Zoro Shenanigans

zoro shenanigans

Talent |Master-List|

Usopp x Reader, fluff, crack, teasing, Usopp is underrated, we need more of him, brief swearing, SFW, kisses

Summary: You’re are Usopp’s muse.

A/N: This is literally the sweetest idea, thank you so much for requesting. I mixed in some of the other Straw Hats with this, so I hope you don’t mind!

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Inspiration, and ideas.

The hardest things to come across.

In a world of grey, Usopp used to be lost. He’d search in pictures, cook books, even Robin’s boring historical papers to find ideas. He was beyond desperate to clear his art block.

The sniper needed something to clear his mind, he just didn’t know what.

But little did he figure, all the answers to his problems would be you.

The moment you’d joined the crew, he’d look at you from afar and things would magically fix. His ideas would run clear, and he could draw. It was like some cure, some unbelievable discovery—with clouds and magical unicorns—he could think.

Actually think.

He fell in love with you because you colored his world.

The softness in your eyes brought out the colors he’d once thought bland, some he’d thought boring. But no, he could finally draw and create with them.

It was a blessing—no, correction—you were the blessing. Your smile brought light into his world, and he couldn’t help but fawn from afar. He’d watch you, a lot. Even in the simplest of tasks, cleaning, chores—you name it. He couldn’t believe you were real.

Usopp drowned in art, better yet you.

Even now as he sits on the stairs, months into your relationship—sketching you in a journal, he makes art. His thoughts never dry, and they’re always full of life and color, though he kept it secret.

It wasn’t embarrassing—he just . . . didn’t mention it, he didn’t know how to tell you. At-least that’s what he convinced himself.

Or maybe his journal was just full of you, and he didn’t want you to know.

Regardless, he sketched you now as you fished with Luffy and Chopper, casting from the rail while he sketched a soft scene.

The boys had been long forgotten, now replaced with mangly fish while you looked ethereal. He wasn’t jealous, he was just…exploring his creativity. Yeah, that’s it.

Creativity.

“I got something!” You suddenly shouted, standing up. Usopp jumped, almost dropping his pen. “Haha—suckers! I win!” you got behind the rail, reeling in whatever you baited.

“Noo!” Luffy dramatically fell back, and Chopper sulked lowering his head. “No fair, I wanted to get it first.”

“Maybe next time,” you smirked, pulling your rod, but instead—it pulled you forward. You stumbled into the rails, letting out a yelp—and Chopper immediately grabbed you.

“AH! ____, no—Help!! The fish is gonna eat ____! USOPP!!”

Scrambling up, Usopp dropped his journal by the stairs. The pen rolled, and he hassled down like a hero—grabbing your waist.

“I gotcha! Hold on!”

You looked back, sending a smile and thanks, and Usopp about caved. His knees would’ve gone weak, if it weren’t for the fact a fish was about to drag you below.

He snapped out of it, flushing red, “Hey, focus on the fish idiot—not me! I mean I’m flattered—but—focus on the rod!”

“Ew! You guys are gross!” Luffy let out a yuck, grabbing the three of you.

Yeah, he couldn’t believe you were real.

“On three guys!!—“ Chopper turned to his human-form, dragging you both back.

“One!”

“Two!” Usopp held you tighter, leaning on his heels.

“Three!” Luffy shouted, yanking back with all his might.

SNAP

The rod broke. No—shattered.

The fish was lost.

And in slow motion, you were all sent flying back.

A chorus of yells echoed throughout the ship, and like bowling balls, you and Usopp knocked down a few barrels by the stairs.

He shielded you, completely winded by the force of the fall, dazed. Usopp slowly let you go, giving you the freedom to move as he recovered.

Weakly coughing, you leaned up.

“Ow,” you muffled, sitting on his hips. Your arms were placed at either side of his head, and the position wasn’t awkward till you locked eyes.

“I-uh, you okay?” He blurted, blinking idly. His hands balanced your waist, and you hesitated to shift forward.

“Yeah, I’m fine silly—you?” You brushed off, pulling some pieces of wood of his hair.

“Your the one who took the fall, idiot.”

“Oh—I did? Haha, I mean—of course I did, I’m the amazing Usopp, I save my girlfriend whenever she’s uh . . . Gonna get eaten by a fish.” he leaned up, letting out a nervous laugh.

SLAM

“What the hell was the crash?!” Nami snapped, bursting out from inside. She looked down to you—and like a science trick with pepper and salt, she was the dish soap that sent you both scrambling away from eachother.

“Uh—“ Usopp stuttered, bright red, unable to form a response.

“It was my fault,” you said quickly, covering him. You brushed off, standing to your feet. “Me, Luffy and Chopper were fishing, and I caught something—but my rod broke.”

“Wait as in MY rod?!” Franky boomed, appearing beside Nami. “There’s no way! I built those to withstand anything!”

“Well, clearly not.” Zoro scoffed, casually walking over the shattered pile of wood.

“OH MY BABY!!” Franky dramatically dropped to his knees, cradling the remnants of his work. “You will not be forgotten, Wendy.”

“Ugh, he named it?” Nami sighed, leaning into her palm. “Ok—I’m going back inside, you all are ridiculous.”

You sighed, looking over to Luffy and Chopper who were already back to fishing, determined to catch whatever you had.

Then, looking to the spot Usopp just was—he was gone. Surprised, you called his name only to find him prying his journal away from the skeleton.

“Yohoho, true love at its finest,” Brook laughed, and Usopp blushed red walking back to you, grumbling.

“What’s he on about?” you asked, confused as Usopp grabbed your hand, pulling you forward. He was muttering incoherent curses under his breath.

“Usopp?” you laughed, “what’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing!” He blurted, “nothing at all—I just, I just want to go inside.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so!” he was now beet red, pulling you into his workshop. He let out a long breath, letting you go as his shoulders sagged,

Relieved, he looked back to you, before quickly away.

Something was definitely up.

“So . . . What’s goin’ on?” you asked, moving to face him.

“Nothing.”

“You said that already, make a different excuse.” you teased, placing a hand on his jaw—and he about exploded.

Though he didn’t respond.

Looking down, you paused. His sketchbook was held behind him. Out of curiosity, you couldn’t help yourself. So, you reached for it.

“Hey, what are doing—wait!” he yelped, trying to get it back, but it was too late. You took off, and he chased you around the room.

“This isn’t funny, come on! Give it back!”

You let out a laugh, jumping over his chair to avoid him around the table. Back n forth’ he desperately tried to grab it, but you’d already opened to the newest page.

“____!” Usopp groaned, rolling his hands down his face.

“What I just wanna see? You haven’t showed me your art in awhile anyway—“

Usopp braced, leaning his head against the table.

“Oh.”

. . .

“I’ll just go die in a hole now.”

You snorted, closing his journal. “What why? This is so sweet.”

Appalled, his head jerked up. “Wait what?!”

“What do you mean, what? Usopp these are all amazing, better yet they’re me!”

Usopp’s mouth dropped, as in like all the way to the floor before he picked it up. “Y-you think?”

“Of course I do.” you strolled around the table, and he immediately stood.

Yes—as stiff as a board, but stood.

He’d never been so nervous in his life, even if he loved you with all his heart.

“Why’d you hide this from me?” you asked, softly, but realization washed over you. “WAIT—is this why you never showed me any of your other books?!”

“What?! NO—“ a panicked look crossed his face, and for once, he couldn’t come up with a lie.

“I—just—you, uhm—it’s personal!”

“It’s me! Of course it’s personal!”

“No! Not like that I—“

“I wanna see your other journals.” you finished, deadpanning as you turned around.

“NO! I am not mentally prepared for that!” Usopp immediately followed you, but you were faster.

“____! Don’t! I swear!”

“Or what?” you rose a brow, looking over your shoulder, and he froze.

“Or—or, I’ll—“

“You’ll, what?”

Usopp swallowed, and a bead of sweat rolled down his face. “Uhm, I’ll—I’ll . . .”

Pff—what the fuck now idiot! Think!

“I’ll kiss you!”

“You’ll . . . Kiss me?” you titled your head, placing your hands on your hips. “Really? Is that supposed to be a threat?”

Shit—plan B!

“Absolutely,” he feigned, sweating like a bullet. “You’ve uh—“

“You can’t distract me,” you huffed, turning around.

Usopp’s eyes widened and without hesitation, he lunged forward. His hands urgently grabbed your face, pulling you in for a deep—or rather breathless kiss, teeth and all.

A muffled noise escaped from him, and you couldn’t help but melt.

Your lover pulled away, panting softly. Unconsciously, Usopp licked his lips unable to look away from yours. Like a spell, he was momentarily drunk off your touch, and he couldn’t help but feel the need to do it again.

“Hey,” you whispered, questioningly, but not unkindly. You were interupted as he cut you off again, this time tenderly.

Yeah, that journal was long forgotten.

His hands desperately pulled you closer, not trying to distract you, but hold you. After discovering his secret, it was clear it meant a lot more than he led on. His heart was wide open, and he pouring every last drop of it into this.

“I’ll, I’ll show you, I just—I wasn’t ready . . . For you to see that.” he muttered, leaning back, but not far.

“See what?” you murmured, holding his hands. “Usopp you’ve seen every part of me, and I’ve seen every part of you, do you think a few drawings will make me leave?”

“No, it’s not that, I thought—ugh, I don’t know what I thought, it’s not embarrassing—you’re not embarrassing you could never be, I just,” he let out a sigh, resting his forehead against yours.

“You give me inspiration, ____. I can think clearly when I’m with you, and I . . . I was embarrassed, not that I have to rely on you, I just didn’t know how you’d react, or what you’d say.”

Nervously, he let out a breath. “It’s stupid, huh?”

“Not at all, I had no idea,” you whispered, blushing. “I don’t even know how to respond to that.“

“You don’t have to.”

“No I want to, but that’s like—the biggest, I don’t even know how to say it—compliment?”

Usopp paused, blinking.

“It’s probably not the right word, but if it makes sense—I’d draw you you too, if I could. I’d . . . There’d probably be a lot of sketchbooks. You already motivate me as is, so from an artist’s perspective, I get it.”

Usopp cleared his throat, holding back an ear to ear grin. “I—uh, thanks, that’s really sweet of you to say.” he let out a breath, trying not to crack.

“And, thanks for not—I don’t know, not calling me weird?” You held eye contact, quietly, and he let out a little laugh looking away.

“You’re such a dork,” you scoffed, smiling.

“I am not. You’re the one being sappy.”

“Oh really? Says Mr. You’re My Muse!”

Usopp choked on his breath, and a familiar blush creeped up his neck. “I never even said that—!”

“You don’t even have to, it’s drawn—literally, it’s everywhere.”

“Ok—and?? I regret nothing!”

Pulse Point

opla!Zoro x reader

Summary: After almost losing you, Zoro is willing to do whatever it takes to keep you alive.

WC: 8.1k

Warnings: blood/gore, violence, no death but we get pretty close, medical inaccuracies probably

The last thing you completely felt was a sword plunging straight through your chest.

The blade was ice cold and nothing had begun to hurt yet. It was just uncomfortable. Like there was something inside you, pushing your chest apart. There was, technically, but there was supposed to be something besides slight discomfort. You could feel the metal moving inside you, but it did not hurt. Maybe the adrenaline was helping.

For a second, you were one with the sword. Your body, pierced on its blade, took one final step backwards, pulling the sword out of your attacker's hands. He looked surprised. As if he expected you to be invincible. Like this wasn't a part of his plan. Like he expected your chest to secretly be made of rubber, like your captain, and the blade would just push your body backwards.

Unfortunately, that strength belonged solely to your captain. You were not indestructible, despite your frequent and overconfident declarations of that being so every time you managed to walk away from a fight with only a couple bruises and bloodstained clothes.

Those declarations were bold faced lies. You knew that you were as mortal as the others. As mortal as the man in front of you, whose blade had gone straight through your chest, who was looking on in disbelief as you waited for something to happen.

He reconciled with himself quickly enough, and grabbed the hilt of the sword once more, shoving the blade in further.

You could hear the screams all around you, but they rang dull and hazy, your ears stuffed with cotton. It was like you were underwater and they were above it, but even when they dove in, the words were still incoherent and dim.

You tried to scream yourself, but your voice choked in your throat. Your mouth hung open instead, in a look of pure shock. You felt like a doll, completely unable of moving on your own, only manipulated by the forces around you, namely the blade that had cut you open.

It started to hurt. At first you felt a burning ache, along where the blade sat. Soon, it spread. You were being torn apart. Cleaved in half. It hurt like all hell.

The man holding the sword showed no more remorse for you, using his foot as leverage to get your body off his weapon, pushing you to the ground.

Once your body was removed from the blade, you began to fall back. You attempted to tuck your head forwards to prevent any hard contact, but you were no longer able to control your movements.

Halfway down, you saw your murderer get tackled to the side by an unyielding force. It passed by so fast, you were unable to even see who had done it, but they began to hit him hard.

You hit the cobbled ground with a flash of white as your head collided against the stones, another ache that lingered as you attempted futilely to get ahold of yourself.

You were cold, your extremities shivering in shock as you lifted your head up hazily to view the gore of your chest, a horrific sight of blood and flesh. The pain radiated through you like a second heartbeat, so oppressive that you found it difficult to breathe. You simply choked on the air.

Finally, a person entered your line of sight. Luffy. He hovered over you, your captain. The way he looked at you reminded you of the day you almost lost Zoro. The pain in his eyes. He looked as inexperienced as ever. You did not want him, or any of them, to go through that experience again. Not with you.

You wanted to say something, apologize for not reacting when he thrust the blade forwards, for essentially letting him run you through, leaving a gaping wound that was drenching everything it could with a thick coating of blood.

Luffy shouted at you, looking desperately around before dropping to his knees next to you. You were still underwater. You couldn't hear anything clearly, and your vision was drifting in and out of focus.

Sanji came forward, on your other side. His coat was already slipping down his arms and with a swift movement, he bundled it up around his hand and pressed it against your wound.

You could tell he was apologizing, the same word, "sorry", etched on his lips as he leaned forward, sending more flashes of pain through your body. It was red hot, burning so bright you tried to writhe away from him, but Luffy's position made it difficult, blocking you from rolling over.

You attempted to scream, but instead, you felt something fill your mouth.

When you coughed the warm liquid up, you realized it was blood. At the very least you weren't choking on it yet, but it was only a matter of time.

Nami made her appearance at your feet, and Usopp followed, sitting in between Sanji and Nami, the same horror you saw from Luffy in his eyes.

You noted immediately that Zoro wasn't hovered over you as well and you worried that a grave fate had already befallen him.

When your lips parted to mouth his name, no sound leaving your bloodied jaw, everyone's heads shot in the same direction, at the approximate location your killer fell.

Nami leaned over and you saw Sanji carefully peek at the coat he was using to hold you together. It was a disgusting sight. The fabric came away completely darkened, soaked through with blood. Too much blood. The coat pressed down again, and now Sanji looked scared.

Zoro came into view, he looked furious, but it melted away immediately when he saw you. His anger was replaced with fear and devastation.

You wanted him to grab you and hold you against his chest, promising that everything would be alright, like he had many times before, but you didn't think that it was possible to be alright. Not this time.

He sat at your head, looking down at you and the sunbeams from behind his head made him look like some kind of angel, despite the flecks of blood splattered across his face and the bruise slowly darkening on his cheek.

For once, he did not shout at Sanji for touching you. He hardly acknowledged Sanji's work. His eyes were fixed on you. If he looked down at your injury, his eyes did not trace up the arms to see who it was staunching the blood and his brow did not furrow at the sight of the crewmate he would easily insult for looking at him the wrong way were this any other situation.

His hands took your face, attempting to reach out to you with his words, but you were unable to hear his request.

You wanted to hold him, and a weak arm raised from your side, hanging lazily in the air before Zoro took it. He squeezed gently, and you attempted to return the gesture, but your hold was weak enough as it was. He felt it anyways.

Sanji was forced to push harder on the injury and you recoiled once again, doing anything you could to escape the pain. This time, Zoro did notice Sanji and snapped out of his fear.

"Careful." He practically snarled at Sanji. You heard him faintly, surfacing for a second before dipping under again. The pain did not lessen, and you knew Sanji had to hold it as tight as he did because otherwise you'd be absolutely drained of blood.

You heard muffled talk above your head, but you only barely managed to grasp what they were trying to say. They were talking about finding a doctor, getting you somewhere safe.

You were exhausted, and you wanted nothing more than to close your eyes and drift into sleep, but you knew if you did fall unconscious, you might never wake up.

Your body became weightless as Zoro lifted you from the ground, new pain mixed with the old, and you felt awful. The coat pressed harder against you, if possible, but you didn't react. You were too weak. You felt like you were being squished when a hand pressed against the exit wound on your back.

Zoro began to walk, his pace hurried with your body resting in his arms, life seeping out as quickly as your blood.

Despite your limp position, you noted that your arm was not hanging down as Zoro ran. He had taken care when lifting you up to grip your wrist in his hand, a finger pressed against your wrist, directly over your pulse point, though by now it was more likely you would be feeling his pulse instead of him feeling yours.

You looked up and met eyes with Zoro. "Stay with me." He ordered as you surfaced again. You did your best, but you were fading fast. "Stay with me!" He shouted, picking up his pace. He was practically begging, and your heart broke.

Your head fell back, unable to hold itself up anymore, your breaths shallowing. Your eyes threatened to shut, but you tried your hardest to keep them open.

You felt yourself moving faster. Zoro's underwater voice begged once more. "Please." Whatever he was asking you to do, you could not hear. You drew whatever strength that remained and focused on his voice. "We're gonna find a doctor. They're gonna fix you."

Your eyes drifted shut for a long second before opening again. You didn't think you were going to make it. You felt unfixable.

You wanted to say goodbye to Zoro and thank him for everything he had done for you. You wanted to tell him how much you loved him, but your voice had disappeared long ago. Or perhaps only a minute or two. Time was drastically changed in your state.

The bright light of the sun disappeared as you were brought inside a building. You were no longer able to keep your eyes open as your body was laid down. You heard desperation from the muffled voices, but even those drifted away.

The last thing you heard was Zoro's deep voice, practically silent, but you recognized it nonetheless. There was some more ambiguous sounds, and a faint touch on your hand, and you were out.

None of the crew was allowed inside for the process, which left them standing outside the building, waiting.

Zoro stood still, only one step away from the door. If it opened he was likely to get hit in the face. He was covered in blood. Your blood. He felt sick.

He had never seen you like that before. So frail, broken. Weak. It hurt him to no end. You were strong. You were powerful and you never backed down. You stood tall before your enemies and treated them all equally, that is to say with unyielding force, and a barrage of attacks so powerful they had even put Zoro on his ass once.

Seeing you like that, your face ashen, your body nearly limp as you struggled to draw your breaths, it terrified him. You were a human, as fragile as any other, but Zoro had never seen you like that. Echoes of the way your body trembled while he carried you buzzed through his arms. An awful sensation.

"Zoro?" He turned around to look at whoever had called. He faced the crew, all sharing looks of worry, the same fears running through their heads.

"They're gonna help. Everything will be alright." Nami said, for the group's benefit as well as her own. "The doctors will help." Zoro said nothing.

Hours passed, each second agonizingly long. No updates, no confirmations, just a painful, unending wait. The only comfort the crew found was knowing that you were not dead yet. They would have been told already.

It was around midnight when the strangers came. There were three of them, each wearing dark cloaks. Black in the moonlight, but it would be reasonable to think that they might be blue in the daylight.

They walked without stopping to acknowledge the frightened crew, pushing past Zoro and walking straight into the building, closing the door behind them.

Zoro heard a couple guesses as to what the strange people were doing there, but all he could understand was that they were going in to help you. In that regard, he did not care if they had not looked at him, despite his looming presence at the door. He just needed you to be safe. He needed them to save you.

Time passed slower than ever, and Zoro was growing irritable. When Sanji left to get them some food, he refused his portion, saying it could be sacrificed to the captain. It was, but the group could tell that he was terrified for you.

Finally, after one last hour, the strangers left, the one at the front clutching a jar, with an indiscernible item floating inside. Payment for their strange services, the crew guessed.

They were followed out by the doctor, who was thanking them profusely before turning to the awaiting crew.

"Your friend is stable." The doctor said, tone warning. The crew hardly cared.

"They're alive?" Luffy asked. "Yes." There were relieved sighs all around. "But, there's a problem." The tension returned.

"We needed to use an old form of magic to save them. It keeps them alive, but only for a little while. When the magic runs out, your friend will die."

Zoro's fist clenched. "You couldn't save them?" He asked, accusatory. "We tried, but the wound cut too close to the vital organs. Without proper surgeons, our only shot was to mend as much as we could, and use the magic. We use it here to allow for peaceful goodbyes."

Zoro hated everything the doctor said, about not being able to heal you entirely, about this waning magic and the thought of having to say goodbye. It was disgusting.

"Goodbyes?" Usopp asked weakly. "Like, goodbye, forever?" The doctor nodded, a false solemnity. "Your friend is strong. I've had people slip through my fingers with far lighter injuries. I suppose they wanted to come back to you."

"Are they awake?" Zoro asked, voice flat, but bubbling with restrained emotions.

"Asleep right now, but they will awake in the morning. Until then you can find an inn to sleep in, and visit in the morning."

The doctor began to close the doors, but Zoro grabbed the door, holding it firmly. "I'm not leaving." Zoro said. "I want to stay with them." "We don't allow visitors at night." The doctor explained, a deep frown directed at Zoro's hand on the door. "It might disturb the other patient's rest." "Are there any other patients with them?" Zoro demanded. "Well no, but we still have rules." "Damn your rules. I need to be with them."

The doctor took an indignant breath, but let it out weakly. "If you touch nothing, you may stay. But only one of you. The rest will have to come back in the morning."

Zoro stepped forward, opening the door himself. No one dared challenge him. He was going to be at your side. He had to be.

"I'll see you in the morning," He turned to the crew, trying to control the shaking in his voice. A few scattered goodnights were spoken and with that, the crew left.

Zoro was led inside. The building smelled of pure alcohol, with an undercurrent of blood. It stung as he walked down the hall, led into the room where you were being kept.

You were alone in the room. On a bed, not accompanied by any fancy machinery or dressed excessively in bandages. He supposed your wound would be dressed under the paper thin gown you had been given. You lay still, your face calm. If Zoro had not seen the rhythmic, steady rise and fall of your chest, he would have sworn that you were already dead.

He approached you carefully, hand reaching out to hold yours. Your skin was cold against his. Still, he held on. With a careful touch, he pressed his thumb against your pulse point, feeling the gentle thrum beneath your skin, a sign of life. You were alive.

It wasn't right however. Not a heartbeat. The steady thumping of a pulse was replaced with a consistent feeling of movement. The magic, he realised. That was what was keeping you alive. Not your heart. Not anymore.

Still a sign of life, he breathed a sigh of relief, trying to keep himself composed, even though he wanted to collapse at the knowledge that you were at the very least alive. It meant he had time to save you. "It's going to be alright." He promised your sleeping form. "You are going to survive."

He sat on the floor, leaning back against your bed, head cushioned by your mattress. A hand stayed protectively around the hilt of his swords, at the ready, in the highly unlikely event that someone came to finish you off.

The other hand reached up to feel your pulse point again. It felt strange to feel the thrumming of magic under your skin instead of your blood. It was only a slight consolation that it was still responsible for your life.

Despite his best efforts to stay awake, Zoro slipped into a dreamless sleep at your bedside, soothed by the fact that for the time being, you were still alive.

The rest was needed, for he did not wake up until one of the nurses arrived in the morning, opening the door to your room, spurring Zoro into action. He did not pull out his swords, but the nurse looked terrified nonetheless. He probably looked a mess, having slept on the floor, your blood soaked into his clothes, still looking fresh from a fight.

After quickly checking on you, still asleep, the nurse nodded and left quickly, making significant efforts to not look Zoro in the eyes.

"Zoro?" Your weak voice caught his attention. He spun around to face you, seeing your eyes, fixed on him.

He moved to you, grateful to see you awake. You moved carefully, trying to ease yourself into a sitting position.

"Does it hurt?" Zoro asked, looking like he wanted to help, but unsure of how to offer it.

"I can't feel anything." You answered numbly, hand reaching up to your chest, where a check from the nurse had revealed your bandaged midsection.

You were not lying to comfort Zoro. In place of the agonising pain from before, there was nothingness. Like your insides had been scooped out, leaving you hollow.

Zoro explained as best he could what the doctors had done to you. You listened, all the while staring at your chest, feeling the hollowness.

"How much time do I have?" You asked, and Zoro cursed himself for not asking that question earlier. "I don't know."

"You have the next two days." The doctor said sternly, appearing from the door. "To say your goodbyes, pay your dues. It will be painless."

You said nothing, just looking blankly at the doctor. Faced so suddenly with your death twice in a very short timespan was a painful experience. You had thought you were safe.

Zoro watched you nervously. You looked scared. Obviously you despised the thought of dying, but he was still so unused to it.

He watched as your hand inched over to his. He reached up and took it without question. You squeezed his hand firmly, trying to keep your cool.

"Can we have a minute?" Zoro asked, tone sturdy, authoritative. "Alone?"

The doctor frowned, but said nothing, leaving as requested.

As soon as the door closed, Zoro turned to you, completely focused on you. Tears burned at his eyes. He was going to lose you.

"They couldn't save me?" You asked, looking straight ahead, still processing everything. "No. It was the only option. But I'm going to find something else. I promise. You're going to be alright."

You leaned forward, falling onto him, hugging him as tight as you could.

"I thought I was never going to do this again." You mumbled into his shoulder, tears welling in your eyes. "I wouldn't even get to say goodbye." Zoro's arms wrapped around you in a protective hold, avoiding where the sword had exited your body. He too, felt the tears stinging his eyes. He had thought much of the same. "I was so scared." You admitted quietly. "It hurt so much and I couldn't keep my eyes open, it was awful."

You curled up, body moving closer to Zoro, who just held you tighter, clinging to you. "You're safe." He promised. "You're safe now."

He could feel your shaky breaths through his shirt. The spot on his shoulder where your eyes were pressed was suddenly damp. Zoro tried rubbing your back, but cautiously avoided the area of injury, giving him limited space to work with.

There was a knock on the door and you jolted up. Zoro expected you to wince, but the movement did nothing to affect you. You simply answered it with a call.

"Come in."

The door burst open, and your crewmates spilled in, rushing to you. The floodgates burst open. There was tears and confessions, everyone spilling truths that needed to be told to you for fear of you never getting to know otherwise.

Finally the doctor came in again, to deliver the news properly, this time with your found family there to hear it as well.

You got the recap, about the magic in you, how it would fade, giving you a peaceful send-off, with enough time to say your goodbyes. You nodded at the explanation, lips set in a firm line. You were still dying, but at least it was painless.

The crew decided to say their goodbyes individually, allowing them one last moment with you before the end.

The realisation set in slowly but surely. That you truly were experiencing the end, that death was coming for you, and your ticket to the afterlife, if there was one, had been paid with the magic in your chest, thrumming in place of your heart, keeping your blood moving as your body uselessly tried to replenish what had been lost.

The one-on-one conversations were moving, and you found yourself growing serious. This was your end. You had accepted it. They needed to as well.

You began to feel it fading. The strength you had felt earlier in the day was gone now, and it was more comfortable to sit still than to move around. You were getting weaker. You were still dying. It was frustrating, even if you had come to terms with it.

Most of your friends had gone already. Zoro was last. Before he came in, around lunchtime, the doctor paid you a visit to make sure everything was alright.

"How are you?" The doctor asked. "Fine. It doesn't hurt. I'm just tired." You admitted quietly. "You held on to your life well. We were all impressed. For a second, we almost thought you would make a recovery." The doctor said, checking your bandages for blood. "Oh?"

"Unfortunately it was impossible." The doctor covered quickly. "Without a surgeon, we could never be able to mend it properly. But, you've been stabilized. It's the best we could do."

The doctor finished the checkup and left, allowing Zoro to enter.

He looked tired. You saw the redness of his eyes. He had cried. You wondered if he split off in order to let it out or if he did it in front of the others. He had changed into fresh clothes, no longer covered in the horrific reminders of your attack.

"Hey Zoro." Your voice sounded so weak and you wanted to punch something to cope with your body threatening to shut down around you.

At the very least, you could speak. Throughout the day your voice had faded, going from your strong, regular tone to a scratchy whisper. It was tiring to speak too loud. You wanted to save Zoro the pain of seeing you like this, but he had already seen you while you knocked on death's door the first time. At least this time you were clean and able to see and hear him properly. You didn't want him to see you like this, but he didn't care. He needed to say goodbye.

He stood next to your bed. The sheets were pure white, a stark contrast to the blood that had been shed on the operating table. The bandages around your chest were pristine too, as if you were attempting a fashion statement instead of hiding your mortal wound.

In his mind's eye, Zoro could still picture you, limp in his arms. The visions flashed as he looked at you in the bed, barely moving, voice faded.

He had replayed the entire ordeal a thousand times over during his wait, from the last minutes of the fight, to him finding his place at your bed, protecting you from an unlikely attack.

He remembered every gory detail. The way you felt in his arms, the colour of the blood stained into the fabric of his shirt and Sanji's coat, the very make of the blade that had pierced you, every bruise he had pummeled into your murderer's face.

Your hand reached out, and he took it. This time, you inspected it, a finger brushing along his knuckles, which were rough and irritated. "Zoro." Your tone detailed the rest of the rant you wanted to go on. About how he needed to channel the anger somewhere else when he got angry. To not just rush at whatever he could and fight it.

He shook his head, defending himself. "I did this to the asshole who-" his voice caught and he cleared his throat, grumbling at the floor.

After taking down the man he had been a furious whirlwind, pummeling his fists into the man's face until he had been unrecognizable, only pulled away from his violence by the sight of you, eyes glazed over, trying desperately to stay alive.

You squeezed his hand, only slightly stronger than it had been less than a day before. He squeezed back with the same force.

You could feel the emotions in the room. It was stifling. Zoro refused to sit in the chair set up for your visitors, and by the looks of it, he would refuse if you asked him to.

You sat in silence, looking over his body, registering every inch of his skin you could see, making sure he was okay. You noted a cut on his bicep. It had scabbed over, but looked rough. At the very least, it could have used a bandage. The bruise on his cheek was darker now, but not serious. Still, an ice pack or some cold vegetables should have been used to soothe it.

"It's fine." Zoro refused to let you say anything about the situation, knowing your analytical way of scanning him for injuries.

"I've had worse." His voice wavered.

You felt the world still. His voice had never wavered before. Everything he said was strong and assured. Even in the most brutally honest discussions you had had with him, tears on both of your faces, he had not broken. He had hesitated, he had choked and been cut off. He had spoken words quickly in times of stress and his tone occasionally made him sound careless, but it shattered you to hear him crack.

You needed to hold him, so you pulled him down. You tugged on his arm and he followed your guide as you looped your arms around his neck. You could feel his unsteady breathing as his arms wrapped around you, his face buried in your shoulder.

You sat in silence, his ragged breathing in your ear as he tried to resist the emotions he was trying so hard to hide.

You leaned back, and he followed your lead, joining you on the bed, lifting you up so that you could lay on him, between his legs, just like you did on the ship. You rolled over once he got behind you, so that you were chest to chest, head nestled next to his, the rising and falling of his chest still evidently restrained.

You realized that he was warm and briefly wondered how cold you felt to him. His arms wrapped completely around you, warming you up. You realized a little too late that you were shaking. He held you protectively. Like a shield. He wanted, more than anything, to protect you, but he had not been able to. He had let you get hurt. He had stood by and done nothing until it was too late.

Having already failed you in his mind, he simply held you tight against him, begging whatever powers that may be- the powers that he did not believe in- to give him more time. To give him all the time in the world. To give him a miracle, anything to prevent him from dealing with this devastating reality.

"What do I do?" He unintentionally asked out loud. He found himself unable to look down at you, furious at his involvement, or lack thereof, with your current position, so close to death. He wanted to cry, but refused to let that happen. He needed to stay strong for you. He needed to protect you. He was not going to let you get hurt again.

"Zoro?" You said it just to catch his attention. The overuse of his name had been apparent, but necessary. "It wasn't your fault. It's okay. You can let it out."

The dam broke. The words were simple, but it was what he needed to hear. He shook with heavy sobs, but stayed quiet. There was no bawling or shouting, or anything you would expect. It was just quiet. His shaky breaths were all you could hear against the silence of the room around you, like he had trained himself to be as silent as possible when he cried.

"It's okay." You spoke the words again.

"It's not." His voice shook again. "I should have stopped him." "Don't blame yourself, it won't help you." "I could have stopped him."

"It was my fight." The firmness in your words silenced his protests. "I may have lost it, but it was my fight to lose. I wouldn't have stepped in between your fight with Mihawk." He opened his mouth but you stared him down.

"Promise me that when I'm gone you won't blame yourself. I don't blame you. I lost the fight. There was nothing any of you could have done." He nodded. A weak gesture.

"Promise me." You ordered.

"I promise." He said with a heavy sigh, followed by a shaky inhale. You breathed out and laid your head against his chest. "Good. It wasn't on you."

He was reaching the end of his cry, his breaths beginning to settle. "Please stay with me." You requested, comfortable in his arms. "Until the time comes."

"Of course."

He pulled the thin blanket up to keep you warm, still in his arms, lulled into a sense of peace for your last hours, however many you had left.

You thought back to the good times. Walking along sandy beaches and through lamplit towns at night, where the only thing that mattered was the person holding your hand. You thought back to napping with him, on deck, sitting next to him, your head on his shoulder, or in the hammock, swinging back and forth with the rocking of the boat, feeling safe in his arms.

You remembered talking. Talking about your interests while he lazily listened, comforted by the sound of your voice as you explained what you did and why you did it.

In a strange twist of events, you stayed quiet, while Zoro spoke up.

His monologue was about you, how much he loved you, the way you had impacted his life, memories he had of you, anything he could think of, so long as it pertained to you.

His speech was stilted and certainly not well thought out. His sentences dropped off at odd places or fizzled out when he could not think of anything more to say. His voice stayed as level as he could make it, the occasional tremor running through. It was far from an impassioned declaration of love, but that was not what he could provide for you. That was not what you needed. You needed him. And that included his awkward words, still unused to being this intimate with anyone.

He finished his tangent by pressing his face against your head. "I'm gonna miss you." He said into your hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head.

His admission left a sinking feeling in your stomach. Had he really accepted that you were dying?

You shifted so that your eyes looked up to the bottom of his jaw. "You have no idea how much I love you." He murmured, and for a second you thought he had fallen asleep on your head, but he was just still, wishing this moment could last forever.

"I believe in love because of you." You felt another kiss to the top of your head. "What am I going to do when you're gone?"

You sat up a bit, so you could look him in the eye. "You are going to become the best swordsman in the world. Obviously. With or without me you are going to follow your dreams."

He took your face in his hands, carefully, like you were made of a fragile glass. It felt that way. He held you so gently he was scared you would break. "What do I do to make you stay?"

The question was strong. It wasn't a soft thought he spoke out loud just to say something, the musings of a grieving man. There was purpose behind it. He wanted an answer.

You shook your head instead, tears brimming in your eyes. "You can't. There's nothing."

His brow furrowed and you realized how serious he was. He would swim around the world if it would somehow cure you. He would do whatever you said even if it only gave you a few more days with him. You did not want him chasing a lost cause.

"Even if something could be done, it's too late." You leaned forward again, falling against him.

"Don't say that. You aren't dead yet. There has to be something." He insisted, sitting up straight, trying to keep you comfortable while he did so. "Zoro, stop it. There's nothing."

His eyes scanned your body as if there was a machine that could calculate a solution for him. His analysis turned up nothing. "I'll talk to the doctor."

You watched, half-formed protests dying in your throat as you spoke, as Zoro manoeuvred himself out of the bed, laying you down carefully, and deciding what to do next.

He walked towards the door and you said the only thing you could. "Roronoa Zoro." His full name made him stop. This could be the last time he heard you say it.

"Don't give up. I can help you. Let me help you." You shook your head. "This is the last resort." You touch your bandaged chest, where the magic keeping you alive slowly faded away.

"I survived." He pointed at his own scar, a dramatic line ripped across his chest. You wanted to agree, but you went through something different than he did. "The blade went straight through me. He barely missed my heart. I bled out." "You can heal." The desperation in his eyes shattered your heart. "They have a doctor here. Not a surgeon. They can't fix this. They can only sew it up and keep me alive as long as they can."

Zoro's head shot up. "You need a surgeon." His eyes practically ignited with hope. "Zoro." "I'll get you to a surgeon."

He leaned down, arms slipping behind your shoulders and under your knees, lifting you off the bed. "Zoro, put me down." You argued, doing nothing to get out of his grasp.

He hesitated for a second, your body laying the same way it had when you were dying less than a day ago. "You can't spend your last moments in here, waiting for it to end." He said sternly.

"Zoro." "One last trip." He insisted. "What's the worst that could happen?"

He knew that he had caught you in a corner, determination covering his features. "What if it doesn't work?" You asked, preparing him for the likely occurence. "Then I'll know I did everything I could to help you." He promised.

You said nothing in return, letting him help you up, and when your legs were too weak to help you walk, he swept you up, carrying you to the door, opening it to face your crew. At first, there was an oppressive silence, as if they had expected you to be dead.

"We're going to find a surgeon." Zoro insisted. There was no need for argument, the crew was more than ready to accommodate this detour.

There was a hurried walk to the ship, prepared to set sail as soon as possible, headed to a nearby island that boasted a city, surely there would be a surgeon there.

In the meantime, Zoro stayed with you. You were laid in a bed, offered many comforts, but it was evident that you were getting weaker. He sat next to you, one of your hands clasped in his for comfort.

You started the trip sitting up in bed, able to keep up with conversation, but soon there was a change. You were getting tired, and laid down.

Zoro stayed with you through it all, as the boat sped along the waves. As your eyes drifted closed, he urged you to stay awake.

You took one long blink and suddenly you moved, shifting under the blankets, lethargic movements that betrayed how little time you had left.

Zoro watched as you leaned up slightly against your pillow. "Zoro, if this doesn't work, I want to be buried at sea." Your voice was weak, but Zoro hung on to every word.

He wanted to interrupt and tell you that it was going to work, but he said nothing. He waited for you to finish. "Sail somewhere uncharted and leave my body to the sea. That way I'll always be with you. In the waters."

He looked up at you, the hand not holding yours went up to caress your face. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Kiss my lips, idiot. " You mumbled. A smile brushed the edge of his mouth. He obliged you, and despite your tiredness, you looped your arms around his torso, tugging him in with what little strength you still had.

"Promise to bury me at sea?" You asked. "I promise." His voice was rough, tainted with emotion. "But it is going to work."

You smiled. "Of course it will."

Luffy came in to update you on the progress of your journey. Almost halfway there, by Nami's calculations.

You still did not expect to be alive by the time they docked, but that was a concern you would not voice.

As you were left alone again, you fought to stay awake. A losing battle. Zoro urged you to stay conscious, but it was getting harder and harder to do, fighting the urge to fall asleep, knowing it would be a rest you would never wake up from. He held your hand in his, his fingers carefully positioned over your pulse point, feeling the thrumming slow under his touch.

"Stay awake. You can do it."

You did your best, minutes feeling like hours as you struggled to stay awake.

When the boat docked, Zoro was already picking you up, running to find you the surgeon. He was not going to lose you. Not if he could help it.

The hospital was in sight when your eyes finally drifted closed, unable to hold them open for much longer.

"Stay awake." Zoro pleaded, shoving through the front doors.

"I need a surgeon!" He shouted, your weak body held against his chest, a haunting reminder of the day before.

When your body was pried from his arms a second time, an overwhelming emptiness filled him once more.

He spent every second questioning the staff of the hospital about your condition. Every answer was the same. Nobody knew what was going on.

Time passed as slowly as it could, and Zoro was restless. Any attempts to soothe him were ignored.

The only update he got was the doctors coming out, asking the strangest question he had ever been asked.

"Where did the heart go?"

Zoro was confused. Your heart was still in your body, it's processes aided significantly by the magic, but it was still there. It should have been.

"What?" He asked, confusion and anger bubbling in his chest. "The patient's heart is missing. It's been removed. Do you have the specimen?"

Zoro's world lurched as he put pieces together. The doctor looking upset at his insistence of being with you. The lack of a distinct heartbeat. The jar carried by the strangers. The way you confessed to feeling like you were hollow instead of in pain.

Those doctors had removed your heart. That was why you were "beyond saving". Because they had stolen one of your most vital organs.

It made no sense. Why would they do that? The fury raged on as Zoro's brain tried to think of any other explanation for what had happened. Your heart was missing from your chest cavity. Your heart.

His anger bubbled, swearing a lengthy and bloody revenge against whoever had removed your heart and all responsible for it.

Another doctor rushed towards the one interrogating Zoro, and with a jumble of words like compatibility, donor, and transplantation, they came to some sort of decision.

They left quickly, promising Zoro that they were going to try something risky, before rushing off with determination, leaving Zoro fuming and confused.

He stopped his harrassment of the staff briefly, finding the crew sitting nervously in a waiting room. Upon seeing him, they jumped up, but the look on his face startled them.

"What's wrong?" Nami dared to ask.

"Their heart was stolen." Zoro said, his words a long line of barely controlled anger, his body tense, ready to explode.

"Those fucking doctors took their heart out. It's gone."

Confusion spread across the crew, trying to understand what Zoro was saying. Surely he was joking. Your heart was not removed from your chest. There was no way.

There was no need to discuss the actions that would be taken wether or not you survived the procedure.

They were going back to that first island and Zoro was going to unleash absolute hell upon the doctors who had lied to him about trying to save your life.

Until then, the anxiety doubled, as more hours were spent hovering outside sterile doors, waiting for news that would either bring some semblance of normalcy to the world or tear it in half.

Finally, after a wait that spanned far too long, the doctors came out, looking shocked.

"Your friend survived the transplant. They're going to be okay." One of the doctors informed the crew. The excitement was palpable.

There was a cascade of cheers as the news was released, grinning faces and happy hearts. You were alive again.

Zor insisted upon waiting at your bedside, a looming, protective figure that barely softened his posture, even when your crew came in to see you.

He stayed by your side, day and night, asking the nurses about when you would wake up.

They said they didn't know. Only that you would.

Eventually.

Zoro spent his time with you by talking, remembering how you had helped bring him back from the brink of death.

Zoro clammed up the second somebody entered the room, but when it was empty he began to talk about anything and everything. Things he saw out your window, thoughts on the weather, complaints about whatever was on his mind. Anything and everything.

He made multiple apologies. For not helping you fight, for not finding this solution quicker, for not giving you a chance to end that bastard's life yourself, for letting those doctors steal your heart and replace it with a finite amount of magic. For everything.

His hand held yours, his fingers gently pressing your pulse point. He could feel the steady thrum of your new heart, weak as it was. It was still there. So were you.

One night, after having fallen asleep, slumped over in a metal hospital chair, his hand let go, and upon awaking, he scrambled to find your pulse, breathing a sigh of relief when he found it.

The torture stayed with him for three days, three whole days of waiting for you to come back, to fight against the odds and to prove how strong you truly were.

It was around lunchtime when you drew in a sharp breath, awakening to a stabbing pain in your lungs. Your eyelids fluttered, and a long, thin breath brought you back as you drowsily came to.

Zoro's heartrate doubled, a beacon of hope lit in his chest that burned brighter than the sun had ever been.

He felt your fingers twitch in his grasp, and your new heartbeat accelerated under his steady hold.

Your face pinched, contorted with pain, but Zoro was still just barely holding back tears. You were truly alive.

He spoke your name, a soft tone being taken on, one that had not been present during his ramblings to your unconscious body.

"Zoro?" Your voice was raspy, but there was nothing for him that could ruin the moment. "I'm here." He said carefully, hand moving to hold yours, squeezing it gently.

You squeezed back instinctively, laughing. "This probably isn't the afterlife then." You coughed and a wince ran through your body, followed by a sharp noise of pain. "Definitely not heaven."

"I'll get a doctor." Zoro said quickly, raising from his seat, rushing to proudly declare that you had bested the odds, and defeated death itself, not once, but twice.

"Zoro?" He hesitated, turning to look at you as you opened your eyes, blinking until he could come somewhat into focus. "Thank you."

Zoro had been accused of being an impulsive man, but he was sure of every thought that passed through his head before he rushed back to your side and kissed you.

His hands carefully caressed your face, the very hands that had bashed your killer's face into the ground and carried your limp body, the lips that had screamed at enemies and pleaded with so many nurses to tell him good news pressed against yours, losing himself in the familiarity of it. He had missed you so desperately.

You were still weak, but he could feel you reciprocating his action. "I love you." He repeated over and over again, eyes glazing over with tears. "I love you, I love you." Like a mantra.

When he slowed down, he saw your eyes drift behind him, where a surprised nurse was blushing at the scene in front of her.

"I'll get the doctors." She mumbled before scampering away, a giggle on her lips.

You were given a hefty painkiller, by doctors who still seemed unable to process that you had survived, but all the more happy for it.

The crew was permitted to see you, and whatever residing pain fighting your medicine was forgotten as Luffy's arms wrapped around you, stretched out long and encasing your body like spaghetti wrapped around a fork. He squeezed you tight as the rest of the group rushed in, drowning in relief and tears.

There was a group hug, which kept you warm and drowned out the fears you had and the weaknesses you felt.

They stayed with you, scattered around your ward, keeping you company, filling you in on the days you missed.

You sat up on your bed, cross legged, Zoro sitting behind you, holding you close against him as the crew talked around you. A game of cards had begun, and the sounds of uproaring laughter filled your ears and warmed your new beating heart.

You noticed the way Zoro held you. His arms were wrapped around you, your one arm crossed over yourself to hold his hand, the other hand taking care of the money you had won from the card game.

Zoro's fingers interlocked with yours, but his thumb strayed towards your wrist. It lay right across your pulse point, blood flowing through your body in rhythmic thumps, your heart doing its job enthusiastically.

His thumb pressed gently on the spot, feeling your pulse, as he did every second he spent at your side. He kept it there, making sure that you were still present. You are. You always will be.

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4rticbolt

1 month ago

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4rticbolt

4 months ago

Death Of Pizzaz |Master-list|

Trafalgar Law x !Fem!Reader, fluffy, spicy, first kiss, yearning Law cause why not, make-out, he's a tease fr, you test his patience, bickering

You have some sharpies to your 'arsenal' and your dear captain is your victim...

•-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-•

It was creeping into a late evening on the Polar Tang. The crew had tiredly retreated to their rooms after night watch had taken over in navigation. You quietly walked through the halls to your captain's room, surrounded in a dark hue from the seal covered windows and the dark sea. Small circular lights lit up your path, following from the floor to the stairs, overcasting a soft white glow throughout the sub.

You hopped down the final step, gently knocking on Law's door as you couldn't be bored any longer. You had spent an hour trying to fall asleep, but ultimately you gave in and craved the presence of your lover. A muffled "Come in," sounded through the door and you casually strolled in, stuffing your hands in your pockets. An unmistakable clink of sharpies hit against your hands, and you tightened your grip hopefully muffling them.

A little decor couldn't hurt, could it?

Your captain was the unsuspecting victim, as he hadn't taken his attention off the comic he was reading, something he'd have tossed and hidden if it wasn't for your familial gaze. You'd picked up on his nerdy tendencies a long time ago, and Law eventually excepted his fate, giving it up to share with you. His hair was unkept and messy, something you’d come to love along with his flimsy tank, praising the view it gave you.

“What are you doing?” Law asked, reclining silently against the couch. His infamous hat, and sword had rested close by, propped against his desk.

“What I can’t have quality time?” you smiled, feigning absolute innocence as you'd crawled into his lap, soaking up his touch. You always loved these relaxed moments. As it wasn't often he let go, more-overly stressed and constantly planning for the future, he was barely at ease.

But with you in his arms he could make an exception.

He let out a hum in response. "Depends what your after," he mumbled, adjusting himself under your weight, shifting back against the couch's armrest. Law brought his hand to soothingly rub over your shoulder, closing his eyes for needed peace.

You quietly watched as he closed his comic in hand, unknowingly knowing he was listening to your heartbeat, which thudded softly against his upper thigh.

You didn't know it, but your captain tended to listen to your pulse for a sense of comfort, remembering you were there with him: that you were real. That it wasn't some dream, and that he wasn't in some nightmare where you weren't.

He adored when you were like this, needfully resting by his side away from prying eyes—though he'd never admit it. Law would let his guard down with you, settling still in your innocent embrace. He opened his eyes to watch you shift, taking in the way your head gently rested against his hip.

He thought it was a heartfelt gesture really, but when you grabbed his arm and pulled it to your chest he thought otherwise. A soft click emitted, and a cold swipe crossed his skin, leaving him confused.

"What the hell are you doing?" he muttered, quickly pulling away your wrist.

"Nothing, just gimme your arm," you replied, trying to grab it again.

"Seriously? ____ I'm not you're coloring book, no."

"Oh don't be so stuck up, it'll wash off eventually," you stubbornly grabbed his arm again, tracing his tattoos as you ignored him completely. You were off in your own world now, leaving your captain to a very grumpy demise. You didn't pay attention to the way he'd grumble or keep to his lingering gaze.

A few minutes passed and you'd finally fucked up, scribbling over your design, "Okay, that's enough." Law cut sharp to your name, quickly grabbing the pen tossing it aside to his table.

"Really?" he deadpanned, taking in the scribbled pieces.

"What? It'll wash off."

"Yeah, in a few days, it's literally black sharpie you idiot," Law scolded, flicking your forehead with a scoff.

You let out your own huff, shifting in his arms to sit comfortably against him, leaning into his chest. Your head personally thunked against his shoulder, though you eased when his arms wrapped around you again. His lip quirked in amusement as your masked mumbles were only so long-lived.

He often was firm with you. But it could never stay that way. His irritated expression relaxed, and he called your name taking in his scribbled arm.

“You realize these are permanent tattoos, right?” He asked, swiping him thumb across your hip.

"Yeah, I just enhanced em' though." You said absentmindedly.

"I think you should get it re-tattooed like that."

. . .

Law snorted, manhandling you to face him, "I love your artwork and all but I think I'll post-pone that." he remarked, bringing his hands to your sides. You immediately faked a hurt look and he cracked. He couldn't look you straight in the eyes when they grew glossy like that.

“You're serious?" he muttered, swallowing unbelievably hard. You shattered his resolve, and he feared he might not be able to say no.

"You broke my heart Law, I put my soul into that." you said dramatically, seemingly putting an ease to his inner torment, but it only irked him. He flicked you again creating a red spot, and you quietly yelped—covering it.

He really thought you were serious, and he'd been a sucker enough to believe it.

"It just looks better," you retaliated, squirming in his arms as he'd reached a ticklish spot.

"Better? Really? You must've borrowed that soul from one of Bepo's maps then," he snarked, cracking a smile as he'd finally gotten a laugh out of you. He'd come to love that sound the more and more he knew you, every day and every moment he loved to hear it, to see it.

Your chaotic remarks and energy were his livelihood, and he'd at times been too dense to see it. It had taken years before there'd been an ounce of romance in your relationship, and that was after years of trustworthy hardships.

Law had finally backed you off his lap, putting an end to your 'assault,’ which only brought you to hide between his thighs with a muffled "Shut up!"

“Oi, don’t do that,” he stumbled, feeling a pit in his stomach. His arms quickly came up under your's, sliding you upright, which seemed to relieve the strange tension in his stomach. He'd been a fool to say it wasn't a common feeling.

It’d always been a strong feeling, specifically and only for you. And he'd usually been the one to try and ignore it.

He wasn't sexually inclined, as he said he didn't have time for it. It wasn't his main goal, and he didn't have time for that lust and desire—meaning it wasn't his strong suit. You'd been the flirty type in the past, but if he simply wasn't ready—he wasn't ready; and you had never held him to that.

“Don’t what?” you deadpanned, glaring softly.

“Don’t pout,” he sighed, brushing off his blush as he grabbed your chin, tilting your head back. Law couldn’t tell if you were being dense or doing it on purpose. Either way; it was infuriating.

“I’m not.”

"You are," Law interjected, taking in your form atop him. His mind wandered and he knew he was in trouble. Because he knew that no matter what he tried to ignore, he was always wrapped around your pretty little finger. Regardlessly…that's all you were, trouble.

You for once, seemed to quiet. Finally put at a loss for words. Your voice practically died in your throat and you couldn't help but question his intense gaze, you hadn't seen him look at you like that before.

Maybe once or twice but never like that. And it’d always pissed you off when he could put you in your place, before you could even begin to argue.

"I. am. not." you challenged, leaning closer—attempting to hold your ground. But it faltered when he drug his hand to your throat.

“Mm, yeah not anymore,” He whispered, overthrowing your little flirty act with a gentle squeeze your throat. He saw your face light up and he let out a whispery laugh. Law was enjoying himself.

On the other hand, you were internally panicking, opting to lean back, because Law had never been this forward with you. He'd been dense about that kinda thing, but obviously this was not the freaking case.

You swallowed against his hand, leaning back, but his lips caught you before you could own up to it. You heard a groan leave his lips before it swallowed your own, leaving your head spinning. You leaned forward, shifting your hips, and it only encouraged him.

His free hand squeezed your hip, and the hand around your throat tightened, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was more like a handle for him to hold. Your breath shuddered, and you forced yourself to breathe through your nose.

He'd caught you off guard and you couldn't seem get a grip.

You finally parted to breathe and his own blush matched your own. He gave a whole lotta' talk and do behind his pose, but deep down he was just as flustered as you.

"Don't be a smart ass," you muttered, bringing his hand away, but it only tightened around your smaller hand.

“Then don’t stick your head where it doesn’t belong.”

. . .

"What?—I didn't--"

"What?" he asked impassively, keeping a firm hold. He shifted causally beneath you and you knew he was doing it on purpose...that sarcastic bastard.

"Don't what me you know what!" you snapped, trying to pull your hands away, but he held on. His smirk grew and your blush heightened.

"What? That you like my hand around your throat? I figured, I didn't know it'd shut you up though." he leaned forward, attempting to whisper in your ear.

"Trafalgar Law!"

Day 12: Trafalgar Law x Reader: How on Earth Did You Get Tinsel There?

Hello There, The Christmas Events Sounds Like So Much Fun ✨ !

“How on Earth did you get tinsel there,” he asked, annoyed at the amount of tinsel on the polar tang.

Every year, you, his wonderful and lovely archeologist, was in charge of the Christmas decorations on the polar tang. And every year he questioned himself as to why he let you. This year the theme was silver and gold because it’s festive and pirates, duh. You got the whole crew, except Law who was a Scrooge to help you.

“I can explain captain,” you started, “we were trying to reach the top of the treat and Bepo can apparently throw higher than he thought. But none of us are tall enough to get it, so it’s staying.”

He sighed, “you could get a ladder.”

“But that’s no fun,” Penguin explained as he was untangling lights. “Yeah Captain,” Shacchi added, “Christmas is about fun and not practicality. Loosen up a little.”

That vein in Law’s forehead started to pop out, “fine, but I expect that tinsel down when the decorations are taken down.”

“YES CAPTAIN,” you all replied, before getting back to work.

To this day, that strand of tinsel is still hanging on the rafters of the polar tang. And it still annoys Law to this day.