All I Want Is You...
all I want is you...
"ᴮᵃᵇʸ, ʷⁱˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᵐᵉ? ᴮᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʸᵒᵘ ᴬˡˡ ᴵ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ⁱˢ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵒʷ, ᵃˡˡ ᴵ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒʷ ᴵˢ ʷᵃⁱᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃˡˡ ᵐᵉ, ᵇᵃᵇʸ, ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒ ˢᵒʳʳʸ" ~ᴿᵉᵇᶻʸʸˣ
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⚓️ Monkey D. Luffy — "I just want you to be okay... okay, baby, alright."
You were the only one who didn't laugh when he shouted he was going to be King of the Pirates.
You looked at him with wide, glassy eyes, and nodded like it meant something more. Like he meant something more. You were the only one who ever looked at him like that.
The others never noticed how quiet you got after the battles. They did not see how you curled up on the deck, legs pulled to your chest, staring into the sea like it might give you answers. But he did. Luffy saw everything — even if he could not always understand it.
“Are you okay?” he had asked once, lips tugging down, unsure.
You blinked like you were surprised he noticed. “Yeah, Captain. I’m just... tired.”
You smiled after that.
But it never quite reached your eyes again.
He did not have words for how that made him feel — how your sadness curled around his ribs like a sea monster, heavy and tight. So, he tried harder. Pulled you into dancing when Brook played, dragged you into snowball fights on winter islands, left oranges by your bed when you forgot to eat.
He even gave you his last piece of meat once.
You laughed. Genuinely. Just for a second.
And he thought, Maybe I can fix this. Maybe if I stay close enough, long enough, loud enough... you’ll be okay again.
But one day, you were gone.
No note. No footprints. Just a jacket left on the rail, your scent already fading into salt.
Now Luffy stands at the edge of the Sunny most nights, straw hat clutched in his hand, whispering under his breath like a prayer he cannot quite name.
“I know what you want… Let me be the one to hold your hand forever...”
And the sea says nothing back...
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🗡️ Roronoa Zoro — "Tell me I’m disgusting. Tell me that you love me. But really you mean nothing."
Zoro has always been good at two things: fighting and silence.
Feelings? Not so much.
You came into his life like a flashfire — sharp-tongued, sharp-eyed, loud and full of life in all the ways he never was. At first, you got on his nerves. Too many questions. Too many looks. Too many feelings.
But you stayed. Through storms, through bloodshed, through his worst moods and longest naps. You were there every time he opened his eyes, and eventually… he started looking for you.
He never told you that.
But he didn’t need to, right?
Except... you started asking. And that was the beginning of the end.
“Do you even care about me?” you asked once, after another close call — blood on your shoulder, adrenaline in your veins, and his voice still sharp from yelling your name in panic.
Zoro had stared at you too long, jaw locked, like the words were stuck somewhere deep in his throat.
“…Of course I do,” he muttered eventually, but his voice was distant. Like he was talking to a ghost instead of the person who had almost died in front of him.
You laughed. Bitter, quiet.
“That’s not enough anymore, Zo.”
You left that night.
You did not slam the door or pack a dramatic bag. You just… disappeared. No note. No goodbye. Just a silence that felt like a sword pressed to his throat.
Now he trains harder. Sleeps less. Bleeds more.
Because the ache in his chest? It is louder than any wound he has ever taken.
He swears he hears you sometimes, late at night — that little scoff you always gave when he got lost, the gentle click of your tongue when he drank too much. Maybe it is memory. Maybe it is madness.
But he talks to you anyway.
“You wanted a real answer?” he mutters into the cold air, voice rough. “Here it is — yeah, I care. More than I should. More than I know how to say.”
His fists curl. His swords stay sheathed.
“Tell me I messed it up. Tell me I pushed you too far. Just… tell me something.”
No reply.
Only the sound of wind and waves.
Zoro turns back to the dojo, jaw clenched like he’s holding back something he’ll never say again.
And in the dark, where no one can see him — not Luffy, not Sanji, not even himself — he finally let out a gentle sob.
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🍳 Vinsmoke Sanji — "You make me feel dirty. Tell me I’m disgusting. Tell me that you love me. But really, you mean nothing."
Sanji had always known how to play the part.
The flirt. The charmer. The perfect gentleman with a rose between his teeth and a cigarette between his fingers. But with you... that mask never fit quite right.
You saw straight through it.
And he hated how much he liked that.
You never swooned. You never batted your lashes when he called you "mademoiselle" or offered your favorite dessert on a silver tray. You always looked at him with something sharper — like you were searching for the man behind the suit, behind the smoke, behind the smile that trembled more than it should have.
“You’re not as good as you pretend to be, Sanji,” you said once, not out of cruelty — but truth.
He never forgot it.
He told himself he could change. That he wanted to. That maybe if he loved you right, if he made you feel safe and seen and special, you would never have to see the broken parts of him — the blood on his hands, the rage in his chest, the cruel voice of his father echoing in his skull every night.
But you saw it anyway.
You saw all of it.
And worst of all — you stayed.
Even when he pushed you away with a sharp tongue and clenched fists and long nights drinking too much and saying too little. Even when he called himself a monster, and you cupped his face and whispered:
“Then be a monster who loves me.”
He kissed you like you were salvation. Touched you like you were fire. Needed you like he was drowning.
And still, somehow, he ruined it.
He said something wrong — something cruel in a moment of weakness. You flinched. You left. And this time, you did not come back.
Now, his cigarettes burn down faster. His fingers shake over the cutting board. He makes dishes for you every night and throws them out uneaten.
The others stopped asking questions.
But he still talks to the kitchen walls like you are hiding in the corners.
“You make me feel filthy, you know that?” he whispers into the steam of your favorite soup, eyes red from smoke or something worse. “You make me feel everything I try to bury.”
The spoon clatters. His hands fall to the counter, shoulders shaking.
"Tell me I’m disgusting. Tell me you hate me. Tell me anything... just—"
His voice breaks.
No one answers.
Just the soft simmer of something he will never serve.
“Just tell me you love me,” he breathes, softer this time, like it physically hurts to say.
And in the quiet of the galley, he stays alone — waiting for the door to open again, even though he knows it never will.
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🎯 Usopp — “I remember crying. I just want you to be alright.”
Usopp always told stories.
Wild, beautiful lies — the kind that made people laugh or roll their eyes or shake their heads in disbelief.
But you? You never laughed. You leaned in.
Every time he said something outrageous — “I fought a sea king with one hand tied behind my back,” or “My aim’s so good I could hit a fly on a cannonball” — you smiled with that soft, knowing look in your eyes.
“Tell me another,” you whispered once, voice small as you lay next to him on the deck, eyes on the stars. “Tell me the one where you save me, Uso...”
He did.
He told it a hundred times. A thousand.
Until one day, you needed saving — and he failed.
It was not some grand battle or dramatic fall. You had been slipping for a while — smiles growing quieter, footsteps growing softer, hands fidgeting with sleeves when you thought no one was watching.
But Usopp was. And he was terrified.
Because he knew all the stories in the world could not fix the shadows in your eyes. Could not fill the silences that stretched too long between your words. Could not reach the places inside you that even you seemed afraid to touch.
Still, he tried.
He made you gadgets. Left tiny presents in your hammock. Carved your name into a seashell and whispered into it, saying, “You’re not alone. You never were.”
He told himself you would be okay. Because the hero always wins in the end.
But then… you stopped coming to breakfast. You stopped meeting him on the deck. One day, he knocked on your door and found it open, the room empty.
Gone. No goodbye.
No final story.
Now, Usopp sits in the crow’s nest with his slingshot across his lap and swollen eyes that have not seen sleep in days.
He looks out over the sea, voice hoarse.
“I know I’m not the strongest. Or the bravest. Or the smartest,” he mumbles to no one, “but I would’ve tried. I was trying.”
He presses the seashell with your name to his chest like a talisman, fingers shaking.
“I remember crying,” he says. “I just want you to be alright. I don’t care if you ever come back. Just—just be okay. Please.”
But the sea doesn’t answer. It never does.
“All I need is you now,” he breathes, forehead against the window, as the tears come again. “All I want to do now… is wait for you to call for me.”
And he does...
Every night...
Even though he knows you never will...
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⚕️ Trafalgar D. Water Law — “Fix the holes in your heart, it’s what I wanted from the start.”
Law didn’t mean to fall for you.
You weren’t part of the plan. You weren’t like Cora — loud and chaotic and selfless — and you weren’t like Bepo or his crew, either. You were… soft. Not weak, but gentle in ways he didn’t know how to process. You didn’t ask for anything. Didn’t demand answers.
But you looked at him like you saw him — and that was so much worse.
You never flinched from the cold edge of his voice or the scalpel-sharp way he kept people at a distance. You stood beside him in silence, in storms, in sickbays soaked with blood that wasn’t always someone else’s.
And one night, after a mission that nearly killed you both, you found him on the floor of the infirmary — gloves off, coat stained, hands shaking.
You didn’t ask what was wrong. You just knelt beside him and whispered, “Let me help.”
He told himself it was a one-time thing. That letting you touch the cracked, hollow places in his chest wouldn’t mean anything. That he wouldn’t get attached.
But then you smiled.
You made tea for him in the mornings.
You remembered his favorite food without him telling you.
You asked how he was when he was trying so hard to pretend he wasn’t anything at all.
He couldn’t stop it.
He didn’t want to.
So he gave you pieces of himself in silence. Little things. A book from Flevance. A quiet "goodnight." A rare smile when he thought you weren’t looking.
But love, for Law, was never soft.
It was surgical — precise, dangerous, bloody.
And somewhere along the way, without meaning to, he began to treat you like a patient. Like something broken he could fix.
He didn’t realize it until the night you finally said it.
“I’m not something you can save, Law.”
You weren’t angry. You just looked… tired.
And he didn’t have the words. Not the ones that mattered. Not the ones that would make you stay.
So you left.
Not with malice. Not with drama. Just with silence. Just like everyone else.
Now, the sickbay is too quiet. The ship too clean. There’s no laughter echoing down the hall, no gentle knocks at midnight asking if he’d eaten.
Just Law, alone with his ghosts, staring at the hole you left in him — too deep to close, too old to ignore.
He’s operating in silence again. Gloves on. Scalpel steady.
But his hands tremble.
“To fix the holes in your heart, it’s all I wanted from the start... That’s all I wanted...” he mutters like a curse, eyes blurring.
He drops the scalpel. Covers his face with blood-streaked hands.
“Come back...” he whispers, so quiet it gets swallowed by the hum of the ship.
And no one hears it but the walls — and the sea.
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🔥 Portgas D. Ace — “I got mental issues, always fucking miss you.”
Ace doesn’t sleep well when you’re not around.
He tosses and turns on sheets soaked with sweat, waking up breathless and angry at himself for dreaming about you — again. It’s not even the good dreams anymore. Not the ones where you’re laughing, curled against his chest, warm like sunlight, kissing him.
Now it’s nightmares.
You leaving.
You crying.
You dying.
And he always wakes up too late.
The room smells like old smoke and iron. There’s a cracked glass on the floor by his bed. A shirt that still smells like you shoved under his pillow. And his fists ache — from punching walls, from holding back.
“I got mental issues,” he mutters to himself, leaning against the frame of the bed, shirtless and shaking. “I’m really fucked up, huh...?”
There’s blood on his knuckles. Again. He doesn’t remember how it got there.
There are tissues everywhere. Piled in corners, scattered across the floor. He doesn’t throw them away — like maybe if he keeps enough of them, your scent will linger just a little longer.
He misses you so bad it makes him angry.
Like it’s your fault for being so gentle. For loving him when he didn’t think he deserved it. For touching his skin like it wasn’t a curse, and telling him he was good like you believed it more than he ever could.
He told you once, in a rare moment of stillness:
“You’re the only thing in this world that makes me feel real...”
You kissed his temple and said, “Then be real with me.” smiling.
But he couldn’t. Not fully.
Because what if you saw it? The dark, cracked part of him that asks every night, Was I even supposed to be born? What if you walked into that storm and didn’t come back out?
So instead, he pushed you away.
Not all at once — no, Ace is too cowardly for that. He did it in pieces. A missed dinner here. A half-hearted kiss there. Another mission he took without telling you.
You stopped chasing him eventually.
And when you were gone… when the ship felt too empty and the fire in his chest flickered low — that’s when he realized.
"l'lI always fucking miss them..."
And now he’s sitting on the floor of some cheap inn, holding your sweater like it’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart.
He wants to call you. Wants to say I’m sorry, I was scared, I didn’t know how to love you right, but please, please come back—
But the Den Den Mushi stays quiet.
And Ace stays ruined.
He’s not a storm anymore. Just smoke. Just echoes. Just... want....
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🕊️ Sabo — “Please don’t desert me, please don’t desert me.”
Sabo isn’t used to begging.
Not as a revolutionary. Not as a brother. Not as the man who smiled through bloodied battles and watched the world crumble under kings and fire.
But with you?
He begs in silence.
He does not know how to say, “Please stay.” So instead, he leaves cups of tea where you’ll find them. Wraps a blanket over your shoulders when you fall asleep at your desk. Brushes your fingers when he passes by, like touch is the only language he still remembers how to speak.
You love him with an ease that makes him ache.
You never demand pieces of his past he cannot give. You don’t pry into the darkness that swims behind his eyes on bad nights — you just sit beside him, wordless, warm. Present.
And Sabo… Sabo falls.
Hard. Deep. Quiet.
He starts to write you letters he never sends. Pages stained with ink and doubt.
—"You make me feel like I deserve to live again.
I can’t lose you too.
Please don’t leave me like he did."
But you never left.
Until you did.
It wasn’t a fight. It wasn’t betrayal. Just a slow, quiet unraveling — because Sabo kept part of himself hidden too long. Kept telling you, “I’m fine,” when he wasn’t. Kept pushing you out when all he wanted was to pull you in.
One day, you stopped knocking on his door.
The warmth faded.
Your coat was gone from the hook by his bed.
He found your necklace left behind — on purpose, probably. Something final.
And that night, he drank alone, firelight flickering against the scars on his hands. He could feel himself unraveling.
“Please don’t desert me…”
He whispered it into the dark, broken and too late.
He pressed his forehead to your necklace, eyes stinging with everything he couldn’t say in time.
“Please don’t desert me. Not like he did. Not like—”
But no one answered.
Only the crackle of flame and the silence of a room too big for one person.
He still wears that necklace.
Hidden under his scarf, against his chest.
He tells himself that if he ever sees you again, he’ll say it right this time. No riddles. No brave smiles.
Just—
“I’m scared of being left. But I’d rather be scared with you than safe without you.”
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🎪 Buggy the Clown — “I’ll make you feel special, help you feel less stressful.”
Loud? Yes. Flashy? Obviously. A little bit unhinged? Well, that's Buggy's whole thing. He was the kind of guy who could stand on top of his ship with his arms thrown wide, demanding the world recognize his greatness. And for most people, that was all they saw — the captain, the performer, the clown. His bravado, his flair. The show.
But there was so much more beneath that.
He never let anyone see it, of course. Because if they did, if they saw what was lurking beneath his perfectly painted smile, then they’d know. They’d see that the self-inflated ego was just a shield. A shield to protect a heart that had never truly felt like it was worth anything.
Buggy had always believed that no one could really love him. Not for who he truly was.
He was a pirate, sure, but he wasn’t the kind of guy who got the kind of love he saw in movies or heard in songs. He wasn’t the romantic hero. He wasn’t the charming, smooth-talking swashbuckler. No, he was the laughing stock of every crew, the one everyone used for comic relief. A joke.
It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the attention — no, he craved it, needed it. But deep down, behind all the clamor and the glitz, Buggy was terrified that if anyone ever got too close, they'd leave. And that thought? It was crippling.
But then… you came along.
You, who didn’t laugh at his jokes just to make him feel good — you genuinely laughed with him. You, who never flinched at his disassembled limbs, never turned away when he got a little too dramatic, when he overreacted or shouted just to make sure everyone was paying attention.
You stood beside him, even when the rest of the world told you to run in the opposite direction.
And Buggy? Oh, Buggy fell hard.
He didn’t know when it happened, honestly. He didn’t know when he’d started thinking that maybe, just maybe, there was someone who could look at him and see more than just the crazy pirate captain with a flair for the theatrical. He didn’t know when he’d started feeling like he could actually be loved. Like he could be enough.
But you… you were there. You made him feel like he didn’t have to hide behind the act. You made him feel special in ways that no one ever had before.
The day he left — the day he walked away, pretending like he was doing you a favor — it wasn’t because he didn’t care. No, it was because he cared too much.
The sight of you laughing with him, your warm smile, the way you didn’t treat him like he was a walking joke, it scared him. It terrified him more than anything in his life.
You were the first person who made him feel like he was worthy. Like maybe there was more to him than just the chaos and the bluster. But he wasn’t ready for it. Not yet. He wasn’t ready to let someone in that close. Because what if you saw the truth? What if you saw all his flaws, all his broken pieces, and realized that even though he had everything to offer, he wasn’t enough?
You were too good for him. He was just a clown.
Buggy stood at the helm, his fingers gripping the wheel tightly as he looked at the ocean ahead of him. The ship was drifting farther and farther from the shore, from you. From everything he’d let himself feel.
He hated this. He hated it more than anything he’d ever hated in his life.
But what else could he do?
He tried to convince himself that this was what was best for you. That he was just some mess of a man, a guy who would only bring more destruction into your life. That you deserved someone who could love you properly, without the chaos. Without the theatrics. Someone who wasn’t going to break your heart.
And yet, every time he looked at the ocean, he could still see your smile in his mind. The way you’d looked at him, like he wasn’t just some eccentric fool. Like he mattered to you.
His chest ached. Damn it.
“I’ll make you feel special, I'll help you feel less stressful…” he muttered to himself, as if saying it out loud would somehow make it true. But even as the words left his lips, he knew they weren’t enough. Not anymore.
“I’m not ready for this,” he whispered, almost like a plea to the wind. “Not ready for you. You deserve better.”
When the Den Den Mushi call came through, he knew it was you. It was always you who’d pick up the phone when the others just let it ring.
He hesitated for a long time before answering. When his face finally appeared on the screen, he smiled — but it didn’t reach his eyes. His usual flair, the confidence, it was all gone. And for once, he didn’t know what to say.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought… maybe if I just walked away, you’d be better off.”
“You’re not the problem,” you said, your voice tight, like you were holding back tears. “You’re the one I want, Buggy.”
He wanted to reach through the screen, to take you in his arms and never let go. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.
“But I’m too much for you,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ll just bring chaos into your life. You deserve someone who can love you the way you deserve. Not a mess like me.”
You stared at him, your eyes filled with unshed tears. And for a moment, just a moment, Buggy saw something he hadn’t seen in years — something real. Something pure.
“I’ll make you feel special,” he said, his voice catching in his throat. “Well, I wanted to. But I can’t. Not like this.”
You didn’t say anything. You just looked at him, and for the first time in a long time, Buggy felt completely seen.
The call ended. The ship drifted away.
And Buggy stood there, staring at the horizon, wondering if he’d made the right choice. Maybe someday, he’d get the courage to come back. But until then, all he had were the memories — of you, of your laughter, of how you’d made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he was worthy of love after all.
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🍷 Shanks — “I remember nights we were dancing in the moonlight.”
He never told you he loved you.
Not with those exact words, anyway.
He said it in other ways — in the way he laughed at your jokes even when they were terrible, in how his arm would always find your waist when you leaned too close to the sea rail, in how his eyes lingered a little too long when you weren’t looking.
And sometimes, he’d let the mask slip.
Like that night, on some quiet island no one would remember. The tavern was half-empty, his crew rowdy and drunk. And you, you were warm beside him, fingers stained with fruit juice and salt air, eyes glowing like you had swallowed the moon itself.
There was music playing. Something simple. Soft.
You nudged him and said, “Dance with me.”
He scoffed, sipped his drink, and said, “Nah, I’ve got two left feet.”
But your hand stayed outstretched.
And so he took it.
The floor was uneven. He stepped on your toes twice. His laugh was louder than the music, and your cheeks hurt from smiling. And when the others weren’t looking, he spun you into him, held you close, and whispered—
“If I could bottle this moment, I’d carry it everywhere.”
You didn’t say anything. You didn’t have to. Your smile told him you felt the same.
That night, you danced under the moonlight until the candles burned out and the stars were your only audience.
But things change.
Shanks always leaves eventually. You knew that from the beginning.
He told you once, long ago, “The sea is a jealous thing. She always calls me back.”
And still, it hurt when he went.
You stayed behind on some island — a “safe place,” he called it — with a kiss to your forehead and a promise you never asked for.
“I’ll be back before you know it.”
You knew better.
Weeks passed. Then months.
No letters. No sign.
And Shanks? He was far away, sitting by a fire on a different shore, holding your necklace in his palm like it was the only thing that kept him tethered to anything human.
His crew thought he was fine.
But sometimes at night, when everyone was asleep, he'd take out the old Den Den Mushi and stare at it. Thumb hovering over the dial.
And he’d whisper—
“I remember hiding, I remember crying... God, I just want you to be alright.”
He never dialed. Never called.
Because he thought maybe you were better off without him.
But if you walked back into his life — wind in your hair, sea in your eyes — he’d say it.
Not with flowers. Not with grand speeches.
Just a quiet, choked—
“I never stopped dancing with you. Even when you weren’t there.”
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⚡ Kid — “You control my life. I feel like a fucking puppet.”
Kid had never been the type to lean on anyone. To trust anyone. The idea of someone else controlling his life, controlling his choices — that was something he never allowed. He was a man of steel, a pirate who carved his own path, never bowing to anyone.
But then you came along.
And from the moment you stepped into his life, everything started shifting in ways he couldn’t control. He hated it. Hated the way you made him feel things he didn’t want to feel. Hated how his heart raced when you laughed. Hated how his thoughts would drift to you when he was supposed to be focused on his next big heist.
He hated how you made him feel like he wasn’t in control.
At first, it was a joke. A distraction. He’d tell himself that he didn’t care about you, that he could walk away anytime. He wasn’t the kind of guy who needed anyone. Certainly not someone like you, someone who had the power to make him question everything he knew about himself.
But then... then the feelings crept in. Slowly at first, like a seed being planted deep in his chest. And then, before he knew it, it had taken root. He couldn’t get rid of it. He couldn’t escape the way you made him feel.
You made him feel alive in a way he didn’t know was possible. And that scared him more than anything.
One night, after yet another pointless argument, Kid found himself alone on the deck of his ship. The moonlight reflected off the ocean, and the cold breeze brushed against his face, but none of it could clear the heat building inside him.
He had tried to push you away. Tried to act like he didn’t care. But all it did was make him feel more desperate, more broken.
And now, here he was again. Standing in the same spot, staring at the empty horizon, trying to ignore the voice inside his head that kept calling your name.
The ship creaked behind him, and then he heard it. The soft sound of footsteps.
You. Of course, it was you.
He couldn’t look at you. He couldn’t face the person who had so completely taken over his life. Who had him tangled up in knots, unable to let go.
“You’re still pissed?” he asked, his voice rough, trying to mask the vulnerability bubbling under the surface.
You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you walked up beside him, standing in silence. He could feel your presence, feel the weight of it pressing against him. You were close enough to make his breath hitch, but he wouldn’t let himself acknowledge it. Not yet.
“Kid,” you said softly, and the way you said his name made his insides twist. “You know I don’t want to fight with you.”
He scoffed, turning away to hide his face, but you could still see the tension in his shoulders. He clenched his fists at his sides, as if the action might stop the flood of emotions threatening to spill over.
“Don’t even try to act like you understand. This isn’t some game. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, alright?” he spat, his anger rising in a desperate attempt to cover up how raw he felt inside.
But you didn’t flinch. You never did.
“I don’t need you to explain it to me,” you said, your voice calm, like you weren’t afraid of his anger. “But you don’t have to push me away, either.”
Kid felt his heart skip a beat, but he refused to look at you. He couldn’t.
“It’s not that simple,” he muttered, his voice quieter now, the edge of his anger beginning to fade. “You don’t get it. I don’t want to feel like this. You can’t just come in and change everything. You can’t just control me like I’m some damn puppet.”
His words hit harder than he intended. There. He’d said it.
You stood there for a moment, not saying anything. He could feel you staring at him, waiting for him to break the silence.
“Kid,” you finally said, taking a step closer, “I never wanted to control you.”
He shook his head, but the knot in his chest only tightened.
“Then what the hell is this?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly. “Every time I try to pull away, you’re still there. Every time I think I’ve got my shit together, I— I start thinking about you. About how you make me feel—”
He stopped, his throat tightening, but he couldn’t stop himself. His frustration, his confusion, his desperation all came out in one breathless sentence.
“I’m losing control. And I hate it.”
You didn’t say anything right away, but you didn’t need to. You didn’t need to explain yourself, because you understood. You’d always understood.
You reached out, gently resting your hand on his arm, and for the first time that night, Kid looked at you. His eyes were stormy, conflicted, but beneath it all, there was something more — something softer. Something that made his heart feel like it was going to burst.
“I’m not trying to control you, Kid,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “I just... I just want you to be you. No masks, no act. Just you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
He swallowed hard, his chest tight. You weren’t asking for anything more than that. And somehow, that terrified him even more.
“You don’t get it,” he whispered, barely audible. “You make me feel like I’m not enough. Like I can’t even control my own damn life anymore.”
You smiled softly, and for once, Kid didn’t see pity in your eyes. You weren’t looking at him like he was a broken thing.
“You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to have it all together,” you said, stepping closer. “I’m not here to control you, Kid. I’m here because I care about you. And that’s all.”
He stood frozen for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in. And just like that, all his walls came crashing down.
“God, I hate you,” he muttered, but there was no real heat in his words. Instead, there was just that undercurrent of raw emotion he had never wanted to show. “You make this so damn hard.”
And maybe that was okay. Maybe being vulnerable for once, letting someone else in, didn’t make him weak. Maybe it made him stronger.
“All I want is you,” he whispered, more to himself than to you, but you heard it anyway.
You smiled again, this time with a tenderness that took Kid by surprise. You didn’t say anything, just stood beside him, silently offering the support he never knew he needed.
For once, Kid didn’t feel like he had to fight it.
______________________________________________________________
More Posts from 4rticbolt and Others
✤ Request Rules ✤
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Ok, due to the fact that I'm a new writer, and recovering from a concussion I'll be taking limited requests and extending them as I'm comfortable.
I tend to be a perfectionist who procrastinates, so it takes a few days for me to follow through... though if you do request something just know I'm trying my absolute best to get it done.
And it helps if you're a little descriptive with your request, like little key points, or maybe a certain scenario? Or a starter if you want!
Fandoms:
• One piece
Topics:
I do not do heavy NSFW (As I'm learning.)
SFW is fine
No Incest or god awful weird shit pls, like horrific Ao3 tags, I'll forever be traumatized by those.
I'm great with angst and comfort
Loveeee fluff
Can be descriptive or blunt, whatever you'd prefer
Lowkey this blog is more abt comfort and just feel good stuff—so mental health, or other related things are always welcome!
Stuff I am not comfortable with writing I will let you know, I won't just not reply.
I do Romantic AND Platonic, because I feel as if we don't have enough of those
To be cringe is to be free, so don't be afraid if your request isn't seemingly perfect, because I know damn well my fics are a mess
Characters I'm preferably best at:
Zoro/Sanji/Usopp (My baes)
Characters I'll write for (For Now):
All of the Straw hats (I will NOT do anything romantic for Chopper. He's a child)
Heart-pirates (Same goes for Bepo)
Things I'll Do:
Head-cannons
One-shots
Short Stories
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OHHHH I GOT AN AMAZING IDEA WHAT IF READER DOESN'T GIVE ONE PIECE MEN A KISS BACK AFTER THEY KISSED READER?
Please Kiss Back!
gn!reader
characters: luffy, zoro, sanji, law and ace
words count: around 0.9k - 1.9k each
masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi
── .✦ Monkey D. Luffy:
The crew is scattered around the ship, busy with their usual antics, but you’re sitting on the deck with Luffy, legs dangling over the edge.
He’s in an especially good mood today,not that it’s unusual, but there’s a certain spark in his grin, an extra bounce in his movements. You don’t think much of it. It’s Luffy, after all.
And then, suddenly, he kisses you.
It’s quick, impulsive, but undeniably a kiss.
Your entire body goes stiff and your mind goes blank.
Luffy pulls back just as easily as he leaned in, smiling like he just did the most natural thing in the world.
“Heh, that was nice” he says, tilting his head “Right?”
But you don’t move. You don’t say anything. You just sit there, eyes wide, heart hammering against your ribs.
Luffy’s smile falters. His head tilts the other way now, brows slightly furrowed “Huh? You didn’t kiss me back.”
You see the confusion in his face, hear it in his voice. He isn’t upset, Luffy doesn’t get upset about things like this, but he’s puzzled.
“Did I do it wrong?”
His voice is quieter now.
Panic surges through you “Wha—no! No, you didn’t—” You shake your head quickly, your thoughts scrambling together “I just… I wasn’t expecting it!”
Luffy blinks at you “Why not?”
You open your mouth, but no words come out. What are you supposed to say? Because you’re my captain? Because you never act romantic? Because I didn’t think you even thought about kissing people?
Luffy watches you, waiting for an answer. His usual carefree energy is still there, but for once, you see something else in his eyes. A flicker of uncertainty.
“Oh.” He leans back, rubbing his nose “So you didn’t want me to?”
Your heart drops.
“No!” You nearly shout, grabbing his wrist before he can pull away completely “That’s not it!”
Luffy blinks at you again, mouth slightly open like he’s waiting for an explanation.
You inhale sharply. Screw it.
You lean forward and kiss him.
This time, you make sure he feels it.
Luffy freezes for half a second, probably because he wasn’t expecting it, but then, just as quickly, he melts into it. His lips are warm, a little chapped from the salty sea air, but soft against yours. His hands hover for a moment before he grabs your shoulders, steadying himself as he grins into the kiss.
When you finally pull back, breath a little uneven, he laughs.
“Ohhh, so you do wanna kiss me!”
Your face burns “I—Shut up!”
Luffy just grins wider, pulling you into his chest like he didn’t just shake your entire world “You’re funny, Y/N,” he says, resting his chin on your head. “I’m gonna kiss you all the time now!”
You groan into his shirt. What have you gotten yourself into?
You’re still pressed against Luffy’s chest, your face burning as he laughs. The warmth of his body seeps into you, and his chin rests comfortably on top of your head, like he’s perfectly content to stay like this forever.
“I’m gonna kiss you all the time now, I’m gonna kiss you all the time now, I’m gonna kiss you all the time now, I’m gonna kiss you all the ti—” he says, his voice filled with the same carefree confidence he uses when talking about becoming Pirate King.
You groan into his shirt, trying to push away, but his arms tighten around you.
“Luffy!”
“What?” He tilts his head, grinning “You kissed me back, so that means you like it, right?”
You open your mouth to argue but nothing comes out. Because… he’s right. You did kiss him back. You wanted to. You just hadn’t expected him to be so Luffy about it.
“That’s not the point” you mumble, avoiding his gaze.
He laughs again, a happy, carefree sound “Then what’s the point?”
You pull back just enough to look at him, and immediately regret it. He’s staring at you with those big, curious eyes, his face close enough that you can still feel the warmth of his breath. He isn’t teasing you, not really... he’s just genuinely waiting for an answer, like he doesn’t understand why you’re so flustered.
And that makes it worse.
You shove your hands against his chest, trying to put some distance between you “You can’t just—just say stuff like that!”
“Why not?” Luffy pouts.
“Because it’s embarrassing!”
He laughs harder “But you’re cute when you’re embarrassed!”
You swear your soul leaves your body “LUFFY—”
He suddenly leans in again, pressing another quick kiss to your lips before you can stop him.
“Mmm, yeah, I like this,” he says, nodding to himself “I’m definitely gonna do it a lot.”
Your brain malfunctions.
“You—! I—!” You can’t even form a sentence.
Luffy just beams “You can kiss me too, y’know.”
Your face somehow gets even hotter “I KNOW!”
His grin widens, and then before you can react he jumps to his feet, stretching his arms.
“Alright! I’m hungry!” He looks down at you, still sitting there, completely overwhelmed “C’mon, let’s go get something to eat!”
He grabs your hand before you can protest and starts dragging you toward the kitchen, like nothing just happened.
Like he didn’t just turn your world upside down.
Like he didn’t just kiss you twice, steal your breath, and then immediately think about food.
You let him pull you along, still dazed, as your fingers stay laced with his.
Luffy is impossible, but that’s why you like him so much.
── .✦ Roronoa Zoro:
The sound of swords clashing echoes throughout the quiet ship as the crew enjoys their evening. You sit on the railing, your legs dangling, watching the stars as the ship cruises along. Zoro is nearby, practicing his swordplay as usual, his focus unwavering.
You’ve been in a strange mood today, frustrated, angry, even a little annoyed, but you didn’t want to take it out on Zoro. You just needed some time to think, and he had given you that. But when you saw him practicing so intensely, your irritation began to simmer.
It had been an argument earlier. Not a huge one, but one that still left a bad taste in your mouth. Zoro had made a careless comment about something that had happened during the last fight, something trivial, but it had stuck with you, and now, as you watch him swing his swords with that unshakable intensity, you can’t help but feel more upset.
Zoro finishes his set, wiping the sweat from his brow. His eyes catch yours, and without saying anything, he walks over to you. You remain where you are, not bothering to look at him. The quiet tension between the two of you feels thicker now, and you can almost hear the unspoken words hanging in the air.
“What’s wrong?” Zoro asks, his voice unusually soft, as he stops a few steps in front of you. He might not always say much, but Zoro knows when something is off with you.
You sigh, leaning back slightly on the railing, crossing your arms “Nothing.”
You know Zoro won’t take that for an answer, but you don’t feel like talking about it. You don’t want to have another one of those half-formed conversations that end up with him brushing it off or getting frustrated with you. He’s not one for deep talks, and you don’t want to drag him into it.
Zoro, being Zoro, doesn’t give up. He steps closer, standing directly in front of you, his tall frame looming over you. He doesn’t push, but the intensity in his gaze is hard to ignore.
“Y/N,” he says, a hint of concern sneaking into his usually blunt tone “You’ve been weird all day.”
You feel your anger stir again, that feeling of being dismissed or misunderstood growing. Without thinking, you snap at him “I’m fine, alright? Just… don’t worry about it.”
The words are harsher than you intended, and you immediately regret them. But you’ve already said it, and the frustration that’s been building up inside you has no outlet other than Zoro at the moment.
Zoro blinks, clearly taken aback by your sudden sharpness. There’s a brief pause, and for a moment, you think he’ll retreat, that he’ll walk away like he usually does when he doesn’t understand. But instead, he leans in closer, his face now inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin.
“You know I don’t like it when you’re upset, right?” His voice is low, almost a growl.
You feel your heart skip a beat, and the irritation that had flared up earlier starts to subside just a little. But your pride is still holding on, and you don’t want to let it go so easily “I’m not upset” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper, and you turn your head away, hoping he’ll just leave it alone.
Zoro doesn’t move, though. He’s still right in front of you, and his eyes are fixed on you with that intense gaze of his, like he’s seeing through you, reading everything you’re trying to hide.
And then, without warning, Zoro leans in and kisses you.
His lips are firm, yet gentle, pressing softly against yours. You don’t kiss him back immediately. Instead, you sit there, frozen, eyes wide in shock. Your heart races, and for a second, you’re not sure how to react.
Zoro pulls back just slightly, his gaze still locked with yours, waiting. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a faint trace of something in his gaze, concern, maybe? He wants an answer. He wants to know what’s wrong.
You should have kissed him back, but you didn’t. The confusion, the frustration, it all bubbles up again, and you’re not sure why you’re holding back this time.
Zoro doesn’t say anything at first, but he waits. His hand gently brushes against your cheek, as if trying to coax a response out of you “Why didn’t you kiss me back?”
You try to speak, but no words come out at first. You don’t want to tell him the truth, that you’re angry, that you don’t know how to explain what’s really bothering you.
You finally exhale, your voice softer than before “I was mad. At you.”
Zoro blinks in surprise, and for a moment, you think he’ll get defensive, like he always does when he doesn’t understand something. But instead, he simply nods. His eyes soften, and his fingers gently trace your jawline as if to remind you that he’s not going anywhere.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says quietly. His voice is surprisingly gentle, his usual gruffness gone “But if something’s wrong, you know you can tell me.”
You sigh, your anger finally dissipating as you look up at him. You can see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he’s trying to meet you halfway. You can feel the weight of your pride slipping away, and you hate that you let it build up this far.
You close the gap between you, leaning in to kiss him, this time responding wholeheartedly. It’s slow at first, but it deepens as you feel the tension release from your shoulders. You kiss him like you’ve missed him, like you didn’t realize just how badly you needed this connection.
When you pull away, you rest your forehead against his, breathing heavily “I’m sorry,” you whisper “I shouldn’t have gotten so upset.”
Zoro chuckles softly, his hand cupping your face “Don’t apologize. I get it.”
You smile, and for the first time today, the weight that had been dragging on you fades away completely.
Zoro’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer “But next time, you’ll kiss me back, right?”
You laugh softly, feeling the heat of his chest against yours “I promise.”
And this time, when he kisses you again, you kiss him back without hesitation.
You pull back slightly from the kiss, your breath still heavy, and the silence between you both feels different now, softer, more understanding. Zoro doesn’t speak at first, but his arms remain tightly around you, his fingers brushing gently through your hair, as if he’s making sure you’re still there, still with him.
For a moment, you both just stand there in the quiet night, the ship gently rocking beneath your feet. The stars above are bright, casting a peaceful glow over the deck. It’s in these moments that you realize how much Zoro means to you. Even when you’re angry, even when you push him away, he never truly goes anywhere. He might not say a lot, but his actions speak louder than anything else.
“You know, you’re a real pain sometimes” you murmur, leaning into him, your voice barely above a whisper.
Zoro chuckles softly, his lips brushing against the top of your head “You’re the one who doesn’t kiss me back.” His voice is teasing now, and the warmth of his hands against your back makes you feel safe, despite everything.
You smile, finally allowing yourself to fully relax in his embrace “I know. I’m sorry about that. I just…” You hesitate, unsure of how to express yourself “I didn’t want to drag you into my mood. It wasn’t about you.”
Zoro doesn’t respond immediately, but his hand moves to gently lift your chin, so that you’re looking up at him. His green eyes are soft, understanding. He looks at you the way he always does when he knows there’s more you’re not saying, like he’s giving you the space to figure it out yourself, but also offering his support.
“You don’t have to protect me from your mood, Y/N,” Zoro says quietly, his thumb gently grazing your cheek “You know that, right?”
You blink up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his words. It’s rare for him to be this open, to say something so vulnerable. Zoro’s never been one for words, always more about actions. But when he does speak, it’s clear he means it.
“I know,” you murmur, feeling your heart swell in your chest “I guess I just didn’t want to make it worse.”
Zoro shakes his head, his hand moving to the small of your back, pulling you even closer “You can’t make it worse, Y/N. I’ve been with you long enough to know that.”
His words settle over you like a warm blanket, and for a moment, the world feels lighter. Maybe it’s because you’re finally opening up to him, maybe it’s because you realize that, despite all your pride, Zoro has always been the one who sees right through you.
The air between you two seems to change, the tension now replaced by an unspoken understanding. Zoro leans down again, capturing your lips in a much slower, more deliberate kiss this time. It’s deep and meaningful, not rushed like before, and you kiss him back just as intensely. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. Just the feeling of his lips against yours, and the reassuring presence of his hands wrapped around you.
When you finally pull away, you smile softly up at him, feeling like everything that had been weighing on your shoulders is finally gone.
“Better?” he asks, his voice a little gruff, but with a glint of amusement in his eyes.
You nod, leaning your forehead against his “Much better. Thanks, Zoro.”
He smirks, giving you a gentle, teasing squeeze “I don’t need thanks. Just kiss me back and we’ll be fine.”
You laugh, rolling your eyes, but you can’t help the warmth that spreads through you at the thought of him being this open with you. Zoro might not always know the right words to say, but the way he takes care of you, without question, speaks more than anything he could say aloud.
“Deal.” You smile, finally feeling at ease, as you stand there together in the quiet night, just the two of you, with the stars as your only witnesses.
Zoro leans in to kiss you again, but this time, he pulls back just before your lips meet.
“You’re still mad at me, aren’t you?” he teases with that familiar mischievous smirk.
You roll your eyes playfully but don’t hold back when you respond this time. You kiss him deeply, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“Does that answer your question?” you whisper, as you pull back just enough to look into his eyes, the moonlight catching the green in them.
Zoro’s grin widens, and you know, without a doubt, that everything is going to be alright. Even in the moments of silence, when words are hard to come by, you know you can always count on him.
── .✦ Vinsmoke Sanji:
The kitchen feels quieter now, the only sound being the gentle crackle of the stove and the rhythmic chopping of vegetables. You stand at the counter, your hands busy with the meal, but your mind is far from the task at hand. You feel a weight on your chest that you can’t quite shake off... guilt.
Sanji had left the kitchen earlier, giving you the space you had asked for, but the sadness in his eyes lingers in your thoughts. You didn’t mean to hurt him, but you’re not sure how to fix this.
You’ve always loved how Sanji dotes on you, how tender he is despite his usual flirtatious attitude, and yet, today, something in you snapped. The moment he had kissed you and you hadn’t kissed him back, the look on his face was more than you could handle. You could still feel the sting of his disappointment. It’s one thing to have an argument, to be upset about something that happened, but the thought that you could break his heart over something so small, something so trivial, makes you feel worse than ever.
Your knife clinks against the counter, the task you’re supposed to be focusing on now forgotten, your gaze drifting to the door.
Just as you’re about to give in and seek him out, you hear the faint sound of footsteps. You don’t need to look to know who it is. You can feel Sanji’s presence always manages to fill a room.
“Y/N?” His voice is soft, hesitant, and you can hear the uncertainty beneath it. You turn to face him, and there he is, leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. His usual confident, charming smile is nowhere to be seen. Instead, he looks… small. Vulnerable, even. It hurts more than you thought it would.
You can’t meet his eyes at first, your gaze flicking to the counter instead, your hands nervously adjusting the utensils “Sanji… I—” Your throat tightens, the apology catching in your voice.
He doesn’t move, not yet, waiting for you to gather your words. The silence stretches on, heavier than you want it to be, but eventually, Sanji steps forward. The faint sound of his shoes tapping against the wooden floor rings through your ears as he approaches. He doesn’t say anything at first, and for a moment, you think maybe he’ll just walk away again, leaving you both in that uncomfortable space.
But instead, he reaches out, gently cupping your face in his hands, and guides your eyes to meet his. His gaze is soft, but there’s something behind it, something that makes your heart ache.
“I hate seeing you like this,” he says quietly, his voice nearly a whisper “I don’t care if you’re angry or upset, but when you push me away like that, it makes me feel like I did something wrong.”
The words hit you harder than you expected. Your heart lurches in your chest as you realize just how deeply you’ve hurt him with your silence.
“Sanji…” you start, but your voice falters. What can you say to fix it? How do you explain that it wasn’t him, it was you? That you didn’t know how to communicate what was bothering you?
He pulls you into a tight embrace, his head resting against yours. You can feel the warmth of his chest against you, his breath soft and steady. You let yourself relax into him, for once letting go of the pride you’ve been holding onto so tightly. You know you’ve hurt him, and you can feel the guilt eating away at you.
“You don’t have to be sorry,” he murmurs, his hands soothingly running through your hair “I know you’re not always in the mood for affection, but I… I just wanted you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what.”
You close your eyes, taking a deep breath, and finally allow yourself to melt into his touch “I’m sorry, Sanji,” you whisper, your voice filled with regret “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. It’s not you, I was just… frustrated. But I should’ve never shut you out like that.”
His fingers stop moving through your hair, and you can feel his breath hitch as he pulls back slightly to look at you. For a moment, he just stares, and the warmth in his eyes makes your heart race. Then, without warning, his lips are on yours.
It’s a soft kiss at first, barely a brush of his lips against yours, as if he’s still unsure if you’re ready. But you don’t hesitate this time. You meet him halfway, kissing him back deeply, letting all the words you couldn’t say earlier pour into the kiss. You press closer to him, your hands finding their way around his neck, pulling him even closer as if you never want to let him go.
When you finally pull away, both of you are breathless, and there’s a quiet moment between you, the tension from earlier melting away.
“Are we good?” Sanji asks, his voice playful again, but there’s a hint of vulnerability behind it.
You smile, finally feeling the weight lift from your shoulders “Yeah, we’re good.” You reach up, running a hand through his messy blond hair, before pulling him into another kiss, this time, more tender, slower, filled with the understanding that had been missing before.
“I really don’t like it when you push me away” he mutters against your lips, his hands resting on your waist.
You laugh softly, your heart light “I’ll try not to, okay? No more pushing you away.” You pull him even closer, your arms winding around him “I promise.”
He grins, that familiar, charming grin, as he wraps his arms around you “You better, sweetheart. Because I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”
You lean against him, feeling his warmth envelop you, and for the first time today, you feel like everything is right again. You’re not alone in your frustration anymore, and you can lean on him when things feel too heavy. With Sanji, you know you’ll always have someone who understands, someone who’s ready to support you, even when you don’t ask for it.
As you sit there in his embrace, you let your worries melt away, knowing that, for once, you don’t have to fight this battle on your own.
── .✦ Trafalgar D. Law:
The Polar Tang is unusually quiet tonight. Most of the crew has turned in, the hum of the submarine filling the empty corridors. You sit on the deck, legs dangling over the side, watching the ocean stretch endlessly under the moonlight. The battle earlier had been rough, leaving you sore and exhausted, but the peaceful waves help settle your nerves.
A presence settles beside you, and you don’t need to look to know who it is.
“Can’t sleep either?” you ask, glancing at Law.
He’s watching the water, arms resting on his knees “You took a nasty hit today. Should be resting.”
You roll your eyes “I’m fine, doctor.”
He exhales sharply, but there’s no real annoyance in it. Instead, a silence lingers between you, different from your usual comfortable quiet. There’s something restrained in the way Law sits, the way his fingers tighten into fists before relaxing again.
Then, before you can process what’s happening, he shifts toward you, one hand reaching for your cheek as his lips press firmly against yours.
Your breath catches. Your mind blanks.
Law is kissing you.
The realization slams into you so hard that you freeze completely. He’s warm, his touch surprisingly careful despite the rough way he carries himself in battle. But you don’t move... you don’t kiss him back. Not because you don’t want to, but because you weren’t expecting this. At all.
A second passes. Then another.
Law pulls away first. His golden eyes flicker with something unreadable before he looks away, jaw tightening. He stands abruptly.
“Forget it,” he mutters “That was a mistake.”
“Wait—” you reach for him, but he’s already stepping back, his expression closing off into something distant and unreadable. The wall he puts up is so familiar it makes your chest ache.
You finally find your voice “Law, I—”
“Get some rest,” he interrupts, his tone sharp “That’s an order.”
And then he’s gone, disappearing into the submarine without another word.
You sit there, stunned, heart pounding.
You wanted to kiss him back. You wanted this.
But now, you might have just ruined everything.
In facts, after that Law starts avoiding you.
Not just the usual, brooding, keep-to-himself kind of avoiding you. No, this is different. This is intentional.
And it’s driving you insane.
Ever since that kiss, the kiss you wanted but had been too frozen to return, he’s been more distant than ever. He won’t meet your eyes, won’t acknowledge your presence unless absolutely necessary, and worst of all, you don’t understand if it him who refuses to be alone with you or just the crew having the worst timing.
Every time you try to talk to him, someone interrupts.
Attempt #1: You corner him in the medical bay, only for Shachi to barge in, whining about some nonexistent injury. Law doesn’t even look at you as he orders you both out.
Attempt #2: You catch him in the hallway, ready to finally get this over with, but Penguin suddenly appears, asking something about the ship’s course. Law walks away before you can say a word.
Attempt #3: The mess hall. Surely, he can’t avoid you here. You sit beside him, he gets up immediately.
At this point, the crew notices.
“Did you piss off the captain or something?” Bepo asks, tilting his head.
You groan, slamming your head against the table “I don’t know! He won’t talk to me.”
“You must’ve done something,” Shachi teases “What, did you steal his seat or—”
Penguin smacks his arm “No, idiot. Captain’s never been like this before. Not even when we wrecked his lab.”
Bepo frowns “Something’s bothering him.”
Yeah, no kidding... it’s all your fault.
You catch glimpses of Law throughout the day, on the deck, in the control room, talking with the crew. But the moment he sees you? He leaves.
It’s killing you.
He thinks you regret it.
He thinks you didn’t want it.
And if you don’t fix this soon, he’s never going to let you get close again.
The frustration boils over during dinner.
You’re exhausted, running on fumes after chasing Law all day. The crew is loud, laughing over some dumb joke, but all you can focus on is him.
Sitting across from you. Silent. Eating his food without looking up.
You can’t take it anymore.
You slam your hands on the table, making everyone jump.
“LAW.”
Silence.
All eyes turn to you.
Your captain finally looks at you, startled.
“First you kiss me.” You point an accusing finger at him “And then you avoid me like the plague, without even give me the chance to explain myself!”
Shachi chokes on his drink.
Penguin’s mouth drops open.
Bepo’s ears twitch in alarm.
Law stiffens. His fork stops midair “This is not—”
“No, shut up,” you cut him off, standing so fast your chair nearly topples over “I need to say this before you run away again.”
The crew is watching.
You don’t care.
“You kissed me, and I—” Your voice cracks. Your face feels like it’s on fire “I didn’t kiss you back, but not because I didn’t want to! I was just—shocked! I like you, okay?! I wanted to kiss you back, but my brain just—short-circuited!”
Dead. Silence.
Shachi drops his spoon.
Bepo covers his mouth with his paws.
Penguin is slowly turning to look at Law, whose ears are red.
Your captain looks like he’s about to die.
You inhale sharply “So if you’re avoiding me because you think I hate you or something—stop.”
Law does not move.
The entire crew waits.
Then, he clears his throat, stands up, and grabs your wrist.
“Room.”
And just like that, you vanish from the mess hall and land in his office with a thud.
Law lets go of you immediately and rubs his face, exhaling sharply “You’re unbelievable.”
“You’re the one who’s been acting like I have the plague,” you fire back, crossing your arms “Do you know how hard it’s been to get you alone?”
He groans “I thought you...” He pauses. Runs a hand through his hair “I thought you regretted it.”
You blink.
“…You idiot.”
He glares “Excuse me—”
You grab his coat and yank him down into a kiss.
Law freezes. This time, he’s the one caught off guard.
But when you pull away, his golden eyes are wide, breath slightly uneven.
You smirk “That clear enough for you?”
A beat of silence.
Then he grabs you by the waist and kisses you again.
And this time, you kiss him back.
── .✦ Portgas D. Ace:
The Moby Dick feels warmer than usual tonight, the air carrying that familiar salty breeze that ruffles your hair. You’re sitting on the figurehead, just like you always do after a long day. The crew has mostly turned in, and Ace, as always, is lounging nearby, throwing out his usual teasing comments that always manage to make you roll your eyes.
Tonight, though? He’s extra insufferable.
“Don’t you think I look particularly good tonight?” Ace smirks, his head tilted back, his hair catching the moonlight.
You narrow your eyes “Yeah, Ace, you look like a sunburned tomato.”
He bursts out laughing, clearly enjoying the attention “Ha! You know you want me.”
“Oh, really?” You scoff, not missing a beat “You couldn’t pay me to want you.”
He shrugs, still grinning like a maniac “Sure, but that’s just your deflection because you’re intimidated by my obvious charm.”
Your eyebrow twitches “I’m pretty sure you’re confusing arrogance with charm, Ace.”
“Of course I’m charming. Just ask me—”
Before he can finish, you interrupt him “Yeah, well, don’t ask me. I’m not interested.”
But as he keeps running his mouth, you realize something. Ace is having way too much fun with this. He’s been teasing you non-stop for days about how “obviously into him” you are, and it’s driving you nuts. He knows you like him. He knows you’ve been trying to keep your cool, but his teasing is getting out of hand.
“Would you stop talking about how irresistible you are? I’m literally going to—”
Before you can finish your sentence, Ace leans in and kisses you.
It happens so fast you don’t even process it at first.
One second, you and Ace are bickering, his usual cocky teasing, your usual mock exasperation... and then bam. Lips. On yours.
Portgas D. Ace is kissing you.
It’s not even a gentle, romantic kiss. It’s an overconfident, smug, I-know-you-want-me kind of kiss. The kind of kiss that assumes you’re going to melt immediately.
But instead of kissing him back, your brain short-circuits, and you freeze.
Ace pulls away, already grinning “Heh. Bet you weren’t expecting that, huh?”
You blink again.
Ace smirks, looking so insufferably proud of himself “Damn, I really am irresistible.”
And something inside you just snaps.
You tilt your head, look him straight in the eyes, and say “…Meh.”
Ace stares.
The entire universe pauses.
“…Meh?” Ace echoes, as if he misheard you.
You shrug “Yeah. Meh.”
Ace blinks rapidly, like his brain is buffering “Wait. Hold on. No, no, no, you don’t get it. I just kissed you.”
“I know.”
“And you—” He gestures wildly at you “Didn’t do anything??”
“Guess not.”
Ace’s jaw drops. He looks personally offended.
“Hold on,” he says, pointing a very accusatory finger at you “Let me get this straight. You... just sat there and let me kiss you like I was some kind of—some kind of—unremarkable man?”
You nod “Pretty much.”
Ace clutches his chest like he’s just been stabbed “Oh my GOD.”
The crew, who had been watching very intently, erupts into chaos.
“YO WHAT?”
“DID Y/N JUST—”
“THEY ‘MEH’-ED HIM???”
“THERE’S NO COMING BACK FROM THAT, MAN.”
Ace spins dramatically away from you, gripping the side of the ship like he’s having an existential crisis.
Marco slaps a hand over his mouth, cackling “Damn, Ace, I ain’t never seen you take an L like that.”
Thatch is wheezing “You got ‘meh’-ed, dude. That’s worse than rejection.”
“I KNOW.” Ace yells, throwing his arms in the air. He turns back to you, looking utterly betrayed “How could you do this to me?”
You shrug again “Guess I’m just not that impressed.”
Ace gasps. Actually gasps. Like you just kicked him in the soul.
“This is the worst day of my life” he declares. Then he marches off.
You watch him go, amused “Where are you even going?”
“I DUNNO, SOMEWHERE I’M APPRECIATED.”
From that moment on, Ace enters what can only be described as a petty, over-the-top crisis. Because in his mind, this is unheard of.
He is Portgas D. Ace. He’s a walking inferno, second division commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, effortlessly cool and charming. He has never, in his entire life, had someone just shrug off his kiss.
And he does not know how to handle it.
Thus begins The Avoidance Arc.
Ace is avoiding you because he’s lowkey heartbroken and incredibly dramatic about it.
He doesn’t even try to be subtle. He goes out of his way to avoid being anywhere near you.
Like, you’ll step onto the deck and Ace immediately turns 180 degrees and starts walking in the opposite direction.
You say one word to him, and he immediately yells, “OH WOW, LOOK AT THE TIME, GOTTA GO.”
You catch him in the hallway? He jumps overboard.
Marco watches all of this unfold with deep amusement “Wow. You really broke him.”
You roll your eyes “I didn’t break him. He’s being dramatic.”
“He’s been in the crow’s nest for six hours.”
“…Okay, maybe a little.”
Eventually, you get tired of this nonsense.
So, while the crew is gathered on the deck, you decide enough is enough.
You climb onto the railing of the ship and shout, loudly enough for Ace to hear from wherever he’s sulking—
“HEY EVERYONE! I THINK PORTGAS D. ACE IS A COWARD!”
There is instant silence.
Everyone slowly turns to look at you.
Then—BOOM. A door slams open somewhere, and Ace comes flying onto the deck like an angry storm “WHO SAID THAT.”
You smirk “Oh, hey, Ace. Nice of you to join us.”
He points at you, eyes narrowed “You wanna say that again?”
“I said,” you repeat, loud and clear, “you’re a coward.”
The crew is hyped.
“Ohhhhhhh shiiiiiit.”
“Y/N called you out, bro.”
“Ace, you gonna let that slide??”
Ace crosses his arms “I am not a coward.”
“Oh, really?” You tilt your head “Then why have you been avoiding me?”
Ace falters “That’s—that’s not—”
You step closer “Admit it. You’re mad because I didn’t kiss you back.”
The crew is on the edge of their seats.
Ace shifts uncomfortably “I’m not mad. I’m just… extremely, deeply wounded.”
You burst out laughing “Oh my god, you’re actually sulking.”
“I AM NOT SULKING.”
Marco sighs, shaking his head “Ace, just admit it. You wanted y/n to be all over you, and when they wasn’t, you got all weird about it.”
Ace groans, covering his face “Fine, yes, okay?! It bruised my damn ego! Happy?”
You grin “Very.”
Ace mutters something about how “this is the worst day of his life” and the crew howls with laughter.
Then, before he can complain further you grab his collar and kiss him, right then and there.
The crew loses their minds.
Ace freezes. Then, slowly, his brain catches up, and when you pull away, he just stares.
“…Oh.”
You smirk “Yeah. Oh.”
Then Ace grins, all cocky confidence again “So, uh. I win, right?”
You punch him in the arm.
nobody say a fucking word about tumblr we can’t remind these billionaires we exist
I'm curious. Reblog this if you know how to cook
I don’t even care if it’s macaroni, ramen or those little bowls you stick in the microwave. Please, I need reassurance that most of the population on tumblr WOULDN’T STARVE TO DEATH if their parents couldn’t fix them food or they couldn’t go out to eat.
people who don't experience hyperfixation don't know what it feels like to hyperfixate so much on something that it becomes not only your subject of obsession but also your source of happiness and literally the main reason why you still keep going; literal source of strength and life.
shoutout to my favorite fictional characters, favorite people, favorite ships, favorite movies, favorite tv shows, fanfics and archive of our own
I've got a lot of respect for smut writers. you write something incredibly sexual, it's probably somewhat of a look into your own soul, and then bitches are too scared to leave kudos of comments half the time, so it looks as though everyone hates your work. And yet yall still do it, and I love that
"I know adverbs are controversial, but "said softly" means something different than 'whispered' and this is the hill I will die on."
ONE PIECE FANFICS I'D RECOMMEND
DONQUIXOTE ROSINANTE / CORAZON
general and specific headcanons ⸻ @zorosangell
greedy (18+) ⸻ @sunshinescribes
i like matching (18+) ⸻ @fanaticsnail
tomorrow ⸻ @sunshinescribes
MONKEY D. LUFFY (NO NSFW FOR HIM)
as happy as a cat in the sun ⸻ @gingernut1314
fell first, fell harder ⸻ @gingernut1314
just trying to sleep ⸻ @gingernut1314
PORTGAS D. ACE
dress up ⸻ @dollcher
NAMI
kiss her you fool ⸻ @mydearlybeloathed
truth or dare? ⸻ @gingernut1314
RORONOA ZORO
beautiful things part 1 + part 2 ⸻ @sanjisleggy
i'm your conscience, i am love ⸻ @softlypaintedseafoam
it's cold ⸻ @gingernut1314
just breathe (18+) ⸻ @imsryyimlate
three words part 1 + part 2 ⸻ @escenariosinfumables
to be vigilant ⸻ @fanzou
we don't talk about it (18+) ⸻ @korebringerofded
SHANKS
can't leave just yet, sweetheart ⸻ @atsumutu
not like you ⸻ @yoomiwrites
TRAFALGAR D. WATER LAW
birthday boy ⸻ @sunshinescribes
morning cuddles ⸻ @mewnewew
a new horizon ⸻ @stararonia
not cute ⸻ @yoomiwrites
VINSMOKE SANJI
spoil me! (18+) ⸻ @fanzou
warning! this story does mention/includes about a manipulative relationship. do not read if it makes you uncomfortable! your mental health matters :)
MULTIPLE CHARACTERS
(accidental) pda ⸻ @inseobts
characters: roronoa zoro, vinsmoke sanji, trafalgar d. water law, portgas d. ace, and eustass kid
big, fat, crush ⸻ @fanzou
characters: roronoa zoro, trafalgar law, and vinsmoke sanji
skin to skin part 1 + part 2 ⸻ @traflawgar
characters: (part 1) trafalgar d. water law and roronoa zoro. (part 2) monkey d. luffy and vinsmoke sanji
sleeping separately after an argument part 1 + part 2 ⸻ @st4rpiece
characters: (part 1) monkey d. luffy, roronoa zoro, usopp, and vinsmoke sanji. (part 2) dracule mihawk, sir crocodile, and buggy the clown
walking in on you ⸻ @kleftiko
characters: roronoa zoro and trafalgar d. water law
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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