˚₊‧꒰ა ꔛ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

—This realization led him to behave in a way that was surprising for him.

Mihawk took a more passive stance. He rarely took the initiative in anything other than a duel, whether for a mission or simply for the pleasure of it. Even so, he felt compelled to do so with you, as there was no way you would approach him willingly.

—With remarkable patience, he learned to slow his movements, soften his voice so as not to appear (even more) threatening, even avoiding any movement that might seem abrupt so as not to startle you.

—Basically, his eyes were on you almost every moment they could be, without seeming frightening to you or suspicious to anyone else around. He observes you as if you were the most intriguing mystery to be deciphered.

—To gauge his own actions around you, he first had to learn how you reacted to your surroundings, especially to an environment you two shared. Your fear, your way of speaking, your tendency to avoid his gaze, among other things, revealed far more about you than you might initially expect.

❝You're not weak,❞ he told you one day casually, without even really looking at you. ❝You're just on guard. That's sensible.❞

—Everything Mihawk studied about you, with a mixture of his usual patience and a newfound fascination, made him fall more and more for you. It wasn't just that your beauty blinded him in that first encounter, but that everything about you was gaining ground in his heart.

—We're talking about the best swordsman in the world, so it was no surprise that he took a position of silent security beside you. It was nothing ostentatious, since he doesn't expect anything in return; it's undeniable that he had become quite protective of you, albeit quietly. Simply placing himself between you and any threat.

—I'd say that Mihawk didn't know how to flirt, or not intentionally at first, since sweetening his words becomes a tedious task for him in the long run. Even so, and I reiterate what I said before, he spoke to you with a brutal honesty, but softening his tone of voice to an almost intimate whisper.

—Although, he'd surprise even himself by wanting to make you laugh, because in his humble opinion, there's no better sound than your laughter. He's not exactly the kind of person who laughs easily, yet he tries to use ironic, almost subtle, comments if it means your fear will lessen and give way to a smile.

❝If you smile, I promise not to use Yoru all day.❞ If the intention behind his words was already crazy, the genuine addition of doubt in your expression could only bring a small, amused grin to your face. ❝I'm experimenting."

—Returning to the different side of himself that he showed only to you, when you were alone, that is, he let the "Hawkeye" mask fall away in those moments. He showed you who Dracule Mihawk truly was, without needing a reputation that only seemed to push you away at times. The weariness, the desire for peace, the weariness of the world, the longing for a proper duel…

—When fear finally abandoned you, when you finally stopped being afraid of the false image and admire the man behind it… He allowed himself the luxury of truly feeling.

—He noticed your gradual change, little by little, not pressuring you about it and giving you the time and space to open up at your own pace.

That day you approached him of your own volition. ❝You don't scare me anymore,❞ you confessed in a calm, yet somewhat nervous voice. He almost forgot how to breath after that, ❝… Good. Then I can say it.❞ ❝Say what?❞ You ushered, unsure of what he'd say. ❝That from the very first moment… I chose you.❞ He finally said it, letting himself meet your eyes properly for the first time ever.

—Your more reserved nature, especially when you seem to blush at some of his displays of chivalry, strikes him as terribly adorable. Although Hermes doesn't openly admit it, it's evident in the sparkle of his eyes how much he's fascinated by your moments of genuine shyness.

—There are also times when, faced with your sudden outbursts of anger, he takes pleasure in gently provoking you with various comments here and there. He doesn't do it maliciously; he doesn't want to upset you, after all, but he can't help finding amusement in your very human and vibrant emotions. He does find you so interesting that he needs to study you in detail.

—Hermes is a god; that's something we all know, so don't be surprised if he uses his unique abilities to protect you at all times, whether you're aware of it or not. He levitates near you, manipulates objects at will, and moves with enviable elegance, all to keep you safe from any danger he perceives as imminent, without unnecessary drama.

❝Relax,❞ leaning in front of you, he placed a delicate kiss on your forehead. ❝I've already taken care of it before you could even worry.❞ A smile graced his lips once he pulled away and saw your tender expression.

—We're talking about the quintessential scientist of the human fighters, so it's no surprise that Nikola Tesla ends up analyzing your mood swings as if they were a scientific phenomenon—which, in a way, could be understood that way—but that's another story. He sees this approach not as something cold on his part, but as a genuine curiosity to learn about you and a growing affection for everything that comes with loving you.

❝Fascinating… Your emotions fluctuate like an unstable electrical field. Let me help you stabilize it.❞ He said this as if he weren't already jotting down notes on the ideas that were popping into his head.

—Tesla's not particularly good with his emotions, leaning more towards the rational side of his brain. However, that doesn't stop him from giving his all to be there for you when you need him. Learning to hug you, awkwardly enough, it must be admitted, when you get shy or nervous. If you ask him, he'll say he's improvising as he goes along, which is quite sweet of him.

—His talent for invention is as clear as the sky, so much so that he found in it the brilliant possibility of dedicating little things to you to make you smile during your relationship. They may seem like useless objects at first glance, but their intentions are adorable: a light that seems to change colour based on your current mood, an automaton programmed only to bring you flowers at certain times…

—Don't be bothered if you see him taking notes when your emotional changes lead to anger. Tesla's not trying to study you like an experiment, not at all, but he still likes to write down what he sees and what makes you react in certain ways so he can learn to understand you better in the long run. He has a specific notebook just about you, noting everything from why you got angry one summer afternoon to how you cried in April over a blooming flower in your garden.

—In another note, you can find him more than once looking at you intently as if you were living proof that humanity deserves to exist. Your inherent sweetness and vibrant emotions deeply inspire him to fight for the cause for which he'd later be recruited, at Ragnarok.

❝If humanity can create hearts like yours.❞ His eyes seemed to shine with an undeniable love you had never seen in them before. ❝Then our future is bright!❞ He raised his fist to the sky, smiling more radiantly than the sun itself.

—Her choices of pet names are: "flower", "my little scholar". Her choices are carefully picked in based of how deeply she feels for you. She says them with a straight face, fully aware how deeply they may fluster you.

The gentle sway of the waves against the Sunny felt unapologetic calming. You two were reading together on the deck, as usual.

❝You know, flower?❞ Nico Robin closed the book she had been reading, watching you with those beautiful eyes of hers. ❝I like how you concretrate on the pages. It's… Oddly relaxing.❞ Her voice was low, almost an intimate whisper that left you waiting for more.

—Her choices of pet names are: "my bluebird", "sweetheart". She speaks to you as if you're something fragile in that mess that has been her life, a delicate part of herself she trusts to be strong. Don't mind her if she panics after saying any of them for the first couple of times.

It was after another of your many new adventures, Nefertari Vivi had looked at you proudly as if you were the one that made the stars come out each night.

❝My bluebird, you did so well!❞ She took your hands in hers with that warmth and sincere energy that characterized the princess

—Her choices of pet names are: "little spook", "sweetie". Genuely, she calls you whatever matches with her current mood. Her attention comes dramatically wrapped in sugar and gloom, to no one's surprise.

You were choosing your outfit of the day, while Perona floated behind you dramatically. As soon as you pulled out that color she secretly loved, she huffed to herself.

❝Sweetie, that color looks way too good on you. I'm annoyed by how cute you are!❞ She gave you one of her pouts, as usual, as if a pretty blush hadn't already settled on her cheeks by your mere image.

—Her choices of pet names are: "precious one", "dearest heart". We know how she's, so her words fall like declarations. She names you with the certainty of someone who has already chosen you, her most loved one.

It had been a tiring day in Amazon Lily, you two were walking side by side towards your quarters when, out of a sudden, Boa Hancock tilted your chin up with a single finger.

❝Dearest heart… Everyone should bow down to you too.❞ Behind you the Kuja's sisters sighed tiredly at their empress's antics.

—Her choices of pet names are: "sweet eyes", "bright thing". She says them with the confidence of someone who’s seen every type of fool out there, and decided you’re her favorite one. If that's good or bad is left for interpretation.

Her bar in Sabaody was lonely that day, no one there to interrupt your precious time. Shakuyaku, or Shakky, served you your favoured drink as soon as you sat down on a stool closer to her.

❝Here you go, sweet eyes.❞ She smiled at you, looking impossibly gorgeous. "You always light up the place when you walk in."

—Her choices of pet names are: "my heart", "my (dear) love". It's almost inevitable for someone as passionate as her not to use petnames in her daily language, espeacilly when regarding to you. For her, they're a way to express her deep feelings without any filter.

You were on a balcony in Dressrosa at sunset. Viola looked at you with that mixture of mischief and tenderness that only she seemed to posses, a smile stretching at her lips.

❝My heart, you don't need to say it. I've already seen it.❞ Of course, she had used her ability to read the thought you were too shy to admit out loud. She placed a flower behind your ear, not letting you dwell deeper into that momentary breach of privacy.

—Her choices of pet names are: "sunshine", "(my) partner". She uses them for as many things as one may expect: to cheer you up, give you strength, and remind you that you're not alone in anything. She might also use then to tease you, just to see your smile while you complain.

The clearing in the woods had become your training grounds for the day. As you attempted to repeat a move she had taught you, Koala stared at you with her arms crossed, trying and failing not to laugh.

❝Sunshine, that's not a punch. That's a firendly wave to the air.❞ She came over, gently took yoru wrists and adjusted her stance. ❝Once more.❞ And when you got it right, she smiled at you brigthly.

—Her choices of pet names are: "sweet (venom)", "dearest". Given the environment she grew up in, she views petnames as a conscios way to create a real emotional bond with you. You're the only space where she doesn't have to pretend or hide her feelings, which makes her coquette confidence come out.

You two were on your own, away from any prying eyes. You were trying to help her close a small medical kit, yet you almost dropped an ampoule. Reiju Vinsmoke caught it mid-air.

❝Sweet poison… If I don't keep an eye on you, you'll end up poisoning the very air.❞ She gently set your hand back, smiling at you with that elegant calmness purely hers.

As soon as he saw you, a small smile appeared on his face, one of those smiles that always seemed on the verge of shattering. ❝You've come,❞ he murmured so quietly, as if your presence still surprised him. He always greeted you like that, as if he feared that one day you might not show up.

Your steps paused before you were able to reach him. For a moment, you hesitated to approach, not because you didn't want to, but because the reality of your situation, of his situation, still weighed heavily on your shoulders as if it were yours to bear. He wasn't simply a clumsy, kind man; he was an infiltrator, a traitor to his own "family," someone burdened with a mission too great… And too lonely.

❝I shouldn't be here,❞ you whispered honestly, which caused him to lower his gaze for a moment. The silence between you became unbearable. He didn't need to speak, because you both knew he'd say the same thing he always did: "I shouldn't let you come either. But…" He never finished that sentence, leaving the ending to your own interpretation.

You took a step toward him, breaking the distance you both pretended to maintain for your supposed own good. You felt his tension, how his body reacted immediately, as if he wanted to back away but didn't. He never did.

❝So why are we still doing this?❞ The question slipped out before you could fully process it. You didn't know when it happened, but a pinkish bubble surrounded you both.

Rosinante raised his hand, hesitating for a second before allowing it to brush against your cheek, almost clumsily. His fingers were warm, unexpectedly soft for someone who lived surrounded by violence. ❝Because when you're not here…❞ His voice seemed to break under the pressure of his own life, ❝…everything becomes more difficult.❞

That confession fell between you like a heavy secret. It was clear he wasn't someone who loved halfway. Rosinante was a man who gave himself completely, even when he knew he would lose everything in the process. He did it with Law, he did it with his mission… And now, with you.

❝This is going to end badly,❞ you said between breaths, though deep down you already knew it. You were both aware of it from the start. ❝Terribly badly.❞

He let out a laugh as low as it was bitter, while shaking his head a couple of times. Reality hurt more than you both wanted to admit. So much so that your eyes welled up without you being able to stop it. He never made promises, never spoke of a future together. There were no pretty lies, only the raw, heartbreaking truth that surrounded you two.

Taking a few final steps, you managed to get closer, resting your forehead against his chest where your height difference allowed. Instantly, you felt his breathing quicken, the rise and fall of his chest increasing in speed, as if he hadn't expected that simple gesture.

❝I don't know how to stop this,❞ you confessed, your voice trembling slightly. The rain did little to hide the tears that streamed relentlessly down your cheeks; the sheer emotion overwhelmed you, seeping into every corner of you, refusing to let go.

He rested his chin on your head. ❝Me neither,❞ he admitted in his reply. ❝And maybe I don't even want to.❞ His arms were soon around you with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with everything you knew about him.

The silence that followed wasn't awkward. It was the kind of silence that speaks for itself, the kind that lingers in your memory long after it's all over. A memory of a moment of happiness that would soon, much sooner than you expected, end brutally. Deep down, you both always knew that this love had no place in the world Rosinante lived in. It was fragile, clandestine, doomed from the very beginning.

And yet… You couldn't end it. You didn't want to put a period to your story.

When you finally deigned to pull away from him, you noticed how his hand remained gripping yours for a second longer than necessary. His touch made his thoughts clear, as if letting go meant losing too much.

❝Be careful,❞ you said tenderly before placing a soft kiss on his heart. He nodded, but his eyes said something else. They said stay, they said don’t go, they said everything he'd never allow himself to say aloud.

As soon as you turned away, the illusion shattered as the bubble burst. You forced one foot forward toward the end of the alley. Then another. And another.

Each step dragged, heavier than the last, as if the ground itself was trying to hold you in place. Although you knew you should get away from him as quickly and as soon as possible, you also knew that, somehow, you couldn’t be without him.

You couldn’t live without Donquixote Rosinante.

—Gen's not blind, far from it. His talent for reading microexpressions and tension served him perfectly, as he recognized that disdain in you. The same thing that, surprisingly, piqued his interest. So, every time he saw that frown of yours, he couldn't help but let an ambiguous comment escape his lips; sometimes it was a decidedly suspicious compliment, and other times it was the hint of a smile too sweet to be casual.

❝Oho… That look again.❞ He commented as he took notice of your latest side eye sent his way. ❝You glare at me like I’m poison, but you still listen. Interesting.❞

—While most people ended up falling head over heels for his soft voice and harmless demeanor, you couldn't. You looked at him as if he was a sheep in wolf's clothing, as the saying goes.

—The resistance you put up only achieved the opposite of what you wanted in the first place, since, instead of distancing himself, he only felt an increase in his intrigue, which led him to find excuses to stay close.

—Gen started asking you personally for help with various tasks, simple ones at that, in the village, such as understanding the traditions of this new world or even how to use the wooden platforms to walk on swampy terrain, when he hadn't even planned on using them. He was only after one thing with his constant barrage of questions: to find a pattern in your reactions based on how he acted towards you.

—That's how he began to deconstruct the walls surrounding your heart, stone by stone, if that's what it took.

—In a village where life is harsh and straightforward, it was clear you valued frankness above all else. A preference reflected in your many interactions with him, because every time he tried to manipulate you by coming around, you cut him off abruptly, muttered a proper goodbye, and left. The best part? He was genuinely surprised and incredibly charmed.

—The turning point in your relationship, if you could call it that, came late one night. While everyone else slept in the comfort of their homes, you had the chance to meet the mentalist, stripped of his usual tricks, just him and a campfire that was about to go out. You didn't know where that feeling came from, but you chose to stay, finding a place to sit and listen to him. For the first time, he spoke to you without embellishment, without false smiles.

—That quiet night marked the beginning of a love that Gen couldn't even name.

—The doubts about how the village routine worked gradually shifted, giving way to a more protective attitude, which he excused as unplanned. When someone bothered you, he appeared “coincidentally.” When there was hard work to be done, he “happened” to be there to help. When he believed you were tired, he offered you water or a small break.

❝Don’t misunderstand. I’m only here because you’re… Convenient. Very convenient. Painfully convenient.❞ He tried to hide himself behind his sleeve, but it didn't work. At All.

—Obviously, you were the first to notice this new vulnerability, since you were the primary recipient of these not-so-subtle changes. Gen might be a master of deception, but you had already learned to distinguish a nervous smile from a genuine one. It was that very ability of yours, to read him like an open book, that completely disarmed him.

—The confession finally came at the height of a fight between the two of you; the reason for the initial argument had been forgotten by then. You accused him of manipulating you, or at least trying to, of using your feelings as if they were some kind of social experiment. So many accusations were made that he was left speechless, his guard down, and almost silently, he blurted it out.

❝Why the hell do you think I try so hard with you? It’s not a trick…❞ He took a step back, recoiling for an instant like he didn't mean to say it out loud but couldn't stop himself. ❝I’ve lied about many things. But not this. I like you. Annoyingly, sincerely, disastrously so.❞

Loki would approach you, a sharp smile etched on his face, heavy with jokes and provocations, waiting to see you tremble or blush. And you always denied him that reaction; instead, you responded with wit, sarcasm, or such calm that you made him doubt himself. And when the sound of your laughter reached his ears for the first time… Oh, Freyja, protect him. It felt just like that time Brunhilde smiled at him, like a direct blow to a part of his chest he'd rather ignore.

He doesn't know how to love gently. His nature is obsessive, distorted and intense. And all of that extends to the feelings that haunt him.

Loki started looking for you "by chance." Writing about you in his journal. Appearing upside down above your head when you least expected it. Creating little replicas of you, studying every gesture and expression, as if you were a riddle he needed to solve.

And you, without even knowing it, had become his favorite pastime… And something much deeper that neither of you could name at that moment.

The confession came almost as a double shock. His reputation preceded him, and not only that, but his elitist view of humanity didn't help his case either. He didn't have to hear you speak because your face showed your consideration of his words as a cruel joke.

❝Why would someone like him notice me? He must be playing with me,❞ your mind kept repeating. Your thinking was quite logical, which led to a subtle anger slowly coursing through your veins. Things like that shouldn't be played with; neither you nor your feelings were a joke for his own amusement.

That's when he became genuinely confused. For the first time in his eons of existence, someone was accusing him of something he hadn't done. Soon, that confusion enveloped him in a dark, burning aura. His strong emotions were nothing more than cannons waiting to be fired, and your audacity had become a sudden target.

Before Loki could even measure his own words, he launched himself and blurted out whatever came to mind.

❝How dare you doubt me? Do you think I need to play with you for my amusement?"

Amid his outburst of hatred for being rejected, something in the air stopped him once again. It was a mere second, an instant in which his eyes met yours, and what he glimpsed in those depths, he recognized as pain. You weren't angry, you were hurt, and that was even worse.

His gaze, once overflowing with rage, lowered in unison with his chin. To prove it wasn't a trick, he did something he would never do, jokingly or not. Swallowing his pride and silencing his disdain for vulnerability, he finished floating, his feet touching the ground. It was a slight descent, but for someone of his stature, it was symbolically enormous.

Silence reigned in the room, deep and somewhat uncomfortable.

❝I'm not playing with you,❞ he confessed, his intentions now clear, devoid of any theatricality that had once accompanied him. And that's when you began to honestly believe him.

It was a gradual process, because when you finally accepted his feelings and admitted your own, everything about him seemed to light up. A pause of excited surprise passed over his expression, followed by a loving smile. It wasn't physically possible, but he felt how your simple smile melted him.

❝Ah…❞ He sighed, ❝so this is what it feels like.❞

From that day on, Loki promised a thousand things. He would protect you, he would annoy you, he would worship you, and he would watch over you with a devotion that no one would ever have expected from the god of deception.