This blog is currently closed, but my new one is @4rticwrites if anyone’s interested! I’ll have more stuff there since I’m getting back into it. I’m just keeping this blog for memories
being an x reader writer and trying to be inclusive of all readers makes me overthink so much like should i write about you having smth with milk in it? no no what if the reader is lactose-intolerant. about the reader being the big spoon? noo what if they wanna be cuddled like a little spoon. about fingers through your hair? noooo what if the person reading it is bald
The saint and the doctor. [Series] [Doctor! Trafalgar Law x rad tech! f! reader]
You were known for being diligent and handling patients with amazing care. Your scans and techniques were to be praised. 'The saint of North Blue University Hospital'.
Meanwhile Trafalgar Law, the cold and picky doctor known to drown residents with back-to-back tasks, didn't like how innocent you looked and acted around the hospital.
But during a long night-shift when he walked past the CT-lab you were in and witnessed a different side of you, his impression on you seemed to change drastically. The saint of North Blue University Hospital had a foul mouth and that got him to feel something from top to bottom.
tags: modern hospital AU!, mutual pining, slow-burn, some slight angst somewhere, slight jealousy, nights at the ER, nsfw later (mdni), and more...
Main menu
-> [Chapter 1] The Saint with a sharp tongue.
-> [Chapter 2] The week after the fallen halo. WIP
-> [Chapter 3] Button, hold and breathe in.
-> [Chapter 4] Static in the wires.
-> [Chapter 5] Fracture line.
-> [Chapter 6] Off-duty, on-purpose.
-> [Chapter 7] Night shift with a red line.
-> [Chapter 8] After hours & a lockable door.
જ⁀➴ In which, A minor injury turns into a major win when Law reluctantly patches you up.
You hiss under your breath, pulling your finger back from the stack of medical charts. The thin line blooms red.
“Seriously?” you mutter. “From paperwork?”
Law doesn’t look up from his seat at the desk. “If you’re bleeding out, try not to do it on my notes.”
You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re the doctor. You fix it.”
He finally glances up, clearly unimpressed. “You’re my assistant. You fix it.”
You hold up your finger like a tragic exhibit. “I’m incapacitated.”
Law leans back slightly in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “You’re being dramatic.”
“It’s gushing,” you say. “I might faint.”
“It’s barely pink.”
You gasp, offended. “Wow. Remind me never to get mortally wounded around you.”
“You wouldn’t last long anyway,” he mutters, pushing up from his chair. “You talk too much to stay stealthy.”
You grin, victorious. “Aha, so you do care.”
“I care about the blood dripping on my floor.”
He retrieves the first aid kit from a cabinet with methodical efficiency, like patching up paper cuts is just another Tuesday on the Polar Tang. You hop up to sit on the exam bed, legs swinging as he approaches.
When he stands in front of you, there’s a quiet moment — the usual hum of the submarine in the background, rain pattering faintly on the outer hull, and the soft rustle of gauze in his hands. His fingers brush yours as he takes your hand, and you try not to overreact.
It’s nothing. Just bandaging. Just Law being Law.
Except he’s surprisingly gentle.
“You really are bleeding,” he mutters, dabbing at your finger.
“Told you,” you whisper.
You feel his eyes on you. Not annoyed. Just quiet. Measuring.
He wraps the bandage slowly, thumb brushing over your knuckle to press it in place. His hand lingers.
“Thanks, Doc,” you say, softer now.
Law exhales through his nose. Almost a laugh, maybe. “You’re welcome.”
You hop down, but don’t step away.
And he doesn’t either.
You're close. Not touching, but close enough that the air feels warmer. His hand is still halfway raised. Yours still tingles from where he held it.
You glance down at your finger, now wrapped in pristine white gauze like some noble war wound.
Then, with the most serious face you can manage, you look up at him.
“So… do I get a lollipop or a sticker?”
Law blinks at you.
Dead silence.
You raise your brows expectantly.
He exhales through his nose — a soft huff, barely there, but the closest thing to a laugh you’ve heard from him all week.
Without a word, he turns, strides back to his desk, rummages through the top drawer… and tosses something over his shoulder.
You catch it on reflex.
A round sticker, slightly crumpled, printed with a cartoon polar bear in a doctor’s coat giving a thumbs-up.
“Great Job!”
You look at the sticker. Then at him.
“You’re kidding.”
“I confiscated it from Bepo,” he mutters, not meeting your eyes. “Figured you’d earn it first.”
You grin so hard it hurts. “You’re such a softie.”
“Don’t start rumors,” he warns.
You peel the backing off and slap the sticker onto your shirt with pride.
જ⁀➴ In which, Zoro half-asleep on the training room floor and end up lying beside him.
It was past midnight when you knocked on the door to the training room.
No answer.
You tried again, a little louder this time. “Zoro?”
A grunt.
You pushed the door open and peeked inside. He was lying flat on the floor, shirtless, towel draped over his eyes, sword resting within arm’s reach. His chest rose and fell slow and steady.
“I thought you said you were gonna take a short break,” you said.
“That was short,” he muttered, not moving. “I blinked.”
You stepped inside, barefoot and wrapped in your sleep blanket like a cloak. “Everyone else is asleep. You should be too.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re gonna wake up sore...”
“I’m always sore.”
You plopped down next to him, pulling your knees up to your chest. “You’re bad at resting.”
“I’m good at fighting. That’s what matters.”
“Still bad at resting.”
Silence.
The kind that only happened when Zoro didn’t want to argue, but didn’t want to admit you were right either.
You watched him for a second. The moonlight from the window slanted across his collarbone. His hands were still dusty from training. He smelled like metal and something warm — familiar in a way you didn’t want to think too hard about.
Then he said, voice low, “You cold?”
“Huh?”
“You’re wrapped up like a damn burrito.”
You looked down at your blanket. “I like it.”
Zoro reached out suddenly, slow and casual, fingers brushing your arm. “You can lay down here if you want. Floor’s warm.”
You blinked. “Are you inviting me to nap on the training room floor?”
“You’re already here.”
“Wow,” you deadpanned. “Ur soooo romantic.”
Zoro scoffed, pulling the towel off his face. His hair was damp with sweat. His expression unreadable — half-lazy, half-serious.
“…You don’t have to,” he added. “I just—sleep’s better when…”
ULSRSJT3SEGEJYAYIZR IVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOUR REQUESTS TO OPEN AGAIN 🥹🙏🙏 (love your writing btw)
I was wondering if I could request a Law x fem reader, angst/comfort ?
Reader was prev on Laws crew, and in a relationship w/ him, during the period he was collecting the hearts of pirates.
They get into a rlly heated argument and Law makes a comment abt taking the readers heart and handing it in along with the others?
The comment scares/hurts the reader a bit and so she leaves the crew overnight, and so the next day when Law realizes the huge mistake he's made she's alrdy left?
I didn't rlly have an idea for the end other than they eventually bump into each other again (maybe in Wano after the whole big fight in Wano?). (Also during this period reader didn't join another crew permanently, maybe she could've been traveling around alone or tagging along with another crew?)
I'm so sorry if this looks long or is confusing, I don't usually request so I didn't know how else to phrase this <3
Take My Heart, Then?
Pairings: Trafalgar Law x fem!Reader
You left without a word after he crossed a line that couldn’t be unsaid — a moment of anger, a cruel comment about handing in your heart with the rest. Law never stopped looking for you. Now, after the war in Wano, you meet again by chance, surrounded by celebration. But the weight of the past lingers, and some wounds are harder to face than any battlefield.
Word Count: ~6,500
tags: angst, hurt/comfort
my masterlist here ♡
a/n: thank you for the request and sorry it took a while! TT
The night was loud.
Drums echoed through the streets of the Flower Capital. Firecrackers popped from every corner. Lanterns floated through the evening air, their soft glow flickering above rooftops. Music drifted lazily through the streets.
People laughed. Danced. Drank. Somewhere nearby, fireworks cracked into the sky, but Law wasn’t watching.
He sat near the edge of it all, high up on a stone ledge just outside a sake house overlooking the main street. Not far enough to truly be alone, but far enough for people to pretend not to notice him.
He hadn’t touched the food.
He hadn’t joined the others.
The war was over. The people were free. Kaido had fallen. His alliance with the Straw Hats had served its purpose. Everything was supposed to be moving forward now.
And yet—
It felt hollow.
Victory was supposed to bring relief. But all he felt was stillness. Like something inside him had already gone quiet long before the final blow.
Why did it still feel like something was missing?
Law stared into his drink, eyes unfocused. He didn’t drink often — not much, not heavily. Not unless he needed to feel something duller than regret.
You hadn’t crossed his mind during the battle. Not once. Not when the sky was torn open by dragons. Not when his bones cracked under the weight of attacks. Not when he was carving open Yonko flesh with Room after Room.
But now that the adrenaline had faded and the battlefield was far behind...
It was all you.
Your voice.
Your footsteps on the submarine floor.
The way you used to sit in the library and hum under your breath without realizing it.
The way you used to say his name — quiet, unafraid.
Law clenched his jaw and exhaled slowly through his nose.
He remembered the fight.
Every word.
Every damn word.
He had been stressed. Cornered. Pressured by the government. By the plan. By the weight of what it meant to become a Warlord. Every step had to be exact, calculated, cold. There wasn’t room for uncertainty.
You had seen that.
You had challenged it.
You were always the one person who saw past his logic and reminded him he still had a heart. And in that moment, when you wouldn’t back down, when he felt everything unraveling—
“I could always take yours too. Make it a matching set.”
The memory of his own voice made him sick.
You’d gone pale when he said it.
And then... you left. Without a word. Without a sound. He hadn’t even realized you were gone until the next morning. Your bunk was empty. Your things were missing. There was no note. Not even a goodbye.
“Oi, Torao!”
The voice hit him like a slap of cold water.
He didn’t look up right away. He didn’t need to.
There was only one idiot who yelled his name like that.
“Go away,” Law muttered, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose.
“Why’re you sitting up here all moody?” Luffy asked, popping into his line of sight like a damn ghost. The straw hat captain crouched down in front of him, chewing on a stick of grilled dango, face already smeared with sauce.
“I’m not in the mood,” Law said flatly.
“Exactly! That’s why I came. You’re supposed to be celebrating! We beat a Yonko!”
“Tch.”
Law looked away again, eyes drifting across the sea of lanterns strung above the capital. For a while, Luffy said nothing. Just sat there beside him, swinging his legs and chewing noisily like the most irritating wind-up toy on the planet.
Luffy leaned back on his hands, staring up at the fireworks overhead. “Didn’t think someone like you’d sulk during a festival. Not when we’re finally done with all that fighting.”
Law was quiet.
But something shifted.
A breeze carried more sound than before — layered voices, shouts, footsteps, laughter close by.
Only then did Law realize it.
There were more people around than he’d noticed.
He didn’t know when it had happened — when the noise grew, when bodies filled the space, when familiarity surrounded him. But it was there now. His crew nearby. The Straw Hats, too. All scattered. Present. Talking. Drinking.
He hadn’t noticed any of it.
He hadn’t noticed because his thoughts had been elsewhere — months ago, somewhere colder.
“Captain…”
Law turned slightly.
Bepo stood just behind them, holding a snack in both paws, fidgeting nervously.
“You’re… thinking of her again, aren’t you?”
The words hit harder than they should have.
Law stilled.
Bepo’s face went pale. “I—I didn’t mean—!! That came out wrong! I wasn’t trying to say it like that—!! You just looked like before and I thought maybe—”
“Bepo.”
“I’m sorry!!”
He ducked down with a yelp, as if that might save him.
Law didn’t speak. Just stared out again, his expression unreadable.
That’s when he felt it — the slight change in the air.
Quiet.
Not silence, but attention.
Conversations softened. Movements paused.
Luffy blinked beside him. “Her?”
Law didn’t answer.
Then Luffy leaned in — louder this time, eyes wide. “WAIT—YOU HAD A GIRL?!”
Law’s eye twitched. “Lower your damn voice.”
But it was too late.
The outburst caught others’ attention nearby, a shift in the air as the Straw Hats subtly tuned in without Law noticing.
Usopp ducked behind a crate he hadn’t been near a second ago. Chopper straightened and tried to whistle, ears twitching like crazy. Nami casually angled her chair, resting her chin in her palm. Zoro cracked one eye open, gaze sliding over. Sanji, mid-step, stopped like he’d been shot. “A woman?!” Robin smiled behind her cup. Franky, crouching in front of a barrel for no damn reason, slid his glasses down with a quiet, “This is about to get suuuuper good.”
Luffy leaned in closer. “So what happened?”
“…None of your business,” Law muttered, eyes still fixed forward.
“C’monnn,” Luffy said, elbowing him. “What’s she like, then? I bet she’s scary. Or mean. You like mean girls?”
Law gave him a dry glare. “No.”
“So??”
Law paused.
His fingers curled loosely around the rim of his cup.
“…She’s smart,” he said finally, voice low. “Too smart for me, probably. The kind that sees through everything, no matter how cleanly you try to hide it. Annoyingly sharp. Brave. Mouthy when it counts. She doesn’t let things go. Won’t let you shut her out when you’re hurting. Keeps showing up. Even when you tell her not to.”
He hesitated.
Then added, quieter—
“…She’s beautiful. Very. Too much, honestly.”
A beat.
“She smiles like she doesn’t know the world’s cruel. Or maybe like she knows, but laughs at it anyway.”
That silenced everything.
Even Luffy blinked.
There was a muffled choking sound from behind the crate — definitely Usopp. Chopper slowly curled into himself like he couldn't take the secondhand emotion. Nami muttered something under her breath. Robin sipped her drink, looking delighted. Sanji clutched his chest like he’d just been betrayed. “I—WHAT—?!”
Law finally glanced up and deadpanned, “Don’t you dare say anything.”
Luffy burst out laughing.
“You’re so in love,” he grinned, mouth full. “This is even better than I thought.”
Law let out a slow breath and looked away again, like he regretted speaking at all.
Luffy tilted his head. “So… where is she now?”
The words weren’t meant to be cruel. Just Luffy being curious. Straightforward.
But the shift in Law was instant.
The edge in his eyes returned. His mouth set in a thin line. That weight — the one he’d been carrying all night — dropped back onto his shoulders like it never left.
He stood up.
“None of your business.”
Luffy blinked. “Eh? Hey—wait, I didn’t mean—”
Law didn’t look at him. Just turned, dusted off his coat, and muttered, “I need air.”
He walked off — not too fast, but with enough purpose to tell them not to follow.
The others stayed quiet.
Even the Straw Hats didn’t say anything. Not right away.
Behind the crate, Usopp whispered, “Did… did we go too far?”
Robin’s soft chuckle answered gently, “No. He just remembered how much it still hurts.”
Law shut the door quietly behind him.
He shrugged off his coat, tossed it aside, and sat down on the futon like the weight of everything had finally caught up with him. His back met the floor with a tired thud. One arm rested over his eyes.
Outside, Wano was still alive. The streets buzzed with laughter, music, and fireworks, bright and loud even from a distance. The festival hadn’t slowed down. But in here, it was silent.
The silence was worse than the noise.
His body was tired, but his mind was wide awake — filled with voices from the past that wouldn’t stop echoing.
He thought of you again. Like he always did when the world got quiet.
Luffy asking about you wasn’t surprising. Luffy being loud wasn’t surprising either. But what surprised him was how easily the truth had spilled out. How fast it still made his chest ache.
He should’ve kept his mouth shut.
It had been almost a year. But still the weight of it sat in his chest like it hadn’t moved at all.
The worst part wasn’t that you left.
The worst part was how he’d driven you to it.
He had tried to track you down after you left. Quietly. Discreetly. No orders to his crew, no announcement — but every island they stopped at, every port, he looked. Every rumor, every whisper of a ship with a kind medic, every crew that picked up temporary hands — he listened. Hoping.
Nothing.
You’d disappeared like a ghost.
And he knew he was the one who’d chased you off.
He remembered how things had shifted in the weeks leading up to that night. How he’d gotten colder, sharper. Focused only on the plan — gathering hearts, earning the Shichibukai title, and keeping the government at bay.
Every decision had felt like a necessary cut. Every doubt, a liability.
You weren’t a liability. You never had been. But you challenged him — asked questions he didn’t have time to answer. Called him out when no one else dared to.
And that night… it had all come to a head.
His hand clenched against the futon. The memory always came back the same way. Always sharp. Always too clear.
The sea outside had been wild. Storms tossed the Polar Tang hard against the waves, rain hammering down from above. Inside the medical wing, the lights flickered while the two of you stood facing each other, tension sharp enough to cut through the air.
“This isn’t you,” you said, voice trembling, angry and hurt all at once. “You’re not even looking at the people you’re cutting open anymore. Do you even care who they are?”
“They’re criminals,” Law said, without looking up from his paperwork. “And liabilities.”
“They’re people.”
He paused, jaw tightening. “They’re a means to an end.”
You stepped forward. “No. That’s not the man I know. The man I knew didn’t use people like tools. He didn’t hand their hearts over like he was buying time.”
“You think I have a choice?”
You stared at him. “I think you made one.”
His eyes finally lifted to meet yours. Cold. Guarded.
“Everything I’ve done is to protect this crew,” he said. “To stay one step ahead of the World Government. Becoming a Warlord keeps them away. It buys us freedom.”
“At what cost?” you asked. “You barely sleep. You barely speak. You don’t even look at me anymore unless I’m standing in your way. Do you even realize how much this is costing you? I don’t even know what you’re trying to protect anymore.”
“They’re pirates,” Law said, “they've hurt others. This is justice in its cleanest form.”
You stared at him. “You’re taking their hearts, Law.”
“And I’m handing them to the World Government in exchange for immunity. That was always the plan.”
“It was supposed to be a symbolic offer. A handful. Not piles of them. Not name after name after name—” Your voice broke. “You don’t even flinch anymore.”
His hands stilled over the papers.
You took a breath. “I know you think this is the only way to protect the crew. To protect yourself. But I look at you now and I don’t see a doctor. I don’t even see a captain. I see someone who’s willing to become exactly what he hates just to win.”
He looked up slowly.
“You think I enjoy this?” he said, voice flat. “You think I want to dissect strangers and throw their hearts into a chest like trophies?”
“I think you’re starting to forget they’re human.”
That hit something. You saw it — the flicker of it across his expression. But he buried it fast.
“You’re slipping,” you continued, more quietly now. “We all feel it. You don’t talk to anyone anymore. You don’t look at me. You don’t sleep. You're pushing everyone away.”
He hesitated.
“You’re pushing me away.”
The words sat heavy between you.
Law said nothing.
So you whispered, “Do you even realize how far you’ve gone?”
Still, no answer.
You took a step forward.
“What happens when someone you care about starts getting in the way? What if I’m next? Would you hand mine over too, just to complete the set?”
His gaze snapped to yours.
And before he could stop himself, the words came out — low, tired, bitter.
“I could always take yours too. Make it a matching set.”
The silence that followed was immediate.
It wasn't shock in your eyes.
It was devastation.
The kind of pain that went too deep for words.
You looked at him for a long moment — like you were trying to see the man you used to love inside someone you no longer recognized.
“…I see,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.
Then you turned.
And walked out.
No yelling. No door slam. Just the soft sound of your boots fading down the hall.
By morning, you were gone.
No note. No goodbye.
Nothing but silence.
Law’s fingers curled into the blanket beneath him.
Regret was heavy in his chest. He had played that night over and over in his head, thinking about what he could have said differently. What he should not have said at all.
But no matter how he twisted it, it always ended the same.
You left.
And no matter how far they sailed after that, how many ports they stopped at, he kept looking. Quietly. Hopelessly. Even when he told himself to let it go, his eyes still searched.
Because part of him had known the moment the words left his mouth that he had already lost you.
The storm outside that night was long gone.
But inside him, it never really ended.
You’d spent the past year moving.
Island to island. Job to job. One ship to the next.
Never for long. Never in the same place twice.
You weren’t looking for a new crew, not really. You just needed motion — something to keep your feet busy when your mind wandered too far back.
The pirates you’d tagged along with this time weren’t dangerous. A small-time delivery group, decent enough people. They didn’t ask questions when you kept to yourself, and in return, you patched their wounds and helped navigate tricky currents when needed.
It was simple. Quiet. Temporary.
And that was enough.
Until now.
Now you stood at the edge of Wano, lantern light flickering on the water behind you, fireworks blooming overhead like paper stars. The Flower Capital shimmered in the distance, alive with music and noise, joy humming through the air like something living.
You hadn’t meant to end up here.
It had just been the next stop. The next port.
But the moment your feet hit the shore, your chest tightened.
It felt like something was pulling you forward.
“Crazy place, huh?” one of the delivery crew, Tobi, said as he jogged up beside you, wiping sweat from his brow. “Didn’t think a closed-off country would be this lively.”
You nodded, barely hearing him. “Is it always like this?”
“Only after they beat an emperor, apparently. Big battle here a few days back. Heard a lot of pirates got involved.”
That made you pause.
You looked back toward the glowing streets.
You hadn’t been following headlines. You’d stopped keeping track of anyone a long time ago. But something about the timing made your throat go tight.
“Come on,” Tobi said, grinning. “Might as well enjoy it. There’s food, music… maybe even a bit of luck waiting.”
You followed him up the hill toward the city.
And for the first time in a long time, you wondered if the next place you were running to… might not let you run at all.
The festival spun around you like a dream.
Laughter echoed from all sides, the sky lit with fireworks, dancers twirling past you in waves of silk and color. You moved slowly, letting the crowd carry you forward, not really watching where you were going.
You’d always hated festivals. Too loud. Too many people pretending to be happy.
But tonight… it wasn’t so bad.
Maybe because the noise gave your thoughts something to drown in. Or maybe because, for once, no one was asking anything of you. You could just be a face in a crowd.
You passed a vendor offering yakitori and a tower of mochi. A little girl bumped into your leg, chasing a sparkler. A couple spun past, laughing, their sleeves tangled together.
You were just about to turn down a side street when the air shifted.
It wasn’t anything obvious. Just something low in your chest. Like you had missed a step you weren’t taking.
Your feet slowed.
You weren’t sure why at first — only that your hands felt colder suddenly, and the weight in your chest had returned. Not heavy. Just… full.
The music ahead softened under a louder firework, and you glanced toward it instinctively, eyes drawn to the glow.
And that was when you saw the edge of a familiar coat.
Black. Long. Trimmed in white. Just barely visible past the crowd.
You stopped walking.
It was far. A glimpse between moving bodies. But something about it tugged at you.
A man turned slightly, only partially facing you. You couldn’t see his full profile. Just the way he held himself. The tilt of his head. The stillness.
It was probably no one.
You told yourself that.
Lots of people wore black coats. Lots of men had that quiet, unreadable posture.
Still, your heart had already started to race.
You stepped to the side, half-shielded behind a tall sign, watching the crowd shift.
You couldn’t see his face.
Not yet.
But the pull in your chest said you already knew.
Then, just as another firework crackled above and the people in front of him moved—
He turned.
And his eyes met yours.
Law..
Everything around you seemed to fall away.
The music dulled. The shouting and laughter faded into a low hum. The warmth of lanterns and drifting smoke became distant, like it all belonged to another world. One that kept turning while the two of you stood still in it.
He froze.
Genuinely, completely froze.
Like the world had punched the air out of his lungs.
His brows lifted just slightly, his mouth parted like he might say something but couldn’t find the words. You saw the flicker of disbelief hit him first — then something softer, deeper.
Law stared at you like you were a ghost.
Like he wasn’t sure if he was imagining you or if Wano’s noise had finally driven him mad.
Your own breath caught. Your heart beat so hard you felt it in your ears. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.
It had been so long.
He looked the same. A little more tired around the eyes. A little more guarded.
But under all of that — it was still him.
And the way he was looking at you now…
Like he hadn’t stopped.
Not really.
His lips parted, barely a breath escaping before he said it.
“…Y/N.”
Your name, spoken so softly it barely made it past the space between you.
It knocked the wind out of you.
You swallowed, forcing something — anything — out of your throat. “Law.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak again right away. Just kept looking at you, like every second might slip through his fingers if he wasn’t careful.
You glanced away, heart pounding. “I didn’t think I’d see you here.”
“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said, and this time his voice was steadier. Not cold. Just honest.
You gave a small breath of a laugh — not quite bitter, not quite sad. “Yeah. Well. I didn’t exactly leave a forwarding address.”
Silence followed, but it wasn’t empty.
It was thick with all the words neither of you had ever said.
He looked like he wanted to take a step closer. His fingers twitched once at his side.
“I looked for you,” he said.
You blinked.
Your breath hitched — just slightly.
Not enough for most people to notice, but his eyes were trained on you. Of course he saw.
You looked away again, eyes falling to the ground between your shoes. The weight of that night settled heavy on your shoulders.
“I don’t…” you started, voice tight, “I don’t want to talk about that.”
Law didn’t push. Not immediately.
He just stood there, still as ever. But his jaw clenched, barely visible under the lantern light.
“I just need to know,” he said quietly, “that you were okay.”
You didn’t answer right away.
Instead, you wrapped your arms around yourself — not from cold, but from everything else you were trying to keep inside.
“I got by,” you said finally. “I kept moving.”
That wasn’t really an answer. You knew it. So did he.
But for now, it was all you could give.
You looked up again and saw the shadow in his eyes shift — guilt, yes, but also something else. Relief. The fragile kind.
Like just seeing you alive was something he hadn’t let himself hope for.
You gave a small, shaky breath. “You look tired.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. Almost a smile. “You look… the same.”
A pause.
Then, softer, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud:
“Beautiful.”
Your heart twisted.
You stared at him, stunned into stillness again.
Law blinked, like he realized too late that the word had escaped.
And for the first time since he saw you, he looked away.
“Oi, Y/N!”
The voice cut through the air — light, casual, completely unaware of what it had interrupted.
You turned.
Tobi was weaving through the crowd toward you, holding a small paper tray with two skewers of grilled mochi. His expression eased when he reached you.
“There you are. You okay?” he asked, stepping close. “Didn’t see you after the last firework. Thought maybe you got swept up in the crowd.”
You gave a small nod, trying to find your voice. “Yeah. Just needed a breather.”
Tobi smiled and offered one of the skewers without hesitation. “Figured you didn’t eat yet.”
You took it with a quiet thanks, eyes flickering back for just a second.
Law is watching.
Unmoving. Silent. His gaze unreadable.
“Go on,” Tobi said, nudging you lightly. “Give it a try. It’s so good.”
You hesitated, then took a bite.
Some of the sauce clung stubbornly to the corner of your mouth.
Tobi laughed. “You eat like a child.”
You blinked in surprise, half embarrassed. Before you could wipe it off, he reached over with his thumb and gently swiped it away.
“There,” he said. “You’re safe now.”
Your heart gave a small lurch — not from Tobi, but from what you felt behind you.
Because Law had seen it.
You didn’t need to look to know.
You could feel his stare harden across the distance. That sharp, simmering silence. Like tension pulled tight behind his eyes. He hadn’t spoken once. But you could feel the shift.
“We’re heading back soon,” Tobi said beside you, softer now. “Boss wants everyone in before we blow the rest of our earnings. You coming?”
You nodded slowly.
Still not looking back.
“…Yeah. Let’s go.”
You shifted your weight, turning to leave—
But before you could take a full step, a hand closed gently around your wrist.
You froze.
Fingers, warm and steady, curled around your arm — not rough, not forceful. Just enough to stop you.
You turned, and Law was there.
Close now.
Closer than you expected.
He didn’t say anything right away. His eyes met yours, searching for something — maybe permission, maybe courage. Maybe just a reason not to let go yet.
“…Stay,” he said, barely above the noise.
Just one word. Simple.
But it held everything he hadn’t said earlier.
You stared at him, heart beating faster, unsure what to do with the look on his face. That quiet, serious look you’d seen a hundred times — but never quite like this.
“Let’s talk,” he added, voice rougher now. “Please.”
You blinked.
You weren’t used to hearing him like that.
Law never begged. Never pleaded.
But right now… he wasn’t your captain.
He wasn’t a Warlord or a pirate or a doctor calculating his next move.
He was just a man asking you not to leave again.
And for a moment, the festival noise faded all over again.
You were in a private place with Law now.
A quiet corner behind one of the older tea shops, away from the crowd. You had told Tobi you’d catch up. He didn’t ask questions, just gave a small nod and let you go.
The walk here had been slow. Not awkward, but cautious. Like both of you were waiting for the other to speak first.
Now, standing across from each other in the quiet, you could finally hear your own heartbeat.
Law was a few steps away, hands in his coat pockets, staring slightly past you.
Neither of you spoke for a while.
Finally, you broke the silence. “This feels weird.”
He gave a small nod, still not meeting your eyes. “I know.”
You crossed your arms lightly, not defensive — just grounding yourself. “You said you wanted to talk.”
“I do,” he said. His voice was low. Careful. “I just don’t know where to start.”
You looked at him. “Why not start with why?”
Law hesitated. His jaw tensed slightly.
“I tried to find you,” he said. “After you left.”
“I know.”
He blinked. “You do?”
You nodded. “I kept moving. On purpose. I didn’t want to be found.”
That seemed to sting more than you expected. He shifted slightly, but didn’t argue.
“I didn’t leave to hurt you,” you said after a pause. “But I couldn’t stay either. Not after that night.”
“I didn’t mean it,” he said immediately. Quiet, but firm. “What I said.”
“I believe you,” you replied. “But you still said it.”
Silence again. But this time it wasn’t empty.
“I was scared,” he admitted.
You looked at him in surprise.
“I thought I was doing the right thing. The only thing. Trading in those hearts bought us time, safety… but it cost more than I realized. It cost me you.”
You swallowed. The way he said that — not dramatic, just honest — cut deeper than any apology.
“You weren’t the only one scared,” you said. “I kept wondering what it meant for us. What we were turning into. If the man I trusted was still in there.”
“I’m still here,” he said.
Finally, he looked at you. Really looked.
“I was wrong. About so much. I know I hurt you. And if I could take that night back…” He trailed off, breath catching slightly. “But I can’t.”
You stood there for a moment, letting the words settle.
Then you asked, gently, “Did you ever think I would’ve stayed?”
Law blinked.
“If you had just let me in,” you continued. “If you told me you were scared or angry or didn’t know what to do... I would’ve stayed. We could’ve figured it out together.”
He lowered his gaze. “I didn’t know how to do that.”
“You didn’t even try.”
That one hit. His fingers curled slightly at his sides.
“I was so angry,” you said, voice quieter now. “At you. At myself. I kept asking if I pushed too hard, if I should’ve waited until you calmed down, if—”
“No,” he cut in, voice steady. “You weren’t wrong.”
His shoulders lowered a little, like the weight of it was finally sinking in the way it should have. He didn’t look at you right away, but when he did, there was something raw behind his eyes. Something he wasn’t trying to hide anymore.
“I should’ve said something,” he said quietly. “But I didn’t. I was selfish.”
You looked at him, but didn’t interrupt.
“I thought keeping you out of it would make things easier. Simpler. That if I just focused on the plan, on staying ahead, everything else could wait.” He shook his head. “But I didn’t think about what that would do to you. I only thought about what I needed.”
His voice tightened.
“I shut you out. Pushed you away. And when you pushed back, I punished you for it. Like I didn’t owe you an explanation. Like your loyalty didn’t matter.”
You exhaled slowly, the weight of his words pressing against your chest.
He glanced at you — just briefly. “You didn’t deserve that. You deserved better than what I gave you.”
A pause.
“After you left… I realized how much of you I took for granted.”
He ran a hand through his hair.
“I missed everything. You yelling at me for skipping meals. Telling me my coat smelled like ink and hospital disinfectant. Making fun of my music taste. Sitting next to me without needing to say anything.”
His voice grew quieter.
“I missed you. More than I knew how to deal with.”
His words settled between you, soft but heavy. He looked down for a moment, then back up, and when he spoke again, his voice was steadier — not louder, but more certain.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Just that.
Not dramatic. Not decorated.
But real.
“I know it doesn’t fix anything. I know I said things I can’t take back. But I need you to know… I regret it. Every part of it. Letting you walk away without stopping you. Not chasing after you. Not fixing it sooner.”
His gaze held yours now, steady, open.
“I don’t want you to go again.”
Your breath caught, but he kept going.
“I don’t know what this means now. What you want. I don’t expect things to be like before. But if there’s still space for me in your life — even just a little — I want to try.”
He hesitated for the first time, then added quietly, almost like it was a truth he hadn’t let himself say until now:
“I don’t want to lose you again.”
You swallowed, the tightness in your throat making it hard to speak.
“I miss you too,” you said quietly. “So much it hurt some days.”
Law’s expression changed almost immediately. Just slightly. But you saw it. A breath caught in his throat. His fingers curled like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Like hearing those words hit harder than he was ready for.
You looked away.
“But I’m scared,” you admitted. “Being with you meant everything to me. You meant everything to me. And that night... what you said...”
You paused.
“It broke something. Not just between us. In me.”
Silence.
“I spent months wondering if I made it all up. If I cared more than you ever did. And now standing here, hearing everything... I want to believe you. I really do.”
Your voice softened.
“But I don’t know if I can fall into this again just to lose it.”
You looked at him. Honest. Bare.
“I don’t think I could handle losing you twice.”
Law’s jaw tensed. He didn’t speak right away. His eyes didn’t leave yours.
“I want to try,” you said. “But I need to know you won’t shut me out again the second things get hard.”
Your voice shook slightly.
“I need to know you’ll choose me. Not just when it’s easy. But when it matters.”
Law didn’t answer right away. He looked at you like he was seeing every scar he’d left behind — not just the fight, not just the night you walked away, but all the silence that came after.
Then he stepped closer.
Not sudden. Not rushed.
Just close enough that his voice didn’t have to carry.
“I don’t want easy,” he said quietly. “I want you.”
His eyes searched yours.
“I know I don’t deserve another chance. And I don’t expect you to trust me overnight. But if you let me, I’ll earn it back. Every bit of it.”
You stayed still.
“I’ll tell you when I’m scared. I’ll let you in. Even when I don’t know how. Especially then.”
His voice was steady now, clearer.
“I’ll choose you. Every time.”
Your chest ached, but the kind that came with relief — like a tightness finally loosening after too long.
“I mean it,” he said. “I’m not letting you walk away again. Not if there’s still a chance.”
You looked at him, heart pounding, voice barely above a whisper.
“Then show me.”
The days that followed moved gently, like the sea beneath the Polar Tang.
Before boarding, you said goodbye to Tobi and the rest of the crew you’d been tagging along with. You hadn’t planned to stay at first. But then one day became another. And then another.
No grand promises. No pressure. Just quiet understanding and time shared between long shifts, small meals, late nights spent leaning against the same walls in silence. Slowly, things began to feel familiar again — not like before, but something close. Something new.
Law hadn’t said much about it. He never did. But his presence spoke loud enough.
He let you into his space without asking why you needed it. You found your routines again. Your spot in the infirmary. Your favorite mug somehow still stored in the galley. Your bunk… untouched.
Eventually, you stopped returning to it.
You hadn’t said anything. Neither had he. But that quiet choice — to stay, to be here, to share space — was louder than any conversation.
Tonight, you sat at the edge of his bed, your legs curled beneath you, watching him as he reached to lock the door behind him. He didn’t rush. Didn’t ask. Just turned back to you with that same look you’d grown used to again.
Measured. Heavy. Honest.
He crossed the room slowly, standing in front of you, gaze locked with yours. His hand lifted — not to touch, not yet — just resting in the space between your cheek and shoulder.
And then, he moved.
His fingers touched your jaw gently, thumb brushing your skin like he was relearning it. When he leaned in, his kiss was soft at first. Careful. But full. Real. Like everything else he couldn't find the words for had finally come to the surface.
You felt it the moment he kissed you again — this wasn’t about need, or hunger, or time lost.
It was about letting you in.
You kissed him back.
Harder this time.
His hands found your waist, then your back, drawing you into him as your fingers curled in his shirt. He pushed it up, slowly, like he wanted you to feel every part of this. Every intention. And when he lifted it over your head, he paused, just to look at you.
Like you were something sacred.
He kissed down your neck, slow and deliberate, pulling your body against his as though he needed you to feel it — how much he missed you, how much he regretted, how much he meant this.
“You’re here,” he murmured against your skin, voice low and reverent. “You're really here.”
You didn’t know when the bed found your back, or when his lips returned to yours, or how your hands ended up tugging at the waistband of his sweats. It all melted together — a blur of want and weight and heat and forgiveness.
But what you remembered clearly were the little things.
The way his voice cracked when he whispered your name.
The way he slowed down when your breath caught.
The way he looked at you — like he was making sure you knew it wasn’t just about the body, but you and him.
As if he was saying, this is me. All of me. Yours, if you’ll have it.
He kissed your chest, your stomach, your thighs — everywhere his hands had once been too afraid to linger. And when he finally pressed into you, the stretch of it, the warmth, the closeness — it all hit at once.
You gasped, and he froze.
Brows drawn together, eyes locked on yours. He didn’t move again until you nodded — until your hand came to his cheek, grounding him.
Then he moved.
Slow. Deep. Unhurried.
Every push of his hips was a promise. Every breath was a silent apology. He kissed you like he was building something — something he wouldn’t let fall again.
His body moved in rhythm with yours, not just seeking pleasure but meaning — something deeper. Something shared.
He let his guard down completely.
And that, more than anything, made your chest ache.
Because for once, Law wasn't retreating behind silence.
He was here.
All of him.
His breath caught as he slowed, forehead pressing against yours. His hand moved to your chest, resting gently — not over your body, but over your heart.
His voice came rough, low. Almost a whisper.
“If you still want it…”
He looked you in the eyes.
“Take my heart, then.”
You blinked, breath catching. Your hand covered his.
Soft. Steady.
“I already have it,” you said.
And as your bodies met again and again, heat rising between skin and breath, you felt it in the way he held you tighter. In the way his voice broke when he whispered, “I love you.” In the way he looked into your eyes even as he came apart — like he wanted you to see everything.
No more walls. No more masks. Just him.
And you held him through it.
Tangled in warmth, pressed close, your name and his melting together in the quiet that followed.
One Piece Headcanon ☆ How your relationship with Zoro would start and then grow.
or How to Flirt with an Oblivious, Cold, and Stupid Man.
☆ (In whatever context you want, AU, OP universe, as you wish)
☆ Gender neutral reader.
Zoro wouldn’t notice your signals. Not at first. He literally has one brain cell and it’s doing pull-ups for his goals. Becoming the world’s strongest swordsman, not, you know, falling in love.
He’s respectful, yeah. He nods when you say hi. Maybe holds the door open. But that’s it. Your eye contact? Missed. Your lingering smile? Ignored. He doesn't consider even one second the possibility that someone could be into him, even less you. And it’s not because he’s humble, he just genuinely does not think that way. Dating isn’t on his radar, and flirting? Don't even talk about it, has he ever even thought of it?
Eventually, you get tired of it. Tired of throwing him the biggest signals possible, of sending obvious glances. You finally think to yourself : “I’m a grown adult. If I want something to happen, I’m gonna make it happen. Manifest it. Speak it into existence.” What's the worst thing that could happen? Ohh nooo he says no. Okay. You’ll survive. I promise you'll be fine and finally you’ll stop obsessing over a man who doesn’t get sarcasm and can’t tell the difference between flirting and friendship. You’ll move on I swear. Right now you just think too much.
So you make the first move. Just a basic little question...
"So… do you ever get lost on purpose, or does it just happen?" (You’re joking. He doesn’t get it.)
"Huh? No. I just take routes that aren’t weak."
…Yeah. Still not rejection though so I guess it's fine.
Next time, you try again. A little bolder this time. You lean in, eyes sparkling, voice warm.
"You know, I think you’d look good in a black button-down shirt! But open at the top."
He blinks.
“…Why would I wear that to train?”
But you see it... that tiny bit of processing behind the eyes. He got it finally and he’s a bit flustered. A little stunned you know he's not used to this.
He doesn’t say much, but you catch him watching you longer next time. Maybe even smirking, just a little. You finally got his attention! That wasn't so hard finally, you just needed to be direct.
When things actually start heating up, it’s a mess... because you’re trying to act perfect (even though you know he’s seen you trip over nothing) and he is trying to act normal, like this is just casual and whatever, but he’s so awkward and clumsy with it. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He’ll zone out and then realize he’s been staring at your lips for a full minute. Then pretend he wasn’t. Then walk into a door.
And you fall a little harder.
Then, it happens : you catch him in a vulnerable moment. He’d just come back from a fight... a bad one. His shoulder’s cut up, there’s blood on his shirt, and you can see that he’s not just bruised... he’s pissed at himself. But when you offer to help patch him up, he doesn’t say no.
He sits there, silent but letting you clean the wound. Not flinching, ,ot bragging either.... you can feel how heavy it is for him, not the injury, but the fact that he lost. But, he lets you see him like this. That’s how you know he trusts you, even if he’ll never say it like that. Normally you’d be completely turned off by this whole thing. You're not into "bad boys", you'd be so cringed if it were someone else. But with Zoro… it’s different. You understand that fighting isn’t what defines him. It’s the purpose behind it. The promise, the loyalty, and you respect it fully.
When you two finally get close, like really close, it’s the best kind of mess.
He’s goofy. Not intentionally... he’s just kind of dumb sometimes. Leaves his swords in weird places, falls asleep in the middle of your conversations, says ridiculously serious things with a deadpan face that makes you laugh until you cry. Sometimes he trains shirtless in the sun and you genuinely think you might pass out. Other times he trips on a step and says it was part of his "agility routine."
But he loves deeply, in the rare and unwavering way. He won’t say much, but when he looks at you, it’s with full attention. And that’s when you know... every missed signal and every moment you thought he’d never get it… it was all worth it.
Warnings: Besides being fast-paced, a bit fluffy, and the overuse of the words 'know & like', nothing else.
Summary: Senku struggles to understand why hearing her no longer spew those three words, sends his brain into a rollercoaster of overthinking.
TL: @akiqvq 💖
Pairing: Senku Ishigami x Fem!Reader
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"I like you."
Were words that once shocked him, blinking in surprise when the girl did nothing but offer him a smile right after, leaving him to wander in his thoughts.
It wasn't the first time she had said them, as kids, [Y/N] always made sure to say them once a day. Back then it meant what it seemed, good friends who played with each other daily, nowadays? Now, they felt heavier, with much more emotion.
"Yeah, I know."
[Y/N] chuckled, not a stranger to the way his fingers twitched upon hearing her. She knew he knew about her feelings, choosing to brush them off instead of over-analyzing them.
Senku scrolled through his emails, eyes focused on the recent update from his mentor. [Y/N] shuffled around small pieces of junk, from a box he kept stuffed in his closet, parts he used for his projects.
She didn't know what half of these were, only recognizing bolts and circuit boards. [E/C] eyes shifted to look at the white and green haired teen, smiling sadly when she noticed how utterly fascinated he looked.
A look he would never give her.
She tried to erase her feelings, all efforts dissipated whenever he'd hold her hand, wordlessly dragging her out of the house to bring her to his own residence or the park. Wanting [Y/N] to be there to experience whatever crazy plan he had in mind.
[Y/N] tidied up, pushing the box back into its rightful place and dusting off her school skirt. Her light footsteps lead her to stand behind the scientist, placing her hands on his shoulders and slowly sliding them down his chest.
Her face nudged his cheek, focusing on whatever he was gazing at. Senku forced his body to relax, telling himself this was normal, something she did a lot. It was nothing new.
Yet her warm cheek next to his never failed to make his heart skip a beat.
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I.
I..
I...
Senku couldn't focus on the beaker in his hand, placing it down and settling by the window. He plunged the straw into his milk carton and sipped away, scarlet eyes scanning the field of soccer players and a certain [H/C] haired girl sitting by the bleachers with a group of friends.
She looked dazed, much like how he looked right now.
I, a vowel she had uttered three times just this morning. No 'like you' was added, [Y/N] dashing away with a frown before she added anything else.
He shouldn't care this much, it was illogical to let this occurrence hinder his experimental progress. He could lie to everyone else and say it didn't bother him, but he couldn't lie to himself.
"Senku, it's time to lock everything up."
He sighed, barely registering the passing of time and how the bleachers were empty now. Senku turned away and nodded, going to his station to clean up his unfinished work.
The night came soon, and he felt pure annoyance when sleep could not overtake him, stomping over to her house. Clicking the doorbell until his finger got tired, flinching when he heard a crash.
[Y/N] opened to door, rubbing her sleepy eyes and yawning lightly. Senku held a blank face walking past her and closing the door, despite the very empty streets, there wasn't a reason someone should see her attire.
Before he could comment on her messy tank top, straps falling to the side of her arms, the rolled up shorts and the singular bunny slipper, blood trickled down her nose.
Noticing she wasn't reacting in the slightest, he quickly pinched her nose, tilting her head up. He guided her into the bathroom, sitting her on the toilet cover and quickly searching for a towel.
He kneeled down in front of her and held her chin, pulling it down forward to allow the excess blood to flow onto the towel. [E/C] eyes barely started to register what was going on.
"Sen..?"
"Clumsy, why did you fly down those stairs?"
"Only one psycho rings my bell like that." She murmured softly, he only ever did it when her parents weren't home, otherwise he'd be throwing pebbles at her window like she was a locked up princess.
"Got eager when you realized it was me?" He teased, biting his inner cheek when she didn't laugh in return, sadness pooled within her. Senku was making it harder with each passing day, unknowingly tugging at the strings attaching them together.
That's what [Y/N] thought at least.
"Senku, I..."
"Like me, I know."
"Yeah..."
He should've let her speak, she had nowhere to run to here. He held in the sound of frustration he desperately wanted to make, looking at the girl sleeping soundly next to him with her face stuffed in his chest.
Senku's sleep was filled with memories, ones he used to find rightfully childish but also held them close to his heart, refusing to let any details about them slip by his memory.
"Hi, what are you doing?" Scarlet eyes blinked at the small face peeking over the tall backyard fence, it took him a second to realize this was his new neighbor, who'd barely moved in yesterday evening.
"I'm growing crystals." He watched her head tilt, curiosity brimmed in her [E/C] eyes and she tried to climb over. The stool she had used wasn't enough, yelling for her father, who was drinking by the pool, the man got startled and walked over.
A young [Y/N] pouted and pointed over the fence, motioning [D/N] to help her over. Senku went back to his task, drowning out her yells of protest when her dad dragged her inside the house.
Minutes later Byakuya opened the backyard door and waved, with the new family behind him. The small girl immediately ran over to the sitting brainiac and sat down, observing his little setup.
"Not that you would understand, but first I put magnesium sulfate also known as Epsom salts, into this jar, add water and monitor its growth." He waved his notepad, scribbles of words she didn't know at all, but still capturing her attention.
"Can I have one?"
Senku smugly smirked, of course she wanted one, who could resist science?
"Sure."
He soon learned she didn't care for science at all, she cared for his reaction, his words, and his adoration for it. Whenever he'd hit minor setbacks during his projects, whether it be waiting for a part to be shipped or a slight miscalculation in his notes—[Y/N] kept his mind running with requests.
For example, she had asked him to make a large beautiful lava lamp, the very one sitting on her desk and lighting up the room with bright red and green colors.
She liked him. Did he like her? He didn't know. Obviously [Y/N] was someone he wanted around him at all times, she's been there since the near beginning and continued to stay.
"Woah! [Y/N], where'd you get that necklace?"
"It's so pretty!"
[Y/N] felt claustrophobic having so many classmates surround her desk, the shimmering crystal had attracted unwanted gazes. One of the boys suddenly grasped the accessory and ripped it off her neck, dangling it in the air showing it off to everyone else.
"Please give it back.."
"Looks cheap, why are you all amazed?" He scoffed, dropping the necklace to the floor and stomping it with his foot. All that remained were small dusty particles, the rest of the students berated the boy but [Y/N] couldn't focus on anything else other than her gift being mistreated so harshly.
"Hey [D/N], Senku said [Y/N] refused to come out and play today, is everything okay?" Byakuya had never seen her give up a single opportunity to hang out with his son, they had become close friends in a very short span of time.
"No, not really. A classmate broke the crystal Senku gave her, she's been crying all evening and I don't know what to do. [M/N] tried to calm her down too but nothing worked."
Senku opened the front door, stomping past the talking adults and making his way to her house. The door was slightly ajar so he allowed himself in, walking past a confused [M/N] and up the stairs, now standing in front of her door.
He knocked. Nothing.
Sniffles behind the door and he felt uncomfortable.
"[Y/N]. Open the door."
Nothing.
"[Y/N]."
Fine.
He went back downstairs and headed to the backyard, picking up small rocks and throwing them at her window. Paling when he threw one with too much force and the glass broke, [E/C] irises popped up from the broken window and blinked down at him in surprise.
"Senku? Mommy's going to be mad."
"Why are you sulking over a stupid crystal?"
[Y/N] felt tears gather, lips quivering trying to hold herself together. She didn't want him to see her cry, but despite her best efforts, he did.
"Because you made it. I couldn't keep it safe."
"So instead of asking me for another or telling me about it, you decided to ignore me?"
He jutted out his bottom lip, he didn't mean to sound so whiny, his face reddened when she stopped sniffling and stared down at him with her eyes sparkling. Never had she heard him sound so dejected, not to mention Senku blushing was rare.
"Now, get down here so we can convince your dad to transfer you to my school."
"Senku...I like you."
"Huh? Oh...me too?"
...
...
Senku wasn't the type to shrug something off with an 'I don't know.', always having a logical explanation for everything. He just couldn't formulate anything other than his emotions going haywire when it came to her.
He glanced at the silent girl copying his math notes, he liked her writing, it was neat, pretty, and aligned perfectly no matter what paper she wrote on. The way her fingers seemed to glide smoothly, the sun's rays making her skin glow...when did he start seeing her in a different light?
"Is everything okay?" Senku blinked, met with her head tilting to the side and giving him a concerned expression. The only times [Y/N] had seen him this locked into his thoughts was during anything science-related, this sudden change worried her.
"Yeah, just thinking of the parts I need to buy." She closed their notebooks and slid his towards him, putting her own away and leaning back in the chair. Her head shifted to look up at the ceiling.
"I..." Why did his breath hitch? Why did his heart skip a beat? "I'm sorry for falling asleep on you yesterday."
Disappointment polluted his veins, awkwardly playing with the pencil in his hands.
"Heh, wouldn't be the first time."
"It won't happen again, sorry."
His movement came to a stop, his lips parted but no words came out, silently watching her pack the rest of her things, sending him a brief smile and walking out the clubroom.
A smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
Senku had always brushed off her indirect-direct confessions, never thinking about it for too long and moving on. When did it start bothering him to not hear it? It was ridiculous.
"Senku! I like you."
"You said that yesterday, and the day before."
"Doesn't make it less of a truth!" She pouted playfully, passing him the screwdriver.
Senku shook his head at her giggle, continuing his science fair project. Could someone really like a friendship this much?
Was it still a friendship? And when the hell did he start asking himself so many questions, unanswered ones at that? Senku blew out air, finally getting up from his chair and rolling his stiff neck around.
"What a dumbass." He berated himself under his breath, oblivious to the girl waiting just outside the door.
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The leek-haired kid stood outside her window, nearly snapping his neck from jumping over the fence. A small pebble rolled between his fingers, deciding if throwing it would be a good idea. Remembering the amount of times he broke the glass he dropped the rock and took out his phone.
Scrolling through his contacts and hesitating to press on her icon, he didn't even know why he was here in the first place, dragging his feet out of bed before he could really think about it.
He clicked off contacts, sending her a message instead. It didn't take long, the girl quietly walked downstairs and opened the backyard door, scrunching her eyebrows at him.
"What's wrong?"
"[Y/N] I don't mind you sleeping on me."
"Did you come here just to say...that?" [Y/N] had thought of the worst, that maybe he was going to call off their friendship, tired of her feelings or clinginess.
"No, but it's not a lie." Senku let out an unamused chuckle, emotions are stupid, therefore making him feel stupid. [Y/N] closed the door behind her and approached his conflicting figure, the worry from earlier came back.
She gave him a few seconds, realizing he was once again drifting away into his thoughts. Her lips twitched, from the cold and from how intense his gaze was fixated on her.
"Senku?"
"Do you like me?" That wasn't what he wanted to say either, he knew she did, he wasn't that oblivious—
"No."
—or was he? Scarlet eyes widened only slightly, had he misread the entire situation? Struggling to comprehend his own feelings he held for her, when she wasn't interested in him anymore?
"I don't like you, I—"
"Yeah I got it, see you tomorrow [Y/N]." He lazily waved and spun on his heel, heading towards the fence to hop over it again. His leg suddenly got tugged on, messing up his balance and falling towards the grass.
He blinked away the mild pain, the blurriness cleared away and the scenery of [Y/N]'s face right next to him greeted his eyes.
"Why, why don't you ever let me finish my words?"
"Because I know what you're going to say, that you like me. Did you say them that much to try and get a reaction out of me? Was it fun?" His voice came out harsh, completely surprised at how angry he felt. Senku's stomach twisted when he watched as her [E/C] eyes narrowed significantly.
[Y/N] bit her bottom lip in frustration, no longer kneeling by his side and taking a few steps away from him.
"Get out, and don't ever talk to me again." That was the softest he'd ever heard her voice, sounding completely defeated. Maybe being away from her is what he needed, time to gather himself and what this all meant to him.
That was the best way to get rid of her unrequited love, even if it hurt her more than anything in the world. She couldn't help but sneak glances at him, feeling her chest tighten at how he looked perfectly normal with the change.
The bell for lunchtime rang, Senku walked past her desk without sparing her a glance. The crystal sitting right above her collarbones suddenly felt heavy, she gripped her hand around it and couldn't bring herself to rip it off.
"[Y/N]!" Two hands roughly landed on her desk, startled, she looked up at the cause. Taiju held a bright smile, making exaggerated hip movements and she had never felt so confused in her life.
"I'm going to confess to Yuzuriha after school! You'll have the perfect view from the science club hallway so please, be there for me!" The giant bowed and ran out of the room before [Y/N] could reply, hopefully, Senku wouldn't be there...who was she kidding, of course he would.
She spent the last lesson shifting in her seat, it wasn't like she'd be going there for him, it was for Taiju and Taiju only. It had been a week since their friendship break-up, finding herself sitting alone and talking to no one.
[Y/N] smiled watching Taiju stroll up to a waiting Yuzuriha, both of them were already blushing. She snapped as many pictures as she could with her limited storage space, wanting the couple to have memories.
Somebody joined her right next to the window, balancing their arms on the thin windowsill. Green and white flooded the corner of her view, gulping quietly when she realized who it was. No words were exchanged, just two teens being here for their friend.
Her face scrunched up when Taiju stopped talking, gazing at the atmosphere in a trance. [E/C] eyes widened at the bright green light approaching them quickly, she took a step back noticing Senku do the same.
"What?" She whispered, Taiju and Yuzuriha had been turned to stone statues.
"[Y/N]!" An arm wrapped around her waist and tugged her closer, and a hand landed on her head as if to protect her. Her heart was beating like crazy and all she could do was hug him back, feeling her body encased by a weird material. "I'm sorry." was the last thing she heard.
The darkness was beginning to overwhelm her, it was eerily quiet with only her inside voice being her saving grace. Her head was consumed by her memories, replaying them desperately to keep herself awake. Was Senku still next to her? She hoped he was okay.
"We don't have the same homeroom..." [Y/N] traced the bulletin board list, frowning when she noticed Senku and Taiju were together, but she had been placed in a different one.
"Maybe next year, let's go big oaf." Senku patted her shoulder before walking off with the enthusiastic giant, well she didn't expect him to care, however a head pat would've been better.
Thankfully her classmates were pretty okay, meeting a cheerful girl named Yuzuriha who immediately hit it off with [Y/N]. They paired up for every assignment and helped each other whenever, still, something was missing.
It was barely a week into their first year of middle school when she was approached by her neighbor, holding a pink envelope in his hand. Senku was going to show it to her, but [Y/N] snatched it quicker than lighting itself.
Her [E/C] eyes barely skimmed over the gushy words, tugging the paper back into the envelope and not returning it to him. He didn't read all of it, so he wondered if he missed something weird written in it.
"Don't accept any of these."
"Why?" It wasn't like he planned on accepting anyone's confession, her firm voice did spark curiosity on this matter though.
"Because I like you." That was when Senku realized that sentence was no longer innocent, never had he seen her look so conflicted or embarrassed. [Y/N] loosened her grip on the piece of paper and gave it back, lowering her head to look at her school shoes.
What was he supposed to say? Teasing her like usual didn't feel right, not when she had basically confessed to him. Senku didn't need or want a relationship, not right now, maybe not ever.
"Okay, I won't." So why did he go out of his way to reassure her?
A scarlet eye was finally gazing up at something else other than the total darkness, it was the ceiling of a cave, not the prettiest sight but different nonetheless. He frantically looked around, knowing damn well he held onto [Y/N] so tightly there was no chance her body strayed away.
Oh, there she was. Huddled up near the darker area of the cave, knees pulled up to her chest and hiding her bottom parts.
"I heard your stone cracking...I got shy..."
"Keke, get up, we have work to do—or don't, give me a second." Senku's best clothing option was thick vines, roping them together to shield their parts even if he didn't care for nudity. [Y/N] ended up weaving a dress, deeming the two-piece a little too revealing for her taste.
Senku was completely in his element, a part of him was also extremely glad he wasn't alone. [Y/N] on the other hand was fucking losing her mind, she kept her composure in front of him, helping him in whatever he needed, but when she had her alone time—struggled to keep in her freak-outs.
He had noticed, sending her away whenever he'd feel her body tensing up or eyes glazing over. It worried him that she wouldn't be able to adapt, and slowly lose herself instead.
Maybe he was too, considering his nights were plagued by the flashbacks of her saying she liked him. They hadn't brought up that topic again, and he didn't think he could.
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"You like him." Gen leaned over the tall tree stump, playfully grinning at the usually stoic girl. He heard from Senku that she was only this reserved with them, not him, and that intrigued the mentalist.
"Hm? No, not quite."
It didn't sound like denial, or had she not understood his question? Gen slowly approached her, dropping his teasing tone and melting back into his normal persona.
"Did my question upset you?" [Y/N]'s hand stopped writing, lifting her head up from her lap and blinking up at the concerned boy. She softly shook her head, but Gen knew better, he had definitely heard the shake in her voice.
"Knowing he will never return these feelings...I'd rather keep them buried till the end of time."
Except, Gen knew for a fact it was not that simple for her, placing a hand on her shaking shoulder. He looked away, wanting to be here for her but also giving her privacy to cry.
So he made it his mission to find out how Senku felt, if he did, he'd try his best to get them together. If not...well he would have to find [Y/N] a new love interest.
"What?" Senku nearly dropped the beaker in his hand when Gen popped his head into the laboratory so suddenly and hit him with a wild question.
"I asked how you feel about [Y/N]."
"She's a good friend."
"No."
"No..?" The scientist was playing stupid, trying to shrug off the mentalist from prying into his emotions.
"Well, I need to know before proceeding."
Senku raised an eyebrow, pouring the next chemical from a vial.
"Whether [Y/N] has a shot with you, or I get her fixated on someone who likes her back."
He paused, Gen smirked behind his joint arms, jackpot.
"Impossible, there's no one else she could possibly develop feelings for—not that she has them for me, not anymore."
Senku regretted the words that spilled out his mouth, hearing Gen snicker. Yeah maybe he did like her, the 3,700 years in solitude and the one year being awake, [Y/N] was constantly in his thoughts. Not knowing if they'd ever wake up, he wondered what they could've been if he had realized his feelings for her earlier.
[Y/N]'s love language was physical, hooking her arm around his, holding his hand, pressing her face to his, and cuddling up during sleepovers.
"Listen, Senku. [Y/N] still wants to be with you. I think you're worrying too much about the physical aspect of it." Why was this mentalist this good at reading even him? Senku finished writing up his progress, turning to look at the stone-faced Gen. It was the first time he looked serious.
He wasn't confident that he'd be giving his best friend what she truly deserved. Senku stilled, realizing he had been doing exactly what he thought he couldn't give, her touches were never foreign or unwelcome, in fact, he didn't mind them. Allowing [Y/N] to be that close to him was already reciprocating her feelings.
"Tell her how you feel, give her a kiss or two, and let everything else flow naturally."
...
...
[Y/N] didn't think much of the thick blanket around her and Senku, shoulders pressed against each other. Gen had wrapped them up and walked away with no further words, sitting across the campfire and giving them a thumbs up.
Senku was on the verge of making a torch and throwing it at the smug white and black haired male. Her knee touched his and he tensed up, too focused on her close proximity, why was it sweetly suffocating him now?
"Hurry, say 'ah', the fish is getting cold."
"...ahh..."
[Y/N] giggled seeing him hide his cheeks that flared up like apples, thanking Kohaku for the second fish and eating it quickly while giving some bites to Senku.
"[Y/N]."
She hummed in response, mouth filled with food and cheeks puffing out.
"Meet me by the flower field after you're done." He stood up and fixed the blanket to envelop her further, she nodded half-dazed and wondered what he needed from her. She finished the last bite and got up, lending the blanket to a small shivering Suika.
The path to the flower field was only a few minutes away, but it must be something important, otherwise, he'd tell her what he needed to say in front of everyone...oh..did, did Gen say something? [Y/N] was extremely nervous now.
Senku's hair swayed softly with the cold breeze, he gazed up at the moon gathering his thoughts and formulating words in his head, the moment he heard her approach him, all his meticulous planning drifted away.
He turned around, facing her. What was he going to say again? Fuck, it left his mind.
"What did you need Senku?"
Once he said this, there would be no going back, fearful of the chance it might ruin their friendship. A teeny tiny part of him yelled out that Gen basically confirmed her still have feelings for him, so it shouldn't be this hard to speak.
"Senku?"
She made no move to approach him, standing exactly three feet away. [Y/N] needed this rejection to go by quick, she would heal and move on.
"Is...is your love from before still strong?"
[Y/N] teared up as a shiver ran down her spine, and her lips trembled at the way he gazed at her, with such a soft look. It had taken him quite a bit of time to understand what she had meant by her 'no', all of her hesitated I's, it was right in front of him and he was so damn blind.
"I'm sorry, I should've let you finish that day. I was barely coming to terms with how I felt about you and hearing you say you didn't feel the same anymore, well it put me off."
the same? She finally took a step forward, another, one more and she was right in front of him. Scarlet eyes were half-lidded and fixated on her [E/C] irises, awaiting her response.
"I...I wanted to say I love you." His hand grasped her arm, not bothering to hide his blushing face this time. He felt her eyes scan him as if trying to reassure herself this was truly happening. "I know you didn't feel this way back then, so for a while, I struggled to even say I liked you. Scared that you'd continue to grow tired."
"[Y/N], I was never tired of them." He needed her to know that, his day wasn't complete unless he heard her say those words. "To be honest, I felt worried when you stopped saying it. Wondering if I had done something wrong..."
"I was trying to convince myself that having you as a friend was good enough for me, that I'd force myself to live with my feelings while still being beside you—but I couldn't, I wanted to let go and failed at that too." She took in a shaky breath, his hand squeezing her arm tighter, the air felt heavy despite them clearly confessing to each other.
"Heh, it's my fault you felt that way and I can't turn back time but know that I do in fact have feelings for you [Y/N]." Senku trailed off, feeling her hands come up to rest on his shoulders. "I might not be enough, although, if you want me, I'm right here."
Senku didn't get a chance to cringe at himself as [Y/N] got on her tippy toes and placed a kiss on his lips, lingering for a few seconds before pulling away and panicking at his baffled face.
"Sorry! Sorry..."
"No, It's just that...I wasn't ready." Her lips felt soft, intimacy wasn't something that interested him as it did everyone else and his first kiss wasn't on his checklist but coming from [Y/N] he actually really didn't mind.
"Okay, I'm ready now." Senku initiated the second kiss, hand letting go of her arm and sliding around her waist. They separated, noses touching tips and they held a deep eye contact. The cold night no longer froze them, feeling warmth in the embrace and in their hearts.
⋆⭒˚.⋆ Warnings: past abuse, hinting of non-consensual touch, anxiety/PTSD themes, hinted female reader. 
⋆⭒˚.⋆ A/n: Hi! This is your request. I apologize, but I may have deleted the draft containing the request and lost it. However, I have included a screenshot of the request. Sorry that this piece is a little shorter than my usual ones!
‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮
The relentless sway of the Heart Pirates' submarine had long since ceased to be a disorienting force. It was now the steady, predictable rhythm of home, a lullaby beneath your feet. The ship no longer rocked; it breathed. And with each breath, you felt the comforting hum of familiar voices, a symphony of shared lives. Shachi's boisterous laugh, a warm echo down the steel corridors, often punctuated by Penguin's absurd impressions, which somehow grew louder and more exaggerated the more Bepo grumbled in exasperation. They weren't just crewmates; they were your anchor, your family. You’d shared countless meals, stood shoulder to shoulder in the thick of battle, and meticulously patched their wounds with the practiced hand of someone who understood the fragility of flesh. You even, on more than one occasion, treated them as impromptu furniture – leaning against Ikkaku’s steady frame during a never-ending watch, dozing off on Clione’s surprisingly soft shoulder during rare moments of downtime, or simply snagging a jacket right off someone's back without a word of permission.
Yet, amidst this easy camaraderie, one unspoken rule reigned supreme, an invisible barrier as potent as any iron bulkhead: Don’t. Touch. You. It was a decree never uttered, a boundary never explicitly drawn. It simply was.
The genesis of this sacred law traced back to your very first week aboard, a lifetime ago. A supply run to a port town so unremarkable, its name had long since dissolved into the mist of forgotten memories. Rain lashed down, a cold, relentless shroud. Someone, in a misguided attempt at kindness, reached out. You couldn't recall who, not anymore. Just a hand. A palm. Warm, unfamiliar. It connected with your back, a gentle, well-meaning gesture.
You reacted without thought, a primal instinct flaring to life. Your elbow, a sudden weapon, cracked hard against a jaw. The sickening thud, the surprised gasp as they crumpled. You didn't speak, didn't glance back. You simply walked, a figure consumed by the downpour, arms folded tight across your chest, until the ship was a distant memory. You didn't return until the veil of night had descended. No one questioned you. They didn’t need to.
After that, a silent understanding settled over the crew. They learned with a swiftness that spoke volumes. In the cramped confines of the medbay, tools were no longer handed but slid across the counter. There were no back-slaps of congratulation after grueling missions, only respectful nods. Even when chaos erupted, when you were bleeding and furious, they gave you space, a wide berth that acknowledged your invisible boundaries. Shachi, ever observant, began to ask for permission, a whispered "Is it alright?" before even the slightest brush in a tight passageway. Penguin would raise his hands in a theatrical gesture of peace every time he found himself too close for comfort. Even Bepo, the gentle giant, whose very presence was a warm invitation to a hug, maintained a respectful distance, waiting patiently until you initiated contact.
It wasn't fear they felt, not truly. It was a profound, quiet care. They gave you their loyalty, their boisterous stories, their laughter that echoed through the submarine. But they didn't touch your skin. That was the unyielding truth, the silent pact. And, with a strange and unwavering grace, everyone respected it.
Everyone, that is, except…
No. You wouldn’t think of him. Not yet.
Contact. Even in the crucible of your worst moments, when blood pulsed down your leg and your ribs rattled with each agonizing breath, you faced it alone. You were a self-contained island of pain and resilience. Bandages wrapped with trembling fingers, bones set with a clenched jaw and a guttural, unspoken cry. You didn't want their pity, didn't want to flinch from their kindness, a tenderness that felt like a violation. It was safer this way. Cleaner. To trust someone to press their hands against your skin? No. Never again.
You remembered the soul-deep exhaustion, the endless ache of patching yourself up in the solitary confinement of locked doors, illuminated only by the dim, swinging bulb above a grimy bathroom sink. You remembered staring into your own reflection, meticulously avoiding the places where your hands still shook.
But then, there was that one time. You tried to bury the memory, to seal it away in the deepest recesses of your mind, but your very skin remembered. It was a mission gone catastrophically wrong – the deafening roar of explosions, a missed signal, someone screaming your name through a choking haze of smoke. You didn't remember falling. You only remembered waking.
The air, clean and sharp, smelled of antiseptic and fresh linen. The gentle, familiar rocking of the ship beneath you. And then you saw him. Law. His hands, steady as ever, meticulously peeled off clean gloves and tossed them aside. For once, it wasn't Bepo or Shachi or even your own trembling fingers pressing gauze to the ragged wound on your stomach. It was him. His fingers, usually so swift and precise, worked with the practiced rhythm of a surgeon, yet with a slowness, a gentleness that was entirely unexpected. He said nothing. You said nothing. You lacked the strength to fight, to push him away, to demand the dignity of self-sufficiency. All you could do was lie there, heavy-limbed and hollow, and let it happen.
Your breath hitched, a silent gasp, when his gaze, sharp and unyielding, landed on it. You knew he saw it. The mark. Burned faintly into your side, a ghost of a whisper, still visible after all this time. That damned hoof. The indelible brand of property. You hadn’t seen it in years, hadn’t needed to. It was hidden, tucked beneath layers of clothing, shielded from the world. But not from him. Not when he was this close, his hands the ones peeling back the layers of fabric and congealed blood.
He paused. Just for a fleeting second. And then his fingers resumed their work. Not faster, not rougher. Softer. As if he were handling something precious, something sacred. You didn't utter a word. You simply turned your head, staring at the sterile ceiling, and allowed him to see you. You didn't know what terrified you more – that he had touched you, or that you had let him.
A subtle, unspoken shift began after that. You avoided him. Not loudly, not dramatically, but in small, silent adjustments. You found yourself sitting across from him now, not beside. You'd leave a room just before he entered. Your gaze would drop, a silent surrender, when his met yours. You didn’t even have to articulate it; he understood. And perhaps that was the crueler twist. Not the touch itself, nor even the haunting memory of it. But the look. The way his eyes didn't flinch from what they had seen, the way they held you without judgment, as if he had already performed the complex calculations and accepted the monumental weight of what you carried. As if he wasn't afraid of it.
It was unbearable. That kind of profound softness… it cut deeper than any blade. You had grown accustomed to people flinching. In Mary Geoise, it was the reflexive obedience of inferiors. On the run, it was thinly veiled pity. On this ship, it had become respect. But this? This quiet understanding, this raw kindness radiating from the eyes of a man who rarely lingered his gaze on anyone for too long – it threatened to split you open.
The crew noticed, of course. Bepo watched you with worried glances, his large, kind eyes following your too-quick exits from rooms. Shachi and Penguin would drop their voices to hushed whispers whenever Law entered, sensing the electric tension. It spread through the submarine like oil on water, an unseen current. But no one spoke of it. It was too raw, too real, too… not their place.
"The Crowned Silence," they sometimes joked about Law's perpetually quiet presence. That’s what it became around you, an unspoken pact. No one spoke of the medbay. No one dared to mention what he had seen, or the quiet reverence with which he had stitched you back together, or the way your hands now trembled when he stood too close. They simply… didn't mention it. And for that, you were profoundly grateful. Because if someone had dared to voice what you already knew – if someone had looked at you and articulated the unbearable truth – you might have shattered.
It had been a long time since you’d lost control. You were a master of distance, an artist of detachment. You excelled at keeping your head down, at smiling through the biting cold, at ensuring your sleeves always covered the faded scars of old burns. You didn’t need comfort. You didn’t want touch. You had control.
Until you didn't.
It happened fast. Too fast. An ambush, perhaps. A mission twisted irrevocably sideways. Too many voices, too much searing heat, the acrid scent of smoke clawing at something ancient and terrified deep within your chest. Your legs moved, but your lungs refused to obey, struggling for air. Your hands shook uncontrollably, your mouth dry and parched. You were scared. So utterly, profoundly terrified. And you didn't even realize what you were doing until…
Your hand— It reached. It didn't grab a coat sleeve, didn't yank someone from harm's way. It wasn't instinct. It was need. And the fingers that laced between yours… they weren't Bepo’s. Not Shachi's. Not Ikkaku's. Not anyone you could laugh it off with later, dismissing it as a panicked reflex. No. It was his. Law's. Rough fingertips. Callused palms. Cooler than you expected. Steady.
He didn't look at you. Didn't ask. He simply held your hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if it didn't shatter every unspoken rule between you. And worse – you didn't pull away.
After that day, something irrevocably changed. Perhaps not all at once, not like a switch flipped, but slowly. Quietly. Like the inexorable pull of the tide. You told yourself it was a fluke. You were scared. You panicked. You weren't thinking clearly. But the next day… he stood a little closer. Not touching, not yet, but close enough that you could feel him in your space. Enough that you could sense the warmth of his presence at your back in the medbay, his proximity a low hum you couldn't tune out.
Then came the next time. You were tired. No, you were utterly exhausted. Leaning against the cold metal wall outside the mess hall, head buried in your hands, bones heavy with the lingering exhaustion of an impossibly long mission. You didn't hear him approach. But you felt it. A hand on your shoulder. Just that. His. He said nothing, made no sound. But he didn't pull away when you didn’t flinch. He stayed.
And that became the pattern. You'd find him beside you during late-night walks on the deck, his hand brushing yours, never grasping, just… there. In meetings, he'd pass you things, his fingers grazing yours as if it meant nothing. As if he wasn't Law. As if you weren't you. You caught him watching sometimes, but not with that cold, calculating gaze he once possessed, not like a surgeon dissecting a specimen. Like a man. And you? You stopped moving away. Stopped avoiding his shoulder when you sat beside him on the bench. Stopped pretending your hand didn't linger beside his for a second longer than necessary. Stopped acting like you didn't feel it.
The crew noticed. Of course they did. They weren’t fools. They were pirates, not idiots. Bepo blinked slowly, his worried gaze fixed on Law whenever he stood too close to you. Penguin whispered something to Shachi one night, and both of them stared a little too long when you walked into the room with a towel draped over your shoulders – his towel. No one said a word about it aloud. Not yet. But you could feel it in the charged silence, a tangible shift. Something was blooming. You were terrified of it. And yet – you never let go first.
What had begun as infrequent, almost accidental contact, steadily grew into something more. It started in passing, small things, almost imperceptible. A hand on your back when navigating crowded ports. Knuckles brushing as you passed him a scalpel. His thigh pressed against yours during quiet dinners. Nothing loud. Nothing obvious. But it was always there. He was always there.
At first, you questioned your own perception, convinced you were imagining it, that you were the one reaching, leaning just a little closer, desperate not to be alone in your own skin. But then – his hand started finding yours first. Fingers brushing the inside of your wrist like a tentative question. And when you didn't pull away – his palm settled into yours as if it had always belonged there. He held your hand like it was normal. Like it was always supposed to be this way. Sometimes without even looking at you. Sometimes even while he was mid-conversation with the crew, his voice low and sharp – but still, his fingers wrapped around yours under the table like an anchor.
And then it got worse. Or better. You couldn’t tell the difference anymore. Arms brushed constantly now. Shoulders leaned together. Pinkies hooked lazily during slow, aimless walks through the ship. There was a single, shattering moment – you were leaning over the map table, tracing a course, and his hand slid up your spine. Open. Flat. Warm. You froze. But you didn't move. And when you finally looked at him, he didn't speak. Didn't ask. Didn't back off. He just looked at you the way he always did now – like he was seeing you, truly seeing you, and not flinching. It wasn’t accidental anymore. It wasn't just comfort. He was choosing you. And worse – you were starting to choose him back.
It had to happen eventually. The talking part. The naming part. You had both danced around it for so long, touching without asking, holding without question, as if the delicate tapestry woven between you would unravel the instant one of you spoke it aloud. But one night, the words slipped free.
It was quiet. Late. The crew was deep in the throes of sleep. Rain tapped gently against the reinforced glass of the observation room. You were curled on the couch, knees drawn to your chest, wearing a shirt that wasn't yours. His, perhaps. You couldn't recall if he'd given it to you or if you’d just started pulling it from the clean laundry without asking. He sat beside you, a book in one hand, your leg tucked beneath his as if it had always belonged there. And then, without looking up from the page –
"Does it still hurt?" His voice was low, almost a murmur, as if he feared the question itself might shatter the fragile peace.
You didn't answer right away. You didn’t have to ask what he meant. You stared ahead, watching the shadows dance across the glass. "Sometimes," you said quietly. "Less than it used to."
He nodded. Didn't press. You waited. And then –
"Why me?" Your voice cracked at the end, a whisper, an ache you hadn't meant to vocalize.
He didn't flinch. "Because you don't let anyone touch you," he said simply. "But you let me."
It wasn't romantic. It wasn't poetic. It was just honest. You blinked slowly, swallowed hard. "I didn't mean to."
"I know."
Silence stretched between you, a tide pulling back, revealing hidden depths. And then – his hand found yours. No urgency. No pressure. Just warm fingers slipping into the space between yours like a puzzle piece that had been waiting a long time to fit. "I'll stop if you ever want me to," he murmured, his thumb brushing your knuckle, a feather-light touch. "You know that, right?"
You looked down at your hands. Your smaller one, enveloped in his. Fitted. Chosen. You didn't say yes. You didn't say no. You simply leaned your head against his shoulder and stayed there, until the rain stopped its gentle drum and the first pale light of the sun began to bleed through the curtains.
You didn't talk about it again for a while. Not in words. But everything you did was louder than any spoken declaration. You started reaching for him first. Sometimes it was quiet – your hand finding his when the ship rocked a little too hard. Other times, it was deliberate. Your fingers brushing his as you passed behind him in the medbay, just to feel the heat of him. You began to recognize how often he let it happen. How he slowed down just enough for you to keep pace. How he never pulled away first. He never asked for your touch, not once. But he always received it like a man who'd been starved of it all his life. And maybe he had.
There was something in the way Law held you that felt… reverent. Not fragile, not delicate – he knew you weren't made of glass. But there was a profound respect there. Like your body was a story, and he was reading it slowly, carefully, with every point of contact. Every brush of his knuckles down your spine. Every graze of fingers against your wrist when he took your pulse, as if he wanted to memorize the very rhythm of your being.
The crew noticed the change. It became harder to ignore when Law started standing next to you during briefings, shoulders almost always touching. When his coat found its way draped over your shoulders after long shifts without anyone needing to ask. When his bunk, usually cold and untouched most nights, was sometimes quietly empty at dawn. No one said anything. Not to your face. But you could feel it in their eyes. The shift. They didn't look at you like they were waiting for you to shatter anymore. They looked at you like someone coming back to life.
One night, long after curfew, you found yourself lying beside him, both of you tucked into that narrow cot that didn't quite fit two people – but somehow always did. You were lying on your side, facing him, one of his hands resting loosely at the base of your neck, his thumb stroking your jaw as if to remind you he was real. You stared at him for a long moment. At the way the moonlight caught the faint scar under his eye. At the exhaustion tucked just behind his eyelids that never quite went away.
"You always look like you're bracing for something," you whispered, the words barely audible.
His thumb paused for a heartbeat, then continued its gentle rhythm. "Maybe I am."
You didn't ask what. You didn't have to. You were bracing, too. Both of you – so accustomed to control, to being the calm in the chaos – that this… softness… was terrifying. But still, he held you. And still, you let him.
I went out a few nights ago and for some reason accepted?? free sweets??? from some random person in the bathroom???😀 so anyways here's op characters reacting to you being a reckless/idiotic drunk.
I feel like some are a bit out of character but also this is like about situations that could actually sort of harm you so I didn't want to make it too silly because i think often 'silly' characters are overlooked in terms of the depth they can have- YES THIS IS ABOUT LUFFY! HE CAN BE SERIOUS! I LOVE HIM!
Luffy
Surprisingly stressed about it. Like he thinks it's funny at first but as soon as you start doing more like genuinely dangerous stuff he's like nuh uh. Will wrap himself around you to keep you safe, and he tells you off very seriously like he wasnt doing the same thing or something more dangerous earlier.
Zoro
Just fixes the situation around you to be honest. Like if you're climbing something he just puts a harness on you and attaches it to himself and climbs with you. You are not getting injured under his watch but he will never tell you what to do with your own life. Unless it's something really badly dangerous and then he basically just sits on you because there's no way you're lifting him.
Sanji
Heart attack fr like he straight up faints, but as soon as he's back on his feet then he's immediately intervening. Listen he loves you and he would never treat you badly but what the fck are you doing. Straight up he just snatches you before forcing you to drink like 4 glasses of water.
Usopp
Also heart attack except he doesn't know what to do about it. Runs around crying until either someone else does something or you do something so dangerous that he acts without thinking. You'll probably end up immobilised with blankets and forced to sit next to him all night while he feeds you snacks.
Nami
Lowkey she's doing it with you. You're a nightmare duo for the crew and everytime you've gotten drunk together something horrendous has happened. Like you go out, just you two, and come back to the ship and one of you has a broken wrist or like you both get lost and the crew has to search for you when they're all hungover the next day. So you're not allowed to drink together anymore.
Robin
Scruffs you like a kitten but like for real she just picks you up and takes you away from the situation. She's scary about it too, she just appears from nowhere like "My my, what are you doing my love." Instantly sobering to hear. She monitors your drinking from afar to make sure you don't get to this point too often.
Franky
Sort of encourages you but also stops you from doing anything that could harm you? He's like WOO THAT'S MY BABY while he's carrying you away from the thing you were trying to do. Honestly he's way more responsible then expected, and he doesn't really get drunk as easily as other people so he's a good caretaker.
Brook
Laughs but also prevents any impact from the situation. So like if you accepted a drink from a rando then he swaps it with his own, or if you're balancing on something high then he makes sure he's there to catch you. He knows drunk people aren't very agreeable and hates controlling your actions.
Jinbei
He's lowkey slipping you water and juice instead of alcohol so you don't get to this point. He doesn't hold it against you though, his tolerance is huge and most people who attempt to keep up with him end up passed out. He fights your fomo by giving you mocktails, what a gem
pairing: Zoro, Sanji, Luffy, Usopp, Ace, Law and Sabo x reader
warning: none
Disclaimer: not my gif
Zoro
It always starts with silence.
Zoro doesn’t say a word when he pulls you into the shadows of the training room, sweat still glistening on his chest, his breath steady, but his gaze dangerous.
He grabs your wrist and backs you against the wall — not violently, but with purpose, his body caging you in. You can feel the warmth radiating off his bare skin, the scent of steel, sweat, and something purely him. His eye is dark, low-lidded, locked onto your lips like he’s deciding how hard he’s going to ruin you.
“You’ve been looking at me all day,” he mutters, voice gravelly and low.
You breathe, “And if I have?”
His hand slides up your side, rough palm dragging over your shirt until it rests at your jaw. His thumb brushes your bottom lip, slow, testing. You open your mouth slightly in response — and that’s all it takes.
Zoro dives in like a man with no self-control left.
His lips crash into yours, rough and searing, his body pinning you tight against the wall as his hand snakes into your hair, gripping. His other hand grabs your waist, dragging you even closer until your hips grind into the hard lines of his torso. You can feel how badly he wants you — in every movement, every growl he lets out between kisses.
His mouth is demanding, tongue deep and fast, like he’s kissing you with the same intensity he fights with. You can’t keep up — you don’t want to. You’re breathless within seconds, fingers tangled in his damp hair, nails dragging down his back as he devours your mouth like he’s trying to erase any thought that isn’t him.
He breaks the kiss only to speak against your lips, breath hot. “Don’t tease me if you’re not ready for this.”
You gasp out, “Try me.”
He doesn’t hesitate. He tilts your chin up, crashes back into your mouth, this time slower — deeper. Tongue stroking yours, lips moving in sync like he’s drinking you in. His thigh slides between your legs, pressing up, his hand squeezing your ass through your pants like he’s claiming everything at once.
You moan into his mouth.
He smirks against your lips.
“You sound so damn good,” he murmurs, voice raspy, strained. “Keep making that sound and I’m not stopping at kissing.”
Sanji
He smells like smoke and spice, like wine and warmth.
Sanji has you backed against the kitchen counter, the stainless steel cool against your spine — a sharp contrast to the way his body burns against yours. One hand is braced beside your head, the other resting on your lower back, fingers flexing with restraint.
His chest rises and falls slowly. He's close. Too close. His golden hair falls into his eyes as he stares down at you with a look that’s not playful for once — it’s dark. Intense. Hungry.
“You’ve been teasing me all damn day,” he murmurs, voice low and smooth as sin. “That little skirt, the way you licked that spoon…”
You grin, smug. “So?”
Sanji leans in, and his lips barely brush yours. Not quite a kiss — more like a dare.
“So now,” he breathes, “you deal with the consequences.”
And then he kisses you.
Not rough. Not rushed.
No — Sanji kisses like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered.
His lips are soft, warm, moving slowly at first — savoring the shape of your mouth like he’s memorizing it. He kisses you once, twice, then drags your bottom lip between his, sucking gently until your knees weaken. His hand slides up your back to cup your neck, tilting your head just right as he deepens it — tongue teasing, coaxing yours, slow and sensual and devastatingly good.
You whimper into his mouth.
He groans in response — a sound low in his throat, almost pained — and suddenly his hand tightens in your hair. He turns you, swiftly, lifting you onto the counter without breaking the kiss.
Your thighs part instinctively, letting him step between them. He presses into you, lips growing hungrier, his tongue now fully claiming your mouth, wet, hot, deep. His hands roam — gripping your thighs, sliding under your shirt, thumb brushing just beneath your bra.
He pulls back just enough to whisper, breath shaky, “You taste like fucking heaven.”
You tug him back down by his collar, your lips colliding again. And this time, it’s filthy — open-mouthed, messy, all teeth and tongue, your breath coming in gasps between kisses. His hands are everywhere, gripping, teasing, shaking slightly with how badly he wants you.
Sanji breaks the kiss, panting, forehead pressed to yours.
“You want more?” he rasps.
You nod, dazed. “Yes.”
He grins — slow, dark, flushed and wild.
“Then beg, mon amour.”
Luffy
You’re sitting together on the Sunny’s figurehead at sunset — the wind warm, the sea glittering gold. Luffy’s beside you, legs swinging, arms behind his head, straw hat tilted back. He’s smiling, lazy and content, until he glances at you and his eyes narrow just a little.
You’ve been playfully bumping shoulders with him, teasing him, letting your fingers linger when you touched his arm.
He’s not dense.
He’s just been waiting for the right moment.
And it hits — suddenly, intensely. His body turns toward you with purpose. “Y/N.”
Your heart skips.
“C’mere.”
Before you can ask what he means, he grabs your wrist gently and pulls you into his lap. You end up straddling him, chest to chest, your breath catching from the shift in energy. Luffy’s not grinning now. His eyes are low, locked on your mouth like it’s a secret he’s dying to know.
“You always run your mouth,” he mutters, hands firm on your hips. “Let’s see what happens when I shut it for you.”
Then he kisses you.
Hard.
Hot.
Messy.
There’s no prelude — no soft brush, no test. Luffy dives in with everything he has. His lips move like he’s devouring you, tongue sliding deep the moment your mouth parts for him. It’s unpracticed, passionate, a little reckless — but so damn good because he means every second of it.
His hands wander, gripping the swell of your hips, sliding under your shirt to feel bare skin. His thumbs drag across your waist as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, teeth grazing your lip before sucking it between his — needy, wild, completely unfiltered.
You gasp into his mouth.
He moans.
Actually moans — a deep, hungry sound that vibrates in your chest.
“Mm, more,” he pants, diving back in, tongue hot and frantic, kissing you like he’s addicted. He presses you harder against him, grinding just enough to make your thighs clench. “Don’t stop, don’t stop—”
You try to pull back for air, but he follows, catching your bottom lip again.
“Luffy—” you breathe.
He rests his forehead against yours, panting, face flushed and eyes heavy-lidded. “Why’d you stop? I wasn’t done.”
You laugh, breathless. “You’re… intense.”
He grins — and this time, it’s cocky. “You teased me first. I’m just finishing what you started.”
Then he kisses you again — and this time, it’s slower, deeper, more focused. Like he’s learning you. Like he wants to memorize exactly what makes you melt.
And god, you do.
Usopp
You’re in his workshop — the one spot on the Sunny that smells like oil, sawdust, and whatever snack he’s halfway through eating. He’s showing you a new invention, excitedly rambling, hands waving as he explains the mechanics of it.
You’re not listening.
Not really.
You’re too busy watching his lips.
They move so fast when he talks, his tongue darting out every so often to wet them. And the moment he catches your stare?
He stutters.
“Wh-What? Why’re you looking at me like that?”
You lean in slowly. “You’ve got something on your mouth.”
“I— I do?! What?! Where?!” He wipes his face in panic, eyes wide.
You smile and step closer — closer — until you're standing chest to chest. “Right here,” you murmur, pointing to the corner of his mouth… then leaning in to kiss it away.
Usopp freezes.
His body goes rigid. His heart? Probably exploded.
And then you deepen it — one hand on his jaw, lips brushing slow and deliberate over his.
He gasps into your mouth, the sound swallowed by the kiss.
But after that? Something in him clicks.
He kisses back.
Tentative at first — soft, a little unsure. His lips move carefully, like he’s trying to match your rhythm, figure out what you like. And when your tongue flicks out to taste him?
He groans.
And everything changes.
Usopp’s hands fly to your waist, fingers clenching like he can’t believe he’s touching you. His mouth opens wider, tongue sliding shyly against yours — then bolder, deeper. His breathing gets heavier as he presses you back against the workbench, one arm around your waist, the other burying into your hair to hold you in place.
He breaks the kiss just for a second. “That okay?”
You nod, dazed. “More than okay.”
That’s all he needs.
He kisses you again, but this time he tilts his head and kisses lower — mouth dragging to your jaw, then back to your lips with more confidence, more need. His tongue moves slow, deliberate, like he’s discovering how to wreck you one motion at a time. When you moan, he shudders and kisses you even harder, hips pressing into yours.
“I-I don’t really know what I’m doing,” he mumbles against your mouth, “but I really like doing it with you.”
You grab his shirt, tugging him closer, breath hot and ragged. “You’re doing so much better than you think.”
Usopp kisses you again — hard, messy, breathless — his insecurities replaced with raw, sweet hunger.
And now you’re the one melting.
Ace
The air is already thick when he corners you on the deck at dusk — the sea glowing orange, his skin lit gold from the dying sun. He’s shirtless, of course, beads glinting across his chest, sweat slicking his muscles, fire licking faintly around his fingertips. His jaw is clenched, his eyes burning hotter than his flames.
“You think it’s funny?” he asks, voice low. Dangerous. “The way you flirt all day, then walk away like nothing happened?”
You swallow hard, pinned by that intense gaze. “Maybe.”
Ace steps in.
One hand grabs your jaw — not rough, but firm — tilting your face up to meet his. The other slides around your waist, tugging you flush against his bare chest. You can feel the heat radiating off his skin like a damn furnace.
“I’ve been good,” he growls. “Too good. You keep looking at me with that mouth—”
You smirk. “What about my mouth?”
He kisses you.
No warning.
No mercy.
Just fire.
His lips crash into yours, open-mouthed, bruising, hungry. There’s no gentle beginning — he kisses like a man starved, like he’s been holding back for weeks and he’s done waiting. His tongue forces its way past your lips, deep and slick and possessive. You moan into him, and he answers with a low, growling sound that vibrates in your bones.
His hands grip your hips like he’s anchoring himself — thumbs pressing hard, dragging your pelvis against his in a slow grind. You gasp, breath hitching, and Ace chases the sound like it’s the only air he needs.
“You taste so good,” he pants, biting your bottom lip, then sucking it back into his mouth. “So damn good—”
Your knees buckle and he catches you effortlessly, pushing you back against the mast. His thigh wedges between yours, pressing up, spreading you open. His fingers curl into your hair, yanking your head back slightly so he can trail his mouth down your neck, licking, biting, claiming.
“You want fire, baby?” he murmurs against your throat. “Then burn with me.”
He kisses back up your jaw, back to your mouth, hotter than ever. Tongue stroking yours, lips moving fast and needy, your breath stolen over and over again. His body is everywhere — heat pressing into every inch of you.
He pulls back just an inch, panting, his pupils blown, mouth swollen from the kiss.
“You do that again,” he warns, voice hoarse and wrecked, “and I’m not stopping at just your lips.”
You tug him back in by his necklace. “Good.”
Law
It happens late at night in the quiet of the Polar Tang. The hum of the submarine is low, constant — a background rhythm that barely masks the tension between you.
You’re in his office, flipping through a book, sprawled on the couch while Law reads at his desk. Or pretends to.
He hasn’t turned a page in ten minutes.
“Y/N,” he says suddenly.
You look up, and the way he’s watching you… it’s not the look of a man casually glancing across the room. His gaze is heavy, deliberate, fixed on your mouth. His chair scrapes back, slow and controlled, and he crosses the room in quiet steps until he’s standing right in front of you.
You tilt your head. “Something wrong, Doc?”
His fingers trail along your jaw, lifting your chin gently.
“You always talk so much,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “But not now.”
Then he leans in — slowly, eyes locked on yours until the very second his lips touch.
And when they do?
Everything inside you shuts off.
Law kisses you like it’s a controlled experiment — methodical, devastatingly slow, tongue barely teasing at first. His lips press firmly, tilting your head to get the perfect angle, like he’s studying your mouth. Testing how long it’ll take before you break.
When you whimper? His hand slides into your hair.
When your legs part instinctively to pull him closer? He smirks against your lips.
He deepens the kiss — tongue sliding in slow, deliberate strokes, warm and slick and possessive. He doesn’t kiss like he’s in a rush — no, he takes his time, making you melt, breath by breath. Every shift of his mouth over yours is intentional, practiced — like he’s cataloging what makes you tremble, arch, moan.
His gloved hand cups your jaw as he pulls back for air, lips still brushing yours.
“Don’t move,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “I’m not finished.”
Then he kisses you again — this time rougher, hungrier. Tongue tangling with yours, teeth grazing your lip before sucking it in. His free hand slides down your spine, gripping your waist, pulling you up and onto his lap without warning. You gasp, and he eats the sound with another searing kiss.
“You taste like trouble,” he murmurs darkly, lips moving down to your throat.
And you barely manage to breathe out, “Then diagnose me, Doctor.”
He chuckles, wicked and low. “Terminal. Now shut up and let me work.”
Sabo
It’s dark.
You’re in his quarters — heavy drapes drawn, a low lamp flickering on the desk behind him. He just got back from a mission, gloves off, vest undone, collar loose, blonde hair messy from the wind. He smells like smoke and pine, and there's dirt on his cheek, blood on his knuckles.
But his eyes? Still calm. Still dangerously focused.
You’re standing near the window when you feel him behind you — silent, close. You don’t turn. You don’t have to.
“You always wait up for me,” he murmurs, voice deep and smooth against your ear. “Even when I tell you not to.”
You swallow hard. “You think I listen to everything you say?”
He chuckles. “No. But you do want me.”
He says it so casually, so matter-of-fact, that you whip around — ready to fire back — but the moment you meet his eyes, you stop.
They’re dark. Dilated. Hungry.
And then his mouth is on yours.
Slow.
Searing.
Intentional.
He doesn’t rush. No, Sabo kisses like he has all the time in the world to ruin you. His lips move with fluid precision, teasing yours open, his tongue sliding in with a control that makes your knees buckle. One gloved hand curls around your neck, tilting your head just right, while the other rests on your waist — not pushing, not pulling, just possessive.
When you gasp against his mouth, he hums. “There it is.”
His tongue drags against yours — slow and thorough — sending sparks down your spine. He kisses deep, never messy, never too rough. He wants every single sound you make to be because of him. And when he pulls back just slightly to let you breathe, his thumb strokes your bottom lip, swollen and wet.
“I’ve imagined this,” he confesses, eyes still on your mouth. “Exactly like this. You, against the window. Needing me.”
He leans back in — this time kissing you harder. His hand slides lower, gripping your hip, pressing you into the glass as his body follows. You feel how tightly he’s holding himself back — how deep the fire runs just beneath that polished control.
“I could kiss you all night,” he whispers against your lips. “Over and over… until your legs give out.”
You whimper.
He kisses you again — a little more desperate this time, breathing heavier. Lips dragging, tongue stroking deeper, his hand sneaking under your shirt to feel bare skin.
But even now, still in control.
Still… Sabo.
When he finally pulls back, he’s flushed, voice rough, eyes locked onto yours like a command.
“Next time?” he says. “I won’t stop at kissing.”
And from the way your body’s trembling, you don’t want him to.
Monster Trio+Law x Reader, crack, fluff, modern-au, everyone’s poor.
!Established-Relationship!
Summary: They take you on a date, and their card declines. Head-cannons/Drabble. A/N: Rewritten version! I may or may not have been satisfied with the original—so here you go >:). Word Count: 1,465 words - 364 each
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Luffy
* All of his money? 100% spent on fast-food. He holds a Guinness World Record for the most food eaten—period.
* You’re date’s most likely in a thrift store, having a competition to see who could find the coolest thing. Naturally, Luffy found an item that wasn’t even for sale… and you found something weirdly cheap.
* So, as you placed your trinket of the counter—he offered to pay. Which of course backfired.
“Oh, here—wait! I’ll get that for you.”
“Are you sure? It’s only a few bucks Luffy, I don’t mind.”
“Nope! I pay. My treat.”
* As soon as he checked the card—it didn’t go through. He was incredibly confused, jamming it back in atleast another 20 times.
* “Hey, why’s it not working?! Mr—I think your machines broken!”
* “No… sir, that’s your card. It says insufficient funds...”
* “Huh?”
* It’ll take a moment. Let him process.
* But as soon as it does, he’d apologize and laugh it off. A tad embarrassed, a little pink—but more blaming his card than anything.
* He’d judge it to bits, laughing casually as he slammed it back in his shabby wallet.
* “…Thanks a lot, I was supposed to make a good impression!”
* (As if it was the cards fault. Much less a 10 dollar ring.)
* You’d pay, and he’d go about your date like nothing happened. Which consisted of walking around town, meeting up with friends—getting into trouble, yk— the normal.
* But when you’re distracted—walking up ahead, he’d hit Nami up for a quick Venmo. Which she’d automatically decline.
* So, finding a few crumpled bucks on the ground, he substituted it for something very… Luffy.
* He dragged you into another random store, sneaking off to find something while you were left to your devices.
* Luff ended up getting a cute little hot wheels for free, of course out of pity from the cashier. (Which he was oblivious to.)
* “Is this for your girl?”
* “Shishi, yep! She’s awesome, I just wanted to get her something.”
* (Initiate awkward pause.)
* “Uh-huh.” the cashier slides it back, plopping it in his hand. “For free.”
* “Wait—really?? You’re awesome—thanks, I owe you!”
* “Oh, it’s fine. Just a few bucks.”
* (Money doesn’t have meaning to Luffy. Only actions, kindness, and food.)
* Later, walking you home, he giddily hugged from behind, kissing your cheek with glowing excitement.
* "Here, look at what I got it! Awesome right?”
* “Aww… wait, it’s actually kinda cute.”
* You ended up putting it on your shelf to cherish it.
Zoro:
* Sake and horrible money management was his downfall. He’s minimalistic, but his alcohol sure wasn’t.
* Regardless, you’d think Zoro’s love for booze was a turn off, but he was a responsible drinker and never put you in danger.
* Besides, he didn’t get drunk easy. And on rare occasions he’d ease up into your arms.
* On his date, he’d had taken you out for drinks, and for the first time in awhile he actually paid… though it didn’t go through.
* Much like Luffy—he’d try again, not confused, but out of sheer will it’d work. When the bartender told him there were “insufficient funds,” he’d be in denial, blushing beet red.
* “I don't know what you're talking about, it's gotta be your damn machine..."
* Nope. Not slick. Not at all.
* Royally, he knew he’d fucked up. Because what kinda guy doesn’t pay for the drinks on a date—HE invited them too?!’
* With a casual shrug, you passed the money over—dousing his worries.
* “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
* Yeah. Zoro knew why he liked you. He was relieved, and ever so grateful—he just didn’t know how to show it.
* “Oi, You didn't have to do that..."
* “I really did, what else were you gonna pay with?”
* An hour or so later, he’d drove you safely home, and the whole thing had been forgotten about. Which was much preferred.
* Zoro wouldn’t pay you back immediately, but when he did… It was in his own sweet chaotic way.
* After work, he’d stopped by your house with dinner. However, you’d just gotten out of the shower in a towel—making him even more flustered.
* (Zoro never did well with thanks.)
* “Hey uh, hi…” his stifled a cough, eyes trailing.
* “Zoro—woah! Hello! What are you doing here?”
* “Yeah—sorry. I know. I didn’t call. I just thought I’d just drop by with dinner, Sanji made extra. And I know you like his cooking.”
* “Oh—that’s… really sweet. Actually, thank you. Would you like to come in? Here, let me just go get dressed—“
* (For the rest of that night, Zoro couldn’t get that image of you out of his mind. Under his calm demeanor, he was worked up more than he’d admit.)
Sanji:
* I physically cannot see this man's card declining, so he’d probably used the wrong one...
* Anyway—for the sake of this head-cannon: he’d taken you out to dinner, enjoying a romantic ocean view… and when it happened. Oh. It happened.
* His freak out would be subtle, but there would be signs. He’d be subconsciously tapping his arm, mind blank with anxiety as the waiter told him it wouldn’t go through.
* “I’m sorry, what?” (He’d be in definite denial.)
* However, as soon as you offered to pay—he’d shut it down. Sanji wouldn’t dare let you pay for this, let alone a dinner he’d taken you too. He spoiled you like no other—so forget asking.
* “No—no, it’s alright sweetheart. I have everything handled.”
* (He didn’t, but he’ll act like he does.)
* Sanji believes in women putting their feet up, so he’d rather search the floors for pennies.
* However, after some reassurance and his inability to pay, he’d give in.
* “Sanji, it’s okay. If it means that much to you, you can just pay me back. Don’t worry.”
* He would worry, and he’d pay you back extra. From bouquets, to chocolates, and a home-made fancy dinner—hed go overboard.
* (But when does he not?)
* You’d would think it was overkill—as it was. But to him, that kinda thing is something he’d do on a daily basis. Any sliver of kindness given, he’d soak up like a sponge and reciprocat it tenfold.
* He was a believer of princess treatment.
* “Mon Amour, thank you for the other night. And thank you for joining me for dinner, it meant the world.“
* “I am so very lucky to have you, Mon chéri—here, I got you these…”
* (Cue the nosy neighbor watching him kneel in-front of you like he’s proposing.)
* Newsflash, he’s not. He just has a big heart.
* “Oh—Sanji, thank you… this is uh—a lot. Not complaining, I love it, I just—I wasn’t expecting you tonight—“
* (You’d be momentarily stunned, because what kinda guy does this? You’re not complaining, but you’re definitely cautious.)
Law:
* Law’s a somewhat responsible colledge student who’s learning to be a surgeon, so this? Would be detrimental to his ego and dignity.
* This happened once, and only once. NEVER again.
* He’s a total fanboy, and is a sucker for action figures + comics and mangas—which isn’t cheap. So… you can assume where this is going.
* It was the end of semester, and he took you out to lunch unaware of the tuition fees that clashed with a figurine he bought.
* He took you out for lunch, finally having some free time, but realizing too late what had happened.
* The waiter had handed him back his card and he stilled, before telling them to try it again. It didn’t make a difference, and the chick told him flat out he needed a different form of payment…
* Law would loathe the moment, feeling second-hand embarrassment for miles.
* However, as you overheard and offered to pay—just happy to be there with him… his expression darkened. Broodingly.
“It’s alright. I have cash.” Law’s voice was strained, grumbling. Wishing it happened any other time than this.
* He would pay, and you would would up going to his house to hang out; binge watching horror movies… which he was strangely interested in.
* Yet you were absolutely terrified of, much to his amusement. He cracked a smile watching you hide in his shoulder as the movie progressed, too afraid of the rising tension.
* (You ended up watching some stupid cartoon to the brighten the night)
* Ultimately, Law would forever remember that date, watching his guilty spending habits with a sour expression.
* The possibility of that happening again kept him up at night.
* It would stick with him, but what lingered more was your unhesitant reaction. He hadn’t seen you that happy in awhile, even something as simple at lunch.
* As you lay in his arms, his mind would travel over these things—tenderly brushing your hair back.
* Yes, he was a busy person, but he could always make time. Every minute with you mattered, and he missed you just as much in moments like these.
i was eepy and maybe i'm super late but if i say trafalgar law + birthday kisses then what...
MINA HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY SWEETS !!! <3
the sun filtered through the cozy bedroom, cascading over your slowly waking body as the tattooed man beside you roused you with gentle kisses along your bare collarbone.
“good morning, sweetheart.” law murmured in your ear before giving your lobe a gentle kiss. his lips felt everywhere all at once and before you could open your eyes, he landed a few kisses on your shut eyelids as well.
“what’s going on?” you mumbled, sleep still shrouding your mind as you try to turn towards the man with restless lips. he let you curl into him, kissing your head as his arms wrapped around you.
“can’t i give my girlfriend her birthday kisses?” he let out a dry chuckle, “it’s not every day i get to spoil you like you deserve.”
“‘m not complaining.” you smiled, looking up at him. law’s expression softened as he finally saw the sight he had been not so patiently waiting for all morning — your pretty eyes.
“then be good and let me kiss you.” he smirked, leaning in to press his lips against yours. you melt into the kiss, letting him take over as his tongue slips through to lazily explore your mouth as he’s done many times before.
kissing law was always an experience, one that left you breathless and somehow gave him all the more power. his hands ran down the curves of your body, kneading the plush skin as the kiss deepened.
practically gasping for air, you pull back a hair, letting his forehead rest against yours. his eyes shine as they make contact with yours, irises full of love and affection that no other person would ever get to bear witness to.
“happy birthday my love.” he whispered, gently rubbing your sides. the warmth of his voice poured over you, beckoning you further into his trap. “i hope you know you’re not going to get away from me that easily.”
perhaps zoro + “go back to sleep. it’s late.” or something similar ??? :3 i loveee youuu aims !!
evieee !! thank you thank you !! i love you so much :3 🤍
zoro quietly slips into the bed next to you, immediately greeted by your warmth and sleepy gaze. you had the nasty habit of staying up for him whenever he kept watch, leaving your sleep schedule in such shambles that not even the surgeon of death could fix.
“go back to sleep. it’s late.” zoro murmurs surprisingly soft, pulling you into his strong arms and against his taut body.
it never ceases to amaze him at how well you click together, melting and molding against each other with each steady breath. you sweetly hum is name and something warm blooms in his chest.
“needed to wait for you.” the sleep-coated words slip past your lips in a syrupy blur.
“no, you need sleep.” his head finds sanctuary in the crook of your neck, breathing in your aroma as it winds his body down for the evening, every tense muscle relaxing in your wake. “so, stop waitin’ for me.”
“but—.” you try to argue but the swordsman was too stubborn — and too tired, for such nonsense. quickly, he presses his lips against yours, swallowing up any words you tried to use against him.
the steady lull of the sunny moved in tandem with your joint lips. drowsiness coated each languid movement before sealing itself into a goodnight kiss. zoro pulls away, hiding back in his spot and brushing his lips against your settling pulse point.
“night night.” you whisper, your fingers absentmindedly curling in his hair as you play with the grassy strands.
“sweet dreams.” he grunts out, eye shutting as he finds his peace by your side, succumbing to sleep for the next few hours in his most favorite place to rest.
