Tell Me No Lies

law x fem!reader

you’re a psychologist who can spot any lie and that makes law keep his distance, afraid you’ll see how he truly feels. but when a mission forces you to pose as his lover, the lines between act and reality blur fast.

a/n: this was a request but since it's really long I summarized it

words count: 3.9k

tags: slow burn, mutual pining, undercover couple, spicy but not smut, fluff, tension, crewmates being chaotic

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

“You want me to do what?”

Your voice slices through the meeting room of the Polar Tang like a dagger, sharp, pointed, and just a little amused.

Penguin holds up his hands, grinning like he’s already imagined you and Law making out in a booth “Not my idea! Bepo came up with it.”

Bepo, ever innocent, blinks “It’s logical. Varrick lies constantly. You can tell when people lie. Captain’s the one meeting him. It’s simple.”

You stare “You want us to act like a couple.”

“Just for the night!” Shachi chimes in from where he’s stuffing chips in his mouth “The place is a casino-slash-brothel. No one goes in there looking like a business partner. You show up all cold and stiff, he’ll know something’s up.”

Law hasn’t said a word.

He sits at the head of the table, arms folded, expression blank. But you know that face. He’s thinking. Calculating. Fighting something.

Then, flatly “Fine.”

You blink “Fine?”

“You’ll have to stay close,” Law adds, eyes flicking to yours “I can’t talk in code around Varrick, and I doubt we’ll get a second chance if he feels like we’re onto him.”

“So, what, I sit on your lap and play with your hair while you ask about Navy routes?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Penguin snorts soda through his nose.

Law doesn’t miss a beat “If it gets us the truth.”

You swallow hard. Because that should not have sounded that smooth.

Later, in your room, you stand in front of the mirror, pulling on the final piece of your dress, a deep red number that hugs your waist and legs and dips dangerously low down your back. You smooth it down, checking the slit up your thigh, the way the silk shimmers under the ship lights.

“You don’t have to look like a goddess,” you mutter to your reflection “You just need to catch a liar.”

But damn it, the dress works. And the second you step into the hallway, you hear Shachi’s voice echo from down the corridor “Caaaptaaaain!”

You freeze.

“Don’t be mad when she looks hotter than you, bro!” Penguin adds, loud enough that it bounces off the steel walls.

“Stop yelling” Law says from somewhere out of sight. His voice is tense.

You round the corner and stop dead.

Oh no.

Law... Law is in a black suit, crisp and clean, no tie, the top buttons of his shirt undone. His hair’s slicked back just enough to make your throat go dry. Tattoos peek out at the edge of his collar. He’s leaning against the wall, looking at his den-den mushi, but when he looks up and sees you his fingers still. His eyes trail down, slow. Too slow.

You hear Shachi whisper “damn” under his breath and fist bump Penguin like they just won a bet.

Law clears his throat “You’re… ready.”

You tilt your head, smirking “You look nice too. Didn’t know you owned a suit.”

“It was a gift” he mutters.

You take a step forward “From who? Someone who wanted to see you flustered?”

His jaw ticks “I’m not flustered.”

You do notice the slight red creeping up the back of his neck. Just a little. Enough.

Before either of you can pretend to be normal, the rest of the crew crowds the hallway behind you.

Bepo holds up a little camera “Say cheese.”

“We’re not taking pictures” Law snaps.

“Oh come on,” Penguin grins “Look at you two!”

“You’re never letting this go, are you?” you ask, eyes narrowing.

“Nope.”

Shachi elbows Bepo “Ten bucks says they come back married.”

Bepo nods solemnly “I’ll take that bet.”

Law groans and starts walking past them, ignoring the chaos.

You trail after him, heels clicking on the metal. As you pass the guys, you whisper, “Try not to blow our cover.”

Penguin winks “Go get that intel... and maybe some action.”

You don’t answer but your cheeks are hotter than they should be.

And the second Law opens the hatch to the upper deck, the cold sea air hits you and so does the reality of the night ahead.

The casino is loud. Velvet-lined walls drown out the outside world, while gold lights glint off dice and crystal glasses. Somewhere near the back, a piano plays slow jazz. It’s all soft temptation and sharpened edges.

You walk in beside Law, his arm around your waist. His fingers rest against the small of your back like they belong there, not too tight, not too loose. Just… there.

You can feel the heat of his palm through the silk of your dress. You can feel everything.

Stay focused.

Varrick is waiting in a private corner booth, exactly where intel said he’d be. He’s slouched in the plush seat like he owns the place, surrounded by too many drinks and not enough class. Rings clink against his glass as he lifts it.

“Trafalgar Law!” he says, standing with a grin too wide to be real “Wasn’t expecting you to bring arm candy.”

Law’s arm tightens around you. Not protectively. Possessively.

“She’s more than that,” he says, calm as ever “But she doesn’t like to talk much.”

You smile politely at Varrick, then glance at Law from the corner of your eye.

Smart. That gives you the freedom to observe.

You slide into the booth beside Law, close, but with just enough space between you to keep your focus.

Varrick leans forward “So, you wanted info on that Navy ship?”

Law nods “I heard it was seen heading east out of Ivona Port last week.”

Varrick shrugs, swirling his drink lazily “Could be. Could be west. Hard to say.”

You place your hand lightly on Law’s thigh. Barely a touch. Just enough.

Lie.

Law’s eyes don’t move. His posture doesn’t change. But his fingers tap against the glass in front of him once, acknowledging you.

Varrick chuckles “You know, these Navy guys come and go. They don’t tell me everything.”

Your fingers slide up, brushing over the inside of Law’s wrist as you reach for your own drink.

Another lie.

Law hums “Then tell me what you do know.”

“I know they’re not looking for pirates right now,” Varrick says “Some big job further north. Something to do with weapons.”

Your nails gently press into the back of Law’s hand, slow and deliberate.

Lie.

You feel him tense slightly. Like he’s thinking.

“Do you want something in return for this info?” Law asks coolly.

Varrick grins “Only a little favor later. Nothing serious.”

Even now he's lying.

This time you run your fingers slowly down Law’s forearm, letting your touch linger like a lover’s caress. But it’s all code. All signal.

Law shifts beside you. To anyone watching, it just looks like he’s turning toward you, lips brushing close to your ear.

“You’re sure?” he murmurs.

You nod “Three lies so far.”

“Mm.”

Varrick raises a brow “You two are cute, y’know that? Real cozy. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re actually into each other.”

Law leans in, his lips grazing the edge of your cheek as he speaks “We are.”

Your heart skips.

You almost miss the way Varrick’s mouth twitches at that. A little wrinkle in the corner of his eyes. Something flickers. Jealousy?

“Lucky guy then...” Varrick mutters.

Law’s arm moves from your waist to your lower back, pulling you closer. Not fake this time. Not calculated. His hand is warm, firm, fingers curling possessively.

You’re practically in his lap now.

You keep your eyes on Varrick “So what’s the Navy doing near Blue Rock Island?”

He flinches.

Small. Quick. But you see it.

You drag your hand up Law’s chest like you’re playing with his shirt but your fingers dig in slightly at his collarbone.

That’s the truth. That’s the target.

Law tilts his head slightly, voice low and smooth “Blue Rock, huh?”

Varrick blinks, caught off guard.

You glance at Law just for a second and see it.

His eyes are calm. But his pulse at his neck is faster now. You shouldn’t be this close. He shouldn’t be looking at you like that. You’re supposed to be watching the informant, but now you’re catching the way Law’s lips part ever so slightly when you shift in his lap. The way his breath hitches.

He’s too good at hiding. You never have a baseline for him and suddenly, you realize you do now. You’ve been close enough tonight to read him. Feel him.

So when his ears turn red the moment Varrick leaves the table you finally know what his tell is.

“You’re enjoying this” Law mutters as Varrick disappears into the crowd.

You swirl the last sip of wine in your glass “Enjoying not getting stabbed in a double-cross? Sure.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

You turn your head slowly toward him, lashes low, a smirk threatening at the corner of your mouth “No? Then clarify, Captain.”

His jaw clenches.

You lean in “Or are you upset I figured out your tell?”

Silence.

Got him.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t look at you. Just sips from his glass like he’s trying not to set it down too hard. You watch his throat bob, slow and tight. He’s flustered. Controlled but clearly struggling to keep that control.

Which is dangerous and tempting.

You reach out, brush something “imaginary” from his collar, letting your fingers drag across the base of his throat. He stiffens just slightly, and you swear under that cool expression, his eyes darken.

“I’m not ready to leave” you say casually, turning away to scan the floor “We did the job. Got the truth. Maybe we deserve a little fun.”

Law doesn’t argue. That alone is suspicious.

So you both stay. You drink. You people-watch. You flirt, just enough to be part of the act. And he plays along, letting his hand rest low on your back, murmuring sarcastic commentary about the drunk nobles and sleazy gamblers, voice low and rough in your ear.

But then Varrick returns.

You’re seated now in a more open lounge, a couch near the roulette tables. Varrick walks up with a drink and a too-easy smile.

“Forgot one little detail,” he says, tone casual “Seems like the Navy isn’t after pirates right now because they’re meeting with one. Some kind of alliance. Dunno who.”

Lie.

You shift against Law and drag your fingers along his inner thigh, too slow to be innocent.

Varrick talks more, and you let your hands wander. One arm over Law’s shoulder, the other toying with the fabric of his jacket. A fingertip gliding along the inked edge of his collarbone. Every time Varrick lies, you punish Law with a new touch.

You want to see how much he can take.

When you trail your hand up to the side of his neck and run your thumb along his jaw, you feel it. That little twitch. A shiver. His hand slides up your waist and grips tight, like a warning.

You lean in, lips brushing his ear.

“He’s lying again.”

Your voice is barely above a breath.

“And you’re pushing it” Law growls, so low only you can hear.

But you just smile and press a kiss to his cheek, slow and lingering “Don’t lose your composure, Captain. Someone might think you’re affected.”

Varrick finally gets bored and excuses himself, clearly thinking he’s dropped enough bait.

The second he’s out of sight, Law stands.

“You come with me. Now.”

You blink “Excuse me?”

He doesn’t even look back. Just starts walking toward the upstairs hall of the casino. Like he already knows you’ll follow.

Which… you do.

Up the stairs, past the velvet curtain, through the dim corridor lined with private doors. He finds an empty suite with a key card left in the slot—probably reserved for VIPs or those with a winning streak.

He opens it.

You step inside, the door clicking shut behind you.

And then he pins you to the wall. Hands at your side, like blocking you. Eyes burning.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he says, voice rough “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

You pretend to think “Touching my captain in public? Flirting with a man who’s obviously holding back? Yeah. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

His gaze flickers from your lips to your eyes and back again. His breath is hot against your face.

“Tell me if you want to stop.”

You grab his lapel and pull him down.

“I’ll tell you if you lie.”

For a few long seconds, Law doesn’t move.

His fingers flex on your hips, like he’s debating whether to pull you in or push you away. His eyes are on yours, unreadable to anyone else but you can see it now. The cracks in that cold, calculated shell. The tension. The restraint.

You’ve spent months trying to get a baseline on him. To decode his behavior. Now? You are the baseline.

And he’s struggling.

“I should let you go” he mutters, voice low, more to himself than to you.

“But you won’t” you whisper back.

His eyes drop to your lips “No.”

He steps closer. Your back is fully against the wall now, your breath tangled with his. You tilt your chin up, almost daring him.

“What’s holding you back?” you ask.

His mouth twitches “You.”

A beat.

Then “You’re too good at reading people.”

You grin “So are you.”

His hand slips to the back of your thigh, just under the slit of your dress. Not high, but enough to make your pulse skip “You’ve been testing me all night.”

“Guilty.”

“You think it’s funny watching me lose control?”

“I think it’s hot.”

That does it.

He lets out a quiet, sharp breath, like he’s just given up fighting gravity, and leans in until your foreheads are pressed together. His hand stays on your thigh. His other lands on the wall beside your head.

You whisper, “You’re not usually like this.”

“No,” he says “You bring it out.”

You stay like that for a moment, so close, heat radiating between you, neither of you quite touching where it counts. The tension is unbearable in the best way. It’s not just attraction. It’s months of silence, near-misses, unsaid things finally rising to the surface.

Law is still Law, he's collected and composed, but now you know what it costs him. You feel the restraint humming under his skin like electricity.

You reach up and slide your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. He shivers.

“Stay” he says. It’s not a command. It’s almost… a request.

You nod, slow “I’m not going anywhere.”

He finally steps back, not far, just enough to breathe, and moves to the bed. Sits on the edge, running a hand over his face like he’s trying to reset.

You take the moment to look around. The room is warm-toned, elegant. One massive bed in the center. Silk sheets. Balcony window cracked open to let in the sound of crashing waves and soft jazz from below.

You sit beside him, gently bumping his shoulder “So. What now?”

Law doesn’t look at you “Now, we sleep.”

You raise an eyebrow “You’re going to act like none of that happened?”

“I didn’t say that” he replies, voice quiet.

He leans back, hands braced behind him, eyes finally meeting yours “I’m saying we don’t have to rush it.”

Your heart stutters.

He adds, almost awkwardly, “This isn’t just the mission. Not for me.”

You don’t tease him this time. Instead, you smile, warm and soft.

“Not for me either.”

He pulls off his jacket, tosses it over the chair. Starts unbuttoning his cuffs. You stand and go to the bathroom to remove your heels and freshen up, giving him space, and maybe yourself a moment to breathe.

When you come back, Law’s already under the covers, shirt slightly open, tattooed chest half-visible in the low light. He’s facing the wall.

But when you slip in beside him, he immediately turns over and pulls you in, an arm draped over your waist, forehead pressing into your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The room is quiet now.

The casino noise is a distant hum through the balcony window, soft music, muffled laughter, the whirl of spinning wheels and shuffled cards. But inside, it’s just the sound of two hearts beating faster than they should.

You’re lying on your side, Law behind you, one arm slung around your waist like it belongs there. His hand rests just beneath your ribs, warm and heavy. Not demanding. Just… steady.

The silence stretches. Not awkward, but charged. Comfortable, yet not quite safe.

Your voice cuts through it, soft and curious.

“If we’re just gonna sleep… then why here? Why not go back to the ship?”

You feel him pause behind you. Not tense but thoughtful.

He exhales through his nose “Because.”

“Because?”

His voice drops, rough like he hasn’t decided if he wants to answer honestly “Because if I took you back to the ship, I wouldn’t be able to do this.”

He shifts slowly and pulls you in tighter, chest pressed to your back now. His nose brushes your neck, and his breath sends a shiver down your spine.

You barely manage a whisper “This?”

He hums “Stay close. Let myself… feel something.”

You blink. That wasn’t what you expected.

He continues, quietly “On the ship, I’m your captain. In control. Always thinking. Always five steps ahead.”

You glance over your shoulder, catching the faintest edge of vulnerability in his eyes.

“And here?” you ask.

“Here,” he says, “I get to be a man lying next to someone who makes him forget all of that.”

You don’t answer for a moment.

Then, deliberately, you reach back and trail your fingers down his forearm, slow and gentle.

“Good,” you whisper “Because I like this version of you.”

You feel his smile against your skin.

He doesn’t say anything else. Just tucks his face into your neck like he’s finally allowing himself to breathe.

You shift slightly.

Not much. Just enough to test the space between you.

He doesn’t stop you.

So you turn.

You roll slowly to face him, your knees brushing his under the covers, your chest barely touching his. The low golden light from the hallway filters in through the crack under the door, just enough to catch the edge of his face, his jaw, his eyes, that small crease between his brows.

He’s watching you. Carefully. Quietly.

You speak, low and honest “You’re not the only one who forgets how to breathe around the other.”

His expression flickers. Just a second. But enough for you to see hope, doubt, desire. Then gone again.

You lift your hand to his cheek, gentle.

Then he kisses you.

Hard.

There’s nothing hesitant in it. No more caution, no more reading cues, no more pretend. Just heat, and months of tension finally snapping. His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you in deeper.

You kiss him back with everything you’ve been holding in.

Your hands move instinctively, one gripping his shirt, the other slipping around his waist. He shifts, pressing you into the mattress, his knee between yours, his breath shaky against your lips.

When he finally pulls back, just an inch, his forehead rests against yours. Both of you breathing like you’ve just surfaced from underwater.

You whisper, “That didn’t feel like something we’ll forget in the morning.”

Law shakes his head slightly, lips brushing yours.

“It’s not.”

Another beat.

Then you add, teasing, “So much for just sleeping.”

His mouth curves into a tired smile, eyes half-lidded “You started it.”

You laugh soft and warm and tangled in sheets and tension.

And when he pulls you close again, one hand splayed across your lower back, your smile fades into something quieter. Something real.

Because this time, neither of you is pretending.

The next morning, the sun isn’t even fully up when you and Law leave the casino.

No one says anything at first. You walk side by side, close enough that your arms keep brushing, but not close enough to make it obvious.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

But the second the Polar Tang comes into view, the nerves hit you like a cannonball.

You’re holding your heels in one hand, the other arm looped awkwardly around your waist to keep Law’s massive coat closed over your dress. Your own shoes were giving you blisters, so somewhere between the casino lobby and the harbor, Law, annoyed and muttering, slipped out of his and made you wear them.

Now here you are, flopping around the deck in his too-big shoes while he walks beside you in his socks, lipstick faintly smudged across the corner of his jaw.

You don’t look at each other. You cannot look at each other.

And then just as your foot slips slightly in one of his clunky boots “Well, well, well… Look who finally decided to come back.”

Shachi.

Leaning on the railing with a bowl of cereal and way too much smugness for six in the morning.

You freeze.

Penguin appears from the stairwell, blinking at you both. His gaze travels from your tousled hair to your crooked dress zipper, to Law’s missing shoes, to your very obvious lipstick on his jaw.

He lets out a slow, exaggerated whistle.

“That,” he says, pointing his spoon between the two of you, “was not part of the mission.”

Law doesn’t even flinch. Just keeps walking, face unreadable except for the ears burning red.

You try to look casual. Like you didn’t just sneak off a casino floor at sunrise “We, uh... we stayed for surveillance reasons.”

Penguin snorts “Yeah, I bet you were surveilling something.”

You shoot him a glare, still wearing Law’s boots “My heel broke.”

“Sure it did. And your lipstick broke too? All over the captain’s face?”

You reach up automatically to touch your lips, and groan when you realize he’s right.

Law growls under his breath “Enough.”

But Shachi’s having too much fun “Man, I thought you’d at least try to sneak back on like it didn’t happen. This is so much better.”

“Do you want to swim today, Shachi?” Law deadpans.

Bepo pops his head out of the hallway “Did you two share a bed? Was it part of the act or did something actually happen? Because you both look like—”

“Bepo.” Law cuts him off like a gunshot.

You turn to face Law, trying so hard not to laugh because the man looks like he wants to teleport to another planet. His hair’s still a little messy. His collar’s open. And he’s got the exact same expression he had when you kissed him: that barely-holding-it-together calm that only you can see cracking.

You mutter under your breath, “We should’ve never come back.”

Law nods “Agreed.”

Then, just when you’re about to make a break for your quarters, Law stops and turns.

He grabs your hand.

The crew goes dead silent.

He lifts your fingers to his lips in one smooth motion. Kisses them.

Soft. Deliberate.

Then walks off with all the calm dignity of a man in socks who’s still the most dangerous person in the room.

Your brain short-circuits. The crew loses their minds.

Penguin lets out a strangled “WHAT—”

Shachi screams “HE’S IN LOVE!!!”

And you’re just standing there, one hand in the air, heart about to burst out of your chest.

You finally bolt down the hallway toward your room, calling back “I’M NOT TALKING ABOUT THIS!!”

Bepo shouts after you, “CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR EMOTIONAL MATURITY!”

You slam your door shut, cheeks on fire, heart racing, and a stupid smile you can’t shake no matter how hard you try.

Sometimes you wonder why Sanji acts tf out every damn time; then you remember he's canonically a french-man 😔

22 notes View Post

4rticbolt

1 month ago

Enclosed |Master-list|

Straw Hat x !GNReader, platonic, can be interpreted as romantic, comfort fic, angst, fluff, crack, straw hat shenanigans, the crew is very protective of you

Summary: Experiencing a vivid panic attack, you clumsily avoid the crew.

A/N: This is the re-made version of Anxiety, and I cannot BELIEVE how much my writing has changed since the original. Also, there's no Jinbei in here—I apologize, I'm not that far yet 💔

Around 3.2k

Warning! Anxiety/Panic Attacks written in detail + Orthostatic Hypotension.

•-•-•—•-•-••-•-•—•-•—•-•

Mindlessly walking the deck of the Thousand Sunny, you used the rail for balance. With blurred vision, you helplessly caught your breath, gripping the rail like a lifeline as it cut edges into your palm.

Blood didn’t draw, but it pooled at your feet as you sluggishly walked down the stairs.

The moon hung high, and it was nearing 11:00 as the crew kept to themselves and their duties, relaxing in the galley or their designated spots.

The Sunny traveled at night, meaning everyone had to be alert. Shifts were taken and naps were often, though you were left to your senses.

Feeling everything—but nothing at once.

Your nervous system couldn’t tell the difference between being held at gunpoint to the peaceful company of your crew.

It could never make up its mind, and it left you cautious of those around you. Especially Zoro, who you avoided as he rested by the mast.

You carefully, as quietly as you could, stepped down the stairs, faintly making out his form through the dark. His arms were crossed over his lap, protecting his swords even in peace, soundly asleep.

Or so you thought.

Stepping down the last step, your breath hitched.

crk—

A sharp pain ran up your side, making you stagger to grab the rail, fighting yourself as you fought the raw ache in your chest.

You squeezed your shirt, temporarily kneeling, and you knew you had given yourself away. Quickly, you looked up to watch the swordsman—but it was too late.

Zoro didn’t move; he was as silent as a ghost, no longer snoring.

Fuck. Great—he’s awake.

Embarrassed, you fled inside, unaware of the eye that cracked open to watch you. The door swiftly shut, and Zoro sighed, leaning up, muttering something soft under his breath. “Idiot . . .”

You hurried down the hall, passing the kitchen as you ignored soft-talk; limbs burning in protest, with a hand muffling your breath, but you pushed on.

You couldn’t let them see you like this. It wasn’t fair. They hadn’t done anything—it was just you.

It was your problem.

“Your tea, Robin.” Sanji swooned, probably spinning around the table by now. “Ah, thank you,” she smiled, taking the cup. “Hey, where’s my tea?” Usopp grumbled, tinkering with his gadget

“You’ll get in a second.” Sanji replied, then casually, “Chopper, yours.” “Hey—rude! I’m right here, you know!”

You held the wall, slowing down, keeping quiet. But it was damn near impossible to.

“Sanji, I’m hungry!” “I just made you something!” “And since when has that ever worked? He’s an endless pit, bro.”

Suddenly, your hand grazed a painting, and you froze.

“Sooo... about that meat, Sanji?” “Get out of my kitchen!”

“Shh—wait,” Chopper muttered, “did you guys hear that?”

“Hear what?”

With your heart racing, you slipped into the infirmary, going unnoticed. Footsteps came from the galley, and you knew you had to act fast. Tears covered your vision, though a shortcut to the aquarium bar sparked your movement.

You shifted to the hall, exiting from Chopper’s side door—but a familiar hum filled the corridor. Flinching back, you realized it was Brook.

Shit. Shit—Shit.

Impulsively, you left in the opposite direction with your back facing the skeleton. Your shoulders were hunched, and you quietly cried into the palm of your hand.

“Oh, ____! I thought I heard you!” Brook piped, then paused, watching you stumble into the tank room. “Oh, there they go—“

Crashing into the couch, you gasped for air, holding your chest. Dammnit. You couldn’t do this. Too much.

Way, too much.

You loved them with all your heart, and every single of your being—but fuck. There was too much action. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, and you could barely breathe.

A struggled noise escaped you, and you curled into the couch’s armrest. Your limbs ached, tingling as they grew weak, and you muffled a sob, sharply drawing in.

The quiet surrounded you, suffocating you only for a moment, before you realized the room’s lights were on.

Someone else was in here.

“____?” Nami asked, peeking over the couch. “Oh my god, hey,” she worriedly came to meet you, but you’d already bolted up.

“I’m okay,” you rasped, using the wall for leverage. “I’m fine,” you repeated, wiping your eyes.

“Hey—hey, wait,” only getting so far, voices sounded from the door you reached.

You flinched, stepping back—bumping into Nami—you were lost. You didn’t know what to do.

“I knew I heard someone, I figured it was—“

Someone touched your shoulder, and you flinched, covering your ears. You searched for an exit, looking through tears, but there was nothing.

There was so much happening at once.

“___, hey—hold on.”

Voices. Muffled voices, in blurs shapes—you could barely make out what was in front of you. You stepped back, bumping into something, and you couldn’t tell what happened after that.

Your eyes shut.

“Yohoho, there you are!” “I told you they were in here!” “No, you didn’t, you said they were—“

“Oh—You guys, hold on—“

“Stop talking!”

For a moment, you looked for some way out, and a peaceful, single storage closet called to you. You didn’t even hesitate. You bolted.

The door slammed shut, and you crashed into whatever was inside.

Silence shrouded, and objects poked at you. Your head felt like it was going to explode.

With your heart pounding and anxiety raging, you couldn’t think, you couldn’t feel. Only the burning of your nerves, to the shaking in your limbs, was overwhelming.

In the dark, static blurred with reality, and tears covered them all. You felt like it was the end of the world, with everything folding in on you at once.

•~•~•~•

Outside the closet, a room of confused and worried crew members stood still.

“Shh!” Nami hushed, silencing the group. “Be quiet.”

“Sorry!” Chopper whispered, covering his mouth, side-kicking Usopp, who winced.

“Are they okay?” Luffy asked.

“What do you think?” Sanji spoke, physically tensing as the cyborg strolled in. “Yoh! What’s the big—“ A giant hand slapped over Franky’s face, and he nodded, immediately getting the memo.

Robin’s hand disappeared, flurrying into petals, and Zoro silently followed in.

Everyone shared a look, checking the closet, and an understanding passed through. The moment seemed to slow.

Luffy slipped by Nami, sitting beside the door to listen to your panicked breaths. His hat covered his face, and his fist clenched over his knee.

You’d think he was angry, but right now? It was the complete opposite. He was torn.

Another moment passed before Sanji spoke quietly. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Nami muttered, “They burst in here, trying to be alone, I think I scared them.” A hand rubbed over her chest, and her eyes softened.

“She was already startled,” Robin murmured, taking a seat on the couch. “I believe it’s a panic attack.”

“Yeah,” Chopper mumbled, lowering himself beside her. The doctor looked to the closet, wishing he were in there with you.

It wasn’t fair that you were alone.

“I wish I’d noticed sooner,” he added quietly,

“You couldn’t have done anything,” Zoro said, leaning against a table, “they were hiding. I saw them sneaking around the deck.”

“Sneaking?” Brook blurted, a little too loudly. The skeleton quickly covered his mouth, ducking to avoid Robin’s hand that sprouted from the wall. He placed a bony hand over his heart, thinking back to earlier, when you’d avoided him.

Realization set in, and he sighed.

“Oh—____, no one deserves to be alone when experiencing something so hard.”

Sanji hummed, his expression growing grim. He leaned against the wall, opposite of Zoro, bringing a cigarette to his lips.

No. No one did. Especially you.

“They were fine earlier,” Usopp whispered, pausing. He looked at his hands, closing them into fists. “I swear, I saw them not even 30 minutes ago, they helped me find a piece for something.”

“They come on fast,” Chopper responded, sniffling. He rubbed his nose, leaning against Robin. “It’s hard to control them when they do, I just... I don’t think they wanted us to see them like this.”

“They avoided me like the plague.” Zoro tsked, crossing his arms. “It’s probably a lot more than that.”

“Well, that’s too bad,” Luffy said firmly,

“They’re a part of this crew—they’re ours. They don’t get to go through this alone, not when we’re here.”

A gentle pause, and the heavy breathing finally stopped. Everyone listened, but only to silence. Nami let out a breath, looking at Robin.

Already acting, the archeologist crossed her arms, muttering a soft; Un Fluer,” and a single hand sprouted from inside the closet.

It gently reached your leg, grounding you with single taps.

You sniffled, blinking through tears, and you hesitated. Through the dark, you saw her hand, and you didn’t know why you froze. Your throat tightened, as if this simple gesture were a grand speech.

Outside, Robin was determined. Her eyes had a focused gentleness to them, and she wouldn’t let this go. She closed her eyes, making her hand reach yours.

It was the gentlest push, but it was needed, and your hand squeezed hers, signaling you were okay.

Robin smiled, reciprocating the gesture. “They’re coming out of it, just give them some time.”

“Fine by me,” Zoro grumbles, taking a seat. “I’ll sit here all night if I have to.”

“For once, I agree with you,” Sanji sighed, blowing out his cigarette. He leaned against the tank, quietly watching the reflection of the glass.

“Uh-huh,” Franky agreed, “we’re super patient, kiddo, take all the time you need.” he plopped down, creating a loud thump, and Nami shook her head at Usopp.

They shared a look, checking the closet.

Clunk

Something fell from inside, as if you were moving, and the crew acted casual. They lounged, creating a soft tension that left it easy to breathe. They made sure not to make you feel small or crowded, even if they were secretly watching.

Another object fell, thumping softly, and a weak “ow” echoed.

Usopp cracked a smile, and so did Luffy. The captain leaned on his left knee, peeking at the door that cracked weakly open.

“Shishi, there you are.” he smiled, “We were worried about‘cha.”

You wiped your eyes, managing a smile, though it wasn’t convincing. It was weak, just a tip of the lips, but it was there.

Papers littered where you sat, with bent boxes and random trinkets—you slowly stretched your legs, leaning against the doorframe.

“Yeah, sorry about the shelves.” You mumbled, looking behind you.

“It’s fine,” Robin assured, as calm as ever. “We didn’t need it anyway. It was just free storage.”

“Yeah,” Franky mentioned, “I was gonna turn that into room space, but you just did the demolition for me.” he laughed, eliciting a few smiles throughout the room.

“I’m just glad you’re not hurt! I heard the crash from upstairs.”

“As did I, you startled us ___.” Brook started, crossing his legs. “Yohoho—it looked rather painful, seeing you so lost.”

“Yeah, it was, I’m sorry you have to go through that.” Usopp said, rubbing the back of his neck, “You don’t have to hide that, though.

“You know we’re here.”

“Mm,” Sanji agreed, “We’re everywhere, whenever you need. Always.”

You nodded, looking at your feet. “Thank you, that... means a lot.”

“I’m sure it does,” Nami hugged her sides, checking the clock. Not out of urgency, but as a reminder. That you, right here, right now—we’re struggling.

12:05am…

This late. And you still tried to hide it.

She was frustrated—not at you, but herself. She’d been the one to startle you further, and that guilt lingered.

Nami—just like everyone else thought, knew this wasn’t fair. Because you were safe: with them, not with whoever made you feel the need to act this way.

To hide, bury your feelings—tune it out till it all boils over, leaving you overwhelmed. Bittersweetly, she smiled.

You reminded her a lot of herself.

“And you’re welcome, but you shouldn’t feel the need to thank us.” “It’s not out of obligation,” she added.

“It never is.”

“We want to be there for you, even if you think something like this is ‘small,’ it’s not. Everything matters, and if you already know it, I, and everyone else, are going to remind you, over and over again—you matter.” Nami walked forward, standing close.

“It doesn’t matter what it is, just tell us. Tell someone. You don’t deserve to suffer alone.”

Luffy stretched, internally relieved—because in his own words, he would’ve said the same thing.

Just . . . Not as Nami-ish.

However, he still had something on his mind, and it was killing his patience to ask you. Luffy nudged your foot with his own, bumping it again as if he were thinking.

“Is that why you hide?” he asked, casually.

“'Cause you're scared?”

Pulling a leg close, you shrugged, knocking his foot back.

“Sometimes,” you admit. “Sometimes it’s like that, when I don’t know what you’ll say, or how you’ll react. Or, I just don’t really know. It just... happens, and I freeze up. I can’t think, and I can’t talk, and I don’t know what to do with myself other than hide.”

A short pause.

“It feels safer that way.”

Luffy hummed, bumping your foot again.

“It shouldn’t,” he muttered, almost grumbling. “We’re just as safe as some stupid storage closet. And you shouldn’t worry about that, we’d never hurt you.”

Weakly, you nodded. You couldn’t stop your tears, but you didn’t know if you wanted to. You hadn’t let yourself cry like this in a long time, not with people who cared for you now.

“I know you’re safer than some storage closet, Luffy.” You chuckled, sniffling. “It’s not that I think you’re not, it just... It’s different.”

“I know it is,” he shifted forward, placing his straw hat on your head. “Just come to one of us next time, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, nodding. Nami rubbed your shoulder, and Luffy slowly stood up.

He offered you his hand, as a choice, and you took it. With little warning, he pulled you up, and almost instantly, dizziness washed over you.

You didn’t have enough time to even think.

“Oh—Luffy, be careful—“ Chopper warned. But it was too late.

Static spread up your body, crawling into your vision—and as stable as you came, it suddenly disappeared. You went limp, ears blaring as both knees gave out underneath you.

“Oi—____!” Luffy quickly caught you, eyes wide as he held you to his chest. In a matter of seconds, the room erupted.

“Idiot! You can’t just pull them up that fast! Their body needs to readjust!”

“Readjust? What does that mean?!”

“He means acclimatize, Luffy,” Robin sighed, watching your head loll gently against his shoulder. Her eyes softened, “They just can’t seem to get a break, they?”

“No, apparently they cannot,” Usopp sighed, his head dropping.

“So what—they just passed out?” Zoro ignored, walking over. “Are they okay?”

“Yes, and no, I mean—technically?”

“Chopper.”

“It was a drop in blood pressure! Orthostatic Hypotension, they had a lot of things to contribute to it, anxiety, dehydration—standing up too fast,” Chopper listed, coming beside you.

“When that happens, their brain and heart don’t have enough blood or oxygen to properly function,” he finished, gently taking your vitals.

“I understood none of that.” Franky blurted.

“Exactly, that’s why I’m the doctor.” “Ok, lil’ bro.”

“They just passed out, they’re only unconscious,” he continued, pausing. Worriedly, his eyebrows scrunched.

“Oh, that’s not good, that’s really low.”

“Low? What’s low? Are they dying?!” Usopp panicked. “Yohoho, my heart can’t take this—“

“No, you idiots! They aren’t dying, quit it!” Nami snapped.

“They just passed out, like Chopper said. Just give it a second.” Robin assured.

“Yeah, well, I hate waiting,” Franky muttered, standing above Luffy. With his hands on his hips, he watched you protectively, just like the crew did.

If he ever found out who’d done you harm, to this extent? Bringing your anxiety to an all-time high? They wouldn’t walk another painless day. If at all.

“Sanji, can you get them some water? They’ll need something light to eat too, for when they wake up.” “Already on it.”

•~•~•~•

Blearily, you stirred to panicked voices.

Luffy’s hat had tipped to the side, shielding your vision, while Chopper tracked your pulse, and Zoro broodingly hovered . . .

You wondered how long you’d been out, but you’d been too tired to move—or signal that you were alive.

“God, there you are.” Sanji sighed, placing a hand to his heart. “You’re just all over the place.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Chopper muttered, “How are you feeling?”

You blinked, slowly, very slowly—almost grogily. “Did I j’s pass out?”

“Yeah, you did.” Nami deadpanned, gently adjusting Luffy’s hat. She looked at the captain, glaring. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“I won’t,” Luffy chuckled, “sorry, ____.”

“It’s fine,” you muttered, shakily leaning up. Your balance didn’t last, and Luffy let you rest against him. “Ugh, I think I got hit by a ship.”

“No, you got hit by a Luffy.” Usopp corrected, letting Sanji slip by with some water. “Here, this’ll make you feel better. There are some electrolytes in there, so it’s sweet.” He soothed.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Luffy grumbled, but Franky was quick to interrupt. “Oh, it was that bad. They folded like a chair.”

“I did not.” You mumbled, though it was completely ignored.

“How was I supposed to know they’d do that?” Luffy huffed, his arms tightening around you.

“Yohoho, because.” Brook shrugged. “Because—?”

“Ok, on a serious note!” Chopper finished, bringing their attention back to you. “Your blood pressure is low, you’re dehydrated, and you need rest. So don’t even think about doing anything strenuous.”

You nodded, but went to say something—

“And no. I’m not sure about training tomorrow, we’ll see how you feel.” “Seriously?”

“You just passed out, moron.” Zoro’s eye twitched. “Give yourself a break.”

“You’re one to talk.” “Oi—watch it.”

“They’ve got a point, Zoro, I don’t know how many times I’ve seen Chopper chase you around.” Usopp plopped a seat beside you.

“Haha—remember when he bandaged him to the mast?”

Here we go . . .

“Don’t turn this on me!”

Leaning against Luffy’s side, you listened to the crew’s banter, relaxing. Everyone had made themselves a comfortable spot, lingering close, and your eyes began to droop.

“It was a good waste of bandages, I’d do it again.” Chopper proudly smiled, crossing his arms as he finally let your wrist go. “Shishi—he looked like Sanji’s pork wraps!”

“I did not!” Zoro blushed, scoffing as he turned away. “I’m leaving you to drown next time you fall overboard.”

“No, you won’t!” “Oh, yes, the hell I will!”

Luffy’s hat fell in your lap, and slowly... your eyes closed. The light-hearted arguing acted as a white noise, and as insane as it sounded, the loudness was comforting.

Yet again, everyone’s voices blurred, but this time it was by sleep, not by the torment of your anxiety. Your body, for once, relaxed, and almost instantly, you were at peace.

In the arms of your captain, and the company of your crew, you could finally rest. It would be okay, and in a matter of no-time, your energy would return.

It wasn't everlasting, only temporarily in the depths of your episode, and you had to remember that it would pass. And I would be okay.

•~•~•~•