#renamed

My Girl It involuntarily slips out of him, when he’s either extremely proud or confident in your abilities to conqueror anything standing in your way. His chest swells with pride, whenever he sees you take on hordes of marines, kicking their asses without effort. And the way you move, it all makes it seem so easy. A ferocious and passionate woman? Count him in.

“Oi (Y/n)! Are you alright over there?”

He calls out to you while watching you fight five marines at the same time. With one single blow, they bite the dust. You heard the swordsman yell something incohorrently.

“Huh? Did you say something, Zoro?”

“Oh uh, no. Nevermind.”

Tilting your head in question, you shrug it off nonchalantly and proceed in printing those marine fools some more footprints into their behinds. The swordsman chuckles to himself.

“Hm, that’s my girl.”

Sweet thing Is what he calls you when he’s quite playful. Always his first choice when teasingly bickering around with you, sometimes leaving his lips with a hint of sarcasm. It drives you insane - and that’s his goal. How can he resist that pouty face, when you huff at him like that. Naturally, he won’t admit it to anybody, not even you. You are just his sweet thing, end of story.

“Come on, Zoro! Let me try it!”

“No means no, (Y/n). That’s high potent sake. Nothing for a little girl like you. It’s the ‘I’ma split your head the next morning’ kind of alcohol, you don’t want that, trust me.”

Holding out to the mug in his hand, which dodges your failed attempts in grasping it, you blow up your cheeks in annoyance. No chance, (Y/n). The Vice Commander won’t let you taste the ‘demon’s blood’, but your expression changes soon after, for you have a secret weapon. His kryptonite is laid bare.

“You’re just afraid I will beat you in a drinking competition.”

“Oh? Now I wanna see you try. Drink up, buttercup!”

He hands over another mug, sake nearly overflowing from the brim.

“I can taste victory already!”

“Oh sure, sweet thing.”

Though you haven’t even placed your lips onto the rim, to let the brazen liquid flow down your throat, you’re already burning up. It’s the handsome smile he flashes at you, while lulling you in with his raspy voice. To Zoro’s notice, he doesn’t understand, why you’re already glowing so hard. He just called you his sweet thing, so what?

"Sweet thing?"

"I mean, aren't you?"

Oh dear . .

Hot stuff This man is so TACKY. Zoro isn’t a man of big words, hence he sticks to the silly namings, even when things get ‘steamy’ he prefers to adress you softly and caring. Unless you ask him to get more ‘foward’ with his wording, which by the by only you can unlock in him. After all, he’s the King of Hell and there’s no way he keeps away the more ‘ferocious’ side from you, giving you the whispered spicy nothings you deserve. . . However, that stays behind closed doors, dear (Y/n).

“That’s a nice workout routine you got there. Care to share, hot stuff?”

While you’re on your felt like quadrillionth biceps curl, you nearly let the dumbbell fall to the ground by his rash choice of words. Hot stuff? Heat rises into your head. Is he doing this on purpose?

“D-Don’t tell me you like what you see?”

“I do. Very.”

Screaming internally, you find it way too ambiguous of you. He just means the work out. He just means the work out. Based on your reaction, the green-hair can tell he must have said something to fluster you, and now he is the one, babbling in mere abashment and uncertainty.

“Yeah . . you look hot- I MEAN you look good! Great work out for you. Tones your body nicely- WAIT NO I . .”

Backing up he slowly treads out of the room, rambling about and occassionally stumbling over his own feet, or words in his case. You have to supress a girly giggle as you observe how his face begins to radiate. It’s the first time he ever called you that and something tells you, it won’t be the last. In the distance you can hear:

"Shit! What was that about? Hot stuff? What was I thinking? Damn it, might as well just cut off my tongue."

That drama queen.

Dove You’ve gained his full trust, respect and affection. It’s a sign of his feelings caving in for you. When you hear him say it, the strong and composed swordsman he is, melts by the sight of you. There’s nothing better than calling you his Dove, seeing you take on all kinds of colours in your face, mainly red that is. Besides sake, you get him drunk on a different level. So, KAMPAI, Dove!

The Straw Hats organised one of their famous banquettes once more. Everyone is cheerful and in the mood for good food and head spinning ale. The Vice Commander however is nowhere to be seen, for he usually hangs around the sake barrels most of the time, when events like these are planned. As you take a look at the crows nest, you find your sleepy swordsman staring out the window.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“Mhm? Hi, guess so.”

Shifting to the side to give you some space next to him, he stretches his arm out, beckoning you to come over. You comfortably nuzzle against him, soaking in the warmth he emits. This feels . . strange, having such an intimate moment as friends. Perhaps, you hope it could turn out to form into something more? As if he read your mind, he speaks.

“Hey, umm . . this might sound weird, but uh - can I call you Dove?”

“Dove? A weird name indeed, but I take it. What made you think that suits m-“

Before you can finish your sentence, he shuts you up by turning your face to his, with his fingers on your jaw, and gently places his lips on yours. Well, that explains why he chose to call you Dove. Butterflies start to flutter around in your stomach and you gaze deeply into his onyx coloured eye.

“I think it’s . . cute.”

“It is.”

Taking a deep breath in, he continues.

"Whenever I feel down, you are the one bringing me up again. You are the wings lifting me up, giving me the ability to soar through the skies, showing me a different angle of the world."

Big words for a man of his usually reserved nature. His arm snakes around your waist from the side and pulls you even closer. Your heart just left out a beat. From now on, you gladly are his Dove.

(Y/n) Did you notice it? Yes! He left out the suffix. You should be honored he decided to grade you a level up. But in all honesty, he took a liking to you and your name. He thinks it to be rather pretty, it would be a shame to destroy the sound of beautifully aligned letters, as if molesting the title of a charming book. You have earned his trust. Interest - is peaked.

Sitting at a bar counter, you enjoy the evening at an inn, where the crew decided to take a break. It wasn't as calm as you excepted it to be, for a overly friendly and slimy man couldn't stop talking, obviously hitting on you.

"Can't you see she's uncomfortable around you, dumbass?"

The creep scurries off to the other side of the bar, all the tension in your shoulders crumbling, sighing subsequently in relief.

"Thank you, Captain."

Law gives you a reassuring nod and goes his way again.

"It's my job, (Y/n)."

Almost waiting for him to speak out that '-ya' of his, you tilt your head. Did the loud stir of the bar swallow that small suffix or . . does he deem you worthy of calling you by your normal name now? Your heart skips a beat out of happiness, hoping for the latter.

Sweetheart Teasing is one of his daily routines. Running out of ideas to get you either flustered or bewildered, he saw fit to take it up a notch. His heart races whenever he rolls the ‘sweetheart’ off his tongue, in order to adress you with a hidden sarcastic intent. Over time though, you begin to be his sweetheart. Just by the thought of you growing on him makes him shiver - positively.

"Why do you keep on doing this (Y/n)?"

"What do you mean?"

Innocently nibbling on a chocolate chip cookie, you flutter your puppy eyes up at the now faltering Captain, who furrows his brows at you.

"Baking cookies? We're pirates! Not some sort of- mhm . ."

You stuff his mouth with the tasty and crumbly goodness. Laughing at his fuming face, it's obvious to you he isn't completely opposed to your sweet counter attack. He keeps on chewing.

"Good right?"

Earning a low rumble in response, he averts his gaze and gulps loudly. His stern eyes sway over to the tray, filled with more crunchy cookies and you deny him that 'hungry' wish right away.

"Nope. Those are for the others. That was the only one for you. Besides, I thought you didn't like sweets., let alone dough."

Suddenly he takes a seat next to you, leaning in closer to you. His lips curling mischeviously, face now dangerously near yours.

"Oh how considerate of you, sweetheart."

Hold on, sweetheart? Frozen in place, you stare into those mesmerizing grey orbs, the perfect moment for the doctor to 'shamble' the snack into his hand and make a go for it, which he does without a word, practically sprinting out of the kitchen door.

"H-Halt! I mean wait! Stop right there! Trafalgar you thief!"

Darling He has you trapped in his room and vice versa. There you stand, no chance to escape. (No, he won’t sing it to you.) Besides singing that sweet jazz, that deep sultry voice loves to call you his Darling, when the time has come to playfully show you, that you have affected him. It’s a sweet name, however it bears a hidden, more lecherous intent, depending on how he enhances his words around you. Once or twice you caught him oogling you with those steel eyes, that’s when you realise, he does have a male instict, wanting to ‘court’ you, simply explained.

It's time for your annual classic health check up, no devil fruit voodoo, for he prefers to reserve his power, if not neccessarily needed. Meaning, you'll have to - strip. Oh don't worry, you're still wearing your underwear, nonetheless, you're heart beats out of your chest whenever he inspects your body, writing down your vitals and searching for any anomalies.

"Tell me if you feel any pain or discomfort."

Some touches tickle you, some induce your heart with pumping fuel and others make you go weak in the knees. The last one is new. What makes your position even more difficult now, is the fact that the stethoscope is up next, to check your heart rate.

"Are you nervous?"

"As if I am. It's just . . cold. That metal . . thingy."

"Stethoscope."

"I was about to say that."

His breath grazes along your naked skin, as he keeps on listening to your heart from the front and back. To your sassy comment, he can't help but chuckle lowly and gives your back a gentle glaze of his slim, wrapped in rubber gloves fingers, before moving on.

"Of course you were, darling."

If that doctor puts on that silly stethoscope again, he would have heard that literal jungle drum in your chest. He knows what it does to you, when he plays that extra sultry card on you, all with a hint of mock and sarcasm. Yet, a tiny slip in his voice tells you, he actually enjoys calling you that. - He is torture on two legs, keeping you on your toes.

My heart This is the part where you have defeated him completely. He is addicted to you and your cute reactions of him calling you his heart. Who would have thought a cold and serious man like him could be unintentionally romantic? Though he appears to be lacking the ability to express his emotions thoroughly, it doesn’t mean he can’t slip by and whisper your new title at you by coincidentially meeting in the Polar Tang’s corridors. As long as there is nobody around, snooping about of course. Though uncomfortable to show it in public, he gives it his all to prove his point that he is oh so head over heels for you.

He HAS HAD IT with you and your annoyingly adorable round puffy cheeks, whenever you throw a temper tantrum at his commands you vaguely dare to disobey. You leave him no choice but to:

"Room . ."

"O-oh no. Wait I'll-"

"Shambles."

You'll never get used to that. Finding yourself far off from the others at the harbour, he has warped the both of you to a secluded alley of the adjoining town.

"You. You. You! Just. Just!"

Visibly upset he throws his arms through the air, close to snake his giant palms around your neck to strangle you, however restraining himself with a forceful shake in his hands. Restless he walks up and down the narrow cramped aisle. He comes to a stop before you.

"I BEG you, to stop acting so god damn cute! Your back talk gives me even more reason to just . . to just-"

You shrink away from his intimidating demeanor and apologize with glistening eyes. A white hat on your head takes you aback, for he roughly propped it onto you, now pulling down the tip to restrict your vision and . .

"You idiot . ."

. . kisses you.

"Stop being a bratty crew mate and be mine already, my heart."