chest hurts, inexplicably tearing itself in half, a pain that severed anything left that was keeping you on the ground. All your thoughts are a scrambled, broken mess, as despair takes you whole, drowning you in grief.
You scream and cry, denial and pleads rushing out from your lips, apologies repeated like a desperate prayer as your voice grows hoarse and broken.Â
Words can only mean so muchâyou have them in spades, but it wonât bring them back. It doesnât stop you from begging and crying, more than willing to spiral into oblivion if thereâs even a sliver of a chance to bring them back.
Vaguely, you hear the shape of your name, formed in his voice, and fingers dig into your arms but you just canât help another sob that claws its way out from your chest, heaving breaths struggling to fill the air your lungs lack.
You hear your name againâloud and unshakenâwords taking shape in your ears. The voice pleads, âPlease, you have to snap out of it!â
You close your eyes, willing your head to stop showing you his lifeless bodyâhis name, stitched in black, which has turned an ugly color of wine. Itâs burned into your eyes, no matter how hard you will it to be erased from your very thoughts.
Heâs dead and you killed him because you werenât strong enough and you left him and Shachi to die andâ
Arms surround you, pulling you into a crushing hug that makes you finally open your eyes.
He died in your arms, it canât be. His blood stains your hands and heâs gone, heâs gone.Â
But you'd recognize his scent anywhereâhis comforting scent of oak and rain and home. It clears your vision, just for a moment, grounding you slightly from your descent into a winding misery.
âWeâre safe, Iâm here with you, I promise! You didnât hurt me or Shachi or anyoneâPlease, wake up!â Penguinâs voice cuts through the silence, each word dripping with desperation that you cling to. âItâs a nightmare from a Devil Fruit. You have to fight it!â
Youâre silent for a moment, letting the words sink in, bringing you out of your head, clearing away the red. He whispers your name, and you let out a trembling breath, your heart still pounding in your chest, pain keeping its thorny vines tight around your heart.
âA nightmareâŠ?â you mutter, and he nods, arms tightening around your frame. âPenguin?â
âNone of this is real.â He pulls away slightly, and you finally meet his gaze. Penguinâs eyes, like sapphires dipped into the great blue sea, stare into yours, alive and determined. The same eyes youâve fallen in love with, that you lost yourself in during quiet nights spent in each otherâs arms. âYou canât get swallowed up by it.â
His hands come up to cup your face. His thumb wipes away the tears trailing down your cheeks, and you canât help but rest your hands over his, warmth spreading from his palms to your cold, cold skin. âItâs not real. You can fight itâI know you can. You gotta wake up, alright?â
âPenguinâŠâ you mutter his name once more, watching as his lips curve into the same smile that heâs always given you.
âAll of us are waiting for you,â he whispers. âWeâre here. Iâm here with you, always.â
Itâs not real. Itâs all just a terrible dream. Penguin and Shachi and Law and Bepo are all safeâ
Theyâre safe.Â
Theyâd stood by your side over the years, sailing the seas onboard the Polar Tang, growing stronger, growing older together.
With the crew, with Penguin.
They had never died in that snowy grave, they had never suffered a terrible fate from that explosion.
They were okay. They were waiting for you.Â
Penguinâs body begins to fade into white, but before panic can grip you once more, you watch as all the red begins to melt away, revealing the white, white snow once more. A young Penguin and Shachi are lying upon it, and you recognize your child self, crouched in the snow beside them, begging them to wake up in broken sobs and pleads.
But footsteps approach from behind, a young Law and Bepo arriving at the scene, hurrying to the three of you, carrying your two friends towards the light, with you following close behind.
Itâs as it happened before. Itâs the past, playing out in front of youâof your friends being saved and alive and well.
Your vision blurs, a blinding light growing brighter and brighter, and you let it sweep you away, before everything turns dark.
Like all the air rushing back into your lungs, you find yourself awake in an instant, heart pounding fast with adrenaline and fear that makes you sit upright. A cold sweat covers your entire body, and your vision blurs as you gasp in a heaving breath.
âPenguinââÂ
âIâm here, Iâm here.â Heâs at your bedside, leaning over in an instant, and despite how disoriented and exhausted you feel, you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your face into his chest. He welcomes it, shifting from the chair and to the edge of your bed so he can properly wrap his arms around you, rubbing soothing circles over your back.Â
You murmur his name, muffled against the fabric of his boiler suit, and he leans down to whisper into your ear, Iâm right here, you did it, you woke up, youâre safe, breathing in deeply, in a way that has you unconsciously following his rhythm, filling your lungs with much needed air.
Once you calm down a little, Penguin sits back, sliding his hand into yours while you lean your head against his chest, catching your breath. âCap is here, too.â
You let out one deep breath before you lift your head, finally meeting Lawâs furrowed gaze from where heâs standing near the doorway.
âLawâŠâ
âAre you alright?â Law asks, his voice soft, though tinged with concern. He crouches next to your bedside. âThere was a Devil Fruit user who had hit you with his powers. They said it would induce the victimâs worst nightmare, but it could also allow others to enter your dreams in that state.â
âSoâŠâ The words process in your head, and you look at Penguin. âWas thatâŠâ
âI was there,â Penguin reassures you softly. âYou werenât waking up so I went inside your dreams.â
That was him. Penguin was there, not the dream version of him, where he and Shachiâ
It flashes in your head like a gruesome reminder, him and Shachi lying motionless on the ground.Â
âIf⊠If you hadnât come, I donât think I wouldâve been able to wake up,â you admit honestly, voice shaking. It has all felt too real. How could you detach yourself from what could have been reality? The chill in your bones, numbness of your fingers, the warmth of their blood on your handsâ
It was just like it was back thenâit was almost real.
âYouâre safe, now.â Penguin smiles at you, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand comfortingly. âNone of it was real, alright?â
You nod, but even that small motion has your head pounding, a spike of pain making you wince.
âWhatâs wrong?â Law asks, noticing immediately, steely eyes peering into yours.Â
âHead hurts,â you muster out, and you watch as he summons a Room, shambling some painkillers and a water bottle into his hand.
âTake these and get some rest,â he instructs you, dumping out two pills in your hand before handing you the water. âIf anything feels off or youâre in pain, inform me right away.â
âI will,â you acquiesce quietly, before swallowing the pills. The water is a much needed respite for your dry throat, and you finish half the bottle before Penguin takes it to put it on your bedside table.
âCaptain,â Penguin starts softly. âCould you call Shachi in for us?â
Law nods. âRest. Weâre safe now, so donât worry about anything.â He lays a hand over yours, squeezing it reassuringly. Itâs a simple gesture, but it means everything to you.
âThank you,â you whisper, and he takes his leave, the door clicking quietly behind him.
Your heart calms, and you sink deeper into Penguinâs warm, protecting arms. Heâd situated himself to sit back against the wall, pulling you towards him so you were on his lap, arms wrapped around your middle. The sound of his heartbeat, soft yet constant, is a much needed reassurance.
A small knock at your door has you sitting up slowly, a quiet âcome inâ that youâre not sure is loud enough for him to hear. But the door opens, revealing a nervous Shachi, who looks relieved upon seeing youâre awake.
âThank goodness, both of you are alâright!?â As he was breathing out a sigh of relief, youâd untangled yourself from Penguin, launching yourself at the redhead whoâd stumbled for only a moment before steadying the both of you. His arms automatically wrap around your smaller frame, and he blinks down at you in confusion, feeling the soft trembles and your shaky breath against his chest.Â
âIâm sorry,â you whisper into his chest, and he holds you tighter at your words. âIâm so sorry.â
Thereâs a moment of hesitation, and you vaguely feel Shachi lift his headâ no doubt looking at Penguin. Yet he focuses on you in an instant, arms rubbing your back soothingly after his moment of shock passes.
âEverythingâs ok,â Shachi reassures you gently, pulling away slightly so he can take a good look at you. His red eyes peek out from his glasses, and you take in a shaky breath once he grins, toothy and wide. Heâs here, heâs alive, heâs safe. âYou donât have to apologize for anything, alright?â
It takes everything in you to not utter another apology again, and you dig your nose deeper into his boilersuit instead, tightening your arms around him as he holds you. You stay there for a few more moments, composing yourself and ready to lower the walls that have been built up in your panic. Letting out a shuddering breath, you pull away slightly, ready to speak.
âIt was a nightmare of back then,â you whisper, and the two know immediately, of course. Itâs always haunted you, despite escaping unscathed. âBoth of you died.âÂ
Shachi ushers you to sit back on the bed, and Penguin pulls you into his arms once more. Your gaze flickers to the man as you melt into his hold. âIt was my fault, and you blamed me. For killing both of you.â
âThatâs not true,â Shachi interjects, shaking his head. His hand finds yours. âWe never blamed you for what happened. Of course not.â
âI know, but whatever that Devil Fruit wasâŠâ You let out a frustrated sigh. âIt messed with my head. Iâm⊠Iâm better now.â
âRegardless, it wasnât your fault. It was an accident that we caused,â Penguin reminds you gently. âHonestly, we were both glad you werenât there to get hurt by it.â
Shachi nods, and while youâre still not fully convinced, itâs hard to doubt them, as you meet his honest gaze behind dark frames and feel Penguinâs embrace tighten around your frame.Â
They stay like that for awhile, comforting you with their words and their touches, reminding you of their presence, that theyâre alive and here with you. The panic that once edged your emotions eventually retreated, leaving you exhausted. But you can think a little clearer than before, which leads to your next realizationâŠ
âWait, how long have I been asleep for?â you ask, suddenly nervous. âIt wasnât for long, was it?â
âJust a few hours,â Shachi tells you. âItâs nighttime, right now.â
Shit.Â
Sitting up slightly, you pull yourself from Penguinâs arms. âIâm supposed to be on night watch tonightââ
âNope!â Shachi stops you with a small smile. âIâm taking care of that tonight. Just focus on getting better, alright?âÂ
âShachiâŠâ
âYour bedâs comfier than the nav room,â Shachi teases lightheartedly. âItâs fine, seriously. Tomorrow you can help me with maintenance around the ship, âkay?â
âAlright,â you give in, after a beat of hesitation. âThank you, Shachi.â
He gives you a blinding grin, ruffling your hair gently. âSpeaking of, I should get going for that, but you make sure to just take it easy!â His arm wraps around you in a quick squeeze before heâs heading out your door in a few long strides.Â
A few moments pass before Penguin begins to move from your arms.
âI should get going, too,â Penguin sighs, untangling himself from your arms to get off your bed. âIâll let you restââ
You grasp onto Penguinâs sleeveâjust a pinch of fabric has him freezing in his tracks as he looks to you.
âStay with me?â Your voice drops to a whisper. âPlease?â
Who is he to deny you? His heart clenches at your quiet tone, and he quickly finds himself returning to your side. âOf course.â
Instead of leaning back on your bed, you crawl under your covers, to which he joins you after shedding his boilersuit and throwing it over your chair, leaving him in a simple black tank top and boxers. The bed isnât big by any means, so he squeezes in tight, yet comfortably by your side. Itâs easy for you to nestle yourself against him, and he holds you close, sighing as you slot yourself against him, basking in your shared warmth.
âIâll be here with you,â Penguin murmurs quietly, a hand petting your hair gently. âSleep. Iâll protect you.â
âIâll protect you, tooâŠâ you mumble, a wave of exhaustion hitting you suddenly, lulled by his warmth and the sound of his steady heart. âI'll get stronger so I can.â
Penguin chuckles, soft but deep. âYouâre already strong.â
âNot enough,â you whisper back, so vulnerable. âI canât lose you.â
One of Penguinâs hands comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing against the apple of your cheek. âYou wonât. It's you and me, always. You havenât forgotten that, have you?â
âOf course not.â You shake your head lightly. âYou and me.â
âAlways.â His promise is a soft whisper, before he leans down to kiss you. It's a gentle kiss, one thatâs different from his playful onesâitâs a vow, engraving all of him into your very heart, making you memorize everything encompassing your lover.
He sighs against your lips as he parts, and you sink into his hold in a bliss as you catch your breath.
Just as sleep begins to take you, lips press against your forehead, a ghost of a touch that makes your heart burn like the world is on fire.
âSleep well,â Penguin murmurs into your hair.
And you let yourself sink away into the depths of slumber, knowing that youâre safe in his arms.
Always a duo, never far from the other. You're by his side as he is yours when it comes to sailing the ocean blue or during the late nights of cooking up new dishes in the empty kitchen of the Baratie.
But what are you to do when a certain boy donning a straw hat comes crashing into his life and yours, promising a dream of adventure and a chance to find your All Blue?
Archive of Our Own
a/n: part 2 has arrived! should I do a taglist? (unsure how it works but I assume I just @ people who want to be notified of new chapters). let me know if you want to be added! as always, likes/reposts/comments are greatly appreciated <3
Apart from the days you deliver fresh stock to the Baratie, you donât get to see Sanji for the rest of the week. Which is probably for the better nowadays in particularâyouâd probably lose your mind, having to watch him ogle at women and hear him bicker constantly with Zeff and the rest of the cooks. Â
(Plus, it gives you a much needed break, to silence your thoughts that seem to only revolve around him.)
Absence might make the heart grow fonder, but his constant presence at your side might make it explode.
Regardless, youâre still busy with your own responsibilities with helping your uncle. The day starts early as alwaysâgetting up before dawn and sailing towards the town port to meet with the rest of your small crew. You go over the target catches for the day, which depends on the Baratieâs orders or whatâs in season to sell in town. They seldom change over the years, so itâs easy to chart a route to take before you follow it.Â
As you make your way along the route, the boat drags along the trawl, the large net tossed out to capture whateverâs in its path. At each designated checkpoint, you toss crab traps into the water, marked by the large floating buoys that youâll come by later to pick up. And in between each trap, you sit out on the deck, casting out your own line to see what you can catch. Some days you play it simple with a simple bobber and bait, other days you like to cast out one of your many lures. Usually, you manage to reel up different species that arenât caught easily in the trawls, keeping them for dinner that night or saving them for Sanji if theyâre rarer kinds of fish.Â
Once quota is reached, you head back towards town, where business truly begins. The markets are busy as always, and the hours sail by as customers haggle as much as they can. You head off to go trade and bargain with the other market sellers, getting some good deals on produce and meats for the fish youâd caught, while your uncle and the crew man your usual stand at the docks.
Afterwards, you head home with your uncle, where, as usual, youâre greeted by Doval, who sits on your windowsill waiting patiently for you to let him in. Heâs a small barn owl, barely the size of a cannonball, that you had found hiding away near your private dock one day, an injured wing keeping him curled up in the pile of nets and ropes thrown off to the side. While heâd been cautious of you at first, the little spark of trust he had was all it took for you to help nurse him back to health. Even as you opened the door to let him go, he insisted on staying by your side ever since, happily indulging in a warm home and the nuts and seeds youâd always offer him. Some days heâll tag along on fishing trips out to sea, but he usually prefers to explore the island on his own, bringing back little trinkets and pebbles and shells he finds.
As soon as you open the window, he chirps in greeting as he flies around your head, perching on top of your shoulder, to which you reach up to scratch his chin.
âHello to you, too,â you greet softly, and you let him hop off so he sits on your desk. A little satchel is slung around his body, and you reach into the pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper.Â
âDid he feed you more seeds?â you ask curiously, and he merely ruffles his feathers, to which more seeds shake out from the pack. With a chuckle, you gather them up in a little pile for him to peck at as you unfold the letter.
Occasionally, heâll fly out to the Baratieâsomething youâd taught him not too long ago. It had taken some patience and a whole lot of seeds, but heâd finally acquiesced to finding the floating restaurant, specifically the window of Sanjiâs quarters. To your surprise, he was not as friendly as heâd let on to the poor boy, immediately pecking at him during their first meeting. It was only when Sanji had fed him some grains and seeds as a peace offering that the owl had dropped all hostility in an instant. If not on top of your head, heâd find comfort upon Sanjiâs, much to the boyâs dismay. But you know secretly he has a soft spot for the little owl, even going as far as to make him little snacks that fit his diet perfectly.Â
Normally, youâd send him letters about anything, ranging from the dayâs events, no matter how trivial they are, to ideas for recipes or even a new fish you wanted to reel up. Youâd sent one last night, along with a copy of a tiramisu recipe that youâd found among the old cookbooks resting in your bookshelves. Sure, you could call him using the Transponder Snail, but you were well aware that both your uncle and Zeff had complained about how youâd hog the snails for hours on end, racking up the phone bill and being subject to endless teasing. It wasn't hard to turn to your second option of communication.
You unfold the paper, letting Doval hop to his little makeshift nest as you sit back and read Sanjiâs familiar handwriting.
My honeycomb,
The cookbooks youâve lent me have been wonderful to experiment on. If only the old man would give them a try, I think it would do him good to put something new on the menu, even if itâs just a new dessert item. Iâll make sure to get the freshest coffee beans in the next shipment so I can make a sweet treat for my even sweeter honeycomb.
Apart from that, it was another busy evening. I hope your day was as lovely as the spring blooms. Zeff received some floral arrangements to decorate the tables, and they reminded me of you.Â
Theyâve inspired me to try experimenting with some edible flowers. Maybe we could take a trip to the mainland together to forage for some, a nice outing with my honeycomb would lift my spirits. I think theyâd pair well with some sea bass, or perhaps even some scallops, and we can use them to top the tiramisu as well.Â
Perhaps we can go this coming weekend in the late morning. I can come meet you at port and we can spend some time together. I look forward to it, let me know.
Yours,
Sanji
While itâs rare, there are days heâd come to you on the mainland, on the hunt for ingredients and inspiration in your little hometown. Youâd always accompany him, knowing the best vendors and farmers to do business with. He always craved your input on certain seafood dishes, while he taught you any and all sorts of cooking techniques. As mundane as it was, you always cherished these outings, basking in the normalcy as you shopped through the markets or went out into the forest to forage.
But, as youâve gotten older, youâve had to remind yourself more and more often that these trips werenât dates. No matter how many times he bumps shoulders with yours, no matter how easily he puts a hand around your waist to lead you away from busy foot traffic. Theyâre just little outings, two close friends shopping around town or walking through the meadows and forests deeper inland to forage for wild ingredients.
They werenât dates. Of course they werenât.
Itâs easier to tell yourself that when he flirts with any lady who passes by, fawning over her beauty with hearts in his eyes and a sweet tongue while you slip away into the crowd or to the food stall next door.Â
It's not so easy when the granny at the little vegetable stand, the one who always gives Sanji a discount for sharing cooking tips and helping her with the heavier stock, coos at how you two look as a couple, you force a smile and shake your head, ignoring the bitter taste in your mouth. Sanji chuckles, before voicing similarly.Â
Youâre not a couple, but at least you got some fresh squash and asparagus for cheap.
He holds the groceries in one arm, persistent on not letting you carry any, while his free hand slips into yours, so you can lead him to the little bakery across the street where they serve one of the best macaroons youâve had in your life.Â
Does he also think about how your hand fits perfectly in his? Does it make him feel warm inside, just as it does for you?
Youâre not a couple, but itâs hard to ignore the way his fingers tighten around yours, mimicking the feeling in your chest when he gives you a smile that makes his eyes crinkle, like heâs staring at a brilliant sun.
And when you return to the Baratie, you talk with him like youâve known him forever, like youâre his lover and maybe something more than a friend as he cooks up dinner for the two of you to eat under the stars. And of course, it comes with dessertâ the very same tiramisu heâs cooked just for you, topped with sweet nectar blooms, the same flower that heâd plucked from the meadow, tucking one behind your ear as well.
Youâre not a couple, but itâs becoming harder and harder to differentiate the fine line between friends and lovers, and how part of you desperately wants the latter, as he feeds you like youâre his everything.
Itâs so, so sweet, and all you can do is to indulge in your fantasies.
Sanji wonders, as he watches you sail away on your little boat across the sea of stars, if you long for him, just as he does for you. The taste of tiramisu, the sweet scent of nectar blooms, your pink lips and your serene smile.
Sleep evades him that night as he imagines you in his thoughts. Your warmth, your kindness, your smile.Â
And he closes his eyes, looking forward to the next time heâll see you again, the next time that he can slip his hand into yours.
The Baratie brings in a variety of customers. Youâve spoken to rich misters and madams, to high-ranking Marine officers, even to top-tier business owners and their partners. Usually, they offer up pleasantries and gratitude as you smile, and sometimes they even indulge you with fine tips and grand stories.
But some days, youâre greeted by unpleasant ones. Ones with too much money to flaunt, ones who have too much blood on their hands, ones where their gazes sink down a little too low. Itâs the reason why Zeff never hired waitresses, knowing exactly what they could be subjected to in a place like the middle of the sea. But with your persistent offer to help and the lack of waitstaff on a regular basis, he couldnât say no with full reservations booked out for months.
Usually, in these cases, the other waiters would notice first, making sure to take over those tables for you. It was just your luck that all of them were busy, so you have no choice but to head to the table as soon as they make eye contact with you, a duo of fishmen who have smiles that spell out nothing but trouble.
You greet them as you normally do, smiling awkwardly as one of them leans in a bit too close to you, staring at you a bit too intensely for your liking. A pit forms in your stomach, but you steel yourself and continue.
âWhat can I get you, sir?â you ask as politely as you can, and he grins, a cheshire grin that makes shivers run down your spine.
âYou choose for me, girl,â his voice oozes disgustingly, and you feel your skin crawl as you muster a nervous laugh. âAnd maybe you could stay here, too.â
âI can recommend you our dinner special, sir,â you try to suggest, yet he shakes his head.
âCâmon, youâre a cute little waitress,â he coos, his buddy snickering from across the table. âMaybe once youâre done working we can grab a drink together, Iâll take you back on our ship, whaddya say?â
âNo thank you,â you decline, and before you can ask them for their orders once more, a hand grips at your wristâ his claws digging into your skin, piercing it easily that makes you cry out. Any stronger, then perhaps he could break your wrist with even a little more force.
Hushed silence covers the dining floor, and you feel the burning gaze of other customers as they watch with thinly veiled curiosity. As usual, the customers always love dinner and a show, but the white hot pain that shoots up your wrist is anything but amusing.
âThatâs not the right answer,â he growls, eyes flashing with vivid annoyance, but you steady your own glare, ignoring the way blood drips down your wrist. âTry again, girl.â
Before you can find your voice to demand them to leave, you feel a presence behind you appearing suddenly, a reassuring hand on your shoulder. You donât have to look to see who it is, a familiar waft of tobacco and citrus reaching your nose.
âThatâs no way to speak to a lady.â
The two fishmen click their tongues, their attention shifting away from you. As soon as his grip falters, youâre quick to pull your hand away from the manâs grasp, wincing as you cradle your wrist, stinging pain erupting from where his claws had dug in. âHuh? And who the hell are you?â
âThe sous chef,â Sanji declares roughly, still balancing a plate of appetizers in his left hand while he steps in front of you. His eyes flit towards your wrist for a split second, and his glare deepens. âAnd I ask that you leave this restaurant for assaulting our staff.âÂ
âOr else what?â the fish man challenges, with a threatening glare that rivals Sanjiâs. âYou canât possibly kick me out when I'm a customerââ
His words are cut off with a cry of pain, Sanjiâs leg raised high to smash against his face. The fishman falls, hands grasping at the table, and only bringing the tablecloth down with him. His acquaintance quickly gets up, glaring at Sanji before he charges, yelling as he pulls his arm back to punch the blonde.
Sanji is quick to dodge the clumsy punch, lifting his leg before delivering a punishing axe kick on the manâs arm. The other, quickly getting to his feet, has no time to react as the blonde man pivots his body, aiming a roundhouse kick to his head, sending both men to the ground in a heap. The other patrons watch with surprise and fear at the sudden display of violence, hushed whispers filling the dining room as they groan painfully.Â
Sanji sneers down at them, still holding the plate in his hand as he fixes the collar of his shirt. He serves them to the table next to him with an apologetic smile, before turning back to the mess at his feet.
âGet lost,â he threatens, letting the other waiters take care of them before he turns to you. âCâmon, letâs get you back in the kitchen.â
Thereâs still a ruckus as the waiters all grab at the fishmen to kick them out, but you eventually let him lead you back, gentle fingers wrapping around your uninjured hand as he tugs you across the dining floor, disappearing behind the kitchen doors.Â
Itâs not the first time something like this has happenedâ not when youâve been around unruly pirates. While most of the customers seem to enjoy the bouts of violence and excitement, you were never a fan. It was always a game you hated to play, never knowing how they may react, despite your polite refusals. Itâs harder when you help out as a waitress around the Baratie, where your option of fighting back is not the most professional. Sure, Zeff had told you it was alright for you to defend yourself in any case, but you always tried not to, in fear youâd damage the restaurant or ruin its reputation in any way shape or form.Â
Sanji sits you down at the table at the corner of the kitchen, before he quickly gets the small first aid kit hung up on the wall. Some other chefs crowd around you, asking questions and checking in on you, but Sanji is quick to shoo them away as he gets to work. Soaking a clean rag with alcohol, he presses it to your wrist, gently whispering to you as you hiss at the sting. With deft hands, heâs quick to apply some balm, before bandaging them so theyâre not too tight against your skin. Whatever heâd applied had numbed the pain a bit, and you thank him as soon as he makes sure the bandage is secure.
With one last check, he finally puts everything away and goes to put up the kit, returning with a warm steaming mug of tea that one of the cooks had prepared for you, to which you cradle in your hands. One sip, and it eases your strung-up nerves in an instant, the familiar blend of herbs and spice calming you down.
âTake as much time as you need,â he reassures you, before he gets back to work, swapping out his chef jacket to go wait your tables. You quickly grab his wrist, heart sinking to the pit of your stomach once you realize his intent, and you shake your head.Â
âIâm fine,â you insist. âYou donât need toââ
âHoneycomb,â he interrupts you, squeezing your hand. âJust until everythingâs in the clear. Zeff is probably still kicking them out as we speak.â
âButââ
âItâs alright,â Sanji breathes out, a small smile on his lips. âIâll be back in here once everythingâs cleaned up.â
And the words die on your lips, watching as he turns around to head out of the kitchen, leaving the vet place where he belongs.Â
All because of you.
But heâs rightâyou take another sip of tea and let out a shuddering breath, feeling your fingers tremble lightly against the mug in your hands, the nervous jitter that continues to shake your entire frame.
Calm down, you tell yourself. You need to get back out there as soon as possible.
A few of the chefs check in on you, and after you chat a bit with Patty and Carne who reassure you with bright grins, you return to the floor once more, relieved that the two fishmen are gone, replaced by a new couple of customers who appear much friendlier than the duo. You pick up the few tables that you had, shooing away Sanji to the back, once you reassure him youâre alright, and youâre able to finish for the dinner shift without more trouble for the rest of the evening.
By the time the last of the customers leave, the cooks and waiters are cleaning up, and you find yourself at the little table in the corner once more, finally catching a break after the busy night.
As they begin to filter out, eager to rest after another long day, Sanji comes to your side, flopping onto the chair across from yours before he pulls out a cigarette and lighter from his pocket. He lights it in an instant, igniting it within cupped hands, before he takes a deep inhale, slipping the lighter back into his pocket.
âYou can always kick out lowlife pirates like them,â Sanji mumbles, before exhaling, a puff of smoke dissipating around him. âYou and I know full well you couldâve kicked their asses.â
You could have.Â
The life of a fisherman is not as kind to you as you wish. Having to share the seas alongside pirates, youâve had plenty of times you had to raise arms and fight. Your uncle had taught you to wield a glaive since you were young, and while you werenât the most skilled like Marine soldiers and other pirates, youâre well aware that you can hold your own when it comes to combat.
But itâs different here, at the Baratie. Here, youâre at the customerâs beck and call. Here, is a place for those to eat, to help them if they starve.Â
Itâs a safe space. It should be a safe space for those who simply want to eat. There is no place for such violence here, and the last thing you want to do is taint this sacred place with spilled blood, even if the owner and chefs are former pirates themselves.
You shake your head. âI know, just donât want to cause more trouble for you or Zeff, though.â
âLike youâd ever,â he chuckles, smoke escaping with his breath. Guilt runs through you as you watch, white wisps curl against his lipsâ the very ones you always wondered how theyâd taste on yours.
(Itâs not the first time youâve had such thoughtsâand it surely wonât be the last.)
But it will never be reciprocated, not with the way he butters up to any woman he sees. Itâs something youâve come to realize, the older you got, the more he learned how to please the ladies who walked into the Baratie.
Youâve learned how to ignore the twinge of annoyance (and jealousy, to your dismay) whenever you see him lean just a little too close to the ladies he serves. You wonder what goes on in his mind as he coos saccharine words to please them, when theyâre dressed to the tens and caked with makeup that makes them look picture perfect. You wonder if heâd ever recite those words to you, even if youâre a far cry from the pampered and pretty.
Instead of smooth hands adorned with big jewels and sparkling diamonds, yours are littered with scars and calluses, and on darker days, even blood of pirates who have tried to raid your ship. Your hands, that know how to reel in a kingswordfish the size of a horse, also know how to fight a dance of death.Â
They're the hands of a woman that Sanji would never want to please. Yet he scoots the chair heâs sitting in so heâs right in front of you, holding your hands gently in his own, as if theyâre a treasure to him, like the most precious jewel in the whole sea.
âDoes it hurt?â he asks quietly, cigarette still between his lips as he turns your wrist so your palm faces upward. His fingers trace the bandages covering them, and you fight back the shiver that threatens to crawl along your skin.Â
âNot anymore.âÂ
Gently, he brings your hand to his lip, pressing his lips against your wrist, just below the bandages at the edge of your palm. No doubt your cheeks are flushed, maybe even to the tips of your ears, as you fight the way your body overheats and your heart pounds rapidly against your chest.Â
âZeff made sure to take care of them. They wonât be coming back.â
âIâm sorry,â you apologize quietly. âI took away your time to cook since you had to cover me.â
You took away his precious opportunity to prove himself, to show Zeff and all the cooks what heâs capable of. Every moment, every dish he prepares. And just like that, youâd taken it away from him. Sure, it was only for a little bit, but you know how important it is to him.
âNever apologize,â he shakes his head. âIâm just glad youâre safe, honeycomb.â
Honeycomb.
You let him hold your hands and he doesnât let go, not until Zeff walks in to kick you out of the kitchen for the night. But even then, his touch lingers, and you canât help but wonder if thereâs a chance that he would ever want you the same way you want him.
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⥠mutual pining, eventual romance, cuddling, appropriate use of devil fruits, keepin' you warm
⥠summary:
stuck in a snowy blizzard? cue a pair of warm arms and maybe just a little confession along the way.
Archive of Our Own
a/n: a prompt from my bestie to help me get out of my writing block:
[ Ace keeps you warm as you two explore a winter island ;w; ]
âItâs fucking cold.â
You curse under your breath as you tug the coat tighter around your frame, burrowing your nose into the scarf that Thatch had lent you. Lucky bastard himself was cozy in the galley, probably all warmed up from cooking up dinner for the rest of the crew while you were sent out to explore the island thatâs been snowed and iced over like Admiral Kuzanâs Winter Wonderland. Itâll be fun, Ace said. To tag along with everyone else.
Everyone else, also known as, your crewmates who all have incredibly strong, cold-resistant builds or powers to keep them toasty, twenty-four seven.
You glare at Marco at the front of the group, who is literally unfazed and looking all too comfortable for wearing shorts, sandals, and his usual shirt unbuttoned when itâs below freezing and blizzarding. He chuckles and shakes his head at you, as you continue to shiver lightly even with all the layers youâd managed to bundle on, teeth chattering as you sniffle. Your snot might freeze, at this rate, then you.
A sudden weight launches itself over your back, and you nearly topple forwards with a surprised noise that escapes the back of your throat.Â
âItâs not that cold!â Ace exclaims from above you, and you nearly shove him off if not for the immense warmth that spreads through. Like Marco, heâs in his usual state of half-dressed, and you envy his powers that keep him unbothered by the chill. But almost immediately, your annoyance melts away, just as the chill across your body does, and Ace chuckles as he lets himself drape over your frame.Â
âItâs not my fault the entire crew is as tolerant to the cold as they are to alcohol,â you snip back, glancing back at the rest of your team trudging through the snow. âLetâs go, we gotta keep up.â
He finally relents, leaning back to let you continue walking, stepping through the footsteps left by Jozu so you donât sink into the snow any more than necessary.
Though youâre one of the newer recruits to join the crew, you found yourself by Aceâs side more times than not. You provided him the stability and strategy while he brought to you the spontaneity and the firepower (quite literally) and it didnât take long for the two of you to click, as friends and on the battlefield as well. Heâd drag you to explore and show you things he discovered, while you shared with him your knowledge and techniques youâve gathered over the years, teaching him of cultures and history and survival tips all around. It was the perfect amount of push and pull, one that has, without fail, executed so effortlessly.
And that compatibility may have led you to harbor a slight crush on the man. It wasnât hard to develop feelings for him when youâd been with him for all this time. Heâs doted over you countless times, watching your back and looking out for you, showing you kindness that youâd never received before.Â
Even now, heâd opted to walk behind you to make sure you were keeping up, offering a steady hand at your back when you faltered, and without a doubt, ready at any moment to catch you if youâd slipped or fell.
It made your heart absolutely soar. Despite the shivers that wracked your body, it felt like your heart was doing somersaults and backflips in your chest with every warm touch.
The snow howls around youâthe icy winds growing thicker and thicker like a white curtain. Even with Jozu's hulking figure in front of you, his shadow begins to fade into white and gray with each step you falter, holding your ground to avoid being blown away.Â
A warm hand rests against your back, and you can barely lift your head against the wind to look up at Ace.
âThe stormâs getting worse,â he says, a bit more firmly with his usual cheerfulness stored away. âCâmon, get on my back. We need to catch up with them.â
Without waiting for a response, he crouches down in front of you, and you have no choice but to suck up your pride, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him pick you up. âThis alright?â
Aceâs entire body radiates with heat, and you press yourself to his back, letting out a shaky sigh as you feel yourself regaining feeling in your limbs and fingers. âYeah.â
With one last nod, he walks on. But the blizzard rages on, even more violently that has you tightening your hold on Ace, who even falters against the strong winds a couple of times. The curtain of rushing white is blinding, and you can barely tell where youâd come from and where you were headedâthe stretch of snow looking the same no matter which way you looked.
He says your nameâbut itâs nearly lost in the wind, if not for you feeling his chest rumble. You look up to see what heâs looking at. Thereâs a small crevice between some jagged rocks sticking up from the ground, but it's probably big enough for you and Ace to slip inside, and take shelter from the storm. You nod, and he shifts his direction to head towards it, letting you down gently so you can slip in, before he follows. Itâs big enough for both of you to be seated comfortably across from another.
âLetâs wait for the storm to die down a bit,â Ace peeks out, observing the white blur together like rushing waters. âWeâll end up lost if we keep going at this rate.â
Your teeth chatter loudly as you curl up, hugging your knees tightly to your chest as you try to warm up to no avail. Ace immediately scoots over towards you, sitting just inches away from you before he spreads his arms. âCâmere. Iâll warm you up.â
Without hesitation, you crawl onto his lap, sitting on his thighs as you wrap your arms around his middle, digging your face into his chest. The thought of you clinging to his bare top would normally make you embarrassed to hell and back, but you were too cold to dwell on that, especially when the man had offered open arms and all. And thank the Blues for himâhis warmth encases you pleasantly, as Ace hugs you tightly to his chest, pulling you impossibly closer to him. Taking in a deep breath, your body relaxes, his comforting scent of smoke and cedarwood filling your nose and soothing the tension in your cold limbs.
You canât help it as you feel your eyes close, exhaustion hitting you in an instant, but Ace squeezes you, jolting you awake and you look up to meet his gaze. âCanât fall asleep right now. Try to stay awake with me for a little while longer, alright?â
You hum against his chest. âSorry. Itâs just⊠really nice.â
Ace considers a thought, before he leans over to rest his chin on top of your head. âThen letâs talk. Ask me anything.â
âWhat, like weâre two schoolgirls gossiping?â
Ace laughs, a pretty sound that echoes around the stone walls and drowns out the wind outside. âYeah, sure.â
You chuckle, playing along. âThen⊠you think Marco will confess to his little crush anytime soon?â
Ah, yes, the new nurse that the doctorâs taken a liking to. You and Ace have pointed it out, and youâre well aware of the piling bets that have accumulated among all the Commanders. Last you heard, the pool had reached nearly a million Berry.Â
Ace huffs. âI think sheâll do it first. Bet a hundred thousand Berry on it, and Izo agreed with me, so Iâm pretty confident about it.â
âMaybe I should add to that pool too,â you murmur thoughtfully at the thought of free Berry. âIzoâs never wrong.â
âExactly,â Ace agrees matter-of-factly. âBut, well, what about you?â
âWhat about me?â you deflect, maybe a bit too hastily. But if he notices, he doesnât point it out.
âDo you like anyone?â Ace asks, straight to the point, and you can't help but wonder what sort of expression is on his face. Because for you, you feel your heart drop to your gutâand you really hope he didnât feel you flinch.
âYou answer first,â you counter shakily, hoping he doesnât catch your nervous tone. It takes everything in you to not blurt out his goddamn name. âAnd then maybe Iâll tell you.â
Itâs dangerous territory, you realize. But you canât help the nagging curiosity thatâs been on your mind for quite some time, now. It's a fitting question to his little scenario, after all.
âYou better keep your word, then,â Ace says, but his words hold no bite. âWell. What if I said I do?â
Ouch. You actually werenât expecting that. It makes you wince, and you make sure to keep your head lowered, still hiding your face in his chest so he doesnât see. Could it be you? But what if it wasnâtâ what if it was someone like Tate? Or even a long lost lover, a childhood crush that never left his hold and you didnât know about all this time?Â
Realizing youâve been quiet for a moment too long, you let out a nervous chuckle. âI mean, Iâd ask who it is, but you donât have to tell me if itâs a secret.â
Perhaps itâs better you never know, anyways.Â
Ace hums in mock thought again. And just as you wait for his answer, you feel the breath escape you as his arms tighten around your frame. Slowly, he lowers his head, lips right above your ear, and you freeze as he whispers. âLet me tell you a secret, then.â
His voice drops several octaves and you suppress the shiver that runs through you at the feeling of his breath right at your ear. Youâre all warmed up nowâmaybe on the verge of overheating, and Ace seems to know full well since he laughs, leaning back and prompting you to look up at him to meet his gaze.
âI like you too much to keep it from you anymore,â he confesses, a slight flush across his cheeks as he grins down at you. A hand comes up to cup your cheek, a warm thumb swiping over your skin as he cradles it. âIâd like to keep you in my arms like this, if youâll let me.â
Any and all thought in your head melts in an instant, and youâre left a flustered mess once his words sink in. Ace grins even wider at your surprise, and your brain works overtime to come up with a response.
Instead, Ace just brushes your cheek again, his eyes flickering to your lips, before they meet your gaze. âWhat do you say?â
Unconsciously, you find yourself doing the sameâeyes lingering on his pink lips that makes your heart beat faster against your ribs, heat spreading across your cheeks. Releasing the vice grip you had on Ace, you lean back a little so you can raise both hands to cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing against his freckles as you murmur his name. âAceâŠâ
You feel him flinch under your touch, but he smiles up at you, with a look so fond and gentle that has you nearly melting in his arms as he says your own name softly.
Mustering up all your courage, you lean down to press your lips against his, feeling his warmth overtake you entirely. You answer, slowly moving your lips against his, savoring his warmth, his taste, everything he has to offer you, just as you offer yourself to him. Affection, adoration, love, cherish. Without any words you convey it to him as the wind howls outside and the snow rages on, oblivious to you.
âIs that a yes?â Ace asks, as you part from him, a little bit breathless. âBecause I sure hope it is.â
You canât help but laugh at him at how ridiculous he is, and how heâs all yours, now.
âOf course,â you breathe out, pressing your lips against his once more.Â
The crew and storm could wait for now, since Ace would keep you warm as long as you wanted.
Always a duo, never far from the other. You're by his side as he is yours when it comes to sailing the ocean blue or during the late nights of cooking up new dishes in the empty kitchen of the Baratie.
But what are you to do when a certain boy donning a straw hat comes crashing into his life and yours, promising a dream of adventure and a chance to find your All Blue?
Archive of Our Own
a/n: a bit based on opla world (such as the baratie and the setting) but follows mostly anime sanji and plot!
Blue-tipped winged grubs are the best bait for Cloudhead Carps. Theyâre a pain to find, though, only coming up in rain soaked dirt, blending into the damp soil. Luckily, it had poured just a few days prior, and while it took a few hours and you ruined a pair of trousers with mud stains to hell and back, you had a whole pail of them ready for this very day.Â
The carps appear as theyâre named, their bodies tender and fluffed all around. You havenât had them before yourself, but from the old recipe books adorning your bookshelves, theyâre well known for their flavorful and tender meat, usually seasoned with citrus and pepper and paired with red wine. During this time of year, theyâre mostly found in rocky coasts, hiding away in the dark shadows and crevices and only coming out to find food or migrate at the end of the year. All in all, theyâre a tricky bunch to fish up.
You gently reel your line, tugging rhythmically to coax out the puffy fish from hiding with the juicy grub at the tip of your hook. For a moment, you shift your attention to your little journal, finishing the sketch of one on a new page, before jotting down some of your observations to the side.Â
âLooks like we got enough Pancake Flounders and Red Scuttlers for Baratieâs order,â your uncle yells from the deck, wiping his hands on a towel thrown over his shoulder. âAny luck on those clouds?â
âThey arenât bitinâ too much,â you answer back. Youâve caught at least two, but you wanted to try and catch a few more before the day wakes. It wouldnât hurt to bring back a few extras. âBut I want to try catching a few more, if we have the time.â
âSure thing,â he shrugs, checking the time on his watch, a cracked old thing that you had gifted him long ago, one he refuses to replace or get fixed. Itâs still a little before sunrise, and youâre not too far off from your usual route. âLetâs throw out another trawl! Anything extra you all can take home!â
The crew cheers, their spirits revived as they hoist the huge net over the boat once more. You laugh as one of the crewmen swings an arm over your shoulders, thanking you loudly for tonightâs dinner. As your uncle sets course to take a wider turn around the ocean body, you manage to snag a few more within the next half hour, relieved that thereâs a good number of them to work with just as the sun begins to peek over the horizon, stretching a glittering gold across the deep blue. Rather than tossing them into the livewell with the other fish, you lean over to grab the bubble fruit, stretching it open and dumping the fish into it. After, you close it up, tying the stem into a tight knot. The fruit jiggles against the deck as it rocks with the waves, the fish floating freely within the water inside.
âThose for the little chef?â your uncle peers over your shoulder, eyeing your catch. The rest of the crew are pulling up the trawl as he speaks, and you hear them cheer over Snakefin Tuna and Kelptails.Â
âYeah,â you nod, tying the stem to the railing. âHeâs been mentioning some new ideas so I figured Iâd get him some while we were around here.â
âHa!â he laughs with a wide grin. âAlways helpinâ him cause trouble with olâ Zeff. Youâre half the reason heâll lose that mustache of his in the next few years.â
âI canât help it,â you smile back. âNot when Sanji keeps coming up with such delicious recipes.â
âNo time to waste. Letâs get goin,â then!â he calls out, and you make your way to the rest of the crew for the first delivery of the day.
The Baratie is quiet by the time you arrive, the beautiful ship floating gently under the dawn bringing sun. Itâs a stark contrast from the lively nights, where the bar, snug deep inside the mouth of the fish, teems with energy and gentle lights. You spot some of the chefs outside already, moving back and forth fresh ingredients from other vendors, mostly produce and meat from the mainland that are to be used for the coming week.Â
Your uncle anchors the boat onto one of the loading docks before he hurries out, meeting with one of the chefs to confirm their order. You wave at him, receiving a firm nod before he orders the rest of the men to start carrying the load in, and you take that as a sign to grab the bubble fruit, slipping into the restaurant among the busy loads of stock being brought inside.
The chefs, while busy as they count the inventory and begin prepping before the morning shift opens, still greet you with booming voices, to which you return with equal energy. Zeff waves you over from where he stands near the swinging doors to the kitchen. He greets you with a familiar smile, and you already know what that meansâ âMind helping out tonight?â
âDid you fire your other waiters?â you ask in a knowing tone, to which he huffs.Â
âDidnât have the chance to when they ran out on me. Bunch of weaklings.â
You laugh. Same olâ Zeff. âYou know Iâm always happy to help.â
âThanks, little fisher,â he grins. âLil eggplant is in the back, donât want to keep him waiting any longer, that impatient shit.â
Despite his scowl, you know he means it like a doting father, chuckling as you wave over your shoulder before pushing through the doors to the kitchen. Immediately, youâre greeted by the bustling morning prep. Like always, you weave your way through the chefs, greeting them as you pass, until you spot a familiar head of blonde at the very back. âSanji!â
Heâs chopping up some carrots by the time he looks up to meet your gaze, his lips curling into a grin that you canât help but return. âHoneycomb!â
You heft the bubble fruit onto the counter space in front of him, revealing it to him with open arms. âTa-da!â
âOh, you didnât!â His jaw drops open, coming around the counter to examine the bubble. âCloudheads? Caught by my sweet honeycomb herself?â
âYup! And I expect you to let me taste test the moment doors close tonight,â you grin. âZeff told me you guys are short on waiters again.â
âMuch appreciated,â he smiles softly, a hand coming around your waist to pull you closer to his side. âIâll make sure to repay you with a delicious meal afterwards.â
âThat better include dessert,â you grin, and he mirrors it on his own lips.
âIt always does,â he winks, and he lets you go, allowing you to go help your uncle unload the rest of the goods. Once itâs all done, you wave at him and the crew as they head back to the mainland for another busy day in the markets once more.
âWhy donât I prepare a small snack for you before we open?â Sanji asks, as you head towards the back table to properly set away your stuff. Your glaive sits against the wall as you place your rucksack on the table, and from the hooks of aprons and jackets, you grab your uniform, a crisp white button down with a black jacket and matching slacks. âAnything you want in particular?â
âThose crepes from last time, if itâs not too much trouble,â you give him a sheepish grin. âThey were delicious.â
âAs you wish, my lady,â he responds in kind, with a little flourish and bow. âComing right up!â
You curtsy in return, playing along. âThank you, my kind sir.â
Patty snorts from the background, muttering loudly about how insufferable the two of you are together, and as you chuckle, Sanji quips back, âThereâs a reason why this crepe is for honeycomb and not you, Patty!â
It doesnât take him long to whip it up for you, perfectly topped with fresh strawberries and cream that he presents to you as soon as you return into the kitchen, now donning your uniform. You enjoy it for as long as you can, up until the doors open, and the wave of customers, early for their reservations, begin to file in, the restaurant floor soon filled to its max capacity. You get to work, easily getting into the swing of things as the orders start to come in.
The lunch rush keeps you busy, and you take a quick break once things calm over, a period of time right before dinner for the chefs to rest and do some last minute prep once more. Sanji and you enjoy some simple sandwiches he whips up, enjoying the clear skies and warm sun as you share with him the cloudhead recipes you got from the cookbooks at home, and ideas for dishes he could make. His eyes sparkle with excitement, and itâs infectious, pulling a smile to your lips as he writes it all down into his little journal.
âTime for dinner, lovebirds!â Zeff calls out, and while Sanji sputters out a few curses to the old man, getting to his feet in an instant, you merely laugh, hoping the heat that surfaces to your cheeks isnât too visible in the afternoon sunlight.
Zeff means well, but you only hope that one day, perhaps itâll come true. Sanji turns around, leaning down to offer you a hand. âCâmon, letâs go inside.â
Your heart somersaults and flips as you slip your hand into his and meet his smile with one of your own.
Until then, youâre perfectly content to stay by his side just as things are.
Youâre twelve by the time your uncle receives the opportunity of a lifetime.Â
At the crack of dawn, you go outside to meet the postal gull, thanking it as you accept the stack of mail it has in its beak, before it flies away. As you return inside, you hand the envelopes to your uncle as he sits at the counter while you make your way back to the stove to finish up breakfastâ toast and eggs, with some homemade jam that you had traded for some fish a few days ago.Â
Crackle, sizzle, rip. You listen to your uncleâs grumbling from behind you, plating the eggs as he mentions something about terrible deals and bad business, until suddenly he sputters, choking on his coffee before he slams his mug onto the table. As you balance the plates on your arms while you bring them to the dining table, you merely raise an eyebrow as he stutters out something to you, coffee dripping down his chin as he gets up to go to his desk.Â
âYou alright?â
Your words go unheard, and he continues to ramble about so and so, his words unintelligible as he digs through the papers scattered across his desk untilââI found it!â
He nearly trips over his own feet to show you an old newspaper heâd dug up from somewhere, basically slamming it onto the table and forcing you to lean away as the plates and glass rattle across the wooden surface. Itâs from a couple years back, with a headline that spells out, âCulinary Treasure of the East Blue: Welcome the Baratie!â
You have no idea what a Baratie is, and your uncle beams down at you with indescribable pride. âSo? Whatâs a Ba-ra-tee?â
âBaratie,â your uncle corrects you, before finally taking a seat and beginning to dig into his own plate of breakfast. As he scarfs down his food, he tells you, âOne of the most famous restaurants of the East Blue.â
Nibbling on some toast, you nod, not exactly understanding, but at least now you know how to say it. He doesnât even wait for you to ask any questions, wolfing down his eggs in one gulp before hurrying back to his desk, grabbing the Transponder Snail and dialing numbers from the letter heâd received.
It chirps as the line connects after a few rings, and you listen to your uncle excitedly greet a gruff voice on the other end, talking a mile a minute as he jots down notes and numbers in his notepad to the side. You donât pay too much attentionâpreferring to read through the current newspaper splayed out on the table as you continue your meal at a normal pace. Pirate drama and the like is pretty juicy, after all.
Youâre finishing the last of your orange juice by the time your uncle ends the call with a triumphant grin. âSomething good happened?â you ask.
âSomething great,â he answers simply and vaguely, leaving you to merely wonder for the remainder of the day.
He doesn't leave you in the dark for too long, and your curiosity is satiated that next morning, where you find yourself sailing out at dawn to the middle of nowhere. Famous restaurant, your ass. You thought youâd be heading into town or sailing to one of the bigger islands aroundânot to the middle of nowhere!
The chill nips at your skin as you look out to the sea, waves padding against the boat as your uncle steers it. Unlike the usual mornings where he gathers up the crew, itâs just you and him, surrounded by deep endless blue.
âItâs one of the biggest contracts weâll have,â your uncle explains gruffly, knowing most of the details will be lost on you. âThey want our fish, weâll give it to them for good money.â
Simple enough.Â
Most of your business was done in the outdoor markets of Seaside Village, famous for the largest selection of fish and produce. Located on Landel Island, just east of the Gecko Islands, youâve grown up in the busy streets of the maritime town, where the livelihood of many of the villagers, yours included, depended on fishing. Selling and trading your catch was enoughânot plenty, but enough for the two of you to get by with a roof over your head and food on the table. But itâs hard when everyone else and their mother did the same thing.
And at the very least, you know that this opportunity puts you above so many others, and thatâs obviously a good thing.
Your uncle barks a laugh, and youâre snapped out of your thoughts, eyes landing on the speck in the blue distance ahead. Between the seam of sea and sky, you spot a ship that simply floats on the water's surface. In the shape of a fish, it sails with no direction, resting like a place for weary sailors to go. Itâs a peculiar design, one that youâve never seen before, but you recognize it instantly from the photos in the newspapers.Â
The floating restaurant, Baratie, in all its glory, greets you with its open mouth. Your uncle steers the boat to dock at the entrance, and after he ties it up, you follow him to the front door, wondering just how such a famous restaurant could operate in the middle of the ocean.
As soon as you enter, youâre greeted by an elegant restaurant floor, much more upscale and sophisticated than you ever imagined. Smooth mahogany surrounds you for a comforting vibe, illuminated by warm candlelights, a striped floor of black and white under your feet as you enter. Thereâs a tall man with a goatee, wide shoulders, and muscular forearms standing at the front, chatting with a much smaller man, but is quick to see you two enter. With a few steps, he greets you both, introducing himself as the head pĂątissier, Patty. He offers your uncle a firm handshake, before he turns to you with a small smile and greeting, to which you return quietly.
âDonât make too much trouble,â your uncle says softly, his hand ruffling your hair gently. âGo fish out on the docks or somethin,â alright?â
You nod quietly, before he turns to follow the man, disappearing up the stairs and into what you assume is the chefâs office. The host who he was talking to bows in greeting, offering you a small nod as you head outside once more, and you return to the boat to retrieve your rod and net, before settling onto the edge of one of the empty docks. Youâre not quite sure whatâs around, but you use a simple lure, casting it far before you reel it in. It comes to you naturally, as if youâre breathing, the small jigs and pauses, the way you imagine the lure moving under the water, swimming prey to the other fish.
The waves lap at the dock, and you embrace the oceanâs calm, surrounded by blue that stretches as far as the eye can see.Â
âWho are you?â A young voice calls out from behind you, and you slowly turn to meet the gaze of a young boy, probably the same age as you, as he looks down at you with a raised, and to your surprise, curled, eyebrow.Â
Before you can answer, you feel the telltale tug on your rod, and you quickly avert your attention to it. Itâs not a small one by the way it yanks heavily on your rod, and you let it pull, keeping the line taut as it fights. The moment it slows, you reel in, repeating the process until you see it under the waterâs surface, tired as it gets pulled higher. With the net at your side, you easily scoop it up once itâs in arm's reach, before plopping it on to the deck, letting it flop energetically on the wood.
Itâs a Honeycomb Halibutâ a sizable one, at that. Its dark golden scales reflect against the sunlight, thin wings sprouting from its back, similar to that of a honeybee, and the boy voices it, identifying the fish to which you confirm with a nod.
âIâm surprised you recognize it,â you comment offhandedly.Â
âOf course.â He turns his nose up. âIâm a chef, after all.â
âYou? A chef?â you ask incredulously. âYouâre just a kid.â
âSo are you,â he bites back, and you canât help the annoyance that bubbles up in you. Titles like âchefâ are for the muscular man dressed like one, not for snotty kids who act like they know everything.
âIf youâre a chef like you say you are, then prove it!â you point at the fish still flopping around at your feet. âCook me something with it.â
 âFine!â Sanji rolls up his sleeves, before crouching down to pick up the fish by the tail. âCâmon, Iâll make you the best food youâve ever had.â
He leads you back into the restaurant, with you trailing close behind, until he slips into the kitchen, stopping you in your tracks. Stay out of trouble, your uncle had said, and you bite your lip as you eye the doors definitely meant for chefs and waiters to pass through. It surely wouldnât do your uncle well if you were found lurking around in the very kitchen of the famed restaurant, not when heâs making negotiations at the very moment.Â
âArenât you coming?â The boy pokes his head out the swinging doors with a frown, and you hesitate. Your inner conflict must be clearly visible, and he merely raises an eyebrow, before he grabs your hand with his free one, tugging you along as he uses his shoulder to push open the swinging doors. Before you can retort or yank your hand from his grip, youâre immediately bombarded by the energy of the chefs, all sorts of scents and sounds bombarding you in an instant.
The boy is unfazed, easily weaving his way around the chefs to the end of the workstation, an empty counter where he makes himself at home. He lets go of your hand to pull out a stool for you, setting it on the other side of the counter heâs set up, before he goes to wash his hands and prep the fish you had caught. Immediately, youâre intrigued by the steps he takes, recognizing the method as ikejime, something your uncle had taught you early on to prepare fish so theyâre at optimal freshness. Â
You want to watch his technique up close, but you find yourself slowly inching away, nervously backing away from the counters. With every curious glance from the cooks around you, you lean further back as if you could melt into the walls, feeling more and more out of place as the cooks bustle around, busy with their morning prep.
âYou can come sit here if you want,â the boy calls suddenly, gesturing to the stool, but refusing to meet your eyes. âYou donât have to just stand over there.â
Hesitantly, you make your way closer to the counter, and when he nods, you climb up onto the stool. He had already bled and removed the spinal cord, before tossing the fish into the large bin of ice, letting it bleed. You watch him weave through the other chefs, gathering herbs and spices in his arms before getting to work on the seasoning. Once done, he sets them aside, before returning with the bled out fish, beginning to prepare it. All that exudes from him is confidence as he holds the knife, expertly cutting away at the fish until a small filet is left, the rest stored away in the walk-in freezer nearby. The filet itself doesnât look like a normal fishâthe honeycomb texture, hence the name, makes it quite fragile, yet the boy handles it with ease, seasoning it, with a mix of spices he pulls out without a second thought, before gently drizzling it with a mix of olive oil and honey.Â
âSo, halibut girl, what brings you here anyways?â the boy asks, and you canât help but glare at him.
âHalibut girl?â you question, pointing at yourself.Â
âDonât know what else to call you,â he shrugs, nodding to the filet that he begins to sear on the pan. You finally give him your name, and he tests it on his tongue in a soft voice. âWell, youâre still a halibut girl.â
You roll your eyes. Stubborn. âWhat about you, you stupid cook?âÂ
âItâs Sanji,â he answers simply. âA damn good cook, if you ask me.â
âWeâll see about that when youâre done.â
But honestly, with how skillful his hands are and the confidence he exudes as he navigates around the kitchen, you have no doubt heâs true to his word. Sure, you may know how to gut a fish and tie any kind of knot on the fly, but the way Sanji moves is entirely differentâ much more graceful and beautiful than you could ever dream of doing yourself.
When he pauses for a second, you finally snap out of your stupor, meeting his gaze with a waiting look, and you realize you hadnât answered his initial question. It's not like youâre a customer, and you surely looked out of place, alone on their docks, fishing as the sun rose.
âI fish with my uncle,â you explain briefly. âI think heâs making a deal with the owner to sell fresh fish to your restaurant.â
He hums in acknowledgement, but doesnât comment on it, instead focusing on putting the final touches on the dish before he slides it in front of you. Itâs a beautiful thing, even to someone like you, who doesnât know the first thing about cooking, other than the simplest meals youâve learned to cook with your catch.Â
The honeyed glaze is absolutely divineâa rich flavor that melts sweet into savory. Coupled with the interesting texture of the filet, it takes everything in you to chew slowly as you meet Sanjiâs expecting gaze.
âWell, how is it?â he asks. âTold you Iâm a chef.â
âThe best!â you exclaim, making him jump slightly. âItâs the best thing Iâve ever had!
His surprise is quick to morph into pride, and he beams at your praise, his smile wide as he watches you take a bite, then another.
âWhat are you doing?â A gruff voice echoes, and you see a man with a long braided mustache with the tallest chefâs hat youâve ever seen. Not a moment later, you glance down to see his peg-leg tapping against the wooden floor as he enters the kitchen. Behind him, your uncle follows, eyes immediately landing on you before glancing at Sanji and the food laid out.
âNeeded to prove to the halibut girl that Iâm a good chef,â Sanji answers as if obvious, but Zeff clicks his tongue, visibly angry as he approaches the boy.
âWhat did I tell you about treating ladies?â Zeff yells, forcing Sanji to bow his head as he faces you. âDonât call them by such rude names! Now apologize to the young lass, this instant!â
Sanji roughly pushes Zeffâs hand away, fixing his hair before he turns to you with an embarrassed frown.
âIâm sorryâŠâ he murmurs, pink tinting his cheeks. âFor calling you âhalibut girl.ââ
It surprises youâ itâs not like you havenât dealt with rowdy boys, having grown up in a village like yours. But for the most part, their teases and jabs were always something you learned to push aside or spit back with your own. Despite him being forced into an apology, you can tell he means it, by the way he looks regretful.Â
âItâs⊠okay,â you mumble in response, watching your uncle nod from behind Zeff. âAnd⊠your cooking is really good. Youâre not a stupid cook.â
Sanji puffs out his chest a little at that, a little grin soon appearing on his lips.
Zeff crouches down, offering a hand as he says your name. âSo youâre his niece, huh?â
You take itâ itâs scarred and rough against yours, but you squeeze it all the same, shaking it twice, just as you see your uncle do when doing business. âYes, sir.â
He eyes you, before his gaze trails up to your half eaten plate, and then he laughs, a hearty belly laugh that makes you ease up. âI look forward to cookinâ your catches, lass.â
You turn to your uncle. âDoes that meanâŠâ
âWeâre officially suppliers for the Baratie!â your uncle declares happily, throwing up a thumbs-up. âAny and all seafood orders, weâll make sure to fulfill.â
Zeff chuckles from beside him, before turning to the rest of his kitchen as he speaks up. âWeâll be getting some of the most high-quality fish from these guys, so treat them well!â
âYes, sir!â They echo back, throwing in their own greetings and gratitude to you and your uncle. Once more introductions are tossed around, itâs time for you to head back to do a round of fishing for the evening.Â
Your uncle expresses his gratitude once more, and while youâre led out to the deck with him by your side, Sanji stops you halfway, running up to you as you tilt your head curiously. Thereâs a nervous frown on his lips and he looks at his shoes before he musters up the courage to glance up at you with a hopeful sparkle in his eyes.
âIâll see you later, honeycomb.â
He offers you a smile that you canât help but return. Itâs better than halibut girl, and you donât mind the way it sounds on his tongue.
⥠childhood friends to lovers, flevance!reader, heartpirates!reader, age regression, angst, hurt/comfort with a happy ending
⥠summary:
Law should have known better than to lower his guard on this seemingly peaceful island.
He had remained on ship, waiting for you to return from your crew duties with promises to bring back a new coin if you found any for his collection. Perhaps youâd return with an Alabastan penny, or maybe even a commemorative anniversary coin from the notorious Pirate Fest.
But the last thing he ever expected was to face his cruel past once more.
Archive of Our Own
a/n: my first op fic!! likes, reposts, comments, kudos are all greatly appreciated, thank you all for reading!
Itâs not rare for wanderlust to hit the crew, and the moment the Polar Tang docks on the unassuming island, Law finds himself at the front of the deck, looking at his crew. Thereâs a buzz of energy that jumps between them, a wave of eagerness that splits their attention away from their captain. He pays it no mind, though, knowing his crew will be responsible like always.
âAs usual, donât cause trouble, and fulfill your assignments before sundown.â Lawâs gaze shifts from crewmate to crewmate. âIâll remain on the ship, so draw one less for those assigned to stay here.â
Itâs the system theyâve established for fairnessâ and while exceptions were made occasionally, they stuck to it quite well for each island theyâve docked at. Ikkaku holds the straws in her hand, and she grins at you as you take your sweet time debating which to pick. And to your luck, you pick the straw without the red-colored endâthe sign that one will stay on deck while everyone else gets to traverse the new town. Penguin, Shachi, and you share a high-five, cheering, âTime to explore!â
Quick to call your assignments, the three of you volunteer for crewmate restock dutyâ compiling a list of necessities each crewmate needed, or as a collective whole for the Tang. More toilet paper for the bathrooms, extra hair clips for Ikkaku, some fabric for Kurage and yarn for Jean Bart. And of course, you have to ask your dearest captain for any requestsâ though, you already know what to search for. Still, before the three of you depart, you catch Law before he can return to his office, with plenty of work to be done while he remains on board.
âAny personal requests for the Captain?â you ask, grinning to him as he sighs. âMaybe any rare-looking coins I happen to come across? To finish your Alabastan set? Or perhaps a new collectible coin I happen to find?â
Law smilesâone thatâs reserved for you, a small one that barely lifts the corner of his lips, but reaches his eyes with a gentle look. âDonât spend any crew funds for that.â
âI would never!â But you know he means it in jest, and you chuckle as he shakes his head at you in a fond manner. âBut Iâll do my best to find you something new, my darling Captain.â
While youâre no collector yourself, youâd always indulged the hobby by Lawâs side, helping him find many for his collection, both now and years ago.
Ever since you were children, youâd search through your piggy banks and whatever spare change youâd come across to expand his collection. And after setting sail, youâd helped rekindle the hobby, fanning the flames to let his interest burn brightly once more.
While it was a source of grief, at first, reminding him of your shared childhood in Flevance, the days you and he would scour old antique shops and marketplaces to find pieces he did not have, heâd found joy in it once again, finding unique kinds all across the North Blue, early on in your pirate career. The moment youâd caught him peering curiously at an array of coins displayed at an antique stand, you didnât hesitate to encourage him in his little hobby once more. Itâs not something he boasts to anyone other than you, but when thereâs time to spare, youâll always tag along to find him more for his collection, especially with how many kinds exist along the Grand Line.
He chuckles, with a small smile on his lips as he leans down to press a soft kiss on your forehead. âStay safe. And keep those two in check for me.â
âWill do!â You salute, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to his lips, before turning on your heel to head back out towards deck to catch up to the duoâ knowing full well theyâll tease you for taking your sweet time.
A few playful jabs and eyerolls later, you find yourself deep in the city alongside Penguin and Shachi. The markets are bustling even in the midday, and the three of you take your time to peruse all the local specialties the town has to offer. You munch on a sweet crepe from one of the food stands, topped with cream and fresh strawberries and honey, while Penguin nibbles on some fried fish, Shachi sneaking bites of it when he can.
Once your appetites have been satiated, you start going down the list, picking up items and haggling as much as you can with the stall owners for whatever possible discount. For the most part, the salespeople are decent, if not kind to youâbusiness is business, after all, even if you all don the jolly roger of one of the more notorious pirate crews on the Grand Line. The time flows by smoothly, with more bags hanging off the boysâ arms as you go down the list. With just a few things left, you separate from the two as theyâre arguing with a persistent old lady, who was definitely upcharging them for being âtroublemakers.âÂ
You werenât going to stick around for thatâthey can deal with her and whatever imaginary tax she was trying to slap on the price.
Instead, you make your way down the street, eyeing the outside displays and exploring what the town has to offer. Itâs a peaceful town, one that doesnât boast any strange or unique features as the people live on happily.
You wander into a strange storefront, decorated with, well, everything. From tin cans lining the windowsill to beads hung up in the doorway, a strong scent of incense barraging your nose as you step inside. Itâs like a collectorâs paradise, or perhaps a hoarderâs backroom. Vials of liquids and antiques and stones, bottle caps and knick knacks, trinkets galore. Itâs definitely a bit messier than you expected, with barely enough space for you to walk inside.
âHello?â you greet hesitantly, walking up to the counter. Thereâs no one there, but you eye the glass displays, searching through the piles upon piles of items squished inside until your eyes land uponâ
You freeze.
A set of Flevance-issued Berry. They sit nestled in a small box, placed on a velvet cushion in pristine conditionâall six of themâthe one, five, ten, fifty, hundred, and five-hundred.
Youâd recognize the designs of them anywhere, depicting the white angels and cross of Flevance churches, the pickaxes symbolizing minerâs pride, the shape of the citadel, all pressed into the metalâthe very same metal thatâs laced with the poison that ruined your life.Â
Your home, your pastâ you remember these very coins between your fingertips. The very same coins youâd tossed into the white fountains, wishing for trivial things with a less enthusiastic Law by your side. Youâd drop them into your piggy bank, or youâd gather up all your spare change to buy the new volume of Sora to read with Law the following day. You had no idea that even these coins held the amber lead that seeped into your blood and bones.
And once you fled your hometown, youâd never seen them afterwardsâleft behind like everything else. Not a single penny left in your pockets as you buried yourselves in corpses and rot. Slowly, the international Berry became familiar to your hands.
âWelcome in,â a voice greets you, slow and calculating, and you turn to see an old lady walk out from the back, a cane in her hand as she approaches you. âAnything caught your eye? I have a wonderful collection, as you can see.â
âThis set of coins.â You point into the case, throat dry and fingers trembling. âHow much for them?â
She follows your finger, squinting. âAh, those Flevance ones? How about fifty-thousand Berry? Theyâre the last of their kind, most certainly.â
You stop yourself from wincing. Itâs understandable, considering the rarity and value of the coins from a land thatâs no more. But itâs the first time youâve seen them since the day Flevance burned, its existence erased from history and the world. You donât hesitate to nod. Hell, you would have bought them regardless of the price. âIâll take them.â
She gives you a look, before she smiles, one that stretches across her face with missing teeth. âGladly.â
As you pay her (from your own funds, of course), you watch with a nervous air as she pulls it out from the display case, accepting the Berry before sliding the wooden box towards you. You accept it carefully, a strange sense of relief filling you, like finally reuniting a part of home thatâs been torn away from you.
âAre you a collector yourself?â she asks, but her eyes are focused on counting the bills between her bony fingers. You shake your head.
âOh, not me. My⊠friend is quite fond of coins, though.âÂ
She chuckles, her eyes staring deep into your own with unbridled curiosity. âA friend? Quite sweet of you, my girl. Why donât I give you a little something for them? Consider it a service.âÂ
Her fingers trace the wood of the shelves until she plucks out a little ball from a drawer on the wall. Itâs barely larger than a marble, glittering with something that flows gently inside.
âWhat⊠What is it?â you ask suspiciously, but you accept it from her, letting it roll onto your palm as you peer into it. Itâs⊠mesmerizing. Something swirls inside that makes you feel strangely nostalgic, as if itâs a word thatâs on the tip of your tongue.. âMaâamââ
When you look up, sheâs gone, and your heart nearly leaps out from your chest when you realize sheâd vanished from her spot right in front of you. You hadnât heard her walk away, and the beads covering the doorway to the back where she had come from earlier are completely still. Even one glimpse with your haki had told you that you were alone.
She had vanished into thin air without any trace.
A bit shaken, you take that as your sign to leave with a quiet thank-you. Something jolts inside you the moment you step outside, and you blink, curling your fingers and flexing your legs experimentally. That was oddâŠ
But youâre glad about the coins, checking to see them safely nestled inside your bag. While it isnât the happiest gift, moreso a grim reminder, you have no doubt that Law will appreciate a little part of home.
âHey! There you are!â A voice pulls you out of your stupor, and you look up to see Penguin and Shachi wave towards you at the end of the street. Their arms are full of paper bags, filled to the brim with all the things youâd gotten. You quickly make your way towards them. âWhere have you been? We finished the list while you went off and disappeared!â
Shit, had it really been that long?Â
âSorry! I was just looking at that antique shop over there,â you say, pointing over your shoulder. âThe owner was kind of⊠weird. But I scored big!â
âAntique store?â Shachi repeats, looking over to where youâre pointing. âWhat are you talking about?â
âHuh?â You blink at their confusion. âThat one, right over⊠whatâŠ?â
There's no wayâŠ
The strange storefront is gone, and in its place is an empty building, a for-sale sign plastered on the open window, absolutely nothing adorning the space inside. Itâs all white spaceâa stark contrast to the hoarders paradise youâd seen before. Disbelief and panic grip at your throat and youâre quick to rifle through your bag, finding the case of coins and opening itâall six are still there.Â
âI got these,â you say in disbelief, showing the two. âThey⊠theyâre Flevance coins. Theyâre just as I remember them, I donâtââ
Youâre staring at the empty shop, thinking back to every moment you can play back in your head. Sure, the old lady was strange and you felt a weird vibe from her, but how could an entire store just up and disappear?Â
Did she have a Devil Fruit? One that let her manipulate space and herself? If not a Devil Fruit, then who the hell was she?
âAre you alright?â Penguin asks in concern, shifting the bags in his arms to get a better look at you. âMaybe we should head back to the ship. You donât look too hot.â
Shachi, on the other hand, is focused on the case, wide eyes examining the coins from behind his shades. âHoly shit. Flevance? You said you got these from that, well, what shop?â
âIâm telling you! It was there! Some old lady was there and she had all this shit in that building!â you exclaim, realizing you probably sound insane as shit because no matter how many times you blink, the storefront is empty. And the lady disappeared in front of your eyes right after she gave you the coins andâ
Waitâ you still have the marble, too, right?
You dig through the pocket of your boilersuit, pulling out the marble, but as you pinch it between your fingers, it suddenly explodes into a puff of smokeâ
âWhat theââ
Vaguely, you hear Shachi and Penguin shout your name, but itâs the last thing you hear as black fills your vision.
âCaptain! Captain!âÂ
Bepo bursts into his office with no warning, which is a rare occasion. Even in most urgent matters, the navigator would always knock, nearly flinging the door off its hinges the moment Law answers.
âBepo?â Law stands, Bepoâs apparent panic quickly seeping its way into his own bones. âWhatâs wrong?â
He blubbers and points towards the hall before he shakes his head, finally clearing away the words jumbled on his tongue. Lawâs heart drops to the pit of his stomach when the mink mentions your nameââSomething happened to her!â
Lawâs moving in an instant, grabbing Kikoku and hurrying to the door, steps quick and heavy as he follows Bepo towards the deck. Concern fills him, the lack of context or details making him cycle through any and all worst-case scenarios. His powers are at ready, to summon a Room and Shambles him and you to the medbay if necessary. Bepoâs words give him no context as to what state youâre in, and all he can do is prepareâmentally cataloguing every procedure in his head in a speedrun review, recalling where every piece of equipment is for him to set up and begin at any moment's notice.Â
Thereâs yelling on deck that catches Lawâs attention the closer he gets, and itâs enough to make his pace speed up, hurtling past the mink and nearly slamming open the door of the Tang as bright sunlight nearly blinds him for a moment.
Most of the crew is already crowded around, but theyâre quick to part as Law approaches, and between Shachi and Penguinâs frames, he findsâ
You.Â
His heart stops.
Little, child, eight year old you.Â
The you with white littering your cheeks, nearly engulfed in your boiler suit as tears trail down your cheeks, little pained sobs escaping you. Panic and fear lace your cries, and it stabs Law deep in his chest with every noise and breath that escapes you.
Penguin whispers to you, sweet-nothings and cooing that does little to calm you down, while Shachi watches with a mix of fear and uncertainty, hat clenched in his hand as the other runs through his rust-colored hair.Â
âWhat happened?â Law snaps, tone harsh and sharp. Shachi flinches, quick to throw the hat back on his head as he turns to face Law.
âWeâWeâre not sure,â he admits. âShe stopped by some antique store that, uh, disappeared? But she said she got something from there and it popped in her face and there was all this smokeââ
âAnd then next thing we knew, she turned into a kid,â Penguin finishes. Heâs crouched down next to her, an arm hovering around her frame. âIt⊠It doesnât seem like she has any memories of us, butââ
The sound of your cries cuts through Law, shaking his entire being as he stares at youâthe you that he remembers standing beside all those years ago. The you who watched beside him as Flevance burned, the you who had lost Corazon with him, the you that trusted Law with his shaky hands to take away the disease that plagued you so.
A myriad of emotions well up in him, sending him into a spiral that both overwhelms and numbs him simultaneously, muddying all of his thoughts and taking away all the words lodged in his throat.Â
No longer is he twenty-six, the captain of the Heart Pirates and a fearsome foe across the seas.
Heâs little, nine year old Law, who prayed desperately to the white angels for hope and salvation.
Lawâs eyes trace the white across your skin, the same wretched pattern as heâd remembered it. The memory of it had begun to blur in his head, time dulling the clear image that once haunted him.
But now he sees you with it vividly, the edges of white sharp and definitive, amber lead plaguing him once again, refusing to loosen her hold on his entire being. His past wasnât enough, it seemsâshe wanted to take over his present, and perhaps his future, too. A disease that should have been gone for good, purged from the world by the government. White, white, a pure white turned so evil, so terribleâ
âCaptain,â Penguin says firmly, and Law snaps out of it, looking at his first mate. His lips are pressed in a thin line, and his eyes shine with determination under the brim of his hat. âShe needs you.â
Law swallows the lump in his throat, and he nods, and Penguin stares at him for a moment longer before he lowers his head, catching your attention and whispering to you softly as he points up towards Law. âHey, look. I think you might know him.â
For the first time, you seem to register what Penguin says, stifling your cries and looking at the man with teary eyes. Another sniffle escapes you, but you hold it in as you follow his finger and meet Lawâs gaze.Â
Itâs as if time stands stillâfor a moment you stare quietly, eyes picking apart at Lawâs appearance and his very soul. He can only wonder if youâll recognize him, and to his surprise, he sees a flash of something in your eyes as they widen in recognition, and his heart soars until it stills in midair andâ
âUncle?â you whisper, eyes lighting up. You stumble in your boilersuit that drags behind you, and you nearly fall, Law crouching down to catch your shoulders in time. You choke on a sob that sends another wave of tears trailing down your cheeks. âUncle ToraâŠâ
Law feels all the air in his lungs disappear as he stares down at you.Â
Uncle Tora.Â
Doctor Trafalgar.
His father.Â
It shakes him to his very core, and he swears something cracks inside himâhis heart aching in a way that no words can describe. Because, fuck.
His father. You think heâs his fatherâ the man he looked up to his entire life, his role model, everything that had inspired him to become a great doctor.
And you saw him in Law.
The realization settles heavily in his chest, a weight that presses down on his heart, rendering him absolutely speechless. He may as well be tossed into the sea, rendered powerless and frozen in the waterâs grasp. Every thought and reason has disappeared from his very mind, gone is his usual collected nature, and all thatâs left is a little boy that has lost his home with you.
Your face falls at the lack of his response, little hands clutching onto his sleeve. âUncle ToraâŠ?âÂ
Law inhalesâoxygen finally filling his lungs and reaching his brain. This is no time for him to break down, especially not in front of you. With a slow exhale, he closes his eyes, and finally musters up enough courage to shake his head. Slowly, steadily, as if heâll scare you with any sudden movements, he lowers himself to the ground, gathering you up in his arms to pick you up. You let him, but he feels you freeze as he wraps his arms around your frame. Youâre so incredibly small, even with the thick fabric of your boiler suit engulfing your entire body.
âItâs me,â he says softly, searching your eyes for any ounce of recognition. âItâs Law.â
âLawâŠ?â Your gaze doesnât waver, eyes widening as you look into his own before you search his face. âLaw?â
His crew is quiet. Most of them are confused, unaware of the gravity of the situation. Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin, on the other handâit had clicked for them the moment they saw white. They recognize the shadows that cross their captainâtheir best friendâs eyes, the way that hurt stretches throughout his entire face. They know your tale, theyâve etched it into memory, since that very night you two had finally opened up about your origins.Â
Law whispers your name. âItâs alright, Iâll keep you safe.â
Itâs a promise that he intends to keep, even after he helps you get back to normal.
First things first is to get you proper clothes. Penguin and Shachi are quick to head back into town to get some things that will fit your tiny form. In the meantime, you calm down in Lawâs arms, letting him hold you quietly as you find solace in the small medbay of the Tang. While youâre still weary of the crew, Bepo seems to be the only exceptionâ his soft white fur comforting you while you wait for the two to return.
âAre you sure itâs ok for me to touch you?â you ask quietly. Youâre seated on Lawâs lap, wide eyes staring at Bepoâs crouched form in front of you. âIf you donât want me to touch you, I understand.â
Law feels his heart caving in on itself as he sees you curl in against his chest, as if trying to escape the minkâs gaze. Bepo notices immediately, lowering his head further to reassure you with a smile, and you hesitantly reach out to pat his head, pleased by his soft fur under your fingertips.
âSee? Everythingâs ok!â Bepo grins, and you canât help but smile back, running your fingers through his fur. Lawâs heart aches at the fear that grips you tightly. Heâd nearly forgotten how withdrawn and quiet you were as the white traversed widely across your skin, the curses and fear thrown your way making you hide away even further into your shell. It was a stark contrast from Lawâs own responseâ one full of bitterness and revenge. Your voice, like a whisper, asks curiously if heâs truly a mink, and Lawâs relieved to watch as your curiosity blooms as your confidence.
The moment that Shachi and Penguin return, Ikkaku helps you change, making sure youâre comfortable before she takes her leave, so Law can give you a checkup. He opts to sit on the chair, making sure heâs looking up at you while youâre seated on top of the exam table. Last thing he wants to do is scare you with his much larger frame looming over yours. This way, youâll have a little bit of reassurance, maybe.
Truth be told, you were both the same height around that ageâyou even had an inch or two above him at one point, to your delight. It was when he and you found home and solace on Swallow Island and you werenât constantly surviving or fighting that heâd finally hit a much needed growth spurt for the rest of his teenage years.
But here you were, oh-so small, in Lawâs towering presence.
Heâs gentle with each step, praising you for doing so well as he checks over your vitals. And you watch with beaming curiosity as he handles the equipment with ease, but your eyes stay on his face, for the majority of the time. It makes Law self conscious, but he has no doubt what youâre searching for.
âYou donât have it,â you say quietly, small hands reaching out to touch Lawâs cheeks. They barely brush against his skin until you pull back, scared. âAre you really Law?â
His hand reaches up to cup yours, and he returns it to rest against his cheek. His stubble is scratchy against your palm, and you stare into his dark eyes unsurely.
âI promise you itâs me,â he answers gently. âI remember. We would always grab crepes together at the market, and youâd help me find coins for my collection. When we had sleepovers, weâd always read Sora together, under the covers with your flashlight so your parents wouldnât catch us sleeping late.â
You remain quiet, processing his words, but you relaxâa miniscule amount that makes your shoulders fall a little. Itâs all true, itâs everything normal that you recognize with Law. âWhere are they? Or Aunty and Uncle? Lami?â
Law expected this, but hearing you ask for your family and hisâit hurts. He exhales, squeezing your hand gently. âThey arenât here right now. Weâre pirates now. And weâre on the Grand Line, far away from the North Blue.â
âWeâre pirates?â you perk up, surprised, but something else turns in your head. âThat means I got better too, right? Does that mean everyone else is ok?â
All the air escapes Lawâs lungs, and he freezes. The current you doesnât know. Regardless if youâll remember or not once you return back to normal, he doesnât stop himself as he forces a smile that trembles against his lips. âYeah, thatâs right.â
Heâd never forget the look on your face. Pure, unfiltered happinessâit punches him straight in the gut. âDid Uncle find a treatment? How?â
âI can treat you,â Law answers slowly, bringing a hand up to your cheek and brushing his thumb against the skin. Thereâs a big blotchâone he remembers clearly, that covers most of your cheek and eye. âIt hurts, doesnât it?â
âYou can do that?â you gasp in awe. âYouâre a doctor? Like Uncle Tora?â
 âYeah.â Lawâs hand rests on top of your head. âDo you trust me?â
âOf course!â you beam widely, without a hint of doubt. âI trust you, Law!â
It takes everything inside of him to maintain his composure as he gets you ready for the procedure. He doesnât feel good about lying to you, but he doesnât need to overload you with more information with the realization of his devil fruit. Putting you under, he watches as your eyes close slowly, and he feels his powers thrum in his fingertips, letting out the breath he was holding.
âRoom.â
Briefly, heâs reminded of back thenâin that cold, little cave on Swallow Island, the howl of the blizzard roaring just outside as he tested his new, unfamiliar powers on himself, before heâd proceeded to remove the amber lead from your body.
I trust you, Law.
Even now, the words are the sameâyour unwavering trust in him, even as his hands shook in the cold and in unknowing fear. After watching Cora-san die at the hands of his terrible brother, escaping his clutches together by your side.
Itâs the same, but his power is familiar to him now, knowing it like the back of his hand. A power that he has honed and trained for so many years.
âScalpel.â
It comes out as a whisper, and alone in the medbay, he faces his demons once more.
By the time he finishes, he feels a raging storm of grief and hatred stir in his chest, staring at the bundle of white, encased in a familiar blue that heâs used to remove hearts and organs. Like this, the amber lead is safe to be disposed of, never to be exposed to anyone, and Law canât help the bitterness that wells up inside him, staring at the poison in his hands. The one that ruined his life, the one that took away his home and family.
He never imagined heâd have to face it again, all these years later. Never had he thought you, of all people, would be forced to go through it again.
âCaptain?â Penguinâs voice is muffled through the door, but Law grunts quietly, listening to the door creak open. âWe found something.â
âReport,â he says, voice low and tired. He sets aside the cube, and doesnât miss the way that Penguinâs gaze flickers to it before returning to him.
âLooks like she ran into some traveling merchant around these parts,â Penguin informs him. âMakes all sorts of weird potions and shit, too, from what we heard. One of the locals got hit by a similar thing, but they returned to normal in about two days.â
âAny other effects?âÂ
âNot according to them, no. Listed off the same symptoms of memory loss and de-aging. Apparently they turned back after they woke up the following day.â
Law sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. âAlright. Thank you, Penguin.â
He expects the man to leave, but after a beat of hesitation, footsteps approach him, and Penguin appears next to him, a comforting hand squeezing his shoulder.
âCap?â he says softly, before he corrects himself. âLaw? Are you alright?â
Not as a crewmate, but as his friend. As a longtime friend, for both you and him. Law releases the breath heâd been holding.
âShe thinks everyoneâs well,â Law whispers, his hand finding your hair, patting it gently, slowly. âShe thought I was my father.â
Glimpses of white flash in his vision. The white that covered your skin, his familyâs skin, even his own, when he looked into the mirror.Â
âYouâve become an amazing doctor like him, after all,â Penguin says, smiling softly at your sleeping face, void of the white heâd seen before. âSheâs proud of you. All of them would be, you know.â
Law says nothingâ just a sharp nod as he grits his teeth. Penguin huffs, slinging an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close to his chest. âWeâre all with you, Captain. And sheâll be just fine.â
Law makes no move to return it, but he doesnât push him away, letting out a shaky breath. âShe will be.â
Penguin smiles. âYeah.â
He excuses himself afterwards to head to dinner, chiding to Law that heâd bring some rice ballsââI know you arenât moving from that spot so Iâm getting you some, end of discussion.âÂ
Meanwhile, he Shambles his paperwork from his desk to his lap, swapping it with a paperclip before he gets to work. He accepts Penguinâs judgemental look as he returns with food, but he merely drops it off with a fond sigh and shake of his head, before heading off to cover your night watch shift.
While his appetite is nowhere present, he forces himself to nibble at one, then two, for safe measure, because the last thing he needs is you to be concerned if you were to see a plate of half eaten food thatâs definitely not enough for an adult man as himself. Plus, he can tell that Bepo was on dinner dutyâ the shape and flavor of the riceballs the exact way he remembered them from back then. His favorite, and also yours.
And somehow, the night grows late as he works by your side, hoping that you have a sweet dream for once.
When morning comes, you awaken to a Law who is fast asleep in a chair pulled up to your bedside, head buried in his arms uncomfortably next to you. You frown, immediately recognizing how bad it is for his posture, and heâll surely wake up with a crick in his neck. But you canât find yourself to wake him, not when you find the dark bags that cup his eyes. Quietly, you study his faceâmatured and aged with rough lines, furrowed brows and a frown on his lips, even as he sleeps.
Heâs a little different than the Law you knowâ ten and scrawny and a mere fraction of this Lawâs height. Sure, your Law didnât smile that much either, and sometimes he was a little too serious for being a kid like you, but he was never this⊠sad. Â
Were things not as alright as heâd told you?
Your eyes trail down to his hat, set aside on the bed, and you reach over to pick it up. Itâs reminiscent of the one he had as a child, with a thick bill instead of a rim around it. But itâs still the same white fluffy hat youâve always loved to steal off his head to wear upon your own, tracing your fingers along each spot that adorns the white.
Curiously, you put it over your own head, only to be absolutely engulfed by it, and you sputter in surprise, realizing it tilts over, covering your face and plunging you into Lawâs scent and darkness.
You fumble to grab it to try to pull it off, but it gets lifted off your head, and you meet Lawâs tired, yet amused face.
âGoodâGood morning,â you greet him, embarrassed, and he chuckles, resting the hat on your lap.
âHow do you feel?â he asks gently, and you look at your hands, free of white, before they come up to pat your cheeks.
âIt⊠doesnât hurt anymore,â you murmur. âYouâre amazing, Law.â
âIâm glad,â Law says with relief. âYou must be hungry. Do you want to eat?â
You nod. âCan I⊠meet them, too?â
He raises an eyebrow. âThe crew? Do you feel up for it?â
Another nod. Though, your cheeks tint with a light blush, as you shyly lower your head. âThey seemed⊠nice.â
Law smiles. âOf course.â
Once he checks your vitals one last time, he lets you change out of the gown and into the clothes that Shachi and Penguin had gotten the previous day before heading out of the room together. He slows his stride, letting you walk beside him as he leads you down the metal hallways. You follow close beside him, taking in the bolts and hum of metal that surround you, your footsteps echoing his, lighter and shorter than his own. Leading you to the galley, he stops in front of the door, listening to the muffled noise and chatter through the thick walls.
âReady?â
You reach up to grab his hand, your fingers wrapping around his pinky. You nod, youâre ready.
With that, he opens the door, and the chatter grows louder in volume, before it immediately quiets down as you enter alongside Law. You shuffle beside him, peeking around his frame to notice all eyes settled on youâand you quickly hide behind Lawâs legs, clutching onto the fabric of his jeans.
âIntroduce yourselves,â Law announces to the crew, before mentioning your name. âIt appears sheâll be in this state for at least another day, so make sure to be cautious around the ship when going about business.â
A few of them make their way towards you, crouching low or getting onto their knees to match your height a little better. You donât recognize any of them, apart from Penguin who carried you back to the ship the day before, along with Shachi, Bepo, and Ikkaku, who helped you get changed into your new clothes the first time around.Â
They all offer your friendly smiles and greetings that coax you out from hiding, and you shyly greet them back, peering around Lawâs leg cautiously as you take in all the new faces. From the crowd, a man with twin braids crouches down, a small bundle of fabric gathered in his arms. He has dark bags under his eyes that are just barely covered by the brim of his hat, but he still offers you a tired smile.Â
âWhat is it?â you ask quietly, reaching out to take it from his hands.Â
âDid you seriously stay up all night to make it?â Ikkaku asks from beside him, raising an eyebrow. âCaptain said sheâll turn back in a day or so.â
âBut Heart Pirates pride,â Kurage answers sleepily, before yawning. âPlus, isnât it super cute?â
No complaints there. Ikkaku shrugs, before taking you to the bathroom to get changed into your new outfit.Â
And honestly his efforts are totally worth it, because the moment you return to the galley in your little uniform, everyone coos.
âSomeone get the Camera Snail!â Shachi yells, ushering Clione to get it awake and ready. âTake a picture! Hurry!â
Law watches quietly and in your little boiler suit, heart soaring at the wide smile on your face as you look down at yourself. âIâm a pirate!â
Another round of coos and cheers erupt from the crew.Â
The new uniform and the jolly roger on back has you warming up to everyone donning the same thing, and you get seated next to Penguin and Shachi as they finish up breakfast, with Law getting you a small plate of your own. You nibble on delicious pancakes and fruit, and as the galley empties out, youâre left alongside Law and Bepo who will watch over you and do a tour around the ship after youâre done eating.
Seated on top of Bepoâs shoulders, youâre careful not to tug on his fur as you hold onto his head. Law follows close behind, always at the ready in case you lean back and fall, but he knows full well that Bepo will exercise utmost caution with you.
They show you around all the rooms, from the engines to navigation, and even the greenhouse and common areas, where the crew all take time to chat and greet you along the way. With each space comes a plethora of anecdotes and fun facts which you soak in eagerly, listening intently to what everyone had to offer.
Eventually, you make your way outside, your enthusiasm infectious as you run across the deck at the realization ofââWe have a submarine!?â your exclaim, eyes twinkling in awe as you spin on your heel to look back at Law and Bepo. âItâs yellow!â
âYeah, itâs called the Polar Tang!â Bepo proudly says. âIsnât she cool!â
âVery cool!â
As you admire the ship alongside Law, thereâs work being done to it as you venture around, hearing the clangs and metalwork from below. You take the opportunity to get to the bow, hands grasping at the railing as you peek through the bars, eyes roving across the portside curiously. Flevance was quite a way from the coast, so seeing a seaside town was a first for you, and Law could tell that you were curious about it too.
âBepo, can you help us out with lifting this up?â Someone from the crew calls from below, and you look down, seeing various metal panels and other supplies for repairs stacked across the dock. They offer you polite waves and greetings, but most of them are hard at work, focusing on doing whatever they need to for the ship.
âGo, Bepo,â Law says with a nod, and the mink turns to you.Â
âWeâll play more later, alright?â
âOk!â You wave at the mink who heads down the gangplank, hurrying to help with the heavy materials as needed. But in his stead, a familiar duo appears at your side, and youâre quick to fire off your questions to themâ why the color yellow? Why is the word âdeathâ on the side? Why a submarine?
They take it all in stride, bouncing answers back and forth and showing you all across deck, Law following behind and keeping a close eye on you so you donât slip through the railings and fall into the water below. As youâre mid-sentence, you pause, looking up to see a tall manâeven taller than Law or Bepo, come up beside you. Uni, you recall, who offers you a little wave, turns to Law. âCaptain, I was wondering if I could ask you about a few thingsâŠâ
Shachi looks to Law, who waves the two of you off. âIâll catch up. Go with the two, alright?â
âI actually have to go back and help Ikakku with some engine fixes,â Penguin admits sheepishly. âJust came out here to grab some tools Clione took from her.â
âDonât worry, Cap. Sheâs in good hands!â Shachi states, saluting playfully and you follow in suit, to which he chuckles. âWe can go check out your room in the meantime!â You gasp, nodding eagerly.
âBe careful and don't runââ Law warns, just as a precaution because he canât help but worry about how small and fragile you are, but Shachiâs already following you back into the Tang as you hurry inside, excitedly waving over your shoulder, as you talk a mile a minute. He sighs, while Penguin chuckles next to him.Â
âTheyâll be fine, Captain,â Penguin reassures him. âYou can dote on her as soon as you help them out.â
Law grunts, and before Penguin can say anything else, he summons a small Room before Shambling himself onto the dock, disappearing in the blink of an eye. But to Penguinâs luck, heâd switched with a stray screwdriverâthe exact same one he needed. He picks it up and shrugs. At least it saves him the trip down the gangplank.Â
All the while, the prospect of the older-youâs room has you incredibly curious, not at all aware of Lawâs continuous concern for your wellbeing as you nearly trip over your feet while you run down the halls following Shachiâs directions. His hands land on your shoulder and he steers you down each hallway, excitedly pointing out the rooms you recognize, until he reaches the crew cabins, to which he differentiates between the guys' and girlsâ sides. He points out Ikkakuâs room, before he shows you to yours just across from it, a small little thing thatâs tight and cozy, the desk and bed bolted down and the walls plastered with posters and pictures that you instantly notice. Your eyes flicker from each photo, and you watch in awe as you recognize yourself, a bit older than you are now, with Law, without the white haunting either of you.
There are pictures with Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi, and a man with an aloha shirt, all younger than they are now, and you canât help the many questions that bubble up in your mind. âWeâve been friends for a long time?â
Shachi nods. âYes! Weâve known each other for over ten years now.â
âPenguin and Bepo, too?â
âMhm!â Shachi looks at the photo, red eyes softening behind his shades in reminiscence. âWe started the crew together!â
You let out a noise of awe, dragging it out as your eyes continue to scan the wall. Bounty posters line the board as wellâLawâs, Bepoâs, andâ
âThatâsâŠme?â you ask, and Shachi grins.Â
âYou look cool, donât you think?â
You canât believe that youâve become such a strong-looking pirate with a bounty on her head. You never thought youâd leave Flevance to sail the seas and find home within the deep waters. It feels unbelievable, and if not for how familiar you look in the poster, youâd still be in doubt. But your name is printed right below it, wanted dead or alive, Lawâs name, too.
But something else catches your interest. Little printed photos are scattered around the walls, and you realize theyâre newer onesâones where youâre with some familiar faces of the crew and donning your boiler suit.
Your gaze lands on one of the newer photos, one of you and Law, the older version of you happily in his arms.
âIs thatâŠâ
Shachi freezes, stumbling over his words, unsure how to address the fact that you were definitely in a romantic relationship with the captain at this point in time.
âAh, yeah, you and Law are still, well, really close friends!â
Nice going, dumbass. He regrets the words that come out of his mouth, and you give him a curious stare.Â
âThatâs a relief!â you exclaim happily, not at all connecting the dots to Shachiâs panic. âIâm glad heâs still by my side.â
âYeah. I know he is, too,â Shachi answers quietly. He watches you look happily at the photo before your attention trails off elsewhere, eyes scanning across the room with bursting fascination that refuses to dampen. It doesnât take long for you to lock onto your next targetâyour rucksackâthe same one you had before you got turned into a kid. It sits upon your bed, innocently splayed out across the sheets as you clamber up the side to get a closer look. Shachi watches, holding his breath as he recalls you had pulled out that weird marble from your bag, and you also hadâ
âWhatâs this?â
âI think itâs what you had before you turned into a child,â Shachi says, peering into it curiously. âWhat's in there?â
With a shrug, you dig through the bag, ignoring this and that, until your fingers brush against smooth wood, piquing your interest as you curl your fingers around it. A wooden case sits in your hands, and you donât hear Shachi inhale sharply as you open it carefully.
âFlevance Berry?â you mutter confused. Why are they in such a fancy case?Â
Shachiâs heart drops, even more so when you turn to look at him questioningly. âO-Oh? Maybe you got Law then as a gift!â
Until realization dawns over him and he covers his mouth, forgetting about your current state of mind at that very moment. You donât notice, though, looking down at the case of coins. Surely, Law would have some in his collection alreadyâitâs such a common coin design, after all. Before you can ask Shachi why, he pats your back.
âWhy donât you go show him?â Shachi says strained, and you nod, hopping off your bed to follow the man out of your room. You poke your head into all the open doorways, but Shachi steers you back towards deck, knowing Law would probably still be out there to monitor some of the repairs and maintenance.
And indeed, heâs still there by the time you make your way outside, discussing something with Uni and Clione. His back is turned towards you, but by the look of recognition on the twoâs faces, he turns around, quick to lower himself into a crouch to greet you.
âLaw, look!â You run up to him, the case in your hands as you present it to him! âI got you these yesterday! For your collection, I think!â
He looks to Shachi who nervously nods, and he crouches down, accepting the little box before he opens it.
âI thought you already had all the Flevance coins,â you begin, unaware of the shadow that casts itself over Lawâs face. âBut Shachi said I got these for you yesterday!â
You watch curiously as he brushes a finger over the plastic covering them, eyes tracing each design of the coin, before he lets out a shaky sigh, one that doesnât go unnoticed by Shachi who watches from the doorway, Uni and Clione by his side as they watch on curiously.
âI lost them, after we set sail,â Law tells you softly. His hand finds the top of your head, patting it gently. âThank you, I really appreciate it.â
You miss the way he looks down at the coins, a mixture of longing and nostalgia and grief all in his eyes. Youâre just relieved he seems happy about it. âIâm glad!â
Before Law can say anything else, Bepoâs return catches your attention as the mink excitedly runs up to you, scooping you into his arms as he continues his little jog around the deck. Your laughter fills the air, excited squeals and giggles that fuels his to grow even louder. Law watches on, a small smile of his own gracing his lips as he soaks in your happiness. But as soon as his fingers tighten around the case in hand, his heart drops to the pit of his stomach.
Nostalgia, longing, relief, guilt. It all consumes him in a terrible wave. Itâs a part of his life that he never thought heâd see again, that you somehow brought back to him.
Shachi meets him, standing by his side as he watches on. âShe was really excited to give those to you,â he murmurs quietly. Thereâs no response from Law, who looks down at them in his hand. âYou alright, Cap?â
âTheyâre just coins,â Law states simply. âBut youâd think something as trivial as this wouldnât feel soâŠâ
He trails off, and Shachi hums in agreement. âItâs not trivial when it used to be in your hands everyday. Itâs part of home.â
Law watches you, listening to your laughter as Bepo twirls around. âYeah.â
Home.
And he canât seem to take his eyes off you.
Evening arrives in no time, and you find yourself in the galley, surrounded by the crewâyour crew, once more.
Dinner is a feastâone that you enjoy until your stomach feels like itâll burst. Meat and fish and veggies, all prepared and cooked in a multitude of ways and spread colorfully across the galley tables. It felt like a huge family dinner, and you loved listening to all the stories your crew had to offer, all the while enjoying the unfamiliar cuisine.
Dessert is a smaller affair of light sweets and treats, and after a warm soak with Ikkaku, you find yourself in the common room, listening to Bepo as he reads one of the light novels for Sora, Warrior of the Sea. His voice is like a calming blanket over you, as you pet his fur gently, listening to him tell the tale of Sora as he fights Germa 66 once more. Itâs a new storyâone you donât recall reading, but you enjoy it all the same, wondering if Law is caught up to it even now.Â
A few of the boys enact the scenes with great dramaticsâ Bepo narrates it all as Clione voices a fake shout of pain, Shachiâno, Sora, defeating him and the other Germa lackeys. You laugh at the use of his âhigh-tech blaster,â which is just the man pointing at the others with his finger gun accompanied by dramatic sound effects. As much as you enjoy their theatrics, you canât help the drowsiness that takes a hold of you in her comforting arms, melting into the warmth of Bepoâs soft fur as his voice lulls you to sleep. It has been a long day, after all, and it hits you in an instant, even as their loud acting and laughter fills the air, on top of the quieter chatter of the others playing cards or enjoying their quiet hobbies. It all fades into the background like a gentle fall.Â
Youâre not quite sure how long youâre asleep for, but the next time you open your eyes, you find yourself looking up at Law, curled up in his arms as he makes his way down the hall.
At one point, you must have fallen asleepâcozy and warm against Bepo, the last thing you remember is mentioning the heroic Sora defeating his enemies after a long battle.
It doesnât take long for him to notice you rouse, and his steps slow, meeting your gaze with an apologetic look. âSorry. Did I wake you?â
You shake your head with a tired hum. âLaw?â
âYeah?â
âCan I stay with you?â you ask quietly, voice riddled with sleep and a hint of guilt. âPlease?â
âOf course,â he responds, changing course to head toward his room instead. Youâd seen it briefly earlier, but you find yourself in his quarters, where he gently tucks you into bed. The sheets smell like himâ a scent that youâve grown so used to when you were younger, but tinged with something deeper, muskier than you remember. But itâs so familiar, so comfortable, that sleep nearly ushers you back into its hold until you realizeâ
âAre you not going to bed?â You watch as he crouches down by the bedside, but makes no move to get into bed himself. He frowns.
âThereâs some work I have to do,â he tells you, but you shake your headâhe slept poorly last night, youâre sure of it. He needs some proper rest.Â
So, you scoot over, doing your best to not mess up the blankets too much with your small limbs, before you pat the free space next to you. âYou need to go to bed.â
Law chuckles. Yet he makes no move to deny you, merely slipping under the covers next to you, tucking an arm under his head as he lays on his side, facing you. Satisfied, you grin, closing the distance between him and he raises a hand to brush your hair away from your face.
âCan you tell me about your tattoos?â you suddenly ask, and Law raises a brow.
âWhat about them?â
âWhy you got them,â you state sleepily, yawning. âI didnât think doctors should have âdeathâ written on their fingers.â
Law remains quiet for a beat, before he lets out an amused breath. âYou're not wrong about that, I suppose.â
He lets you hold onto one of his hands with both of your ownâsmall fingers barely wrapping around his thumb and the side of his palm. Small, little, unscarred hands, that are just as warm as he remembered. You trace the letters on his fingers, the shape on the back of his hand, and he savors the light touches as he tells you all about them.
He tells you about the gears on his forearms, the ones on the back of his hands, the ones on his biceps and his chest, as well, but heâs certain you didnât understand a single word he said regarding that oneânot as your head tilts forward and your eyes drift closed. His voice lulls you back to the state between sleep and awake, a heavy weight lowering your eyes as you struggle to keep listening.
âCaptainâŠâ you murmur softly, almost incoherently. But Law hums, and you reach out to clutch at his shirt, scooching closer towards him. âIâm glad youâre still with me even after we grew up.â
âI am too,â Lawâs voice is a deep whisper from above. âI wonât leave your side. Iâll be here, I promise.â
Cradled in the gentle ocean waters and in Lawâs arms, you let sleep take you once more.
Law is naturally a light sleeper, so the moment he feels something rustle around in his arms, he finds himself roused from his slumber, eyes opening and registering your form curled up against him.
The you thatâs back to normal.
You freeze, lifting your head slightly to meet his gaze with a sheepish smile. âGood morning, darling,â you greet him with a nervous chuckle. âI, uh, donât have the clearest memory of the past two days, but it looks like Iâm back to normal.â
Law hugs you tightly, pulling you to his chest as he presses his lips into your hair. You return it, eagerly wrapping your arms around him and squeezing, intent on soaking in every bit of warmth that he wishes to give you.
âI missed you,â he murmurs, lips brushing against your forehead. âDo you remember anything that happened?â
âItâs⊠a bit fuzzy, but a little bit,â you admit quietly. âLike I was in a dream of being a kid again. Couldnât take control, but I could see everything, you know?â
âYou were so behaved as a kid,â Law teases, in a reminiscing tone. âNothing like the big bad pirate youâve become.â
You gape at him in faux shock. âSays the Surgeon of Death. The literal Supernova with an enormous bounty on his head.â
He chuckles, a soft sound that makes your chest buzz. âIâm glad you returned to normal. If anything feels weird or offââ
âIâm fine, Law. Promise.â
You wonder if heâll still activate his powers just to Scan you while in bed, but he relaxes, melting in your hold. âIâm giving you a check-up later, though. Just to make sure.â
âAye-aye,â you acquiesce softly. âSpeaking of check-upsâŠâ
Law watches as you pull back, loosening his hold on you so you can bring your hands up, cupping his cheeks gently. âThank you for saving me again, Law.â
One hand comes to hold yours, and he presses a gentle kiss against your palm.
âFor you, always.â
His devotion, his warmth, his loyalty. It all burns in his words, in his touch.Â
âI hope you like the coins, by the way,â you whisper, like a quiet secret he shouldnât hear. âThought youâd want them to feel back at home.â
âThank you,â he says, genuinely. âBut I donât need anything else but you by my side to feel at home.â
You resist the urge to laugh. What a sap. âYouâre my home, too.â
The Flevance coins sit upon his desk, twinkling under the lowlights of his room. But you find yourself cherishing your lover instead, hidden under the covers away from the outside world.