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[dfortrafalgar]

slowly planning a part 2 for the disaster date law request <3 for those who have asked, you’ll be tagged in it! i’m plucking through the requests that i have in my inbox first, so it’ll be a little while, but hopefully it will be worth the wait! 🩷🩷🩷

[dfortrafalgar]

Hiii! I'm so happy you are taking requests! I love the way you write, everything feels so real! I'm loving ILY and it's a bittersweet feeling now that it is ending (I'm the anon that commented early on saying that it was so relatable because I also had a miscarriage at 6 weeks). Thank you for that fic 🥰🤗

Now, my requests, if you choose to take it! I would love a jealous/protective Law X fem reader. I was thinking, no established relationship but some flirting going on, perhaps. Could be SFW or NSFW, it's up to you! I would just really loooooove some protective Law! I'm also obsessed with his hands so you can do whatever with that 😂

Did I mention that I love your writting? I did? I'll do it again. Thank you for sharing your gift! ❤️

I'm in annon but you can call me R.J. 😋😎

AAA HELLO R.J im so happy to hear from you again!!!!! no lie ive been thinking about you every day, your first message during my story was so amazingly sweet and touching and i havent been able to stop thinking about it, im so happy that you loved the end of the fic and to hear that you're doing well!!! <333

i ended up projecting a bit in this fic... and it ended up being a bit more Protective Law rather than Jealous Law, but i hope you like it all the same! i also juggled on nsfw, but decided that sfw worked better for this specific plot, so i hope that's alright!!!

thank you so much for requesting!!!! 💗❤️💓💕

Decontaminate the Heart

Law x Fem Reader

Your feelings toward Law had gone from a reasonable level of respect to a deep infatuation that you were readily keeping hidden. An unfortunate encounter with a predatory shopkeep might be what unravels your feelings... and the feelings of your captain.

Warnings: some descriptions of gross behavior from a stranger, light fluff, pre-relationship vibes, protective law but also struggling-to-accept-his-feelings awkward law

Law wasn’t fond of the word ‘jealous.’  After all, he was a seasoned veteran in the long game of Keeping All Human Emotions Bottled Up Inside So That You Don’t Show Weakness To Those Who Might Be Out To Hurt You.  He had become a pro at it, too.  After all, putting a word to an undefined emotion only validated that feeling, which was exactly the opposite of what Law needed.  Mouth constantly downturned in a pensive frown, steely, cold eyes shutting down all encounters with those he deemed unfamiliar or even the slightest bit threatening, holding even his closest friends at arm’s length on good days.  If he wasn’t the strong-willed, feared captain of the Heart Pirates, a man with a three billion beri bounty on his head, then who was he?

The answer is: a loser.  He was a loser.  Especially after he brought you on board his crew as a boatswain.  That day, he unwillingly began the downward spiral that would transform into his emotional demise.  A psychic catastrophe.  An inner turmoil of the highest degree.

Ikkaku called it infatuation.  Bepo called it love.  The rest of his raunchy, stifled male crew called it being horny.

Whatever it was, it had Law in a steel trap, never letting go.

And on a particularly warm, sunny day, docked cliffside on an island with idyllic spring weather, his steel trap was donned in a flowy sundress that complimented her entire outward appearance in a way he didn’t think was humanly possible.  When she first greeted Law before they departed the Polar Tang, she had bent down slightly, holding her hands together in front of her and pushing her biceps together just enough that her cleavage was on center stage for just a brief moment.  She had giggled at the way Law’s face flushed with a crimson hue.  Unprovoked… but not necessarily unappreciated.

Days for leisure were hard to come by as a pirate, so the crew was sure to take full advantage of the opportunities that crossed your path.  The pirates were given the freedom to roam to their heart’s content, so long as they didn’t cause trouble.  “Stress-free activities are crucial to maintaining good cardiac health,” Law would say.  But everyone knew he enjoyed some sparring days off just as much as any average bloke.

Especially when those days off were spent in your company.

“Thank you for coming with me, Captain!” you quipped, your voice cheerful as you walked beside him, a small paper bag clutched in your hand, containing a small product you had just purchased from one of the local shops.  The entire crew had shed their usual boiler suits for the day in exchange for more casual attire, you taking the opportunity to don the sundress that you had purchased a few months ago with Ikkaku.  “I’m always happy when you take days off to get out of that stuffy office of your’s.”

Law fought tooth and nail to keep the pleased smirk that twitched his lips from showing on his face.  He already needed to duel with his wandering eyes which kept itching to gaze at the way your breasts fit into the bodice of your light, flowy gown.  “Of course, it’s nice to get out sometimes.”  ‘With you,’ he added in his head before quickly balling up the thought into a crumpled mess and chucking it into a garbage pail.  The worst part about all of this, unrelated to walking side-by-side with you (which was the complete opposite of a bad thing), was the fact that he was pressured to leave Kikoku behind on the Polar Tang.  He felt naked without his sword perched on his right shoulder.

Your eyes were eagerly glancing between the storefronts that surrounded you on both sides, happy townspeople window shopping with their families and loved ones, partaking in the outdoor food markets, and spending quality time in the sun.  The domestic bliss of days like this always made your soul feel lighter, your footsteps almost floating off the ground.  A few couples passed by, their hands intertwined and souls combining with bliss, a sight that made Law’s own fingers twitch with the deep-seeded need to grasp your hand.  Every once in a while, your own fingers would tingle with the desire to reach out for him as well.

He wouldn’t hold your hand because of affection, Law told himself.  It was just to make sure other people knew you were off limits.

Was that because of affection?  Was he even entitled to such a thought?  

He stifled a frustrated groan.  “Are you looking for something?” he asked curiously, picking up on the way your gleaming eyes darted to and fro.

“There was a shop I read about in the latest paper that I could have sworn was on this island…” you muttered, bringing your free hand up to nervously stroke the skin of your cheek.  After a few more moments, your face lit up as your eyes landed on a shop tucked away between two larger markets, almost completely hidden from public view.  “Found it!”

Law’s heart almost leapt out of his throat when you subconsciously snatched his hand, yanking him out of the flow of people on the street and towards the storefront.  His stern golden eyes flashed up towards the sign above the front door.

‘WILD BILL’S PAWN SHOP’

“You read about this somewhere?” he asked, his voice revealing a level of skepticism as you stopped in front of the front door.  A dingy, beat-up ‘OPEN’ sign carved into a plank of birch wood and hanging from a rusty chain was flipped outward toward the street, beckoning townsfolk inside to peruse whatever wares were contained within the unassuming wooden shack.

You excitedly nodded.  “Yup, I was looking for places that might sell rare coins.”

Law’s breath caught in his throat.  “But you don’t collect coins.”

“I was looking for you!” you called out, flashing him a smile that could have easily put him in an early grave.  So much for being conscious of his heart health.  With the way his organ was hammering behind his sternum, he had half a mind to be worried about spontaneous cardiac arrest.

Instead of responding, all he could muster was a quiet, pensive, “Hmm.”

You finally released his hand (his palm felt so cold now), and pushed open the thin wooden door to enter the shop.  An obnoxious, ear-piercing bell chimed above the hinges, alerting any other shoppers or employees of your entrance.  Law always hated gimmicks like that, they were a pirate’s worst nightmare.  Instantly, the smell of centuries old dust and mildew flooded Law’s nose, making him suppress a sneeze into the collar of his shirt.  He was about to make a snide remark about being susceptible to allergens, but kept his lips sealed when an amused giggle emitted from your lips at the way his face contorted with mild disgust.

He blindly followed you to the back of the store, past dusty shelves containing books from all walks of life, old technology that Law had never even seen before, and antiques from across the globe.  Your expression remained one of wonder as you passed by each new item, gazing fondly at some of the more sentimental goods- boxes of old postcards, old newspapers from decades prior, wanted posters for pirates long deceased.  For such a ratty-looking establishment, the variety of wares this ‘Wild Bill’ had on hand was quite impressive.  In the very back of the store, a long glass case spanning almost the entire length of the wall was situated, separating a back room from the rest of the establishment.  There was a small space to walk around behind the case in between the wall, where small sliding doors were built in to allow someone to remove the wares kept safe inside.

Law’s eyes finally lit up in wonder.

A plethora of fine metalwork was kept in the special enclosure, jewelry with the finest minerals and perfectly sculpted details in precious velvet boxes, metal treasures surely passed down through generations of wealth, and in the nearest corner, an assortment of collectable, commemorative coins from across the world.  You smiled to yourself as Law drifted toward the coins, crouching down on his calves to more closely inspect what the shop had to offer.

He was so adorable.

“Can I help you folks with anything?” a voice from behind you asked, startling you from your affectionate daze.

A larger, older man emerged from behind one of the tall bookshelves, his hands in his pockets.  He was dressed surprisingly gaudy, a bright purple overcoat that traveled past his rump covering a sky-blue button-up shirt and a polka dot bowtie.  His belly was quite large, a curled handlebar mustache perched atop his upper lip.  He looked wildly out of place in such a modest, dusty shop.  Must be Wild Bill.

You flashed a cordial smile.  “Just looking around!”

The sound of your talking alerted Law, who stayed crouched in front of the coin collection but tossed accusatory glares over his shoulder, assessing the man’s interactions with you under an analytical gaze.  Out of instinct, as a pirate.  As a captain.  Nothing more… probably.

“Well, let me know if you need help finding anything!” the man hollered, his receding hairline making the dim light of the nearby lamps reflect off his oily skin.  He stepped behind the glass containers with a small huff and disappeared into the back room, a curtain swooping closed behind him.

With the outrageous stranger gone, Law resumed looking over the fine details of each coin housed within their own individual boxes, while you approached the other end of the glass case and examined the jewelry.

Your eyes darted excitedly between pieces.  Delicate rings with rare gemstones sat perfectly in their boxes, some dated as old as centuries ago.  A bracelet that was assembled with the finest minerals, gleaming brightly through the dim atmosphere of the shop.  As your eyes continued to dart from one object to the next, you finally found yourself entranced by one thing in particular.  It was a necklace, more of a choker than a longer-hanging piece, with a small purple amethyst mounted elegantly in the center of a silver pendant.  The complimentary silver chain seemed to be fairly heavy duty just as it was delicate enough to still be an elegant accessory.  You felt a smile pull at your lips.  You doubted you had enough beri to afford it, but you’d be damned if you couldn’t at least try it on.

Wild Bill once again appeared from behind the curtain after a few moments, placing a few items on top of the counter to be placed inside the glass enclosure.  Law watched as the old man’s gaze turned to you as you bent over, tucking your dress behind your knees to crouch down and get a closer look at the amethyst necklace.

“Anything caught your eye, missy?” Bill asked, his voice far too loud for such a small shop as he leaned over the top of the counter and gazed through the transparent surface at the pieces you were admiring.  A seemingly friendly smile adorned his pudgy face.

You enthusiastically nodded.  “Yes, actually, can I try on this necklace?”  Your finger pointed through the protective barrier toward your interest.  “The one with the small amethyst pendant.”

Law kept watching your interaction out of the corner of his eye.

“Of course, of course!” boomed Bill, bending over and sliding the door of the case open to remove the necklace, holding it by the chain in his large, burly hand.  

Without being asked, he stepped out from behind the counter and approached you from behind, unclasping the chain and looping it around your neck.  Law watched, his leg muscles tensing as you visibly stiffened at the proximity of the man as he clasped the chain together around your neck.  He pulled over a small standing mirror to have you admire the piece that sat elegantly between your collarbones.  Your fingers ghosted over the gemstone embedded in the fine silver, a small smile ghosting over your lips.

“It looks absolutely beautiful,” you whispered.

Bill stepped closer, almost pinning you from behind against the counter.  His large hands rested against the glass case, caging you in.  “It does… fitting for a beautiful woman such as yourself.”

The air went ice cold as Law watched the man’s hand wander upward, trailing across your forearm and up toward your bicep, across your shoulder and to your neck.  Your face had quickly contorted into an expression of terror, having been caged against the counter all of a sudden against your will, being caressed by this stranger.  Law felt frozen.  His brain was screaming at him to move, to do something, to get you out of this shop as soon as possible.  But he couldn’t move.  Why couldn’t he move?

“I’m sorry, I think I’m going to pass, actually,” you uttered, trying to push yourself away from him.  Your voice had quickly grown shaky, apprehensive.

“No, no, it really does suit you!” Bill murmured, his head angling downward, predatory eyes gazing over the soft skin of your neck.  The way he kept you pinned against the counter prevented you from moving away from him.  His belly was almost pushed flush against your back, making your hands tremble in fear.

“ROOM.”

A flash of blue light engulfed the surrounding area.  You immediately breathed a sigh of mild relief.  A static sensation permeated the space around you, making goosebumps rise across your skin and the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.  Just as soon as the bubble surrounded you, the predatory man was replaced with your captain standing protectively behind you, his lean hand on your shoulder to keep you steady.

Now he’d done it.

“You’re…” Bill stammered, his own hands shaking with realization.  “I’ve seen that ability, you’re… you’re…!”

Law didn’t give him time to fully realize who’s identity he was dealing with before his hand was in yours, forcefully dragging you out of the shop, harshly pushing between narrow shelves of delicate antiques until the two of you burst back out into the sunlight.  Law didn’t let up his pace, your feet barely keeping you steady as you ran.  Onlookers stepped back, shocked gasps and wide eyes following the two of you in your mad scramble back to the cliff where the submarine was kept concealed.  He just needed to get you some place secure.  Somewhere where you could wash away the phantom grime of the hands that had just touched you.

What a bad day to leave his sword behind.

The two of you had just barely made it past the outskirts of the port town when you tripped, slamming into Law’s backside and falling to your knees with a pained grunt.  The shoes you were wearing definitely weren’t built for mad sprints through a town.

“Shit…” Law grumbled, crouching down in front of you.  “Are you alright?”

Your hands were still shaking, anxiously palming the dirt and grass beneath your fingers as your lungs heaved, desperate to catch up on the oxygen you lost in your frantic sprint.  Small tears brimmed in the corners of your eyes, but you were quick to blink them away.  Your heart was pounding madly in your chest, your brain a fuzzy mess of scrambled, panicked thoughts that couldn’t make sense in any order.  Law was so close to you, so close you could almost smell the mild soap he used in the shower.  Something woody.  Mellow.  So very him.  You wanted to hug him.  The stress of the sudden incident was rapidly catching up to you.

Instead, the only thing you managed to do was blurt out an awkward, weary, “Thank you.”

Law wordlessly helped you to your feet, walking you back to the Polar Tang.  His mouth was drawn in that pensive line once more.

—

It took a few hours for you to register the fact that you had sprinted out of the pawn shop with the necklace still clasped around your neck.  When you took it off, you held it gently in your hands, gazing at the way the brilliant purple gem was nestled perfectly in the metal sculpted around it.  But the fingerprints around the chain from the predatory man who groped you left a phantom burning pain on your skin.  You still loved the piece, you truly did, and you wished you could wear it, but you felt violated.  There was no denying it.

You needed to scrub it clean.  You needed to scrub your own body clean, it seemed.

Law was in the medical bay when you carefully knocked on the door, hoping that no one was in there with him.  The tired sounding, ‘Come in,’ granted you permission to gently push the heavy hatch door open, stepping into the dim lighting and closing the entrance behind you.

Your captain was in the midst of re-organizing the entire medicine cabinet, floor to ceiling.  He did it when he was stressed.

“Yeah?” was all he asked when you entered, barely looking away from his obsessive work while you stood awkwardly in the doorway, holding your necklace in your cupped hands like it was a suspicious specimen to be brought to a lab.

“I know this is a weird request, but can you disinfect this?” you asked.

You held up the necklace by the very end of the chain, dangling it in the air away from you.  Law finally turned his attention toward you, an eyebrow raised.

“Why?”  He sounded genuinely oblivious to why you would ask for such a favor.

You rocked back and forth on your heels.  “It still feels like it has the fingerprints of that guy.  From the shop,” you clarified.  When you said it out loud, you grimaced at how childish you sounded, but at the same time, you felt your concerns, your insecurities over what had transpired, were justified.

You were violated.  Case closed.

It seemed Law picked up on that as well.  As much as he struggled to put himself in other peoples’ shoes, he could see the anxious look in your eyes that told him everything he needed to know- you wanted to wash away all traces of the man who burst your personal bubble in one of the worst ways imaginable.

Law felt a searing jealousy in his chest, the sudden reminder of the way your face contorted in utter horror as you were touched.

Your captain wordlessly stepped forward and gently took the chain from your fingers.  You watched him silently as he stepped back toward the counter, rummaging through the supplies he had laid out mid-organizing before procuring an opaque bottle of rubbing alcohol and filling a small container about halfway with the solution before submerging your necklace inside.  He capped the bottle and placed it back where he found it, amongst his other disinfectant chemicals.

“We’ll let that sit for a few minutes,” he suggested.  “In the meantime, I have these wet napkins you can use to clean your neck, if you want.”

He took the words right out of your head, as if he could read your mind.  You gratefully accepted the small container of alcohol wipes, starting with your neck and rubbing the cold solution down your collarbones, chest, and arms.  You didn’t care if it would dry out your skin later, the feeling of wiping away that man’s fingerprints in some capacity was more freeing than anything else in the world.

Law simply watched, glancing away from you every once in a while when you turned at an angle that would let you see him staring wanton daggers in your direction.  He shouldn’t be watching you scrub yourself down while fully clothed, if anything that could also be a violation of your unspoken privacy.

After what felt like hours, you finally disposed of the wipes in the nearby waste receptacle while Law fished out your necklace with a gloved hand, placing it on a dry cloth and carefully removing all the liquid from the surface of the metal.

He started speaking without thinking.  “Silver and amethyst are sturdy materials that can be placed in rubbing alcohol for disinfecting,” he stated.  “If this was some other weaker gem, like an emerald, it wouldn’t be so easy.”

You grinned, stepping closer as he polished the chain.  His hand that wasn’t gloved carefully moved along the cloth, outlining the shape of the necklace folded under it in precise, delicate motions.

Goodness, you loved his hands.

“So you’re as good with rocks and minerals as you are with health science?” you asked, a small, playful smirk on your lips.

Law’s own mouth twitched upward.  “I suppose so.”  He gently unfolded the cloth and removed the necklace.  “There, all clean.”

You grinned appreciatively, turning around and brushing away any obstacles in the way of your neck.

He stared at you from behind your back.  “... What are you doing?” he asked dumbly.

You tossed a glance over your shoulder.  “Waiting for you to put it on.”

Law chewed on the inside of his cheek.  “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you confirmed.  “I trust you.”

What you didn’t say was just how much you trusted him.  You would willingly lay down your life for your captain, the love for him, both as a person and as a pirate, greatly surpassing that of a captain and his subordinate.  Sometimes, well, most of the time, you desperately hoped that he felt the same way.

After understanding your request, Law stepped toward you slightly, one hand still gloved as he looped the necklace around the front of your neck, bringing both ends of the chain around the back to clasp at the base of your spine.  His deft, inked fingers left scorching hot trails in their wake, your skin craving his touch.  The complete opposite of your counter in the pawn shop.

Once secured, you turned around to face him, a pleased smile on your face as your fingers once again ghosted over the delicate, purple mineral embedded into the pendant.  “How does it look?”

Law prayed that the blush on his cheeks wasn’t noticeable through the dim lighting on the medical bay.  He would put necklaces on your soft skin every day if you’d let him.

Oh, how he wished you’d let him.

“It looks great…” he mumbled, his voice soft and apprehensive.  “It suits you.”

His voice, the anxious tilt of his eyebrows, spoke volumes to you as your smile grew wider.  “Hey, Law?”

He turned his attention back to you, his lips pressed firmly together.

“Thank you for protecting me back there,” you sighed.  Your voice had gone quiet, but the look on your face was indebted.

“Of course,” he whispered back.  His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, his brain clearly struggling to say the words he so desperately wanted to say.

The sight had you suppressing a giggle as you stepped forward, fighting back your reservations as you wrapped your arms around his torso in a hug, dropping your head into the crook of his shoulder and inhaling that scent that was oh-so familiar to you.  Disinfectant and oil, so clearly from living life on the Polar Tang, but also so distinctly him.

You loved it.

You were starting to come to the conclusion that you really loved him.

And with the way Law’s arms slowly wrapped around your own body, the hands you loved so much resting between your shoulder blades and the lowest point of your back, you started to wonder if he secretly, deep down in that weary heart of his, felt the same way about you.

[dfortrafalgar]

would you be interested in a more Platonic type fic? Like being good friends with Robin?

alternatively if it has to be romantic: Law being forced on a disaster of a date only to meet a super helpful (comic) bookshop employee and she starts seeming cute when he finds out she has similar interests? (Boy probably went into cardiac arrest at first when someone caught him not being broody)

hope this isn’t too much!

and you’re doing awesome!

thank you so much for your request, anon!!!! im actually going to use both of your ideas, but i started with the Law one because that hit seriously close to home. ive been on some absolute TRAVESTIES of dates in the past, and i needed to write law suffering through a similar fate or i'd die!!!!! I hope you enjoy, and pretty soon I'll post your platonic Robin request as well! I love writing platonic stories just as much as romantic ones <3

An Out.

Law x Fem Reader

Law made the mistake of letting his friends talk him into a first date… and now he desperately needs an out. Fast.

Warnings: an absolute disaster of a first date for our wonderful nerdy man. modern au, implied college setting, some mild slight suggestive language but nothing more than that

Trafalgar Law tried in vain to recount the series of events that led up to this very moment.

There was the dusty apartment floor discussion about how the med-student hadn’t gotten laid yet, which was followed by a raunchy comment about a girl in someone’s class, it was revealed that this girl was single (‘and ready to mingle’), and her number was forcibly input into Law’s phone.

For the week that followed, he was inundated with flirty texts from this girl he had never met in person.  He was forced to send her a picture of himself, mostly to get her to stop blowing up his texts every hour, and that was the next mistake in the line-up of unfortunate events.

Turned out she had a thing for facial hair.

Then, instead of getting pestered with general flirty messages, it was general flirty messages that were ramped up to a nine.  ‘I’d rip your clothes off if you give me the opportunity,’ kind of nine.

Law knew he was a virgin, but at least he wasn’t this desperate, nor did he have any inclination to be.  If anything, the texts he received from this stranger were making him want sex even less.

And yet… he was still pushed into this.

A date around downtown with this girl.  She clung to his arm, tried to loop her fingers into his, and yet had absolutely no interest in anything he had to say.  At all.

First red flag: she mentioned her ex.  Three times.  In four minutes.  Everything was about what he did wrong to upset her, no self-awareness to be found.  Second red flag: the clinginess.  Law hated public affection, but any attempts to urge her to give him space resulted in a childish pout and her arms caged around his, almost pulling him to the ground.  Third red flag: she couldn’t give two shits about Law, in any sense of the word.  She wouldn’t stop talking about herself.  Her looks, her clothes, her favorite music, her favorite shows to binge watch, her distaste for the area of the city they were in, her distaste for the lunch Law had [regretfully] paid for, her distaste for the speckled jeans he decided to wear…

He could feel the premature wrinkles forming in between his eyebrows the longer the date went on.  He was starting to wonder if he’d have to throw out the shirt he was wearing later.  It already reeked of the too-strong, powdery-scented perfume she bathed herself in.

“Where do you wanna go?” she suddenly asked, still tugging on his arm.

“I kinda want to stop by the bookstore before we leave,” he suggested, his feet already carrying him, and by extension, her, along the sidewalk to a small bookshop that had just recently opened.

“The bookstore?  What kinda guy brings a girl to a bookstore on a first date?!” she demanded, showing off yet another childish pout.  It wasn’t a good look on her.

‘A guy who knows this girl’s not getting a second date,’ he wished he could say.  Instead, all the snarky remarks stayed locked inside his weary brain, bouncing around like a caged lion desperate to escape.

The girl didn’t make any motions to ditch him to his nerdy reprieve, and instead followed on his heels as he pulled open the bookshop’s door, the familiar, calming scent of new books, fresh paper, and ink filling his nose.

“It smells gross in here,” the girl huffed.

Aaaand there went Law’s fleeting moment of peace.  Out the window.  Down fifteen stories and splattered on the pavement.  He needed to violently restrain the eyeroll that begged to appear.  His ocular nerves ached to be a dick in the pettiest way possible.  He inwardly hoped that by dragging this girl to the most unassuming bookshop would encourage her to leave, call a friend or get a cab to take her back to her home, but alas, she stayed glued to Law’s side like a lost dog.

She followed behind him as he blindly perused shelves of new and pre-owned books, Law’s feet subconsciously guiding him to the back of the store where he knew the comic books would be located.

If anything would turn this girl off for good, it had to be his love for all things superhero.  His comic book collection would dry her up like a dessert in a drought.  Or at least, it fucking better.

His eyes lit up as he approached the expansive comic shelf, immediately spotting the latest print of Sora: Warrior of the Sea- Volume 10.  It had finally been officially localized, and he had been saving some of his spending money for this very moment.  He eagerly grabbed the book from the shelf, thumbing through the pages.

“How old even are you?” jeered the girl by his side.  “Comic books are, like, little kid shit.”

“I’m five years old,” barked Law, refusing to look toward her as he continued to analyze the pages of his favorite series.

To the average onlooker, they both probably looked like complete jackasses towards one another.  And while Law was at least brave enough to admit that his behavior was certainly petty, he felt like he was warranted a Get Out Of Jerk Free card for all the painful hours of suffering through this atomic catastrophe of a date had put him through.

“Whatever, I’m going to find a bathroom,” the girl finally groaned, releasing his arm and trudging through the aisles of books toward the checkout counter to ask an employee where the bathrooms were located.

Law watched her go out of his peripheral vision, refusing to exhale a sigh of profound relief until she was completely out of his line of sight.  With shoulders that finally relaxed, free from the overbearing tension, he turned his focus back to the comic in his hands, continuing to thumb through the colorful pages of artwork.  He flipped the book around to examine the price, smiling at how reasonable it was.  He filled his arms with a few other comics from a series he had been meaning to pick up, and retreated toward the cash registers to buy his books.  The sooner he got his treat for this ordeal, the sooner he could get out of here, call this girl a taxi home, and spend the rest of his life as a willingly single comic book mega-nerd.

But reality wouldn’t let him off the hook so easily.

Not when the girl sitting behind the register thumbing through another copy of Sora Volume 10 was an absolute bombshell.

When she looked up at Law, her eyes quickly went wide.  She placed the book under the register counter and eagerly leaned forward, her hands supporting her over the counter.  “Are you alright?” she asked, her voice laced with worry.

Law cocked an eyebrow, confused.  “Yeah, why?”

“That girl you’re with is making you miserable.  You walked through the door looking like you wanted someone to grant you a mercy killing,” she huffed.  Her eyes were clearly concerned.  “Are you dating her?”

Law felt his guard dropping without even realizing it the longer he was in the presence of this cashier.  “My friends set me up on a date with her, but I’m having the absolute worst time of my life.”

The new girl’s own eyebrows angled downward in concern.  “Do you want an out?”

“A what?”

“An out,” she repeated.  “An excuse to get her to leave you alone.”  Time was running out.  At any moment, she could leave the bathroom.

Law frantically looked back and forth between the cashier and the small, short hallway that led to the single restroom.  With pleading, golden eyes, he silently mumbled, “Yes, please.”

The cashier kept her eyes on the bathroom door as she began unloading Law’s hands, spreading his books out on the counter to make it look like she was busy ringing out his purchase.  Law watched with an analytical gaze as she fumbled with his items, clearly buying time until the bathroom door opened.

He didn’t have time to ask what she was plotting.

The second the door cracked open, the man’s shirt collar was violently clenched in the cashier’s hands as she pulled him over the counter, smushing her lips into his.  Law’s fingers flexed in thin air as he froze, brain completely fried as he was frozen in this sudden kiss.

His first kiss.

“What the fuck?!” the girl screeched, exiting the bathroom in a frenzy as she booked it toward the heated exchange happening over the cash register.

The new girl pulled herself away from Law’s face, but only enough where she could display her best rendition of a weary, tired war-torn wife waiting on a cliffside for her husband to return.  “Baby, please just take me back!  My life isn’t complete without you!”  Her voice was cracking as she fake-wailed, her grip on Law’s shirt never faltering, not even once.  The few customers who also occupied the store turned to stare at the commotion, frazzled and befuddled.  “Nothing in life is as good as it was with you!  I’m in shambles!  You were the best sex I’ve ever had!”

It took a few moments for Law to catch on to the ruse.  As soon as he put the puzzle pieces together in his mind, however, he was grabbing the wrists of the cashier and bringing his lips back to hers, closing his eyes and trailing his arms up to grasp her face.  Completely disregarding the fact that they were still separated by the heavy check-out counter between their torsos.

“You were dating someone?!” snapped the original girl.  “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Law pulled away from the cashier’s lips, his own skin immediately feeling fifteen degrees colder from the loss of her contact.  “I wasn’t.  Until now.”

The new girl put her arm around Law’s shoulders from across the check-out counter, her deft fingers caressing his skin through his shirt.  “I’m sorry, but I’m taking him back, I can’t stand to be without him any longer!  The sight of him with another woman…” she made a show of clenching her chest, “makes me sick!”  She was damn good at this, in a way that almost made Law concerned.  The fact that she was pulling all of this out of nowhere, and the fact that her first course of action was this drastic, made Law’s heart flutter in his chest.

“Ugh, whatever.  This place sucks ass anyway.  I’m going home.”  She finally shouldered her bag and marched out of the shop, her feet stomping across the hardwood floor until the sound of the front door slamming closed finally made the cashier release her arm from Law’s shoulders.

And once again, the man was feeling oddly cold without the contact.  He glanced at her as she started ringing up his items for real.  “You’re… a good actor,” he blurted.

The girl hid her face in her arm with shame, an awkward laugh bubbling from her throat.  “I’m so sorry, I was trying to think of what to do to help you but when the door opened I panicked.”  Her eyes were focused on her work.  “I’ve been on some absolutely awful dates myself, so I understand.  Sometimes I’ve wished I could have Prince Charming swoop me out of the movie theater where a guy made fun of me for my interests the entire run-time.”

His jaw went slack.  “Are you serious?”

“Deadass,” she replied, quick as a whip.  “Insisted on holding my hand the entire time.  I think he was convinced that I had taken him to see a horror movie because I wanted to act scared in front of him, but his hand was so clammy and sticky the whole time.  And not in the endearing ‘Aww he’s shy!’ kind of way.”

Law wished at that moment that he had more charisma.  He was sure one of his friends would be able to pull a witty, flirty quip from their asses like it was nothing, but Law’s personal dictionary of flattery was nonexistent as it was.  He balked while he listened to the cashier who just took his breath away lamenting about her own poor experiences with dating, and he was sure that her example in this moment was only one of many.  Instead of continuing the conversation, his mind blanked.  He stated, more like whispered, “That was my first kiss.”

The girl’s hands stopped scanning his books halfway through.  Her wide eyes darted up to Law’s, her jaw slack.  “It… It was?”

“Yeah.”

Her hands flew to cover her mouth, eyes wide with shock.  “Oh my god… oh my god, I’m so sorry!”  She dropped her head onto the counter, covering her despair with both of her arms now.  “First kisses are supposed to be special and I just took your’s away from you…”

Law shocked himself by smiling at the weary display in front of him.  “If it makes you feel any better, that was far better than the date I was on.  But I’m sure you already knew that.”

She picked her head up, a trembling hand grabbing one of his last books to scan.  Her eyes nervously darted back and forth as she silently worked, once in a while sucking her bottom lip in with her teeth before releasing the flesh.  She was clearly lost in an intense inner turmoil.

“It’s really alright,” Law muttered, now growing shy himself.  He was just now realizing the gravity of what had happened… and how truly adorable this girl was.

She tapped a few buttons on her cash register before finally making eye contact with him again.  “You are a pretty good kisser… you’re really sure you’ve never done that before?”

He affirmatively shook his head.  “Never.  I’ve never been… popular with the dating scene,” he muttered.  “Hence this awful set-up date.”

The cashier’s eyes went wide again momentarily.  “That’s kind of surprising to me… I would think someone like you would get any girl you wanted.”

Law backpedaled.  “What does that mean?”

She pulled his total up on the small screen that faced him.  She was turning away from him as if to hide her face, her entire expression teeming with a child-like embarrassment.  “Well, you’re crazy hot, for starters.  And you like Sora, clearly.”

Law felt a smirk emerge on his lips.  “Is Sora one of your only qualifiers for a decent partner?”  He began to rekindle some of the confidence he had lost throughout the day.  The longer he spent in this girl’s presence, the more he felt the tension in his body leaving.

She grinned, the stress in her shoulders from her own actions finally releasing.  “Only guys with fluffy black hair and golden eyes that read Sora, if you want my honest answer.”

Now this was flirting.  Law had to admit, he was pretty pleased with this sudden turn of events.  The atmosphere this girl radiated was immensely calming, allowing him to chip through his reinforced walls just enough to feel like a somewhat normal person.  He started to wonder if she could break through his barriers even more.

“What’s your name?” he finally asked, taking out his credit card and swiping it through the machine to finally cash out his order.

The girl excitedly revealed her name.  “And your’s?”

“Trafalgar Law,” he replied.  “I go to North Blue University for med school in the next town over.”

“No shit, so do I!  I’m getting a worker's license there,” she added, her expression shifting from one of moderate happiness to one of excitement.  “I doubt we’ve had any of the same classes, but we should hang out sometime!  Get coffee, maybe talk about Sora…”  Her voice trailed off, her eyes growing soft.  “Unless you’ve been completely turned off to dating after what you’ve clearly just been through.”

Law took a few moments to ponder over her words, watching as the receipts for his purchase slowly emerged from the thermal printer.  “I think I can make an exception this time.”

The smile that broke out on the girl’s face may as well have blinded him.  She was truly dazzling, even in her ratty-looking employee apron and an oversized T-shirt accounting for her work attire.

Law placed his new assortment of books into his own bag, the girl snatching his receipts from the printer and stashing one of the copies in the drawer below the counter.  When he looked back up, she was holding out his second receipt, folded in half.  She gave him a fond smile when he took it.

“I hope you’re able to relax later today, and enjoy your books!” she called, waving to Law as he exited the store.

Once outside again, the air felt clearer now that he was alone.  The day was still young, hardly a cloud in the sky and a pleasant breeze coasting through the city.  He looped his bag over his shoulder and opened the receipt, peering at what was written on the backside.

Call me for Sora… and for just me ;) <3 1125-354-9854

[dfortrafalgar]

HII

I just wanted to say that I absolutely LOVED and enjoyed I'm losing you!! Your writing style is AMAZING and the story overall was really nice to read that I found myself looking forward to each day just for a new chapter.

and I'm so looking forward to reading your new writings :>

THAT'S IT I HOPE YOU HAVE A GOOD DAY

AAA THANK YOU ANON <333 your message made my day genuinely, i really appreciate the love!!! im excited to share more of my work with you, and with more characters!!!

[dfortrafalgar]

Gift of Belonging

Luffy x GN Reader

Life didn't have a purpose without Luffy.

Warnings: Fic from my 100 followers poll!!! can be read as either platonic or romantic, mentions of self deprecating thoughts but nothing too severe, just some short, feel good, reassuring hugs from our favorite straw hat-wearing captain <3

Taglist: @bokutosbiceps | @luffy0s | @surgeonoffish

You were at the end of your rope when you joined the straw hats, but who wasn’t?  You weren’t special in the grand scheme of the world’s most infamous pirate crew.  You couldn’t compare to the tumultuous lives of the rag-tag bunch that had quickly become your lifeline, you had nothing on being the child of an abusive royal family, or the last survivor of a decimated nation, or the unfortunate witness to the killing of a friend or parent, or a literal god.  You weren’t a cyborg or an animal or a reincarnated being hundreds of years old.  You were just… simple.

And yet, the Straw Hats made you feel accepted.

They made you feel wanted.

And no one had wanted you more than Monkey D. Luffy.

You still struggled to accept the boisterous boy’s words when he welcomed you aboard his grand ship.  You had put up an argument, insisting that you would only get in the way, that your strengths paled in comparison to the rest of the crew, that you had no business being a part of the inner circle of one of the Emperors.  But not a single eyelash was batted in the direction of your plight.  Simply endless stares of patience, waiting for you to finally bite the lure and climb up the gangway and officially join the Straw Hats.  And when you finally did, Luffy had said the words that had stuck with you since then.

“I don’t care who you are.  You’re special and you deserve a spot in my family.”

It was as if the world opened up around you for the first time.  Instead of seeing your surroundings in black and white, colors infiltrated your retinas in ways you had never experienced.  Suddenly, the sunshine that beat down on your skin felt like a pleasant hug from the world, rather than a punishing burn against your weary being.  Food you ate and drank every single day tasted extra good because it was always cooked with love and affection, the flirtatious cook not caring at all where you had come from.  Luffy and his crew made it known from the second they met you that you were deserving of love, respect, and friendship.

And you couldn’t lie… the first few days were overwhelming.

The Straw Hats were loving.  They were really loving, and their unique ways of showing they appreciated you were slowly building up in your veins like a disease until one night, when you were on watch, you cracked.

You broke down.

You sat on the stern of the Thousand Sunny, gazing out from the white-painted railings and over the vastness of the dark ocean and seamlessly blended in with the sky above you, the only light shining on you being from the twinkling stars millions of light years away.  Quiet, salty tears flowed down your cheeks, your shoulders clenched as you wrapped your arms around yourself, sniffling into the collar of your shirt.  You loved your crew, you really did.  You began to realize that you loved them more than you ever loved anyone else in your life, and that thought somehow scared you.  Like you were unprepared.  Like your heart had been so deprived of love for your whole life that the overabundance of it in such a short time caused your brain to short-circuit.  And you cried.  You weeped on the Sunny’s back deck, into the calmness of the night.

Until the sound of clopping flip-flops climbing the steps to where you sat alerted your attention, causing you to freeze up, holding your breath, wishing your tears could evaporate away.

“Hey, what are you doing up here alone?”  It was Luffy, his usually exuberant voice a rare form of calm as he approached you.  He wasted absolutely zero time in plopping himself onto the hard deck beside you, extending his legs and holding his arms out, hands behind his head.

You stayed hunched into yourself, trying to hide your shame in your hands.

“Hey… are you alright?” he asked, his voice somehow even softer.

A faint sniffle from you was all your captain needed to hear.  He sat up with a start and grabbed your shoulders with his calloused hands, yanking you around to face him.  Your eyes were wide with shock at his actions, but you stayed frozen.  It’s not like you could run anywhere, the man was made of rubber.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, his eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed, an intense stare that bored into your skin.  “Did someone say something to you?  Did someone hurt you?”

You shook your head, wiping your tears away on your arm.  You took a deep, shuddering inhale before finally forcing your shoulders to relax.  “No… no one said anything to me.”

“Then why are you crying?”

Luffy, despite not being overly emotional in normal circumstances, was scarily good at reading people.  It didn’t matter if you couldn’t outright say what was bothering you, he would eventually figure it out with that convoluted tunnel system of a brain.  His adorable lips curled into a pout as he analyzed your face, picking apart every twitch of your muscles.

You inhaled once more, turning your face away from him slightly.  “I’m just… not used to this.”

“Not used to what?”

His questions, and the feigned clueless tone of his voice almost made a smile crack onto your face.  Another talent of Monkey D. Luffy: he was like a wrecking ball for the walls you built up around yourself.

“I’m not used to… this.”  Your hands circled around you, gesturing to the ship, causing Luffy to finally drop his hands from your shoulders.  “Being a part of a crew.  You guys are… too nice to me.”

Luffy was ready with a response immediately.  “We could never be ‘too nice to you.’  That’s impossible.  We love you.”

Your lip quivered slightly.  “That’s what I’m not used to.”

“Being loved?”

There it was.  You feebly nodded.  “Yeah.  That.”

Your captain scooted across the deck closer to you, if that was even possible.  He was basically flush against you at this point.  He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a warm bear hug, his fluffy black hair tickling the skin of your cheek.  “We love you because you’re special to us, we don’t need a reason for that,” he described.  His voice faltered, as if he wanted to say something else, as if he was trying to add to his words.  Instead, he squeezed you into him, closing his eyes as he felt your muscles grow limp.  ‘We love you, but I love you more.’

“I just wish it was easier for me to accept that,” you whispered into his shoulder, struggling to hug him back.

Luffy’s embrace didn’t relent.  If anything, he tried to pull you in closer.  The force of his hug made you lose your balance on the floor, falling over on top of him, your chin hitting his shoulder.  But he still didn’t let up.  He held firm, squeezing you as if you would fade away into dust if he let go.

“Luffy–” you wheezed against his skin.

“What?”  He sounded completely oblivious.  “I’m going to keep hugging you until you don’t feel sad anymore.  No more crying,” he demanded.  “Captain’s orders.”  His last sentence held a hint of playfulness, the smile he surely wore on his face coming through the sound of his voice.

He must have been contagious, because your own grin slowly grew on your lips.  After what felt like hours, you finally reciprocated his hug, curling your arms under him and letting yourself finally relax in his embrace.  You knew Luffy had odd ways of showing he cared, but this was definitely unexpected.  Unexpected, but not necessarily unappreciated.  His presence emitted a warmth akin to summertime air, his existence like the calming breeze of the open ocean that wafted around you and circled you in comforting drafts.  Luffy never judged, never wavered, never ceased to let his crew, and now you, know how truly grateful he felt to be able to live his life with his favorite people.

You made a slight movement to stand up, but Luffy’s arms tightened their hold around your back.  “Not yet,” he grumbled.  “I don’t wanna stand up yet.”

“Is this how you comfort everyone on the crew?” you asked, your voice coming out muffled as you spoke into his neck.

“Hmm… not necessarily.  Everyone’s different.  Chopper really loves hugs, and Zoro lets me hug him, but sometimes Nami and Robin can take them or leave them.  Usopp likes hugs but doesn’t like to admit it.”  A smile crawled to your face as your captain rattled off the preferences of your fellow crewmates, the ways in which he perceived their unique and individual personalities bringing a comforting reassurance to your heart.  “I feel like you really like hugs, and you clearly needed one right now.”

You bit the inside of your lower lip, trying to bite back the tears that formed in the corners of your eyes.  The tension escaping your body dissipated in large waves, leaving you with nothing but warmth and comfort in the arms of the man who had surely saved your life.

And for the first time since officially joining the Straw Hats, you began to feel truly, unconditionally loved.  It was miraculous.  All it took was a single hug from the nicest, most selfless person you had ever met.

Someday, you’d be sure to return the favor for Luffy, even if he wouldn’t accept.

[dfortrafalgar]

Yeah you’re a PHENOMENAL writer🫶 I’m obsessed with your writing style, working, structure EVERYTHING dude omg😭 I’m Losing You has been by far my fav fic in all my years of fic reading!!! I can’t wait to read your next workings!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

AAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH 😭😭😭 i am so truly overjoyed that you loved it, that means so much to me!!!! i can barely even wrap my head around being someone's favorite fic, and ive been reading fics for years too!!! its such an honor <333 yall are too nice to me... 💓❤️💖💖💓💕💗

[dfortrafalgar]

Congrats on completing I'm Losing You!! It was an absolute blast to read through the ups and downs! Thank you for posting and sharing it with everyone! All the best for your next project! <3

thank you so much anon!!! 😭😭💖🩷💞💗💓❤️ everyone’s kind words all afternoon have genuinely meant so much to me, i’ve had so much fun planning and writing this fic and i feel so greatful that people have enjoyed it! i know ive said that many times already but i’ll keep saying it <3 im really happy i made this blog… and im so excited to write even more!!! ❤️❤️❤️

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You- Masterlist and Author's Thoughts

I started writing this fic after watching a youtube video about really bad parenting. I wish I was lying, but that was the spark that went off in my two-stroke engine of a brain and made me want to sit down and write a 20+ chapter fic about a pregnancy journey with Trafalgar Law. I don't think I was originally planning on having it go on as long as it did, but sometimes the story writes you.

Something that has always fascinated me is the topic of female fertility. From someone who suffers from endometriosis, and who comes from a genetic history of various female fertility issues, the subject has always been a serious, sensitive, and interesting one for me. Much of this fic I feel reflects that, from the deep, painful emotions to the medical descriptions. This is also a topic that I feel often gets overlooked in society and in educational spheres, and that deeply upsets me. Many women are unaware of the strange symptoms they may be experiencing. Many women are unaware of their fertility issues until they begin trying to conceive. School education about fertility and sexual education is still hard to come by in many locations due to the taboo nature of the subject. And while I am the absolute furthest thing from a professional educator, I am always advocating for the expansion of not only reproductive healthcare, but also reproductive education.

If you're wondering why I dragged One Piece into my silly little idea, the answer is quite simple: I love Law. I'm a Law girlie through and through, if that wasn't glaringly obvious already. Law is a character that resonates deeply with me, and out of every OP man who could be inserted into a scenario as random and complex as this one, I feel like Law fit the best (not like I had left room for options, it was always going to be Law).

Something that I absolutely did NOT expect, however, was the insane reception this fic got. To everyone who kept up to date with every chapter on here and on AO3, who left amazingly sweet comments under each update, who DM'd me to tell me how much they've loved my writing, or left asks in my inbox about how this story touched them, I cannot thank you enough. I'm not a writer in the slightest, so to think that my fic that came out of a personal spot in my heart has been able to touch so many people in the way that it has has been incredible, and I seriously mean that.

To everyone, and I mean EVERYONE with a uterus, you will always have a supportive place here. Whether your uterus is a source of pride, or perhaps your uterus is the bane of your existence. Perhaps you don't even identify with it, and you want it gone. Whether you have a child, want a child, or would rather spend the entire rest of your life without a child. Whatever your circumstance, you are welcome and you are understood and you are loved.

Before I get to the actual chapter masterlist, I'm going to include the various sources online that I used while writing this fic to make sure experiences and actions described were as accurate and properly dealt with as possible. If any of these topics interest you, I highly encourage you to check out these links!

With all of that, I want to thank everyone for reading. This fic has been long (221 google doc pages and 90,196 words!), painful, and bittersweet, but it has easily become one of my favorite works I've ever written, and I am so happy to have been able to share it with you. If you stayed from the very beginning, or if you have just started reading from this list, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. <3

-- dfortrafalgar

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REFERENCE LINKS

March of Dimes- Miscarriage Mayo Clinic- Endometriosis Brigham and Women's Hospital- Endometriosis and Fertility Healthline- Period of Miscarriage? Signs to Watch For and What To Do Cleveland Clinic- Stillbirth Miscarriage Association- The Physical Process The Royal Women's Hospital- Treating Miscarriage Penn Medicine- Female Infertility National Library of Medicine- Endometriosis and Fertility Mayo Clinic- Male Infertility WebMD- Semen Analysis Mount Sinai- HCG Blood Test Quantitative Information March of Dimes- Pregnancy Week by Week National Library of Medicine- IVF Outcomes with Endometriosis Conceive- Complete IVF Timeline Baby Center- What Happens To Your Baby Right After Birth Penn Medicine- Lancaster General Health- 6 Things To Expect From Your First Days of Breastfeeding Verywell Health- What To Expect During An Egg Retreival Yale Medicine- High Risk Pregnancy My Health Alberta- Learning About Twin Pregnancy National Health Service UK- Giving Birth to Twins Or More Progyny- Are IVF Twin Embryos a Risk?

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Chapter Masterlist

Part 1- The Beginning

Chapter 1- Fog Chapter 2- Carotid Chapter 3- Super Swimming Meet Chapter 4- Three Minutes

Part 2- The First Loss

Chapter 5- Genetic Notebook Chapter 6- Too Little Chapter 7- Too Late Chapter 8- Breaking Protocol

Part 3- The Diagnosis

Chapter 9- Bypass Chapter 10- Airing on the Side of Caution Chapter 11- Post-Op Chapter 12- Sentimental

Part 4- The Second Loss

Chapter 13- Code Chapter 14- Heartbeat Chapter 15- Faint Chapter 16- I'm Sorry Chapter 17- Doubt

Part 5- It Takes a Village

Chapter 18- Love Basket Chapter 19- Ring Chapter 20- Let's Begin Chapter 21- Separation Interlude I Chapter 22- Miss You Chapter 23- Journal

Part 6- Third Time's The Charm

Chapter 24- Positive Interlude II Chapter 25- Happy Thoughts Only Chapter 26- Glowing Chapter 27- Gifting Chapter 28- Braxton Hicks Chapter 29- The Approach Chapter 30- It's Time Chapter 31- Tiny Epilogue

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Finding You

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But now, it might as well be a dream come true.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men | @nerdisthenewcool | @lilypadmomentum | @1dkneo | @kitsunechan707

Epilogue

[Prev]

You pulled your car into your driveway, smiling at the sight of the two bicycles your daughters had received from the previous holiday season sitting by the door of your garage.  The green one, Cora's, was upside down.  Parking and grabbing your bag from the passenger seat, you pushed open your door and climbed out, walking around to the back door of your small house and pushing it open with your elbow.

“I’m home!” you shouted.

Immediately, little footsteps sprinted from the other room toward you.

“MAMA, I need to show you something!”  Cora almost slipped on the floor with the speed in which she threw herself at you, wrapping her arms around your legs and trying to drag you toward the living room.

Laughing, you placed your bag down on the counter beside the door and followed your ecstatic daughter into the rest of your home.

The sight that greeted you made you wheeze.

Cora and her sister had somehow apprehended their father, holding him to the floor and wrapping him in fake gauze.  Bepo was laying beside his dad with his fluffy head on his abdomen, snoring away despite the chaos.

“Daddy was a victim of an awful house fire, so we’re wrapping him up,” Rose blurted, tying more fake gauze around your husband’s arm.

Law lazily picked his head up from the floor.  “Hey, babe.  I was a victim in a house fire.  No other survivors.”  He didn’t even have time to ask you how your therapy appointment had gone before his younger daughter piped up once more.

“That’s right, and we’re the only doctors in the entire world qualified to help him!” Cora boasted, her small hands on her hips.  It was then you noticed your husband’s white work coat, with his badge still clipped to the breast pocket, shrouding Rose as she finished sloppily wrapping Law’s forearm in gauze.  She was swimming in it.  Her hands barely peeked out from the baggy sleeves.

You laughed, sitting down on the floor next to Bepo’s rump and crossing your legs.  “What are you teaching these kids?”

“Practical medicine,” he replied.

Rose smiled, giving a clumsy pat to her father’s noggin.  “You never know when you might need a skin graft.”

You snorted, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers.  “I think you might be the only five year olds on the planet who knows what a skin graft is.”

“Tomorrow, Daddy said he’s gonna teach us how to remove lung tumors,” Cora chirped.

You gazed at your husband, deadpanning.  He stared back at you.  “Before you say anything, this was their idea.”

“And who gave them the idea?” you asked, a smirk on your lips.

Law backpedaled, a small, faint blush ghosting over his cheeks.  “Can you blame me?”

You laughed, letting Cora pull you closer to her so she could give your own arm an expert assessment.

“No, I can’t.”

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But now, it might as well be a dream come true.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings.

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men | @nerdisthenewcool | @lilypadmomentum | @1dkneo | @kitsunechan707

Chapter 31

[Prev] [Next]

“I… I feel like I need to push,” you grunted out.

Your doctor ran to your bedside.  “Okay, dear, okay, follow my lead, alright?”  She assisted in turning you on your side, adjusting your various tubes to better accommodate your position.  “Like we discussed, okay?  This position will help reduce the pressure on your pelvis and make it much easier to push.”

You nodded, your expression contorting in a grimace as a much stronger contraction ran through you in waves, lingering in your muscles like radiation. Your hands were curled up by your head, lacking anything to hold on to, so you resorted to fisting the white cotton sheets covering the mattress below you.  It felt mildly uncomfortable, but as soon as you were settled, you felt like your muscles were able to work much more effectively.  You breathed out a pained sigh, the pressure in your lower abdomen increasing in waves.

“You’re starting to crown already,” another nurse spoke up.  “Your body is already so primed for delivery!  It’s like you’ve been practicing.  If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume this was your third or fourth baby!”

“I’m going to hold your hand, alright?” your doctor asked, confirming with you on what would make you the most comfortable.  “How bad is your pain?  We can get you started on an epidural.”

“It’s…”  As soon as the contraction ceased, another one followed in its place.  You were outrageously close.  “It’s pretty bad,” you confirmed.

“I’m impressed, when I gave birth to my first, I almost passed out.  The pain was so bad!” one of the nurses at the other side of your room called out.  “You have quite the tolerance!”

You flashed a weak smile.  If only these nurses knew.

Your doctor rubbed your head reassuringly.  She really did feel like a mother in her own right.  “We’ll start that epidural.  Once that’s in place and you’re stable, we’ll begin pushing.  Can I get you anything?”

Your eyes wearily glanced up at her calm, reassuring face.  “I know it’s a long shot but… can you call my husband?”

—

The second lung was almost fully detached.  Over halfway through the surgery now, it had been much faster and more successful than anyone thought it would be.  Alongside a few breaks that were taken by the staff to relieve themselves and stretch their backs, sterile orange juice breaks sipped through plastic straws, and brief physical therapy for the unconscious patient to make sure his blood continued to circulate properly and his skin wasn’t damaged, the operation was going very, very smoothly.

And thank goodness.  Law needed some good news right now.

Among the beeping sounds of the patient’s heart monitor, the wrrr of the bypass machine, and the soft chatter amongst the team as they worked, a new sound infiltrated the space.  In the farthest corner of the room, Law’s hospital pager went off.

“What was that?” one of the nurses asked.

“My pager,” Law responded.  His voice was laced with anxiety.  He was barely keeping it together, and who knows why his pager might have been going off in the middle of an operation.

The circulating nurse took it upon herself to snatch up the small device, pressing the response button.  The best, or arguably worst, thing about the pagers was how loud they were.  Everyone could hear the voice that came through the other end.

[Dr. Trafalgar Law?  Dr. Trafalgar?]  It was a woman’s voice.

“I’m listening,” he shouted back.  The nurse stepped slightly closer with the pager in her hand.

[This is Nurse Kaya from Labor & Delivery, your wife is crowning.  Just wanted to let you know.]

Spoken far too casually for the news that made Law’s stomach drop like a brick.  He was missing the birth.

“FUCK,” he suddenly shouted, his hands still carefully working at the lung’s connective tissue.  It was as if his body and his mind were on completely different wavelengths.  So much for operating room etiquette.  The air in the room had gone completely cold as nervous glances among the team were shared.

“Doctor, I’m not opposed to relieving you with another on-call surgeon.  I know this is a huge ordeal, but we’re almost done and… this is a special case,” one of the head nurses spoke up.

He was clearly deliberating heavily in his mind.  He wanted to run, carry himself as fast as his feet could handle, and get to your side.  He needed to be there with you.  He was missing the birth of his first child.  A lump developed in his throat.  The protective husband side of him had the stoic, focused surgeon side pinned against the wall with a knife to his throat.

“Get the on-call surgeon here immediately and have him gowned and sterilized,” he finally barked, passing his tools off to his assistant and stepping away from the body.  A few relieved gasps were shared amongst the team as the circulating nurse brought Law out from the theater and into the prep room where she assisted in frantically undressing him from his surgical scrubs and passing his phone and pager back into his possession.  His operating room attire was quickly disposed of in a biohazard waste bin while he quickly washed his hands in the nearby basin.

“Doctor, good luck,” she said with a smile, her eyes crinkling under her mask.

Law could only pass her a faint grin as he shrugged on his white coat, stuffed his phone in the pocket of his slacks, and sprinted out of the prep room.  On the way, the on-call surgeon passed by and planted a reassuring smack to Law’s shoulder before replacing him.

Law was breaking every hospital rule there was.  Sprinting through the hallway, his feet hammering against the tiled ground as he fought his way through the hospital’s expansive campus, past patient rooms, nurses’ stations, and waiting areas.  Why did L&D have to be so far away?!  His eyes followed the signs on the walls pointing him in the right direction, his muscle memory leading the way.  He scaled two flights of stairs two-at-a-time, the muscles in his legs screaming at him to stop.  He was almost positive he would tear a muscle with how fast he was running.  But that didn’t matter.

Finally, finally, he pushed through the doors into the maternity ward, flashing his badge frantically at the nurse behind the check-in desk.  He was panting, barely able to catch his breath, one of his hands shaking as it supported his weight against the desk.

“My… Trafalgar… where… shit…” he panted, beads of sweat pilling on his forehead below his ragged bangs.

“Down the hall, take a left, then a right,” the nurse instructed, her voice pleasantly calm.  She must have seen this a lot.

He barely uttered out a ‘thank you’ before he was off again, pounding down the tiled hallways past delivery and recovery rooms, past the expansive NICU and small groups of families and doctors.  He had tunnel vision.  He needed to get to you.

Take a left.

Then a right.

He almost sprinted past the door to the delivery room you were in, only backtracking when he caught the pained sound of your voice from within.  He flung the door open, nurses surrounding you jumping from shock at the sight.

“Dr. Trafalgar?!” one of them exclaimed, her eyes wide.

Law ignored her.

Your eyes went wide, your hand being held by the doctor who had admitted you.  Tears immediately brimmed in the corners of your vision as a pained smile broke out on your face.  Law took the spot of your doctor instantly, almost throwing himself at you as he littered your face with kisses, grasping your hand and holding in his pain as you squeezed harshly against his bones, the force of another contraction gripping your body.  You were laying on your side, one of your knees tucked upward toward your chest as far as you could manage to allow the baby more room to come out.  You had an epidural tube sticking out of your spine, your upper body barely covered by blankets and the open-back hospital gown to accommodate for the birth.

“You made it…” you wheezed, torn between the attention on your husband and the baby coming out of you.

“I couldn’t miss it… I couldn’t…” he wheezed.  He was still very winded, his lungs shuddering for breaths.  Any longer and he would’ve been the one needing a dual pulmonary transplant.

“Ready for another push?” shouted one of the nurses at your bedside above the noise.

You nodded, biting your lower lip.  Your face was glistening with sweat.  Your body tensed up, gripping Law’s hand like a lifeline as you pushed, a pained groan emanating from deep within your throat as your eyes pinched shut.

“How is she doing?” demanded Law, gazing at the doctor who took her spot at the end of your bed where your legs were parted.

“She’s doing great, both babies are in cephalic position, her blood pressure is good and her heart rate is even better, it’s unlikely she’ll need emergency intervention.  I’m incredibly pleased considering her medical history,” the older doctor explained.  “Come over here.”

Law gazed at you, a fond smile on your lips as you released his hand so he could join his extended colleague at the foot of your bed.

“Delivering on her side helps lessen the pressure on her body as well as the baby’s,” the woman explained.

Law’s breath caught in his throat.  Emerging from you was a head of fuzzy black hair, slicked with amniotic fluid.  One of the nurses called for another push, and your lower body tensed up, your muscles clenching as hard as they could while you pushed the baby out more.  Law quickly returned to your side, grasping your hand once more.

“Baby… how are you doing?” he asked, desperate for your personal opinion, his lungs finally settling as he took in your exhausted appearance.

You grimaced.  “The epidural has been helping, but it hurt like a bitch going in,” you groaned.  “I’ve been having contractions since 2 in the morning.  I just want them to be out already.”

“Once the head is delivered, the rest will be easy!” one of the nurses called, a bright smile on her face.

Law felt himself smile as well.  Being a delivery nurse must have been incredibly rewarding on the best days.  He glanced at the clock on the far wall.  It was almost 10 in the evening.  His heart panged in his chest.

“You’re doing amazing, baby, you’re amazing,” he whispered in your ear, planting another kiss against the soft, sweat-soaked skin of your forehead.

“One more push, dear!” the doctor called.

Your eyes squeezed shut, your muscles contracting with all your might at the count of the nurses assisting you, your hand clamping down on Law’s.  He held in his grimace of pain, supporting you as best he could.  Some slight hand bruises were nothing compared to what you were experiencing.  How chivalrous of him.

A sudden rushing feeling emanated from your body, a wet sensation prickling your skin through the numbness of the epidural.  Your heart rate picked up, your eyes growing wide as you worriedly asked, “What was that?!”

“Your water broke, dear!  Everything’s alright!” a nurse responded.

You moaned in pain.  “It’s about damn time.”  Your grip on Law’s hand released slightly, and you watched as a small smile appeared on his lips.

With one more push, the pressure in your groin finally dissipated somewhat as a nurse pulled your first baby out of you.  With the collapse of the amniotic sacs, it was much easier to deliver the rest of its body, much to your relief.  As soon as the contractions stopped, however, they began again.

“Keep going, darling, just one more to go!” the doctor called.  “It’s right there!”

You barely had the energy to pick your head up to look, and you watched through half-lidded eyes as Law examined the nurses huddled around your baby at the foot of your bed.  It was placed in a small portable incubator, being hooked up to machines to assess its condition.  35 weeks was still pretty early, so it made sense.  Its umbilical cord was clamped about two minutes after emerging from your womb.  Law tried to keep his anxiety repressed as your body shuddered with another contraction.

“The second baby is always easier, darling, you’re already fully dilated from the first,” explained your doctor, giving a reassuring pat to your ankle.

“First baby’s stable!” called one of the nurses.  “It’s a girl!”

Law felt his chest clench at the news.  His eyes lit up as he gazed at you, a smile pulling on his lips.  A weary smile formed on your own face as you were instructed to push once again.  Much to the room’s relief, the second baby did indeed come out much quicker than the first.  The loss of the amniotic fluid from your uterus and the stretching that your pelvis had endured with the first made it worlds easier for your second baby to emerge into the world.  The process repeated- a quick cleaning, a clamp after two minutes, and a quick check of vital signs.

“Another girl!” one of the nurses called, assessing the second in another small incubator.  “Also stable!”

You were helped onto your back in somewhat of a hurry, the two boxes containing your babies pushed toward your bedside where they were quickly gathered in bundles of blankets and placed on your chest.  It was all happening so fast, the world was practically blurring around you.  As soon as your babies touched your skin, it was as if a deep-rooted instinct emerged from you.  Law watched with pride as you nestled your newborns into your chest, your gentle hands holding their backs as they took in their first breaths as living humans.

Holy shit.

The room had quickly gone quiet around the four of you, a few of the nurses cleaning you up and reviewing your condition while additional nurses left the room to prepare suitable beds in the NICU for your newborns.  Even though they were both healthy and stable, they needed some extra time to grow.

“Law…?” you asked weakly, turning your head to look at your husband.

Law’s golden eyes were wide, frozen, large, salty tears streaming silently down his cheeks.  His chin was quivering as he gazed over you.  His three girls.

His girls.  He had two daughters.

Your husband huffed out a laugh that sounded more like a weary sob as he moved closer to you, stroking your head with his hand as he gazed warmly over the two tiny bodies on your chest, making their first contact with their mother.  He wiped his eyes clumsily with the sleeve of his white coat, inhaling a gross-sounding sniffle through his nose.

“I’m sorry I’m crying…” he blubbered.

“Don’t be…” you replied, your own tears welling in your eyes.  “You’re finally a daddy.  I’m happy you’re crying.”  You quietly laughed as Law reached forward with his hand, wiping your tears away from your cheeks, followed by another tender kiss against your jaw.

A nurse quickly stopped by your bedside, slipping small white cotton hats onto the tiny noggins of your daughters before leaving the four of you alone for a few more moments.  The skin-to-skin time was crucial for their attachment to you, and once that was established, they’d be able to go into the NICU for their extra care.

Both of the girls, despite being only around 35 weeks, had near-full heads of hair.  It made you wonder what they would have looked like being born at full-term.  The one over your left breast had tiny black curls that still stuck to her head.  The one over your right breast had thinner, straighter wisps of a lighter brown color.  They’d come into their own in a few more months as they grew, but even just from first looks, they were both clearly their father’s daughters.

—

The minutes following the birth were quite nasty if one were to ask you.  Law thought they were an interesting few moments, but you weren’t listening to him.  He was biased.  And frankly, you hated the way it felt when two placentas ejected themselves from your body.  It was like having another two babies but slimier and worse.

Your epidural was removed and you were cleaned up and helped into a cotton gown to rest in.  Your legs were weak from your long labor, but you were rewarded with some light food that didn’t taste like hospital sludge.  The third best piece of news you received was that, by some miracle, you didn’t tear a bit, and your uterus had completely and successfully done its job.

Finally.

You passed out very soon after your placentas were delivered, exhausted and completely spent after delivering two babies.

Law took the opportunity to retreat to the NICU and oversee his daughters as they were hooked up to breathing tubes and heart monitors to ensure that their good conditions remained that way.  They had their hand prints and foot prints taken by gentle nurses who were cooing over how cute they were, a sight that brought a smile to Law’s eyes.

“Dr. Trafalgar,” the voice of the doctor who oversaw your delivery shook him from his blissful state.  “Congratulations.”

“Dr. Linlin,” he replied as he turned to face her, shaking her hand.  “It’s good to see you.  Thank you for everything.”

“No need to thank me, dear,” she hummed.  “I’m a veteran of the motherhood game.  It’s all in a day’s work for me.  I’m so glad to see you happy and healthy, and with a wife even.  I remember the first day I met you, that skinny, scared looking post-grad doctor forced to speak in front of a huge crowd.”

Law groaned, rolling his eyes as the memory.  “One of the worst days of my life, for sure.”

The woman laughed, a hearty, bouncy chuckle.  She hadn’t changed a bit in the 20-some-odd years, probably even longer, that she had been a doctor.  “But look at you now.  A huge, monumental surgery, and now twins.  All in one day.”

“I’m going to sleep for centuries after all of this settles,” he added with a small smirk.  “After helping my wife, obviously.”

Dr. Linlin gave Law a hearty smack on his back, right in between his shoulders, making him lurch forward slightly.  “Your daughters will stay in the NICU for 24 hours for observation, and then they’ll be transferred to stay with the two of you in postpartum.  Let me know if you need anything, alright?  In a few hours, I’ll be back in your room to help you two sign the birth certificates.”

Law watched as the woman walked down the hall, her own bright pink doctor’s coat trailing behind her.  One of the only things Law knew about Linlin was the amount of kids she had.  It seemed like she popped out one every year, and yet she still had the time to be a labor and delivery doctor.  He shook his head, trying to ignore the logistics of it, before walking back to the postpartum room you had been transferred to.

You were awake and staring at the ceiling above you, your hands clasped around your belly.  You were still quite swollen, having been told that it would take a bit for your stomach to return to its pre-pregnant state, but you were already trying to come to terms with the fact that you would most likely never look exactly the same ever again.  Not after carrying and shoving out two humans.  When Law entered your quiet room, you smiled, all your anxieties melting away at the sight of your husband.

He wasted no time in crossing the space between you, leaning over you to plant a loving kiss against your lips.  All the emotions he had been holding in throughout the day, all the tension that arose during his mad dash through the hospital, and all the worries that the two of you had shared during your pregnancy struggles flooded between your exchange.  One of your hands traveled up to caress his cheek, your fingers trailing across his sideburns and into his slightly greasy black hair, pulling him ever closer to you.

“I’m happy you didn’t tear, or need anything else, really,” he whispered, pulling away from you.  “After everything you went through, you needed an easy birth.”

You grinned.  “I like to think our two other babies, somewhere out there in the universe, wanted it to be easy for us.  For once.”

Law pulled up a chair and sat beside you, leaning against your bed and dropping his head onto your shoulder.  You gently caressed your fingers through his hair in the way you knew he loved, watching with a fond smile as his eyes closed.

“What did they say about the NICU?” you asked, your voice tired and weary.

“24 hours.  Then they’ll be transferred here to stay with us.”  Law kissed your hand cheek.  “They’ll be eligible for discharge after they’re able to eat, stay warm, and breathe efficiently.”

“Speaking of which,” you stated, slowly moving yourself to sit up despite the aches in your bones.  “I pumped for the first time when you were looking at them.”

“How quick were you?” he asked with a joking tone.  “I didn’t think I was gone for that long.”

“It didn’t take as long as I thought it would, but I also didn’t need to give that much milk.  One of the nurses helped me, and they’ll be able to feed them in the NICU.  At some point in another hour or so, though, she told me I’ll have to visit them there so we can make sure they can latch on their own.”  One of your hands traveled up to painfully grab at one of your breasts.  “I’m already feeling so achy in my chest.  It’s gonna be a rough few months.”

Law grinned, dipping his head back down.  “But you’ll have help.  Don’t forget that.”

You hummed in response.  “You’re right.”

After a few extra moments of silence, you added.  “Names?”

“Hm?”

You chuckled.  “Names.  We have to name our girls.”

“Oh shit, you’re right,” Law muttered.  He had completely forgotten one of the most important parts of being a new parent.  “What were you thinking?”

“Cora and Rose,” you said, matter-of-factly.  “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.  And now we know they’re both girls.”

Law smiled, a rare, genuine expression that reached his eyes.  A smile he only ever showed you.  “Cora and Rose… which one is which?”

“Rose is the one with those little black curls.  Cora is the one with the lighter hair,” you confirmed.

Another tender kiss was planted on your forehead.  “I couldn’t ask for anything better than that.”

—

You didn’t expect breastfeeding to be as euphoric as it was.  In less of an immense pleasure way, and more of a ‘holy crap, it feels like my breasts are losing 25 pounds’ kind of way.

Your girls were already so good.  Cora latched instantly, one of her tiny, weak hands curling slightly upward to grasp at your skin.  Both of them were still curled in a fetal position, and it would take them a bit longer to finally stretch out and look more like usual babies, but right now, they were the perfect size to swaddle and nestle into your skin.

The neonatal intensive care unit was a surprisingly colorful place.  You always imagined it would be rife with anxiety, desperation, and sadness, a bunch of little, sick babies fighting for their lives, but the second you and Law finally entered to see your daughters, all those expectations flew out the window.  Their corner was bright and colorful, with rainbows painting the walls and a fairly large window with a view of the surrounding city below.  It was pitch black out, just past midnight, but you imagined the daylight would flood the room with a warm, natural light.

Your daughters were already so warm, kept insulated by their little cotton swaddles they were bundled in, and their tiny beanie hats that covered their fragile heads.  The sight warmed your heart.

A breastfeeding specialist (which was a job you had no idea existed until then), helped situate you in a chair, accommodating your sore and spent body.  She assisted with adequately positioning your daughters, one for each nipple, and gave you tips on how to make sure they latch and stay on while nursing from you.

You had an additional blood test a few hours after the birth, when your girls were done with their first natural feed and were now sleeping calmly in their incubators.  It was looking like you’d be able to go home within the next 24 hours, if everything continued as normal.

While you were taking a light nap in the chair beside your daughters’ beds, Law used your phone to snap some pictures of Cora and Rose in their tiny beds side by side, smiling as he pulled up your text messages and sent them off to Shachi, Penguin, and Ikkaku.  He didn’t think they’d respond, with it being so late, but their messages rolled in almost instantly, bringing a fond smile to his face.

Ika-chan OMGOGMOGMGOMGOMGOGMOGMGOGMOMG

Ika-chan TWO LITTLE GIRLS

Ika-chan ARE THEY HEALTHY????????

Ika-chan ARE *YOU* HEALTHY?????????????

Shachiiii Still cant believe those things came out of you whatthefuck

Shachiiii Must have hurt like a mf

PenPen Shachi’s next to me sobbing his eyes out

PenPen I’m crying too.  But I’m stronger than him

PenPen Fuck no im not.  Im soaked over here.  

It was then that his pager beeped.  He forgot he still had it on him.  Technically, he was still on the clock.  He gently placed your phone on the small table beside you to not wake you up before reaching into his coat pocket and procuring his pager, stepping out into the hallway to not disturb his three sleeping beauties.

“This is Dr. Trafalgar,” he said into the small device.

Some slight static came through the speaker.  [Hey, this is Operation Triple Organ Replacement calling in from the OR!  How’s our best doctor doing?]

Law couldn’t fight the smile that formed on his lips.  “Before I answer, how was the rest of the procedure?”

Some small chuckles and a few mildly annoyed groans were heard.  [Patient did absolutely amazing.  He’s in recovery, stable, and is slowly being woken from anesthesia.  They’ll be able to take his intubation tube out in a few more hours, but that’s out of our hands.  Soooo…?]

Law felt relief fill his lungs.  A successful operation was everything he was hoping for, and now he felt he could finally rest easy.  “I have two daughters, Cora and Rose.  Everyone is happy, healthy, and resting.”

He needed to pull the pager away from his face as a cacophony of garbled cheering was heard.  A distorted [FUCK YEAH] echoed through the speaker.

“Are you guys still in the pre-op room?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

[Yeah, we’re all cleaned up and everything, but we were waiting for the right time to page you.  We’re abusing hospital equipment, we know, but this is CRUCIAL.]

Law couldn’t blame his team in the slightest.  It was past midnight on May 13th, and they had just completed the biggest surgical procedure of their lives, probably the most daunting surgery their hospital would ever see.  They deserved to rest and relax, and yet here they were, still in the pre-op theater, celebrating their lead doctor.  

The black-haired surgeon smiled, pressing down on the transmission button with his thumb.  “You guys go clean up, alright?  Treat yourselves.  Everyone did absolutely amazing today.”

[Copy that, Doctor.  Tell your wife we said congrats!]

Law slipped the pager back into his pocket before reentering the NICU room.  His stern, golden eyes softened instantly upon seeing you awake, leaning over the side of Rose’s bed and idly trailing your thumb softly over her chubby cheek.  Beside Rose, Cora’s arms were already outstretched far enough that she was almost encroaching on her sister’s space.  Soon enough, the small oxygen tubes taped to their fresh faces would be gently removed, and they’d be able to go home and sleep in their cribs, in your apartment.  Law leaned over you and kissed the crown of your head, rubbing his inked hand between your shoulder blades.

“Hey, baby?” he whispered, gazing down at you.

You leaned into his side, melting at his touch.  “Yeah?”

“I’m so proud of you.”

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

It's time.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings.

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men | @nerdisthenewcool | @lilypadmomentum | @1dkneo | @kitsunechan707

Chapter 30

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2:00 AM, May 12th

A sudden jolt ripped you from your relatively peaceful sleep at around 2:00 in the morning.  Your body had been growing somewhat used to the Braxton Hicks contractions that seemed to plague you for a better part of the previous weeks.

This was not Braxton Hicks.

The pain seemed to start in your smile before radiating outward, almost reaching the tips of your toes and the pads of your fingers.  You felt it deep in your core, a painful cramping, almost stretching sensation that made your stomach leap into your throat.

It was happening.

You swung your legs over the side of your bed and grabbed your phone.  You had it planned out.  Law was sleeping at the hospital in a call room.  His surgery was today, at 8:00 AM.  Your knees were shaking, barely holding your weight as another contraction began to pulse through you, making you lean back against your mattress and slowly sink to the ground.  Your water hadn’t broken yet, and you were spotting the day before, but your doctor said that was normal.

You fucking hoped she was right.

[Ugh… hello?]

Your voice barely reached the phone you held to your ear.  “Sh-Shachi… it’s happening.”

A sudden rustling and a pained-sounding grunt resonated through the speaker and the line went dead.  You crawled across the floor to where your hospital bag was stored, your hand just barely reached one of the straps when another cramp ripped through your abdomen, making you squeak out a pained whimper.

You heard your apartment door burst open, probably startling your neighbors, and frantic footsteps ran across your home and to your room.  The light in your bedroom flicked on, momentarily blinding you, and Shachi stood panting in the doorway.

“Penguin, I need some help over here!” he shouted, approaching you and taking one of your arms.

The second man sprinted into the room, helping Shachi haul you to your feet.  With Penguin’s arms still supporting you upright, Shachi grabbed your heavy hospital bag and began a mad dash toward your door.  

“I’m going to stay here with Bepo, alright?” Penguin muttered, sleep still heavy on his tongue as he helped you into the hallway and into the elevator.  

You were wearing a ratty pair of house slippers and your usual pajamas, but you barely had time to think about your appearance when you could feel your stomach contracting with each movement.  You had no idea what giving birth was like, but you were progressing fast.  The only thing you could respond with was a weak nod, clenching your teeth.  The walk from the ground floor to Shachi’s car in the front parking lot was a blur for you, the only thought in your mind being the immense pressure in your swollen belly.  It was only going to get worse before it got better, and the thought made your palms more sweaty than they already were.

You were helped into the passenger seat of Shachi’s beat-up car, barely having time to register your anxieties about this hunk of metal taking you to the emergency room in the dead of night.  Your hands involuntarily wrapped around your belly, trying in vain to soothe the pain that continued to throb within you.  

“Good luck!” Penguin called as Shachi closed your door and sprinted to the other side of his car, almost throwing himself over the hood.  The car rattled to life as he twisted the key in the ignition.  He carefully maneuvered through the dark parking lot, out onto the main road, and you were off.

—

5:00 AM, May 12th

Law’s circulating nurse was holding a walkie talkie.  It wasn’t often those were found in the operating prep room.  The team was pensively getting ready, donning their gowns, following their glove procedures, and securing their masks and face shields when the static-filled sound of the receiver flooded the room.

[The helicopter is landing.]

The patient was in the prep room, still completely intubated, barely clinging to life.  This operation was his and his family’s last hope at a somewhat normal life, free from tubes.  Law closed his eyes and shuddered a deep breath in, then out, before placing his own mask on his face.  A few hours ago in the stuffy call room he slept in, he was forced awake by a night terror of the mother whose son had passed away almost a year ago.  Her screams still bounced around his head like a bell chime, loud, obnoxious, and utterly petrifying.

He thought about you sleeping at home.

“Have I received any calls?”  He turned his attention toward his circulating nurse who had placed the walkie talkie down, another nurse helping him into his second pair of sterile rubber gloves.

She pulled his phone out of her pocket.  Nothing.  The only notification on his home screen was a text from the day before from you reading, ‘Good luck baby!!!  I love you!!!!’  She shook her head, placing his phone in her back pocket.

“Don’t be surprised if we receive any calls during the operation, my wife is supposed to be giving birth in a week or so.  It’s all hands on deck at home, but this operation is our top priority right now.”  Law flexed his fingers under his gloves as he watched his staff bustle around the prep room, preparing all their instruments and materials before retreating into the primary OR to receive the patient from pre-op.

“Got it,” she replied, her voice low and patient.

Law hated that his priority wasn’t with you when you needed him around most.  But in the face of the most important operation of his life, there wasn’t much he could do.

—

6:09 AM, May 12th

Shachi wasn’t allowed into the delivery room with you due to not being family.  The only one who would be allowed was Law, and clearly, he wasn’t going to be available in quite a while.  Shachi had tried to call him throughout your triage check-in, but his phone had gone straight to voicemail.  No surprise to you, a man was getting his entire chest cavity replaced across the hospital.

Still… you missed him.  A lot.  It was certainly a bizarre feeling knowing that he was technically in the same building as you, but across the expansive hospital campus and a few floors down.

Your loneliness was far more palpable in your delivery room, however.  The entire space seemed bland and boring, and you were already hooked up to more tubes than you were pleased with, which is to say, four tubes too many.  You had a hose in your nose for extra oxygen, an IV drip in your arm, and two electrode patches on your chest monitoring your heart rate.

Your contractions had lessened somewhat in the time it took for you to arrive at the hospital, and according to the on-board delivery doctor who greeted you in the room, you weren’t even dilated.  You still had a long way to go.  You had barely eaten the breakfast that was brought to you, the buttered biscuit looked far too gray for a piece of bread, and you were effectively running off of bland applesauce and a small dosage of pain meds.  They couldn’t give you any more until your active labor started, where you could then opt for an epidural.

But you saw that needle.  You were even starting to question that.

The few contractions you felt throughout the morning were intense enough, and you were barely mustering up the courage to prepare yourself for what was surely to come later in the day.  You were still holding out hope that your labor would progress naturally and that there would be no need for an emergency C-section, or any sort of emergency procedure at all.

Your body now had one job.  It had failed all the others, but now that you finally had a successful pregnancy, there was only one job left to do.

Your dazed staring at the ceiling was interrupted when the doctor who admitted you re-entered your room.  She had a calm smile on her face, slight bags under her eyes that displayed more of a long career in delivering babies than acute exhaustion, and the sight of her soft smile lines around her mouth immediately filled you with a sense of calm you had yet to feel all morning.

“Mrs. Trafalgar, how are you doing?” she asked politely, pulling up a chair and sitting by your bedside.  One of her hands rested on yours, a gentle pat for reassurance.  “I reviewed your patient history.  I see your husband is the leading cardiothoracic surgeon with our hospital!”

The fact that she immediately jumped to singing your husband’s praises instead of rapidly addressing the two elephants in your patient charts that read ‘Spontaneous Abortions at 7 and 12 weeks’ brought a smile to your face.  “He is.  I’m sure you’ve already heard the news going on down there.”

She rubbed your hand again.  It was then that you noticed she had her own wedding ring on her left hand.  She looked like the kind of woman to have a sweet partner.  “Indeed I did, it’s been the talk of the staff for months.  Our hospital’s first, and probably only, dual cardiopulmonary transplant.  Frankly, it’s an honor that your husband was chosen to perform the operation, there is no one better qualified than him.”

You picked your head up from the pillow that was supporting your neck.  The bed you were laying in was tiled up so you were more sitting rather than stretched out.  “Have you personally met him?” you asked, your eyes lighting up.

She nodded.  “When he first got the position of lead surgeon, he was made to do a speech in front of the hospital staff to recognize his achievements.”

You remembered that day.  While you couldn’t attend due to your work schedule, he had spent the two weeks prior agonizing over what he was going to say.  He hated public speaking and everything involving it, so having to write a small speech was his worst nightmare.  You weren’t even married yet.  His reward for a successful conference was a steamy night in the bedroom with you, and as far as you knew, he did well enough that he came home and was immediately ripping his clothes off.

The doctor’s voice rattled you out of your daydream.  “It is a shame that he can’t be here right now,” she sighed.  “Hopefully your labor progresses slowly enough that he can be here for the actual birth.”

“I hope he’ll be here when they actually arrive,” you groaned.  “He’ll never let himself get over it if he misses it.”

“And it would be unfortunate for you, too, dear.  Don’t forget about you.”  Another hand pat.

You grinned.  She was right.  Your husband might have been one of the country’s most accomplished surgeons and was currently about to undertake the most daunting procedure of his life, but right now, you were the one preparing to birth two babies.

—

8:43 AM, May 12th

Law gazed down through his face shield at the exposed chest cavity of the man under the sheet on the operating table.  Multiple metal frames were holding his ribs open, his sternum sawed in half to expose the fragile, failing organs underneath.  His heart somehow was displaying visible wear, almost like a machine in a factory would begin to rust.  But both of his lungs were riddled with odd growths and morbid discoloration.

“Was it noted in his patient history that he has COPD?” Law asked, his voice displaying confusion rather than horror.  The poor guy was already getting two new lungs, it’s not like that would change.

“I’m not sure it did, Doc,” one of the nurses across the room maintaining the organ cart replied.  “Does he?”

The head anesthesiologist peered around his machines toward the open chest cavity.  “Yeesh.”

“Okay, professionalism, people.  Thank you for answering my question,” Law barked sternly, bringing his team back into strict focus.

The sound of the organ cart was filling the room with a foreign atmosphere.  It wasn’t like organ transplants on their own were very common in their hospital, but to have the giant artificial box pretending to be a human body supplying a constant stream of donor blood and oxygen to a detached heart and lung trifecta was quite a shocking sight for most of the nurses.  The heart itself was fully exposed, hoses connected to every valve.  It was beating morbidly with each pass of blood, circulating a non-living machine.  Some drops of blood from the exterior of the tissue trickled down the wet organ and collected in a small puddle at the bottom of the tray it was held on.  Some of the team could barely even look at it.

The heart had to be transplanted first, due to the way he was cut open.  They could replace the heart from the front, where his ribs were separated, but his lungs would have to be removed from the sides of his body, under the arms.  The scar tissue on the man was going to be quite the sight in a few months.  

The team was only about 45 minutes into this procedure.

Law’s shoulders were already sore.

—

10:00 AM, May 12th

Your phone was blowing up.

You had texted Ikkaku that you were admitted to the hospital and that your labor had begun, but was progressing slowly.  You didn’t think she’d be able to keep it to herself, but the sheer speed in which she had informed your other close friends was almost dizzying.  After only about 2 minutes, your phone began chiming with a near constant influx of messages from your friends and coworkers, all wishing you the best of luck with your delivery.

It was a weekday, afterall.  Ikkaku probably sprung up from her chair and sprinted around the office like the boy who cried wolf.

When the doctor said your labor would be progressing slowly, she meant it.  And you were already tired of it.  Two in the morning was already far too early for the human body to be functioning, and you weren’t able to get a lick of sleep in the hospital bed you occupied.  Each time your eyes fluttered closed, another contraction would ripple through your body and remind you of exactly where you were.

It had now been about eight hours since you were admitted.

Your cervix was 1 centimeter dilated, and your water had yet to break.

Nurses were constantly in and out checking on you and your condition, but conversation was rarely exchanged.  Instead, most of your time was spent in silence, staring at the bland burgundy walls of the delivery room, the machines you were hooked up to to supply you with fluids and oxygen, and the door to the rest of the maternity ward.

The door you wished would open to reveal your excited husband running to be by your side.

“How are you doing, dear?”  Your doctor popped her head in once more.  She entered the room fully and pulled on a fresh pair of gloves.

“Hanging in there,” you replied.  You were embarrassed with how dejected you sounded.  You didn’t intend to seem so… lonely.

The doctor positioned herself at the foot of her bed and gestured for you to maneuver your legs into the cold metal stirrups that connected at the end. The stirrups hurt your back enough as it was, and the weight of two babies against your spine did little to help, but you bared through it.

“You’re at about 3 centimeters now, you’re progressing very well!” she called, removing her head from between your legs.  “In another few hours, you’ll almost be ready to go!”

Your heart panged with excitement at finally giving birth, but also extreme desperation.

Your contractions were progressively getting closer and closer together.

You wanted Law.

—

11:51 AM, May 12th

Law’s phone rang from the back pocket of the circulating nurse’s scrubs.  The entire team let it go to voicemail.  A human heart was being removed from an open chest cavity, clutched like a sacred, scarred treasure in the blood soaked hands of one of the surgical assistants, while the man was fully hooked up to the quadruple bypass machine.  He now had a mechanical assistant serving as his heart and lungs while they retrieved the new ones.  There was no time or energy to be spent on a phone call.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t be bringing your phone in for this operation, doc,” one of the nurses said.  Law could hear the sarcastic grin from under the surgical mask.

“I thought about it, but I’d worry too much,” Law grumbled back, wiping his gloved hands on a sterile towel.

“You’re such a good husband,” the assistant anesthesiologist cooed from across the room.  “I hope my husband is as attentive as you are one day.”

Law felt blood rush to his face.  He kept his mouth shut while the organ box was wheeled over to the bedside.

—

12:10 PM, May 12th

[Hey, have you heard from Law at all?  How are you doing?]

Shachi’s voice over the speaker of your cell phone was able to clear your mind somewhat.  Your contractions were still even and decently spaced out, but you were growing more and more aware of every sudden shift in your body as the seconds ticked by.  “No, and I probably won’t hear from him at all until tonight.  The operation started only four hours ago, they probably haven’t even gotten to the lungs yet.”

[And you?  How are you holding up?]  The redhead reiterated his second question.

“I’m holding,” you muttered back.  “Doctor said I’m still about 3 centimeters dilated, so it’ll still be a while before I actually start, you know, giving birth.”

[What does that mean?  3 centimeters dilated.]

“That’s how large the opening of my cervix is,” you clarified.

A long pause over the phone’s speaker followed.  [What’s a cervix?]

You paused.  “It’s… the entrance to the birth canal?”

Another pause.

“Shachi… you know where babies come from, right?” you asked, your contractions suddenly the least of your worries.

[I do!]  His voice was defensive.  [When a man loves a woman and all that shit.  But what does a cervix have to do with any of that?]

“Have you…” your voice trailed off.  “Have you and Penguin made out yet?”

[Oh, yeah.  We made out, like, two nights ago.  Why?]

You considered your questions answered.

—

1:00 PM, May 12th

The entire room was silent as Law worked, his deft, experienced fingers expertly sewing up even the smallest of blood vessels in the donor heart.  It had been about five hours now since the start of the procedure, and everything was progressing as planned.  Even faster, at that, much to Law’s delight.  The entire team was working as one fluid unit, just as discussed for the months leading up.  When the front of the man’s chest cavity was repaired, however, was when the trickiest part of the procedure would begin.  The patient remained attached to the bypass machine as Law finished the final stitches on the aorta.  It would still be a little longer before he could be fully removed.

The man was filled with tubes.  Down his throat, down his stomach, in his chest, in his arms.  It was an incredibly uncomfortable sight.

The assistants worked in tandem to close up the chest cavity, securing all of the muscle, bone, and erroneous tissue back into place.  It was like putting together a very convoluted and high-risk jigsaw puzzle.

Now the lungs were next.

His phone rang again from the back pocket of the circulating nurse’s scrubs.  Due to the small down time, she reached in and pulled it out, assessing the screen.

“It’s your friend, doctor,” she called.

“Text him to just tell you what’s up,” he asked back.  His mind had become so focused on the operation that he barely had room to think about anything else.

Hi, this is Dr. Trafalgar’s circulating nurse!  Is everything alright?

The three little dots indicating an incoming response appeared, then disappeared, then appeared, then disappeared again.  After what felt like an eternity, an answer finally came up.  A confusing one, at that.

Orca

Uhhhh idk how to relay this properly cus idrk whats happening, but tell him his wife is 3 centimeters dilated???

Oh god.

“Uhm…” she nervously called.

“What is it?” the stone-faced surgeon asked, his back to her as he assessed the organ transplant box that still contained two human lungs.

“Your wife is 3 centimeters dilated?”

You could’ve heard a pin drop.

—

1:15 PM, May 12th

[So I got handed over to that circulating nurse.  She said she’d tell him but she obviously couldn’t do much more.]

Shachi had called you back after hanging up the first time, just to inform you that he had finally gotten through to Law, or at least, Law’s cell phone.

You sighed in relief.  That was the most you could ask for.  You were just happy that he’d be able to know.  “Thank you, Shachi.  You’re not still at the hospital, are you?”

[Nah, I’m getting ice cream.  It’s hot as shit out.]

Lucky bastard.

—

2:30 PM, May 12th

Law had two sides.  Analytical and focused, and the Protective Husband.

In the operating theater, those two sides were in a western-style duel against one another.

In front of him was a near-comatose man with the left side of his ribs cut open, a withered, diseased lung slowly being removed from his body.  And on the complete opposite side of campus, two stories above him, you had begun labor.

And he wasn’t there.

“Doctor, I thought you said another week or so,” one of the female nurses asked, her voice both curious and concerned.

“That’s what I assumed,” he replied, his tone a bit snippy.  No one could blame the poor guy.  He was having babies.

“How far along is she, again?” another voice asked.

“35 weeks,” he replied, delicately slicing through a patch of diseased lung tissue.

“It’s premature?!  Oh goodness–”  One of the nurses began to freak out over the implication, but another colleague was quick to calm her down.

“With twins!  They’re having twins, it’s alright,” the other nurse explained.  “With twins, it’s far more common to be delivered somewhat prematurely.  If the rest of the pregnancy was healthy, there’s no need to be alarmed.”

Law was inwardly thankful from his colleague’s explanation.  If anything, she unintentionally lessened the tension in the theater by ten orders of magnitude, making it far easier for him to focus.  

The harder he focused, the quicker this procedure got done.  And the quicker he got done, the quicker he could run to your side.

—

4:00 PM, May 12th

It had been about 14 hours since your labor officially began, and you barely had a lick of sleep.  The hospital lunch had not been much better than the hospital breakfast, and now you were dreading the hospital dinner.

It didn’t help that your contractions were now substantially closer together, and your cervix was now 6 centimeters dilated.

Law was now in surgery for about eight hours.

One of the evening shift nurses was in the room with you.  She looked about your age.

You turned your attention toward her as she fixed another fluid drip onto your IV pole.  “How long do you think a heart and lung transplant should take?” you blurted.

Your question clearly caught her off-guard.  “Oh gosh, I mean… a single heart transplant is, like, six hours, right?  Give or take?”

Your head flopped down onto your pillow.  He was nowhere near close to being done.

—

5:30 PM, May 12th

The topic of relieving Law with another surgeon mid-operation was now floating around the theater.  Despite being adamant that he refused to leave in the middle of a procedure, his fellow colleagues were determined to let him go.  Maybe it was just the exhaustion getting to everyone.  They had just now removed the left lung and were preparing its transplant for insertion, and they still had one more organ to go.  He couldn’t leave.

“We’ll get this done a lot quicker if we all focus,” the surgeon demanded, insisting his staff return to their focused attitudes.

It was clear that everyone, despite performing their duties well and maintaining a smooth workflow, wanted Law to go see his wife.

One of the anesthesiologists was a mother to three, and was now being drilled with questions.

“How quickly did you dilate with your first?” one of the nurses asked.

It took a few moments for her to think about it.  “I think I was in active labor for about 24 hours in total,” she replied.  “It was loooong.  But, I was also only carrying one, and I was 41 weeks pregnant, so he was quite big!  I would imagine a 35 week twin birth might progress a bit quicker, since the babies aren’t quite as big as that.”

Great.  Just what Law needed to hear.

His worst nightmare was flashing through his mind as he began to suture the transplant lung.  You in crippling agony, screaming and crying with no support from the doctors or nurses, forced to give birth alone.  What if you hemorrhage in the middle of delivery?  What if the babies weren’t positioned properly?  What if you passed out or suffered spontaneous cardiac arrest?  What if one of the babies died during delivery?  What if they both died?  What if all of you died?

The assistant standing next to Law watched in awe as the surgeon, who clearly wasn’t thinking about the surgery, sutured arteries together with robotic precision.

—

7:05 PM, May 12th

You were quickly losing track of time.

8 centimeters dilated.  The doctor told you that your body would know when you needed to push.  And now, almost all the way there, with your room now flooded with staff preparing for your birth, you felt the need to push.

[dfortrafalgar]

IM OPENING REQUESTS!!!

kinda. my largest and longest fic "I'm Losing You" only has two chapters left, and my Luffy oneshot from my 100 followers poll is almost done, and since ive had this blog for a few weeks now i've felt really confident and comfortable talking to people and sharing my writing!

so im going to start taking requests for SINGLE CHARACTER ONESHOTS

i'll write for anyone from one piece (except for teach. fuck that guy). guys and girls are both welcome, and i will take requests for gender neutral and male readers as well.

this info will be added to my pinned post as well, but im making its own individual post in the meantime!

please do keep in mind though that i have irl commitments, so requests will be completed on my own time, and if i do have requests that come in before IMLY finishes and my luffy fic comes out, they will be posted after those two!

thanks so much for everything thus far, im so excited to share more of my writing with you!!!

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But sometimes, you just need a little bit of love... and a little bit of science.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings.

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men | @nerdisthenewcool | @lilypadmomentum | @1dkneo | @kitsunechan707

Chapter 29

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The last thing you and Law were able to fully enjoy together to prepare for the arrival of your babies was setting up the nursery in the second bedroom, after having your friends assist with clearing it out and cleaning up the carpet, that was.  Once completed, Law was now hunkered down to a strict schedule of meetings with almost hundreds of people in preparation for the biggest, longest, and most daunting surgery of his life.

But prior to that, he was able to spend an entire day with you, putting together cribs, assembling toys, installing two small dresser sets and changing tables, and organizing all of the baby clothing and supplies you received from your generous friends.  You had never seen Law more delighted, except maybe on your wedding day.  The way he carefully assembled one of the mobiles and hung it delicately over the top of one of the cribs brought a warm smile to your face.  As the days grew closer and closer, the thought of Law holding your babies made your heart flutter more and more.

The room was much smaller than your master bedroom, but it still had ample room as a nursery for two babies.  You had taken the opportunity (thanks in part to your lenient lease) to paint both of the walls a simple, muted mint-green color, calming to the eyes and yet still allowing the room to glow with light when the blinds were open.  Law had even bought a paper trim decorated with animal prints to place on the highest points of the wall, surrounding the corner where it touched the ceiling.  Both cribs were situated in opposite corners of the room, separated by a small window.  At the ends of both cribs sat their small dressers where their respective clothing, bedding, and supplies were stored, and above the dressers sat their changing tables and changing mats.  The rest of the room was dedicated to storing their plethora of toys until they were old enough to begin playing and exploring their world.  In your kitchen, two high chairs were placed against the wall, ready to be used at your table.  Two car seats with sturdy handles and foldable sun covers were ready and waiting in your extra closet, along with the folded up double stroller.  In your bathroom, Law had installed a small additional storage container for you to keep your unused breastfeeding supplies in, which he insisted on sterilizing three times a week despite not being touched yet.  Everything was ready to go, now the only thing left to do was wait.

But now, Law was spending more and more time at the hospital, which you completely understood, but that he lamented over.  Before he left every single day, and the second he returned home from however long his shift was, he kissed you on the lips before traveling down and planting two tender kisses against your bump.  The bump of which had become quite the hindrance as you approached the 36 week mark.  You were at 34 now, and according to Robin, your twins’ organs were fully developed and they’d be able to breathe on their own once born… whenever that was.

And while you were happy to have made it to 34, overjoyed even, the Braxton Hicks contractions were incredibly annoying.

“They are not indicative of labor,” your doctor had said.  “Trust me, you’ll know when your contractions go from false alarms to actual labor.”

You took her word for it.  But that didn’t make the 30 second increments of sudden cramping rippling across your belly at all hours of the day any better.  Sometimes, the pain would subside for an hour or two before coming back in full.  And they weren’t agonizingly painful, but they were prevalent enough that it was near impossible to ignore them.

While Law was at work more and more frequently in preparation for the surgery, Shachi and Penguin basically moved in with you.  They were walking Bepo, feeding Bepo, playing with Bepo, kissing Bepo, all while you were laying on your couch like a log.  A log with a huge belly and spontaneous Braxton Hicks contractions.

“What does Mama want?” Penguin asked from your kitchen, rifling through your pantry.

“Please don’t call me ‘Mama,’” you groaned.  It was endearing when Law did it, and very awkward when anyone else did.

“Got it.  What does the fat woman on the couch want?” he called back.

“Don’t make me come over there and stab you,” you yelled.  “I’m cranky enough as it is.”

Shachi emerged from the bathroom down the hall.  “Penguin quit bugging her.  That’s my job.”

“You guys are going to make me deliver early,” you snipped.

“Give the poor woman some food,” Shachi demanded, driving a harsh spank against Penguin’s ass through the man’s cargo shorts, resulting in a high-pitched yelp.  That finally forced a smile to break out on your face.

“I’m glad to see you two finally came to your senses,” you chided, trying to push yourself up against the armrest of your couch where a pillow was situated against your back to support you.  “What’s it like having graduated from roommates to sex?”

“It’s the exact same, but way hotter,” Shachi replied with a mischievous, toothy smile.

“Okay, I’m sorry for calling you fat, please stop talking about my sex with this lunatic,” Penguin groaned, emerging from your pantry with a few unopened boxes of pasta while you and Shachi giggled over his modesty.  “How does a simple baked ziti sound?”

You moaned from the couch.  “That sounds heavenly.”

Shachi left the kitchen to enter the main living space with you, sitting on the floor with his legs spread and allowing Bepo to crawl onto his lap.  “Nervous?” he asked, looking up at you.

Your hands soothed over your belly as another false contraction rippled through you in waves.  “More than nervous.  But I’ve been trying not to think about it.  I’m worried that too much stress will induce labor.”  After a brief pause, you added, “I’m worried that everything out of the ordinary will induce labor.”

The redhead hummed beside you, idly stroking the soft fur of Bepo’s head as the dog began to fall asleep on his lap.  “Do you have a hospital bag packed?”

You nodded.  “Law packed one for me a week ago.  It has all of our stuff in it… it’s pretty heavy.  He said, ‘If anything happens while I’m away and you have to go into L&D, have either Shachi or Penguin take this to the hospital.’”

“What’s ‘L&D’?” asked Penguin from the kitchen as he dumped two boxes of pasta into a large pot of boiling water.

“Labor and Delivery,” you clarified.  “We’re all assuming a lot of this is going to be spontaneous, so there’s no real indication of when I’ll have to go in because… well, we don’t know when I’ll give birth,” you explained.  “Most moms with one baby give birth at around 40 weeks, give or take.  But with twins, the average is apparently 36.  And I’m at 34.”

Shachi whistled through his lips.  “So it really could be at any moment.”

“Great time for Law to have to replace a man’s organs, huh?” Penguin piped up from the kitchen.

You laughed.  “The timing couldn’t have been better!”

The smell of baked ziti very slowly began to permeate your apartment as Penguin cooked, Shachi doted on Bepo, and you lounged on the couch, standing intermittently to continue to stretch your legs.  The contractions didn’t stop, if anything they increased in frequency as time slowly ticked away.  And every once in a while, one of your babies would kick against your muscle.

—

Law was fighting with every fiber in his body to stay awake.  He was leading his surgical team, for crying out loud.  He needed to be front and center for this meeting.  He drove the tip of his pencil through his pant leg into the flesh of his thigh to snap him out of his dozed state.  God, he needed coffee.

At the front of the conference room, directly in front of where Law sat, was the head of the hospital’s Transplant Transport team, which Law’s team joked was a very humorous name.  He was quite a stocky older man with a distended belly that barely fit into the gray dress shirt he had tucked into his slacks.  He was going through an itinerary on a pulled-down projector screen.  

“The patient, to remind those of you who just arrived, is a 51 year old man with a history of cardiopulmonary failure.  He has had two open heart surgeries in the past, and suffered a collapsed lung in his youth.  Both he and his family have been willing to try every treatment possible, and that is why we are meeting here today.  As far as I am aware, this hospital has never performed a double heart-lung transplant before, am I correct?”  He turned his attention to Law, who crossed on leg over his knee, asking silently for the lead surgeon’s approval.

“Correct,” Law affirmed, nodding his head.

“Dr. Trafalgar, would you mind walking your team through the procedure step-by-step?” the man asked, stepping aside to allow Law room to stand up in front of the packed conference room.

With a silenced grunt, Law stood up and smoothed his white doctor’s coat over his chest.  He took a deep breath and turned to face the room.  In front of him, every seat at the table and scattered chairs against the wall were filled by his surgery team, ICU nurses and doctors, hospital technicians involved with the case, and members of the Transplant Transport team.  “The surgery is scheduled to begin at 8:00 AM on May 12th.  That morning, a helicopter will be arriving with the heart and lungs from the donor patient, where they will then be transported by the transplant team to our operating room and hooked up to an artificial body where they’ll be kept living while we remove the damaged tissue from our recipient.  A coronary bypass machine will be used to keep the patient alive while his organs are removed and replaced.  This is the simple explanation, whenever everyone’s ready, I will begin discussing the more heavy aspects of the procedure.”

A few nods and curt words of consent were shared amongst the room.  Law took a deep breath and began speaking once more.

—

You were sitting naked on your bed, having just gotten out of the shower, when your phone started buzzing on your bedside table.  Your husband’s name popped up, immediately making you smile.

“Hey, baby!” you called into the receiver.  “How’d the presentation meeting go?”

A long, pent up sigh was heard through the speaker, making your heart pang with sympathy.  [About as good as it could’ve.  It’s hard explaining a 15 hour surgery to a group of 50-some-odd people.]

“Do you think your team is ready for it?” you asked, using one hand to slather moisturizing lotion onto your knees and calves.

[I think so.  I mean, I damn hope so.  I’ve had a lot of my nurses and team members review the same materials I’ve been studying to make sure everyone is on the same page.  As the day gets closer, I’m having my assistants complete simulated operations on their down time.]

“You can do that?”

[It’s a teaching hospital, we’ve got plenty of equipment.]

You grinned, dropping your legs and falling backward onto your bed, rubbing your belly with one hand while your other held your phone to your ear.  “Well, that’s good.”

Law’s voice hummed in agreement.  You heard him take another deep breath.  [I miss you.]

A part of you wanted to joke that he was only about five minutes away, but you knew what he meant.  He was missing the last few weeks of your pregnancy, something he had wanted to avoid since the two of you started trying for a baby.  It was vital to him that he was there to support you, to protect you, but once again, he wasn’t.  He was kept away from you by his taxing job, a job that he loved with a deep passion, but one that fought with his unwavering commitment to you.

Instead of commenting something witty in response, you replied with, “I know… I do too.”  A thought came into your mind, something you had read earlier in the day while your friends were out with your dog.  “Hey… Law?”

[Yeah, baby?]

“I know it’s hard to ask this over the phone but… I read online that parents with twins are more likely to suffer relationship breakdown.”

Law seemed to know what you were alluding to immediately, even without you having to explicitly state your worry.  [Remember everything I’ve been telling you?  About how much I love you and how that’s not going to change at any point?]

A smile tugged to your lips.  “Yeah…”

[Relationships break down because of stress.  But we’re good at working things out together.  We jump through hurdles at the same time because we communicate and we love each other.  That’s not going to change with babies.  Even with two new mouths to feed instead of one.]

“Your words always help me feel better,” you sighed into the receiver.  “I love you.”

[Get some rest, sleeping beauty.  I love you, too, always.]

—

34 weeks turned into 35.

The waiting was starting to take years off of your life, you thought.

Shachi and Penguin had bunked up in your living room.  You only saw your husband about three times while he prepared religiously for the operation.

Somewhere at another hospital, a comatose man was being prepped and signed off to be removed from life support and have his organs harvested.  And ten minutes from your apartment, a middle-aged man with his own family was getting ready to receive them.

And you were carrying two babies in your womb.  Two babies who, according to your very last ultrasound, were both facing head-first toward your cervix.  It was looking like a completely natural birth would be possible, as long as no complications arose in the moment.

Hopefully, according to your latest health workup, everything would be fine.  Your blood pressure had remained steady throughout your pregnancy, all of your blood panel conditions had been very healthy.  Your body felt ready, if the constant Braxton Hicks contractions were anything to go off of.

It was just.  The.  Waiting.

Your journal was almost completed.  You only had two more pages before your prompts switched to journaling the post-birthing experience.

You uncapped your pen and began writing.

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But sometimes, you just need a little bit of love... and a little bit of science.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings

(also it's far too late in the game for me to be asking this but can someone help me figure out why everyone's blogs outside of the first five people in the tag list dont show up. ive been on tumblr since like 2014 and still cannot figure this stuff out im sobbing)

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men | @nerdisthenewcool | @lilypadmomentum | @1dkneo | @kitsunechan707

Chapter 28

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Your maternity leave had started early, not helped by how active one of your babies was at the crack of dawn.  Every morning when you woke up to the sound of your alarm and rolled over to hoist yourself out of bed, you felt a kick against your abdomen.  When you stood up, you felt that familiar fluttering sensation.  One morning, you slept in only a few minutes longer than you normally did, and were punished with a small shove against your bladder that had you involuntarily unloading your urine into your pajama bottoms.

That one made you cry, Law keeping his chuckles to himself as he helped you clean up in the bathroom.

“Stop berating them through my stomach,” you sobbed.  “I just pissed my pants.”

Your husband had answered you with a soft kiss to your swollen skin as he bent down to pick up your soiled clothing and bring them to your washing machine.  “It happens, darling.  It wasn’t your fault.”

Needless to say, it had been an emotional third trimester thus far.

On a Friday evening, you were sitting reclined against the arm of your couch, a book resting on your belly as you munched on some apple slices when Law came bursting through the door.  He was frantic to kick off his shoes and shrug off his lab coat, hanging it on the hooks in the entryway before scrambling into the living room and plopping himself down next to you.  He was holding a notebook in his hand.

“Hello to you, too,” you stated sarcastically, placing a paper bookmark in your novel to mark your spot and adjusting yourself on the couch to sit with your legs crossed under you.

“I was busy on my break today,” Law stated matter-of-factly, flipping through the wrinkled notebook with a fervor.  When he found the page he was looking for, he folded the journal in half and held out the exposed page to face you.

A bunch of squares and barely legible writing covered the lined paper.  You squinted.  “I have no idea what I’m looking at, babe.”

Law rarely had moments where he got so excited that he couldn’t speak, but this was clearly one of those moments.  He would forget that other people didn’t have over 20 years of medical training going back to the age of five.  “Sorry, sorry.”  He turned the notebook back toward him, using his finger to point out what he had scribbled down.  “These are genetic predictions.  It’s estimated that about 50% of fraternal twins will be opposite genders, so a boy and a girl.  Which means about 25% will be both boys, and about 25% will be both girls.”  He moved his finger from one scribble to another.  “I have black hair, which I’m assuming to be the dominant gene among the two of us.  However, I’m also a carrier for brown hair, because my mother and sister both were brunettes.  Accounting for your hair color, I’m estimating that it’s a 75% chance that both of our babies will have black hair.  At least one of our babies will have my eye color, but I believe your eyes are the dominant trait.  I remember you saying at one point that someone in your family had curly hair, right?  I’m estimating a 25% chance that at least one of our kids will have curly hair.  If both of our babies are boys, the chances are 75% that they’ll be colorblind, and 25% that only one of them will be colorblind.  If both are girls, it’s a 75% chance that both of them will be carriers for the colorblind gene, 25% that only one of them will be.  But again, this is all approximations.  So then I started thinking about more technical stuff.  I have B+ blood, but I couldn’t remember what your blood type was, so we have to go off of the Rh factor, which is dominant with positive Rh, which means that at least one of our babies will have Rh positive blood, likely both.  Male pattern baldness is also a dominant trait in most families, but I’m 26 and still have a full head of hair, so hopefully if we have a boy, he won’t have to worry about hair loss.  Funnily enough, I learned today that having six fingers on one or both hands can actually be a dominant allele in some genetic lines, but neither of our family members have had any form of polydactyly that I can recall.  Just an interesting thought.  Anyway–”

Your shoulders were shaking with your laughter.  “Law, slow down!  Breathe!”  Your hands reached forward to grab his shoulders to settle his excited rambling, his face slowly losing color as he was speaking more than he was absorbing oxygen.

You watched as your husband took a long gulp of hair in before blowing it out slowly.  “Sorry.  I got excited.”

“Don’t apologize, you’re adorable,” you replied, stroking your hand along his cheek.  “How long did it take you to write all that down?”

Law glanced one more time at his notebook before closing it and discarding it on the coffee table.  “About 15 minutes.”

You snorted.  “I hope intelligence is a dominant trait so that both of our kids will be as smart as you.”

“You’re smart too,” he argued back, his voice light and content.

“Not ‘scribble down multiple punnett squares in 15 minutes’ smart,” you countered.  “Have you eaten anything yet?”

He shook his head, stretching his arms behind his back.  “Nope, I came straight home.  I was too excited to show you that.”

You grinned, struggling to lean forward to kiss the tip of his nose.  He assisted you by leaning forward on his own legs, pressing his forehead to yours.

“How have you been feeling?” he asked suddenly, diverting the topic.  One of his hands came to rest on the crest of your belly, petting the taught skin through your shirt.

“Tired,” you replied.  “It’s hard to stand up.  Robin said both babies are probably around 2 or 3 pounds by now, but honestly it feels like I’m carrying lead weights when I stand.  I feel like a turtle.”

“Any more movement?” he asked, scooting over the cushions to be closer to you, wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders to pull you into him.  You gladly followed his gesture, dropping your head into his neck.

“One of them moves in the morning still, the other likes to kick when I go to bed.  The only reason I’ve been able to tell is because I feel them on different sides,” you groaned.  “I don’t know what it looks like with them folded up in there, but they haven’t made it easy on me.”

Law hummed in response, his free hand stroking your belly.  The feeling of his palm against your bump felt more soothing than the finest lotion.  “I’m just glad that they’re both okay… not like I’m thrilled that you’re in pain, obviously, but…”

“No, trust me, I am too,” you sighed, closing your eyes.  “I’ve made it this long now, and both of them are still alive.  And pretty soon…”

Your husband knew exactly what you were going to say when your voice trailed off.  It was a subject the two of you had been tip-toeing around for quite some time.

The birth.

“That’s the one thing that’s still scaring me,” you admitted.  “I’m already high risk, and anything could go wrong.  I might have to be ripped open while awake to get them out.  I might die, even.”

Law felt his chest clench.  “Don’t say that, you won’t die.”

“But we don’t know that,” you sighed, your voice growing more nervous by the second.

“No, you won’t die,” he replied firmly.

You felt mildly guilty for broaching the subject.  You knew how difficult it was for him to even think about the slim chance of losing his family again, not when he had come so far and achieved so much with you.  You leaned your head upward to kiss the soft skin of his neck, his sideburns tickling your forehead.  You felt his arm around your shoulder pull you even closer to him, his breaths shallow.

“I’m sorry…” you muttered.

“Don’t be,” he responded quickly.  “I mean it.  You have nothing to be sorry for.”

His hand dropped from your belly to grasp your own, tilting his head down to meet your own as his lips gently pressed against yours.  Your eyes slipped closed, leaning into his tender kiss and wrapping your free arm around his torso.  The size of your belly made it hard to be flush against him, but you made do.  After all, you would have to get used to cuddling with two babies soon enough.

You pulled away from his lips.  “Hey, so how’s the studying been?  For that surgery?”

Law groaned, not at you, but at the mere thought of the looming procedure that had been bearing on his mind for the past eight weeks.  “I feel like I’m back in med school, that’s for sure.  I feel ready for it, but at the same time I can never be too prepared.  It’s going to be… a lot.”

Dual heart-lung transplants were very, very rare, and used for the most severe of cases.  The procedure had never been performed at Law’s hospital before.  Single heart transplants had been done, and a few lung transplants, but never at the same time.  Law’s cardiac ward was specifically chosen for the operation because of the young doctor’s expertise in the field.  The patient’s life was quite literally in Law’s hands.

A small smirk flashed on his face.  “I started wearing gloves in that patient’s room with his family.  I don’t want them to see the tattoos on my fingers.”

“Do you not wear gloves for any other patients?” you asked with a small giggle.  

“No, I do, when performing treatments.  When I’m on rounds, I just stick my hands in my pockets,” he explained.  He had one dimple on his cheek that showed up when he smiled.  You couldn’t help but peck a quick kiss to it.  His stomach suddenly grumbled, startling the two of you.

“You stay right here, I’ll make us some dinner,” he said, making a move to stand up.

“Pancakes,” you demanded with your own mischievous smirk.

“We had pancakes a week ago,” he replied with a smile.

“And?”

Law leaned down for one last kiss on the crown of your head.  “Alright.  Pancakes it is.”

—

Your pregnancy journal had gone from an anxious possession that you worried would jynx your good luck to a vice that you crawled back to whenever you were bored.  The pages were filled with the ink from your pen as you used the prompts to delve into some of the thoughts you kept to yourself, your feelings about your body, your babies, your relationships, the hopes and dreams and the worries and troubles you tried not to stress about.  You kept track of the gifts you had received, the words of advice from your doctor, and the unprovoked comments from elderly ladies at the supermarket who liked to comment about how cute of a couple you were when you shopped for food with your husband.

The grouchy, black-haired surgeon with bags under his eyes and a resting bitch face, and you, his slightly shorter, glowing wife with a very large pregnant belly and a polite, shining smile on her face.  You were truly a match made in heaven, one might say.

Law had been busier and busier in the weeks getting closer to your due date.  As the weather got colder, the holidays came and went, and the new year began, he was diving more and more into his studies preparing for what was easily the largest, most intense, and most serious surgery of his professional career.  Some might assume that you would get tired of the neglect, growing frustrated that he wasn’t around to spend time with you in your third trimester, but in reality, you couldn’t be more proud.

The sight of him hunched over your kitchen table surrounded by old textbooks and papers was an image straight out of your college days, where you’d let yourself into his single dorm room close to midnight and find him on his floor in the dim lighting surrounded on all sides by professional journals, research papers, and textbooks from every esteemed surgeon in his field.  You’d sit down next to him and diligently push french fries against his lips as his eyes stayed glued to his studies, rewarding you during his sparse downtime with awkward kisses that tasted like salt and firm yet shaky hands that were obsessed with traveling up and down your body.  

The only difference now was that Law was that professional in his field, that he was in an apartment, and that you both had rings on your fingers.  The french fries stayed the same, but he at least had a piece of mind to feed himself while you watched from the couch and giggled.  Every once in a while, he would lean back against his seat and pop his spine with a satisfied groan, toss you a fond look across the room, and go back to reading.  Sometimes, you would stand behind him and rub his stiff shoulders, encouraging him to stand up and stretch his legs just as he would do to you to ensure you remained strong during the final weeks of your pregnancy.

The only thing weighing on your mind was the panging worry that he would be in the middle of this massive procedure when you went into labor.  You were both informed by your doctor that most twins would be delivered either naturally or induced at around 36 weeks, almost a month before single babies were usually born, and with your due date at 38 weeks being in the middle of May, you had a nagging feeling in your head that he would miss it.

You both tried to hold onto hope that your babies would be delivered any other day that month.  He would be gone for only a day, a full 24 hours, in total the day of the surgery.  What were the odds that your babies would be born on that specific day?  Slim, to say the least.

At around 32 weeks, it was getting hard for you to stand up.  Your movements were slow and labored, and you were spending most of your days in your apartment either on your couch or in your bed, standing up when instructed by Law, or Shachi and Penguin when he was at work, to walk laps around your home.  The fear of blood clots forming in your legs and traveling to your lungs, as described by your lovely husband in far too much detail, was enough to make you more determined to keep the blood pumping in your body.

“Alright, ready?” Law stated, standing behind you in the kitchen as you slowly made your way through a pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

“Ready,” you stated back, your eyes focused on washing the silverware in your hands.

His inked hands traveled around your torso and under your belly, lifting up against the bottom of your bump.  The sudden relief of having the weight lifted off of your back made an almost erotic moan leave your lips, your grip on the silverware releasing slightly as the tension in your entire body flooded from your veins like a broken dam.

“Feel good?” he asked from behind you with a smirk, his chin resting on the crown of your head.

“Oh my god,” you groaned.  “I saw a lot of posts that said that it feels good, but I didn’t think it would feel this good.  I wish you could do that constantly.”

Sparse kisses were placed to the back of your head as his hands slowly released their pressure against the bottom of your bump, leaving your back aching once more as your body was forced to bear the brunt of the weight in your abdomen.  You stifled a whimper as you were forced to hold what felt like 50 extra pounds on your own again, but Law’s lingering presence behind you with his hands resting idly on your belly soothed your aches subconsciously.

“Busy spring, huh?” he asked, filling the room where the only other sound was the sloshing from your dish washing.

You hummed in response, rinsing your hands and turning off the tap, drying your hands on a towel that lay on the counter beside you.  “You could say that.”  You turned around to lean against the counter, Law’s hands remaining on your body as you rotated.  He leaned forward to capture your lips in his, you rewarding him with a smile.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to be more physical with you…” you sighed.

Law pulled away.  “Why are you sorry for that?”

You shrugged.  “You seem like you’ve been a lot more handsy with me lately, and I can’t reciprocate.  And I’m probably not going to be able to reciprocate for a while after I give birth.”

Your husband chuckled, planting chaste kisses across your cheeks.  “I’m not ‘being handsy with you’ because I want anything.  I’m ‘being handsy’ because I want you to be happy and comfortable.  I’m not expecting anything in return.  And by the way,” he pulled away to stare into your worried eyes.  “I know what you’re thinking.  You’re thinking about your post-birth body being somehow inferior to how you were before pregnancy, I know it.”

You averted your gaze, your lips pinching together.

“And I know you don’t like the stretch marks on your belly,” he added.

“Where are you going with this?” you asked, your voice quiet.

“Because I’m going to remind you every day how beautiful you are.  Always.  Even the changes that come with having a child.  You’re always going to be beautiful to me.  I’ll never be repulsed by your stretch marks or wrinkled skin or cellulite like you think I’m going to be.  The person standing in front of me is a beautiful woman who has given me a life worth living, and I’m going to cherish her and support her through everything.”

Your eyes darted toward his neck, where his glass necklace still sat between his collarbones.  He religiously wore it every single day, only taking it off to shower, sleep, and perform surgeries.  Likewise, you never removed your glass ring.  Hot tears began to form in your eyes, but your lips curled into a smile.  Your expression fought for dominance over being happy or sad, and what resulted was a shaky grin, furrowed eyebrows, and watery eyes.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you asked, letting a few lose tears escape the corners of your eyes.

Your husband kissed the damp streaks that your tears left behind on your cheeks.  “You fed me french fries on the floor of my dorm room in college.  I think that’s when I knew you were going to be my wife one day.”

A bubbly laugh left your throat as your hands gripped his shoulders for stability.  “I think I knew when you found me out behind my dorm building that night.”

Law leaned in to kiss you one more time, but a sudden gasp left your lips as your entire body tensed up.  A stinging cramping sensation rippled across your abdomen, lingering in your muscles.  It lasted about 30 seconds, where your shaking hands clenched the cotton of Law’s shirt, his eyes wide and frenzied as his hands supported your upright posture, before the pain finally dissipated into a mild buzz, then nothing at all.

You stared into Law’s eyes.  “Can you help me sit down?”

[dfortrafalgar]

Distraction

Portgas D. Ace x Fem!Reader

You and Ace intended to spend the day at the beach, but he can’t seem to be able to relax.

Warnings: modern au, so much smut. like so much smut. wet, sticky smut. 69-ing briefly. reader is also written to be on the chubbier side (im projecting <3) ace fucks you in the back of his car, basically. MINORS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.

I woke up thinking about Ace today so I cranked this out in, like, an hour. It was a nice change of pace while I've been finishing up IMLY and the Luffy fic from my poll, which is almost done! (speaking of which, thank you for 200 followers <3)

Ace hadn’t seen your swimsuit yet.  All he knew about it was that you purchased it recently on a shopping trip with a group of your friends, but it was currently concealed under a light t-shirt and denim shorts.  Throughout the drive to the shoreline, he was anxiously eyeing your bare thighs, his grip on the steering wheel of his station wagon turning his knuckles white.

“What’s got you so nervous over there?”  Your airly voice shook the freckled man out of his daze.  “Eyes on the road, hotshot.”

“It’s nothing,” he blurted, pouting and turning his attention back to the road.  Maybe he should have you sit in the backseat when your skin was exposed.

His own friends often joked that he was no better than a dog.  It wasn’t his fault that his sex drive was higher than cruising altitude… or maybe it was.  But he couldn’t help his wandering eyes when the soft skin of your plush thighs was exposed, or the way your deft hands fiddled with your cuticles as you stared out the window, sparkling eyes taking in the cloudless summer day as the backroads passed by on the drive to the beach.  Most of your evenings together were spent with either his head between your legs, your head between his legs, or your face smushed into a soft pillow while Ace desperately railed you from behind.

It was a good life, that’s for sure.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been to the beach,” you suddenly stated, turning your head to look at your flustered boyfriend.  “I’ve only ever been swimming in pools recently!”

“Yeah, me too,” he replied, his voice shaky.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concern.  “Ace, are you really alright?  Your face is kind of red.”  You reached your hand over to press your palm to his forehead.  “You don’t feel like you have a fever, do you?”

“Nah, I feel fine.  Honestly.  Just… thinking.”  One of his hands left the steering wheel to rub his sweating palm against the fabric of his swim trunks.  All he had on, other than the baggy trunks, was a white tank top that had a very unfortunate oil stain around the chest area.  He was sure his entire upper body was flushing red with the debauched thoughts that plagued his weary brain.  He hadn’t even seen your bathing suit yet and his mind was running in circles.  (He started to debate calling up that therapist that Sabo recommended.)

“Well, tell me if you really don’t feel good.  I don’t want you to force yourself to be out today just because of me,” you cooed, your voice soft and comforting.

He needed to tell you to stop talking.  Even the sound of your voice made butterflies swarm in his gut.

He might as well have been ovulating.

After what felt like an eternity, the trees surrounding the backroad route he had taken began to dissipate, replaced with the beautiful sight of the shoreline.  The ocean spanned outward as far as you could see, disappearing along the horizon and blending in with the bright blue sky.  A few small beach houses dotted the shore.

“You said this was a public beach, right?” you asked curiously.

Ace nodded, swallowing a thick glob of spit.  “Public, but very minimal.  There’s some private properties surrounding it so a lot of people assume the entire place is off-limits to locals, but there’s a small parking lot set back from the beach near a tiny bathroom shack-lookin’ thing.”

You grinned.  “Nice.”

“Do you not like public beaches?” he inquired, tossing you a side eye as he pulled further down the road, approaching the aforementioned parking lot.

“I don’t mind them,” you replied.  “But sometimes really busy beaches make me nervous.  Sometimes I don’t feel comfortable swimming when there’s too many people around… I get self-conscious in my bathing suits!”  Your statement was punctuated with a fluttering, nervous laugh as you involuntarily squeezed the skin of your thighs.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that when I’m here,” Ace replied, flashing you a cheeky grin.

The parking lot seemed sparse.  It was entirely gravel with a few decrepit wooden fences separating where cars could park, some overgrown weeds poking through the impacted dirt here and there.  Sure enough, there was a brown, run-down bathroom shack between the beach and the parking lot.  During high tide, it almost seemed like the entire area would get flooded, but the gravel was drier than bone thanks to the beating sunlight.

You dug through your bag, removing a tube of sunblock.

“I thought you already put on sunscreen before we left,” Ace said, pulling into a spot and putting his beat-up station wagon in park.

“I did, I’m just putting some extra on my face,” you responded, uncapping the tube and squeezing some of the white gel onto your fingers.  You deftly rubbed the lotion onto your skin, across your cheeks and brow, down your nose, and down your neck.  

Ace needed to look away from you as your hands trailed down your neck and across your collarbones, ridding your hands of the excess lotion.  You weren’t provoking him on purpose, he knew that, but clearly his dick was taking charge of the day.

Little prick.

The two of you excitedly exited the car, grabbing your small umbrella and towels to find a nice spot to set up camp on the sand.  You were quick to lay down your towel when you found a spot, Ace digging a deep hole into the ground to mount the umbrella and provide a shelter from the beating sunlight.  Only a few other people were dotted around the beach, mostly older folk who were most certainly retired and enjoying their elderly days basking in the sunlight.  The thought made you smile.  You watched with glittering eyes as Ace pulled his tank top over his lean body, his muscular chest rippling with his movements, letting the cloth fall into his bag in a wrinkled heap.

“Oh, shit, forgot the cooler,” Ace mumbled suddenly.  “I’ll be right back.”  He swiftly turned tail and hiked through the sand back to his car.

You smiled, crawling under the umbrella and feeling the sand beneath the fabric shift below your knees.  You slid your denim shorts down your legs, shifting your weight to pull them off before folding them neatly and tucking them into your beach bag.  Your shirt followed, your hands hooking under the bottom hem and pulling it up over your head, repeating the process of folding it and storing it away.  Weirdly enough, you felt more comfortable on this beach than any other.  While some old folk liked to gab, the sparse population on this beach seemed more than willing to keep to themselves.  And there was no risk of creepy men your age or obnoxious teenagers to toss rogue comments about your body or shitty pick-up lines.

And you had Ace, of course, who would kiss the ground you walked on if you asked.  The thought made your stomach flutter with glee.

Back in the parking lot, Ace was quick to haul open his trunk and grab the small cooler they had packed with water, some sodas, and some light snacks, slinging it over his bare shoulder and slamming the door closed.  The hinges made a terrible squealing noise as the door moved.  He really needed to get that fixed.  He quickly jogged back to the shoreline with the cooler bag in his possession, his sandals making scuff marks in the gravel.

He almost died and came back to life when he saw you from behind.

Your clothes were off, your body hugged in a bikini that looked sculpted for you and only you.  The strawberry-print bodice was tied around your neck and below your shoulder blades with thin straps, the front of the suit being held together in the front with a metal ring between the bust.  Your plump breasts peeked over the seams slightly, making blood rush to Ace’s face.  The solid-colored bottoms squeezed your hips and ass perfectly, with one side open and held together with strings in an intricate criss-cross pattern.

Ace’s feet were moving on their own, his soul ascending from his body as he floated toward you.

You heard the rustle of his swim trunks from behind you as you approached, turning to look at him over your shoulder.  “Hey!  All set with the cooler?”

He plopped to his knees on his own towel, the cooler hitting the ground with a thud.  “Yeah, all set…”  His voice trailed off as if he wanted to say something else.

You gazed at him with confusion painting your features.

“You… you look…”  Ace could barely look at you.  “You look so fucking hot… oh my god.”

Suddenly, his demeanor in the car made much more sense.  The constant red flush painting his adorable freckled cheeks, his mouth in a perpetual tongue-tie, his lips pursing together tightly as he struggled to keep his composure.  Your lips pulled into a bright smile, relishing in the flustered behavior of your boyfriend.

“Aww, thank you, baby!” you cooed, moving closer to him.  Your hands trailed down his arm, ghosting over the tattoo on his bicep before teasingly falling to the cooler and unzipping the top, pulling an orange soda out of the bag.

“Please don’t tease me, I think I might explode,” Ace huffed.

You popped open the can with a satisfying click, taking a quick sip from the opening.  “You know… I don’t think anyone’s going to mess with our stuff if you want to go back to the car…”

Ace’s dark eyes darted toward you, assessing the mischievous expression on your face as you kept the cold soda can pressed against your mouth.  The metal was rapidly developing condensation thanks to the heat in the air, droplets of water dripping down the orange can and onto your fingers, plopping against your folded knees.

He carefully removed the soda from your hands, tucking it back into the cooler to make sure it didn’t spill, before standing up and hauling you to your feet, dragging you by your hand across the hot sand and back to the parking lot for a third time.  He ripped his car keys from the pocket of his swim trunks, shoving the metal key into the door lock to open the vehicle before leading you to the trunk and popping open the door.  You quickly clamored inside, him following behind you and closing the trunk from the inside.  He chucked his keys somewhere towards the front of the car.

He wasted absolutely no time in smashing his lips against yours, making you wince slightly at the feeling of his teeth hitting your own, but the way his long fingers expertly groped the skin of your breasts below your bikini top made you forget about the momentary discomfort.

After a few stifling moments, Ace pulled away and heaved into the skin of your neck, holding you down by your shoulders.

The best part about him owning an old, refurbished station wagon was the ample amount of room in the back, as well as the lack of center console between the two front seats.  It was a car built for fucking.

“Is this what you were thinking of on the ride over here?” you asked, a coy tone on your tongue.  “About what my new swimsuit would look like?”

Ace grumbled, a childish pout on his lips as one of his hot hands continued to rub patterns up and down your side.  Up to your breasts, his thumb ghosting over your concealed nipple, trailing down your waist and groping the plush flesh of your belly, down your thigh to squeeze your ass.  The way the strings on the exposed side of your bottom piece fit into your skin made his cock throb.

“You’re insatiable,” you giggled, your own hands leaving scorching patterns over his shoulders and arms.  “Are you ovulating?  You’re acting like me before my period.”

“Shush,” he grumbled, followed by another sweltering kiss, all tongue.  You felt a dribble of spit leave the corner of your mouth, sticking to the skin of your cheek.  His lips moved against yours, exchanging a blistering heat.  Ace always seemed to radiate warmth even on the coldest days, and his presence in this moment filled your body with a heated, lustful buzz.  Goosebumps rose on your skin when he pulled away from you leaving your front exposed, gently biting your puffy lower lip with his teeth.

“How worried are you about someone messing with our things on the beach?” he asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

You adjusted yourself slightly below him, his knees beside your hips caging you onto the floor of his trunk.  “Hmm… not too worried.”

“Perfect,” Ace replied swiftly, tugging his swim trunks down.  

He had such a nice cock, perfectly shaped with a cut tip that flushed a beautiful rosy hue.  A slight upward curve, lean and not too long, perfect.  He was either hard for the entire time you were setting up your small spot on the sand and you hadn’t noticed, or he was fighting with every fiber in his body to keep the erection at bay.  Whatever the circumstance, the fantasy of spontaneously fucking you in the trunk of his car in that sexy bikini of yours that he daydreamed about on the drive down was finally coming true.

Your hands made a move down to your hips to pull on the fabric of your bottoms before his fingers wrapped around your wrists, halting your movement.

“Sorry,” he uttered, his voice a soft whisper filled with a desperation you rarely saw from him.  “Your suit stays on.”

Your mouth morphed into a grin as he released you, leaning back up on his knees and idly stroking his cock with his right hand.  You parted your legs for him, making a show of smushing your breasts together under your tight top.  God, your suit could have been molded onto your body, it looked so good.

“Are you going to stay there and jerk off over me, or are you going to share some of the fun?” you asked deviously, one of your hands crawling below your bottoms and teasing your clit with the slick that had built up.  A pleasant, tingling flutter resonated in your belly and floated down your thighs, but nothing was better than the feeling of his fingers and cock doing the work for you.

“I want to do everything to you,” he muttered, releasing his dick from his slow ministrations.  “I don’t even know where to begin.”

You watched as it bobbed in the air, so hard it held itself out away from Ace’s toned stomach.  You involuntarily licked your lips at the sight.  “You’re so pretty…” you muttered.  You took it upon yourself to sit up, gently pushing against Ace’s shoulders to get him to sit on the trunk floor on his ass, leaning against him further to get the hint to lay down in the position you had just been in.

Neither of you had a strictly dominating or strictly submissive attitude.  Rather, you mutually shared the moment, taking charge when you wanted and snatching the lead away whenever you pleased.  This was one of those moments as you rotated your body on top of his, moving your ass closer to his face as one of your hands ghosted along his hip bone, your other arm supporting you and keeping you upright.

Ace got the hint almost immediately, his greedy hands groping and squeezing your ass as he pulled you downward to rest your clothed cunt against his mouth.  The hotness of his breath and the feeling of his lips against your weeping pussy concealed by the polyester made your breath hitch as your lips traveled closer and closer to the tip of his dick, watching hungrily as it seemed to pulse in the air, desperate for attention.

Your boyfriend made the first move, pulling you down by your hips and resting your cunt over his mouth, his tongue forcing its way between your folds through the suit and quickly finding your clit.  You gasped, your arm shaking somewhat as you quickly followed his lead, wasting no time in taking his cock into your hot, ready mouth.  

And goodness, did he taste good.  A familiar slightly salty musk partnered with the residual scent of his daily body spray, a vanilla and cedar flavor that always made your heart flutter in your chest.  His cock might as well have been burning as you hollowed out your lips and took him further down your mouth, loving the way the organ pulsed against your tongue.  

On the other end, Ace’s fingers had found their way into the fabric of your bathing suit, holding the barrier aside as two of his digits spread your natural slick over your cunt and lubricated his skin before he pressed them into your pussy, addicted to the way your muscles constricted around him.  Your entrance was always on the tighter side no matter how many times you fucked, and it was absolute heaven for him.  He turned the pads of his two fingers forward, pushing gently against the roof of your vagina where he knew you were acutely sensitive, and smirked to himself when your thighs clenched around his head.  Your movements over his cock momentarily stuttered at the feeling of his thumb connecting with your clit to simultaneously stroke the needy bud while passionately fingering your pussy.

He knew you too well.  He knew what you needed.  Ace wasn’t a selfish lover, he had learned your quirks and needs very early on in your relationship.  You loved your clit rubbed in somewhat slow circles, alternating between various pressures.  You responded to his fingers against your g-spot, and you loved when his dick curled upward into the same area.  Not too deep so as to hit your cervix, which hurt you quite a bit, but deep enough to reach those sensitive areas that had your legs shaking.

You learned quickly too, however.  Ace’s tip was the most sensitive part of him, his breaths growing shallow when you delicately sucked your lips around it and trailed your tongue along the slit, collecting the small amount of salty precum that emerged from the tip.  He loved it when you gently fondled his balls, rubbing the wrinkled skin between the pads of your fingers.  He adored the inside of his thighs being caressed, and you tried your best to do both with one hand as the other trembling appendage fought to support your weight as you continued to blow him.

You popped off of his cock momentarily, stroking the base with your hand.  “Did you have fruit recently?” you asked, turning your head somewhat to look over your shoulder.  Not like you could see much.

Ace paused his motions against your pussy.  “... Maybe.”

You grinned, the usually salty, bitter taste of his essence now replaced with something slightly sweeter.  You wanted to egg him on, to ask him if he had planned for this to happen and eaten some pineapple or citrus with his breakfast in preparation, but you decided to keep your inquiries to yourself and return to your task of sucking him off.

Ace was content to keep fingering you, his current position in between your thighs a bit too difficult to involve his tongue, but he knew he could please you regardless.  The circular movements of his calloused thumb against your throbbing clit had you sucking in sharp, lustful breaths through your nose, small whimpers leaving your throat and vibrating down his shaft making him bite his lip and stifle a wheeze.  Your thighs were quivering as he continued to curl his fingers into your g-spot, following the rhythm of your lips around his cock.

After some moments, however, you quickly scrambled off of him, your hand clutching around your stomach as you pivoted above him, capturing his lips in yours.  You ground your clothed cunt over his pulsing cock, keeping it locked between your pussy and his toned abdomen.

“Now who’s the desperate one?” he asked, teasingly, his signature boyish smirk traveling right back to your clit.

“I can’t help it, you’re contagious,” you huffed against the skin of his cheek.

Usually, the two of you used lube.  It didn’t matter how wet you got thanks to foreplay, the sensations were always heightened when there was no risk of chafing.  But clearly, you didn’t have that luxury today.  Nor did you have any condoms.  Instead, you bit down your thoughts, reserved yourself to spending 70 beri on the morning-after pill later that day, and hovered over his cock.  You pulled your swimsuit to the side and took his dick in your hands, wasting no time in slipping it through your folds that were thoroughly drenched thanks to Ace’s expert fingers.  

The first insertion always hurt somewhat.  A slight, red-hot throbbing pain that radiated through your pelvis, followed by a pleasant pressure as his cock slowly intruded into your tight muscle.  The groan that radiated from Ace’s throat made your pussy flutter.  

That was another thing you loved about him.  He was loud.

Maybe on a normal day you’d be worried about someone hearing you, or seeing the way his car shook with the force of your collective moments, but both of you had succumbed to desperation and couldn’t care less.  Traumatize the elderly beach goers who might happen to walk through the gravel parking lot to their own cars.

You sunk fully down onto Ace’s hips, his dick perfectly nestled inside your wet and willing pussy as his hands tightly gripped your hips through your suit bottoms.  You slowly rocked your hips, desperate for some extra friction against your clit.  It was much harder with the fabric covering you, but eventually you found a movement that felt just right.  Edging your hips slightly forward, you rolled your pelvis against his, dragging your clothed slit over the taught skin of his lower abdomen, moaning at the feeling of his dick pulsing within you.

Maybe you really didn’t have to worry about lube today.  Every motion against the walls of your vagina had you biting your lip and arching your back over him.

Ace’s hands assisted with bouncing you on his cock, his voice slowly increasing in volume as he watched you through half-lidded as your breasts jiggled with each movement, how the fat of your belly and thighs rippled so deliciously as you gyrated above him.  His voice was delectable, gruff and whiny, higher-pitched than usual with stuttering breaths and hitches in his throat that had your heart beating a mile a minute.

Your legs were growing tired, and Ace could tell.  He wordlessly beckoned you off of him, being quick to lean you over the back seats and move your suit to the side again, slipping his cock back in between your folds.  This angle always fit the both of you.  As much as Ace loved it when you rode him, taking you from behind came with many more benefits.  His free hand could travel down to dip beneath the cloth of your swimsuit and rub those delicious circles against your clit while simultaneously thrusting his desperate hips against your ass.  His chest pressed into your shoulder blades, his free hand supporting him against the back of the seats as you held onto the leather for dear life, whining with each motion of his cock against your inner walls and his calloused fingers against your clit.

It didn’t take long for you to unravel, the feeling of his rough finger pads against your desperate nub too much to bear.  Your orgasm approached slowly at first, filling your stomach with warmth, the insides of your eyelids flashing purple and indigo, before your body snapped and you were shuddering against Ace, moaning out loud as your pussy involuntarily clenched around his cock, your cunt feeling feather light as it fluttered.  The force of your orgasm caused you to gyrate your hips back against his, weak, airy moans escaping your tongue as the red-hot pleasure radiated through your entire body leaving your pussy buzzing with the aftershocks.

Ace was barely holding it together.  The force of your orgasm causing your pussy to clench around his cock had his arms weakening against the seat, his hips frantically rutting into you as sultry moans left his lips at the feeling of his cock burning inside you, begging for satisfaction.  His fingers never stopped rubbing your clit, caught up in what had essentially become second nature for him.  The overstimulation had you twitching around him, shallow breaths heaving from your lungs.  Ace’s pace increased as did the stuttering of his hips, his thrusts growing more shallow as his own orgasm approached.

“A-Ace… fuck, baby…” you whined, dropping your forehead against the back of the seat.  “You’re gonna make me cum again…”

The man was too caught up in the throes of pleasure.  Calling him desperate earlier was clearly an understatement.  A loud, throaty groan reverberated from his lips as his hips rapidly drilled into you, forcing you against the back of the seat.  His shallow breaths only helped to fuel your second orgasm that rocked you with a sudden wash of white light behind your eyes and you were shuddering against him again, your own moans filling the stifling air of the car.  

Ace barely had time to call out your name before he was thrusting disjointedly into you, crackled, weary moans leaving his lips as he came into your sore cunt, his hands pressing down onto your lower back to keep you still as he buried his cock into you, soaking you more than you already were.  You felt him pull out of you, your cunt fluttering around nothing as the sound of him falling backwards against the closed door of his trunk filled your ears.

Your own spent body dropped to the side, sitting on your hip and barely holding yourself up with one hand.  You slowly picked your head up, gazing at your boyfriend and assessing his condition.

Black hair mussed beyond belief, his freckled cheeks and shoulders flushed with a delicate red hue, his lips wet and swollen parted with the force of his labored breathing.  His eyes were closed, jaw slack as his pelvis continued to twitch from the force of his orgasm.  A few last drops of cum were bubbling from his tip, slowly dripping down his drenched dick that almost glistened, covered in your own fluids.  You felt wet between your legs.  It would have been a nice feeling if you weren’t already so stifling, your entire body feeling sticky.  You finally noticed the way the windows had fogged up.  You didn’t have time to think about carbon dioxide toxicity before Ace’s weary hand traveled up to the back window of his trunk door, blindly popping the window open a crack to let some fresh air flow into the car.  The summer heat felt oddly cool against your sweaty skin.

You slowly crawled closer to Ace, ignoring the way your drenched cunt sat uncomfortably inside your bathing suit.  You combed a damp strand of black hair off of his forehead before delicately pressing your lips against his cheek, encouraging him to finally open his eyes.

“You alright?” you asked, your voice low and quiet.

He finally smiled, his narrow, dark eyes filling your chest with warmth.  “I think my heart almost stopped.”

You giggled, running your sweaty hand up and down his skin.  “Should I wear bathing suits around you more often?  I don’t think you’ve ever fucked me like that.”

Your boyfriend’s humble laughter made you grin.  “For the sake of my health, you probably shouldn’t.”  He finally leaned forward to press a tender kiss against your wet lips.  “Though, if I were to die fucking you in a bikini, I’d die a very, very happy man.”

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But sometimes, you just need a little bit of love... and a little bit of science.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings.

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men | @nerdisthenewcool | @lilypadmomentum | @1dkneo

Chapter 27

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“How was the drive over?”  Nico Robin had one of her long legs crossed over the other, her laptop on the short counter in front of her as she typed notes into your patient portal.

You tossed her a smile.  “Not bad, the seatbelt in my car feels really strange the bigger I get, but I’m just happy I can still drive for the time being.”

The blue-eyed woman nodded before turning to face you.  “Based on your 18 week ultrasound, your babies have a heart rate of about 120 beats per minute, which is in the perfectly normal range during this gestational period.  Their amniotic fluid levels are also normal.  Overall, I’m really pleased with how healthy they are.  You’re a few weeks into your second trimester now, have you noticed any significant changes?  Any symptoms we should be concerned about?”

It took you a few moments to think.  “Well, my skin is really itchy and my back really hurts.  My breasts have days where they’re really tender and days when they’re not.  My feet hurt sometimes,” you rattled.

Dr. Robin nodded understandingly across from you.  “As strange as it is for me to say, hearing that you have normal symptoms of pregnancy makes me incredibly happy.  Along with your bloodwork that has been consistently normal and your ultrasound from last week, I am incredibly pleased with your progress and the growth of your babies.”  She pulled on a pair of rubber medical gloves and wheeled her stool over to your bed where you placed your feet on the stirrups for your wellness check.

“I am too,” you replied with a broad grin, your hand going to rest over your swollen belly as you reclined on the table, staring at the ceiling as Robin poked around and examined your condition.  “I’d much rather have symptoms and know that everything is alright rather than nothing at all.”

“Of course, of course,” your doctor agreed, nodding her head affirmatively.  She flashed you a cheeky smile from in between your legs.  “Are you positive you don’t want to know the genders?”

Your hands braced themselves against the side of the bed you sat on as your shoulders bounced with the force of your laugh.  “Don’t tempt me!  I’ve been doing so well wanting to keep it a surprise!”

Your reaction made Robin laugh as she removed her gloves and marked a few final notes in her patient chart for you.  “Well, if everything seems to be going normal then I’ll be seeing you again in another few weeks!  But you know the drill, call me back immediately if you notice any changes or concerns.”

She helped you down from the table and you slipped into your clothes and shoes, following her to the front desk to receive your patient summary for the visit, along with scheduling your next check-up and ultrasound.

The weather had gotten absolutely stifling in the late summer days, and partnered with your ever-expanding womb, you were finding yourself more and more sweaty hauling around an extra few pounds during the horrendous heat.  With your air conditioner blasting, you drove back home to spend the remainder of your day in the cool comfort of your apartment.  You couldn’t even imagine how Bepo must have been feeling, all of that thick, fluffy white fur must have been suffocating for him during the summer months.  You could barely get him to go outside during the daylight hours, but in the winter months, you needed to go through hell and back to get him inside.  The thought of your pup at home made you smile as you pulled out of the parking lot and hit the road back home.  He had become so much more attentive toward you recently, almost serving as your guard dog.  Even when Shachi and Penguin came over, despite knowing who the two men were, Bepo would stand guard in front of you and refused to let anyone pass.  His keen doggie instincts definitely knew there was something different about you.

It didn’t take long for you to get home, the traffic was incredibly minimal.  What you wouldn’t give to be at the beach on a day like this, soak up some sun… with your pregnant belly on full display.  The thought made you smile, blood rushing to your face.  Law probably would take a minor issue with that.  ‘I don’t want any other man tossing looks at you,’ he’d probably gripe.  You chuckled to yourself as you turned down the road your apartment was on.  Like Bepo, Law had also become much, much more protective of you.  When he could help it, he refused to miss any update or appointment, staying by your side constantly.  You thought maybe you’d get tired of it, but if anything, it made you feel even better about your relationship.

Knowing that Law had no plans on leaving you after you gave birth, loving you in and out of pregnancy, made your heart flutter.

You grabbed your bag and exited your car, locking it behind you as you walked through the stifling humidity into your building, up the elevator, and onto your floor.  You slipped your key into the lock and pushed open your door, calling out to Bepo who snorted from the other room.  You kicked off your shoes, hung your bag on a hook by the door, and proceeded to the living room where you could finally put your feet up on the couch.  You grabbed your journal off of the counter on the way.  You’d been so good keeping up with it, almost obsessively so.  A few weeks ago, Ikkaku had told you about a similar journal that her mother had kept, and how nice it would be to have your kids eventually read it when they grew up.

That sentiment made you fill out entire paragraphs on some of the pages, a permanent smile plastered on your lips as you wrote.

Bepo stood from his bed when you sat on the couch and immediately laid down directly beside you, ears perked up and constantly on alert should anyone come through the door.  You reached down and carded your fingers through the thick fur between his ears, watching with a giggle as his eyes slowly drifted closed and his pink tongue slipped through his muzzle.

“Are you blepping?” you asked.

The dog snorted.

You were periodically checking your phone throughout the afternoon.  Law had another fairly large procedure today, a Transmyocardial Revascularization, which involved some technology that he didn’t frequently use in the operating room.  When he left your apartment that morning, he was already laser focused, reading through his notes and charts while he scarfed down his breakfast.  He only broke composure enough to give you a kiss in the doorway, his hand ghosting over the side of your belly before he left.  You were hoping he would text you when the procedure was done, but at the same time were completely understanding if you didn’t hear from him until he got home.  Sometimes, he got so swallowed up by his work that he forgot he even existed.

A sudden fluttering sensation from your abdomen almost made you drop your phone.  You sat up, startled, your hands flying to your belly, pressing against your skin.  The suddenness of your movements made Bepo stand up as well, staring at the door expecting someone to walk in.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your mind immediately assuming the worst.  You weren’t in pain, you hadn’t been spotting, everything had been completely normal.

You felt it again, this time against your hands.  A quick flutter within your gut immediately followed by a shallow, quick rippling sensation against the muscles of your abdomen.  You felt it in the palm of your hand.  Near the other side, the same thing happened.

They were moving.  Your twins were moving.

You stood up, startling Bepo who stared at you confused and alert.  You gazed down at your dog dumbly.  “They’re moving.”

He tilted his head as you spoke to him.

“I don’t know why I stood up,” you blurted, sitting back down with your hands flush against the couch cushions.  A giddy, childlike grin crawled to your lips.  They were moving.  They were moving.

It took about another three hours for Law to get home, and while you waited you had been so overcoming with energy thanks to the excitement of feeling your babies fluttering that you vacuumed your entire apartment, cooked a pavlova with the leftover berries in your fridge, and deep-cleaned the inside of the oven.  When your husband finally walked into the entryway and called your name, you almost sprinted to meet him, skidding across the floor in your socks.

“Hey, babe–” 

You cut him off swiftly, grabbing his hand and holding it against your belly.  You stared down at his inked fingers as they relaxed over your bump, his lips sealed.

“Come on…” you uttered.  “Do it again…”  It was a longshot, but you hoped that somehow they could hear you.

The fluttering sensation bounced around your abdomen once more, followed by the ripple against your muscle.  Law jerked his hand away from your skin, almost like he was forced to touch manure without gloves.  His golden eyes were boggling out of his head, his jaw slack and cheeks flushed.

“Was that…?” he stuttered out, words escaping him.

“They started moving!” you cheered, throwing yourself into him, bubbly laughter escaping your throat.  

Law was quick to wrap his arms around you once his shock subsided, clutching you to his chest.  His own broad smile was on his face as his chest bounced with your giddy laughter.  “So I take it your appointment today went well?”

You pulled away from his embrace, excitement coursing through your veins so rapidly that the only thing your body told you to do was grip your husband’s cheeks and press a tender kiss against his lips.  He muffled a surprise grunt against your mouth before his hands found purchase on your hips, slightly dipping you backward and ghosting his teeth against your puffy lower lip.

“Sorry,” you all but whispered, barely pulling away from him.  “I think I got the zoomies.”

He quickly turned his head away to snort at your words.  “The baby-kicking zoomies?”

“I made pavlova,” you sighed.  “That’s how excited I got.”

Your husband pressed another hot kiss against your lips before kicking off his shoes and taking your hand to bring him to the kitchen.  “Looks like our dinner is pavlova.  Not that I’m complaining.”

As soon as you stepped back into the main living area, Bepo was at your feet, nuzzling your legs and sticking his nose into your butt.  No matter how many times you shooed him away, he came right back, tongue peeking through his muzzle and beady black eyes melting your heart into oblivion.  And now, Law was following the dog’s example.  You served slices of your light desert onto two plates for the both of you, following Law to the couch where he proceeded to rest a hand against your belly throughout eating the sweet treat.  And while watching the television… and while you washed the dishes… and while you showered… and while you curled up next to him under the covers to sleep.

“Am I going to have to follow you to work now?  So you don’t miss a kick?” you asked over your shoulder, adjusting your body so you could press further into your husband’s chest with your back.

His hand lazily stroked up and down your side as he pressed light kisses to the back of your head.  “Maybe.  … Probably.”

“I won’t be very good in the operating room,” you laughed quietly into the darkness.

“Oh, that reminds me.  I forgot to tell you something with all the excitement.”  You felt Law push away from you slightly, giving you enough room to roll over and face him.

“What’s up?” you asked, curiously.  Your eyes couldn’t quite see his face, but his hand on your waist kept you glued to him nonetheless.  

“The biggest surgery of my life got scheduled today,” he said.  “A heart-lung transplant.”

You bolted upright in bed, reaching over for the lamp next to your pillow and pulling down on the power chord, illuminating your small corner of the room.  Your eyes were wide.  “Are you serious?”

With disheveled hair, Law sat up as well, hunching his back to rest his elbows on his knees.  “Yup.  Early May.”

“Holy shit,” you uttered.  “I… didn’t even know that was possible.”

Law nodded.  “The man has been in the ICU for almost an entire year now.  Every treatment option has been exhausted for both his heart and lungs.  Stents, catheters, bypass surgeries, blood-thinners, every available diagnostic test for pulmonary failure has been tried and done.  He’s approaching end-stage heart and lung failure and has been intubated for quite some time, and he recently got approved for transplant from the donor board.”

You absorbed his words with awe.  “That’s a lot… poor guy.”

Your husband hummed.  “It’s tough, but we all think this surgery will be the ultimate best thing for him.  He’s got AB+ blood which is incredibly lucky for him, and a donor has been selected based on cardiopulmonary quality.”  He glanced at you and could tell based on the slightly grim look on your face that you were curious where they even got the heart and lungs from.  “Organs are usually harvested from people who have suffered from brain injuries.  If they established prior to illness or injury that they would like to be a living tissue donor, then if they suffer brain death, they can be eligible for organ donation.  I’m not familiar with the donor right now, but I assume that’s the case for them.”

Your heart clenched at the thought.  “Wow…”

Law scooted closer to you and rubbed your back.  “It’s tough medicine, but someone’s sacrifice might be able to save the life of another.”

A smile pulled to your lips before you realized something.  “Wait…”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

“May 22nd is my due date,” you stated.  “Not that I’m telling you to not do the surgery, obviously, but… what if…”

“You go into labor while I’m in the operating room?” he asked, finishing your sentence for you.  “The entire procedure, if it still happens when scheduled, might be anywhere from 12 to 16 hours.  So I guess we’ll just have to hope that you don’t go into labor on that day.”

“That’s a long time… are you going to be alright?” you asked, leaning into his touch, your voice filled with worry.

Law smiled.  “Don’t worry about me.  You remember my sleep schedule in college, I’ll be fine.”

You grinned.  “Just don’t start drinking energy drinks again, I don’t want your kidneys to give out in the OR.”

Your statement made Law laugh as he reached over you and pulled the cord on the lamp once more, plunging the room back into darkness.  “I promise I won’t, that shit’s nasty anyway.  We can talk about it more in the morning and when it gets closer, though.”

The comfortable darkness filled the room as you snuggled into your husband’s arms.  “Sounds good, baby.”

A kiss to the skin of your forehead was the last sensation you felt before drifting off into a peaceful slumber.

—

“Okay, I know you guys said you didn’t want us to go crazy, but we went a little crazy.”

You and Law were seated on your loveseat across from Ikkaku, Shachi, and Penguin, who sat behind a plethora (read: a metric ton compared to the total volume of your apartment) of bags and boxes.  Ikkaku began rifling through some of the bags at her feet, grumbling about a list she had written down of your coworkers and what they had chipped in with.

Law was dumbfounded, his eyes wide and incredibly confused.  You felt a small kick in your belly, prompting you to sooth your bump with your hand.  You were about 24 weeks now, and your home wardrobe had largely consisted of Law’s oversized sweatshirts to account for your very pronounced abdomen.

Penguin clapped his hands.  “So, we didn’t want the lovely couple to get themselves worried about getting all their baby gear, so in these two boxes,” he interrupted his words to violently slap the unlabeled cardboard next to the armrest on his side of the couch, “are the cribs.  Two of them.  You know, for two babies.”

“And in these boxes,” Shachi kicked two more unlabeled boxes with his foot, “are bedspread sets for the crib mattresses.”

“Oh, shit, we still need the mattresses,” Penguin gasped, slapping Shachi’s shoulder making the red-head wince.

“Don’t they come with the mattresses already?” Shachi replied, rubbing his arm.

“I found it!” Ikkaku hollered, pulling out a double-sided sheet of loose-leaf paper.  “Okay, everyone from the office went behind your back and got a bunch of stuff for you.”  She cleared her throat and passed you a large holiday-themed gift bag, which you leaned forward to grab by the string handles and pull to rest in your lap.  “That one is from Nami.  She went kind of crazy with getting clothes, I told her to keep them gender neutral since you guys don’t know the sexes yet, but a lot of them are feminine anyway, so… let’s hope for girls.”

Law leaned over to peer into the large bag as you picked through it.  ‘Crazy’ was an understatement.  Nami had seemingly given you an entire wardrobe for the first year of your babies’ lives.  Onesies, shirts, pants, a bunch of bundles of newborn socks, little hats, headbands, swaddles with different patterns, mittens, and two winter coats that would fit them up to six months.  There was more beneath the initial assortment you sifted through.

“This entire bag is from only Nami?” you asked, completely bewildered.

“Well, Nami and Nojiko,” Ikkaku responded, skimming her list.  “Oh, there should be a small bottle of newborn laundry detergent in there, too.  Just F-Y-I.”

“Okay, so the cribs do in fact come with mattresses.  You just have to let them rise like bread for 24 hours before putting them in the cribs.  They should be firm,” Penguin explained, scrolling through his phone.

You cringed at the mention of bread.  You still hadn’t gotten your tolerance for the texture back.

“This next one is from Sanji and Zoro, but mostly Sanji.  He got you a set of baby monitors, two mobiles for each crib, and a diaper changing table.”  Ikkaku slid another box towards your feet.  The top of it was labeled with elegant handwriting that read, ‘TO THE LOVELY COUPLE~’.

Shachi dragged over another box.  “This is a double stroller.  All assembly required.”

“This bag is from Usopp, I think it’s a bunch of baby hygiene products.  Baby powder, light wipes, a few bags of diapers to get you started, some diaper station pads, little washcloths and towels, diaper cream, the works.”  Following her words, yet another bag was slid over to you, this time snatched by Law.

“Diapers are expensive,” he mumbled.  “How did everyone pull all of this together?”

Ikkaku shrugged.  “Sanji and Nami are well-off.  Usopp?  No idea.”  She dismissively looked back at her list.  “Oh, this next one’s from Ms. Boa.  I can’t remember what she put in it, though.”

Another box was kicked over your way, already open slightly for you to rifle through.  It was completely filled to the brim with everything you would need for breastfeeding.  Two breast pumps, a large volume of milk storage bags, nursing pads, and a few tubes of nipple cream.  At the bottom of the box, there was a variety of decorative bibs, a few baby bottles, a bottle warmer, and a specialized bottle sterilizer.  Your head was whirling.

“Guys, you’re making me dizzy,” you practically wheezed, leaning back against the couch.  Law rubbed your shoulder reassuringly.

“We’re almost done,” Shachi stated.  He picked up a bag next to Ikkaku’s shoe.  “Oh, I forgot.  This one’s from Rebecca.”

Law picked his head up.  “My head nurse?”

“Is that who that is?” Shachi asked, sliding over the bag.

“How did you get her number?” the surgeon asked, picking up the package and opening it.

“The hospital has a database with contact info.  You should tell them to update your picture, by the way.  You look dead in your current headshot.”  Penguin’s backhanded comment made you snort.

The gift from Rebecca was exactly what you would expect from a cardiology nurse.  A thermometer, a pair of baby nail clippers, petroleum jelly, a few rolls of sterile gauze, a first aid kit, an assortment of pacifiers, and a few baby toothbrushes.  He felt himself smile.  She had always been a caring, generous person.  While he was still a bit perturbed by the whole hospital database thing, it came as no surprise to him that Rebecca would be so generous as to provide gifts for her superior and his expectant wife.

“This is the last one I think,” Ikkaku mumbled, dragging over another box with her foot.  “Oh, this one’s from Luffy and his brothers!”

This time, both you and Law perked up.

“Luffy?” you asked.  “I haven’t seen him in, like, three years.”

“Where’d he even go, anyway?” Law asked.  “I lost track of him after a while.”

Ikkaku laughed, pushing the box toward you.  “Sanji told me something about his grandfather trying to force the three of them to join the military.  I think they moved somewhere just to get away from the hustle and bustle for a bit, but also to get away from that marine grandpa of theirs.”

“What was his name again?” Shachi asked.

“Garp, I think.  Isn’t there a picture of his face on that marine recruitment poster they keep hanging at the local community college?” Penguin queried.

“That’s right.”  Shachi snapped his fingers.  “I never liked that guy.”

You leaned over as far as you could manage with your belly to open the box from Luffy and his two older brothers.  On top of the packing, which was surprisingly well-done (probably not by Luffy), was a hand-written letter.

To the happy couple, Congratulations on your pregnancy!  It’s been so long since we’ve all gotten together, but I’m so glad to hear you’re both doing well.  At some point we’ll all reconnect, I’m sure Ace and Luffy would love to get to romp around with some toddlers, but at the same time, I would completely understand if you wanted anything but that.  Regardless, I hope this box of goodies finds you well.  Best of luck during the rest of your pregnancy!

From, Sabo (who wrote all of this, by the way), Ace, and Luffy

Beneath the newsprint used as packing material, a large collection of toys was compiled for the two of you to pick through.  A rolled up playmat, some teething toys, an assortment of cardboard baby books, some of which were medical themed, a portable pack-and-play, a generous bunch of baby toys for both the home and a stroller, and a few toy organizers.  It was assumed by everyone in the room that Sabo was the one responsible for picking everything out.  The other two most likely trailed behind and poked each other with toys from the children’s section of the local supermarket.  Regardless, the sentiment was appreciated.  A fond smile crawled onto your lips as you scooped up one of the toys from the box.  It was a sturdy stuffed white dog with floppy ears and a pink tongue.

“Bepo,” you called, beckoning your fur baby over.  “It’s you!”

Law grinned at the display, but quickly hid his face at the mischievous cooing noises his best friends were making from across the room.  Bepo was excitedly sniffing the nose of the dog toy before you plopped it back into the box to save for later.

“What’s the plan for you guys in terms of crib placement?” Ikkaku asked, cleaning up the space around her.

You and your husband glanced at each other.  You hadn’t actually thought about it much until then.  While your apartment was technically a two bed-one bath, the second bedroom was substantially smaller and filled with storage that the two of you always insisted you would one day tackle, but never did.  It became a closet forbidden for life, until now, that is.

“I think we’re going to clean out the second bedroom and use that,” Law answered for the two of you.  “That won’t be for a few more months, though.”

“Better get on it soon,” Shachi chided.  “Those little munchkins will be here before you know it!”

You grinned, tossing a glance at Law as he pinched the bridge of his nose in between his fingers.  You turned back to your friends across from you.  “Thank you guys for bringing everything over, though, I really appreciate it!  We both do.”

“Of course!” Ikkaku piped up before the other two could speak.  “I didn’t know when your maternity leave was going to start, so I wanted to make sure you got everything now.”

“A few more weeks,” you confirmed.  “But I’m glad to have all of this stuff so early, then we won’t have to stress when it gets closer to the due date.”

“Do you plan on breastfeeding?” Shachi asked suddenly.

“Shut it, Shachi,” Law barked.  “You just spoiled us.  Don’t test it now.”

The exchange made you laugh, Law seeming to smolder in the direction of his rowdy friends.  Your laughing seemed to trigger something in your babies, too, as you felt two simultaneous flutters in your belly.

You liked making them laugh.

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But sometimes, you just need a little bit of love... and a little bit of science.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings.

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men | @nerdisthenewcool | @lilypadmomentum

Chapter 26

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Your fingers gently knocked against the firm wood of your boss’s closed office door, your opposite hand clutching a closed envelope.  It had been an incredibly slow day with very few meetings and a large project having just been finished, so you felt slightly more comfortable approaching her during the work day.  After a few minutes, her cheery voice beckoned you to enter.  You slowly pushed open the door and stepped inside with a small smile on your face.  

Your boss was ridiculously gorgeous.  You often wondered why she was busying her time working in a graphic design firm rather than modeling on international runways or selling luxury clothing, but at the same time, you were more than happy to be working under her.  She came from a long line of strong, independent women, and made sure to instill the same values in her workplace.

“Ms. Boa, thank you for your time,” you stated politely as you sat down in the plush seat in front of her desk.  Directly beside her computer monitor was a framed photo of her and her two younger sisters.  The sight made your smile widen.

“It’s never a problem, darling,” she responded, a small grin on her own lips as she finished typing an email, sending it off with a sharp click on her keyboard before turning her full attention to you.  “What can I help you with?”

You pulled out the envelope from behind your back, slipping it over the top of her desk.  Curiously, she took the parcel and peeled up the flap on the back, dipping her perfectly manicured nails inside the paper and pulling out a small stack of photographs, held together with a wire paperclip.  Her eyes widened almost instantly, making your heart skip a few beats as you watched her absorb what she was holding.

“No way,” she uttered under her breath before turning her sharp gaze towards you, her eyes sparkling with glee.  Her next sentence came out almost as a squeak.  “Twins?!”

You nodded eagerly, fidgeting with your hands in your lap.  “I’m about 13 weeks along now.”

Boa Hancock launched herself from her rolling chair, almost sprinting around the desk to envelop you in a hug.  She had been one of your biggest under-the-table supporters of your pregnancy struggles, having allowed you generous time off that most companies would strongly turn their noses towards.  She almost jumped off of the ground as she pulled you from your seat and wrapped her lean arms around your shoulders.

“I could cry right now, I really could!”  She pulled away from you, her hands still gripping your shoulders.  “13 weeks… that’s longer than the other two, right?”

“Yup,” you stated curtly.  “It’s been really weird coming to terms with it, but I’ve made it this long and everything’s been progressing normally according to my doctor, so I’ve finally started telling more people outside of our immediate friends.”

Hancock smoothed her hand over your cheek, a mothering gesture that made you smile brightly.  “You’re already glowing, look at you!”  

After a few moments, she finally retreated back to her desk and gazed lovingly at the ultrasound pictures you had handed her.  They were from your 12-week scan just a week prior, and you could already see their individual traits.  Large, alien-like heads, little nubs for hands and feet, two little bodies curled up tightly in your womb.

“This is probably the best news I’ve heard all year,” she sighed, clipping the pictures back together and handing them back to you in their original envelope.  “I take it you used IVF?”

“We did.  It was an insanely long process, but clearly,” you held up the envelope with a cheeky grin on your face.  “It worked.”

Hancock squealed again, spinning around in her chair.  “I’m so, so happy for you and your husband, I mean it!”

Her sentiment made your heart flutter in your chest.  Knowing sparing amounts of her history, you knew topics of maternal nature were very important to her, and the fact that one of her best employees was finally succeeding in something she had wanted for so long was an act of pride for the female boss.  She collected herself, still maintaining a smile as she folded her hands on her desk and looked at you.

“So what can I do to help you out?” she asked, her dark gray eyes focused.

“Well, I wanted to hopefully discuss maternity leave sooner rather than later,” you offered.  “I know I’ve taken far too much time off of work, so even if you wanted me back after four months–”

“Absolutely not,” she stated flatly, cutting you off.  “Sweetie, you’re pregnant with twins.  The least I would give you is a year and a half!”

You backpedaled, your eyes widening.  “That’s too much…!”

She shook her head, affirming her stance.  “Darling, think about it like this.”  She tapped one of her manicured fingernails on the wooden surface of her desk.  “You are easily one of my hardest working employees.  You put your all into every single project you’re given, you work amazing with the rest of the team, you’re an all-around irreplaceable person to have.  You’re also an amazing woman outside of work.  And your husband is a heart surgeon who can barely get time off.  Twins are a handful, and even if you have good support at home, you’re going to want those extra months to spend with your babies and to share those moments with your husband when he’s home.”

Hancock’s words rendered you speechless, your jaw essentially hitting the floor.  You couldn’t disagree, though, the woman was right.

She seemed to know it, too, as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her long legs.  “So?”

You quickly bowed your head.  “I wish there was a way to repay your generosity, seriously.”

“You can repay me by giving birth to two healthy, happy babies.  And the first step to doing that is taking care of yourself.”  The smile she gave you was enough to melt a glacier.

Your eyes began to well with tears.  “Can I hug you again?”

Hancock laughed, once again standing from her seat to embrace you.  “I’m saying this as more of a friend rather than your supervisor.  You are so deserving of all the happiness you can get.  I’m so proud of you for staying so strong and pushing through what you’ve gone through, and anything you need from me over the next eight months, just say the word.  I know the entire company would be more than happy to back you up.”

You wiped your eyes on the sleeve of your work blouse, your lips forming a smile through their quivering.  “Thank you so, so much, Ms. Boa.”

“Have you told the rest of the team yet?” she suddenly asked.

“No, I haven’t.  Only Ikkaku knows,” you replied.

Her eyes became sparkly as her lips curled into a cheeky grin.  “Wanna go share the news?”

—

“Law, you look like you’re glowing!”  Rebecca’s large brown eyes gazed up at her superior from her seat at the nurse’s station as Law passed by with a cup of coffee in his hands.

With a small smile, he stopped to look at her.  “Do I?”

“You do!”  She stood from her seat, gathering a few papers in her hands before circling around the counter and joining Law in his walk to the break room.  “Has something big happened?  I mean, you usually don’t radiate positivity this much, but it’s just coming off of you in waves!”

Law gazed forward down the hallway as he walked, the warmth from his styrofoam cup warming his hand.  He had to admit, his shoulders had felt significantly lighter, and his chest certainly felt fuzzy in the past few weeks.  “Rebecca, if I tell you, you have to promise not to spread it around.  I’m trying to keep it under wraps for a little longer, but I think I can trust you.”

Rebecca’s eyes were wide with curiosity as she eagerly waited for whatever news Law was holding on his tongue.

His lips curled into a pleased grin.  “My wife is pregnant with twins.”

The pink-haired nurse almost dropped her papers in shock, her feet planting her to the floor as she gasped.  It clearly took her a great deal of restraint not to burst out in excitement, so she expelled her quick burst of energy by covering her mouth with her papers and exhaling a long, pronounced sigh.  “Law, that’s incredible!”

He simply smiled, continuing to walk.  Rebecca regained her composure and scampered after him.

“You guys were trying for a long time, right?”  Now it was her turn to glow with happiness.  “That’s so exciting, I’m so happy for you both!”

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” the surgeon replied, his own voice airy and light.  He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this excited to share the details of his personal life with someone.  While he had been keeping his surgery team up-to-date with some of the details regarding your procedures, that was mostly due to the fact that his cell phone had become a returning character in the operating theater.  Rebecca wasn’t a part of his surgery team, so her interactions with him were mostly from patient rounds.  Nevertheless, it was clear that the younger girl was more than excited to be told the incredible news, if her bright, toothy smile was anything to go by.

“How far along?” she asked.

“13 weeks.”  He took a deep breath.  “It’s been a stressful three months, but so far everything’s been going smoothly.”

Rebecca sighed dreamily.  “Wow, that’s seriously incredible… Congratulations, Law!”  After a few brief moments, she turned her head to look at her superior.  “Hey, if you want any help with picking out baby clothes, I know a really good seamstress downtown!  She runs a clothing boutique but also does custom orders.  I can put in a name for you and your contact info!”

Law pondered over her offer.  Truthfully, neither of you had started planning anything regarding when the babies would actually arrive.  The thought suddenly made Law a bit nervous.  You were just about starting your second trimester and with everything going well regarding your health and the development of the babies, it seemed like now would be a good time to begin preparing actual baby gear for your apartment.

“That’d be really nice, Rebecca, thank you,” he finally responded with a cordial smile.

Their conversation quickly dissipated as Rebecca needed to depart to go on another shift of rounds, but before she departed she scribbled a name and number onto a piece of paper and slipped it into the pocket of Law’s white laboratory coat.  With a small smile remaining on his lips, he entered the break room and finally placed his now-lukewarm cup of coffee on the counter before sitting down and pulling out his phone.  He had a few new text messages from you, making his smile grow.

Mama So i might have caved and told all my coworkers today… they want to plan a baby shower now but i told them to take it easy!  But dont be surprised if we get a bunch of new baby items in the coming weeks <3

Mama Wait did you change my contact name???

Mama I didnt know my phone could do that LOL it says you changed my contact name

Law chuckled as he tapped on his screen to begin typing.

I changed it a few days ago.  I can change it back to Wifey if you want.

After a few moments, another bubble from you popped up.

Mama I think i like being mama <3

Mama Ive been addressing you as ‘daddy’ in that journal you got me so i guess its not much different!!!

Law needed to duck his head to hide his broad smile from the other colleagues on their break.  The last thing he wanted was any unnecessary attention drawn to himself thanks to his uncharacteristic grin.

You need to stop making me smile, one of my nurses already told me it looks like I’m glowing.

Mama AWWW BABYYY… YOU ARE GLOWING!!!!

Mama I have to go anyway and take bepo for a walk, i’ll see you later love!

Text me if you want something brought home for dinner.

A little heart bubble appeared next to his response for you.  With a long exhale through his nose, he placed his phone back in his pocket and took a long sip from his coffee.

—

Law arrived back to your apartment later that evening, a brown paper bag of take-out sushi in his hands as he closed the door behind him with his foot.

“Babe?” he called.  The apartment was eerily quiet, making his heart rate momentarily spike.

“I’m in here!” you yelled back, your voice coming from the living room.  “I’m in a bit of a predicament.”

Law was quick to kick off his shoes and round the corner into the main living space of your home, placing the bag with your dinners on the counter.  A smile tugged at his lips at the sight of you sprawled out on the floor.  Bepo was laying flush against your side with his head resting perfectly on top of your belly.

“He hasn’t moved in, like, fifteen minutes,” you said.  “My neck is starting to hurt.”

Your husband walked over to your spot on the floor, sitting next to you opposite the dog and reaching his hand over to card his long fingers through Bepo’s fuzzy head.  The animal slow-blinked like a cat in response, the sight making you laugh.

“Do you think he knows I’m pregnant?” you asked.  “He’s been a lot more attentive of me lately.”

“Animals have really keen instincts, it wouldn’t surprise me if he senses something different about you,” Law replied, rubbing small circles behind Bepo’s pointy ears.  “There have been a lot of reports about animals recognizing symptoms of various illnesses in humans, maybe you smell different to him.”

The thought made you smile.  “Whatever it is, he’s already showing off how good of a big brother he’ll be.”  You fidgeted slightly on the floor, making Bepo pick his head up enough for you to push yourself up on your hands.  Law supported your back with his arm, placing a kiss on your head when you sat up high enough.

“He’s our gentle giant… we’re probably going to need to get a new vacuum cleaner, though,” he offered, holding out his hands to help you to your feet.  You eagerly gripped him back, wheezing slightly as he hauled you off the floor.

“Oh, definitely.  We’re probably going to need to wrap all of our baby things in mesh to keep his fur out!”  You placed a kiss to the tip of Law’s nose before proceeding toward the kitchen.  “Hopefully neither of them have allergies.”

Law snorted.  “Bepo would find a new home with Shachi and Penguin in that case.”

You excitedly opened the brown paper bag, your mouth watering at the sight of your favorite sushi rolls packed neatly into plastic containers.  There were five rolls in total to split between the two of you.  “You know me too well, baby,” you moaned out, removing the containers from the bag and fetching two pairs of chopsticks from your utensil drawer.

Law pulled out two chairs for the both of you at the table, helping you place your food down.  He waited until you took the first bite before digging in himself.

“So I made an impulse purchase today,” you began, pulling out your phone from your back pocket.  A few taps on your screen brought you to an online shopping app which you then showed to Law.

His eyes lit up almost immediately.  “Sora pajamas?!”  He snatched your phone out of your hands, making you laugh at his excitement.  You had ordered a set of footie pajamas for all six of the main Sora characters- Sora and the five officers of Germa 66.  “I didn’t even know they made these!”

“Me neither!  Sanji told me about them today!”  You popped a piece of sushi into your mouth.  “Sanji’s always had a weird connection with that comic.  Have you noticed how much he resembles Stealth Black?”

Law finally handed your phone back to you.  “And his siblings, too.  Have you met his older sister?”

You laughed at the thought.  “It’s uncanny!”

“Well,” Law began after swallowing another bite.  “That makes me feel better.  I might have made some purchases of my own while I was on break earlier.  I was talking to one of my nurses and she gave me the name of a woman who runs a local boutique downtown, apparently she takes orders for custom apparel.  I might have placed a few orders for baby clothes.”  He had a cheeky smile on his face as he shared the information with you.

You practically beamed at him.  “I’m glad we’re both on the same page!”  After a few brief moments of silence passed, you whispered, “Sora pajamas…”

Law beamed back at you.  Maybe he really was glowing.