playmiya

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205 posts

A SWIRL OF WATER (MAKES MY HEART A CLEAR POOL)

pairing: trafalgar law x fem!reader genre: mild angst, fluff, finally getting together, domesticity (?) warnings: n/a note: wano spoilers! speculation. first time writing in (checks notes; months) but here we are! listen to strawberry swing by coldplay while reading :) synopsis: law spends time with his reunited lover.

as the country of wano approaches, law almost can't recognise it. the ever-clear, rushing water (still infested with koi) gives way to a land that he can't believe is wano. what were once wastelands are now green, lush expanses of woods with komainu frolicking about, the sky now a perfectly clear blue even in industrial areas, and the nation looking invigorated. thriving.

even once starving towns like hakumai or ringo, with their depressing weather no longer sported empty, deserted looks. the people were out and about, with enough to eat and drink - though he supposes that could be attributed to the opening of the country to the rest of the new world - but it would be difficult to deny that wano was doing well in the years after kaido's defeat and kozuki momonosuke ascending as rightful shogun.

he now finds himself appreciating the fine architecture of the flower capital, something that he couldn't have done in his previous visit, because, well, he was on the run.

he is, in a way, forced to be here as a part of what he calls "luffy's grand tour of going to places he's fixed", where the newly-crowned pirate king is leisurely sailing around the world and visiting liberated countries. after a somewhat pleasant reunion with the strawhats at punk hazard (though he won't ever tell them that), he is now at wano.

and despite being treated like literal royalty by the people, as esteemed guests of the ruler, he can't subdue the irritating, non-medical lump in his throat as he travels to the shogun's abode. because the fact of the matter is that years after its liberation, wano may retain the name of kozuki momonosuke in it's association, but for trafalgar d. water law, surgeon of death, an emperor of the sea, one of the worst generation, wano has always been your country in his heart, and nobody else's.

the twang of the shamisen is beautiful - harmonic, as usual - but you can't find the time to appreciate it. you've been splitting hairs over the straw hats, heart pirates and kid pirates all showing up at once at the country's shores for a "surprise visit!". making arrangements for their welcome, stay, hospitalities was a headache, to say the least. the very least luffy could have done was announced his next island to terrorise (er.. you mean grace) to give you notice, but luffy was never one to make grand plans, you think wistfully.

so you throw yourself into preparing for their stay at the flower capital - their stops on the way at kuri and other towns being prolonged to enjoy the culture and food - just so you can ignore, for fleeting moments, the irritating beat of your heart at the thought of seeing trafalgar law after all these years.

but it seems that the time has finally come, with you being mere doors away from the man who you fell in love with all those years ago, back when he was a liberator who came with luffy and you were a mere teahouse girl. you wipe your sweaty palms against the fine silk of your kimono.

how time flies - he is now an emperor of the sea, and you are the head of cultural affairs in the kozuki shogunate, but one thing you both failed to suppress after all these years was the fact that the both were irrevocably in love.

you push the heavy double doors open with ease.

the feast is going well so far. as all feasts do, when they involve luffy. (though you're grateful nobody has broken into drunken brawl yet)

(scratch that, zoro and sanji look awfully close to doing that. it's best if you take the sake bottle away from the swordsman and introduce sanji to one of the courtesans) excusing yourself from nami and hiyori's company, you manage to squeeze yourself from the sweaty crowd of drunken bodies in the shogun's lawn to approach the bickering marimo and cook. you're just about to muster a halfhearted greeting and grab the bottle, but before you even do, you trip over someone's abnormally large boot (you spot eustass kidd in the corner of your vision, deeply involved in a drinking contest with momonosuke and luffy).

the world becomes a blur of green grass and soft yellow lamplight, and you stiffen your shoulders, preparing for impact with the soil, eyes scrunched up until you realise - oh. you're not falling.

you certainly aren't, you realise, as you look up at a familiar, grumpy face gazing at you. the grip law has on your shoulders is firm, and you're quick to jump out of his embrace and clearing your throat.

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck- "ahem. thank you for catching me, law."

he shrugs noncommitally.

"you've always been clumsy, y/n," he responds gruffly, and you seethe. really, he sees you after years and this is what he says! no long-lost greetings, not even a faked how-have-you-been?

trafalgar law is really still the same. your anger wanes, and you relax. he's still looking at you intently, and his expression is bored, disinterested.

he looks well. the tenseness that he used to store in his shoulders is not there (as much). his face, though grumpy, is relaxed. his eyes convey the message of someone who has made peace with whatever demons he was facing. you know his heart is a whole lot lighter now that it's not chained to avenging someone else's.

you can still read his face like the back of your hand. he wants you to continue. so you oblige, under the starry sky, the clear melody of the shamisen, over the joyful roar of pirates from all over the world, through the oranges of the paper lanterns and the green of the grass.

"it's been a while," you sigh.

"i know", he replies, crossing his arms.

to him, you look like a dream. like you always have. not the most elegant or stunning one in the room, but you radiate comfort. like you genuinely care, like if he went on a tangent about the pulmonary artery, you would try your best to listen. if anything, you look more confident within your own skin (if your previous confidence was lacking), but it's self-assured. after all these years, you still feel like home, despite being 2 feet away from him. you tug at his fucking heartstrings, even though anatomically, he has none.

"i missed you," you find yourself saying. it's desperate. it's too forward, too early. you've revealed your hand, placed all your cards on the table. he will no doubt take all your money and run away.

luckily, law is a rich man. he does no such thing.

"me too," his words being a bare whisper over the loud hum of the crowd, who have all melted into the background for you. his words, so low and subdued are just for you. only for your ears. it settles a stir in your heart, the whirlpool shrinking. little by little, until it is a swirl of water. (but it is still there, do not be mistaken.)

"how was your journey?"

"don't be fucking daft now, y/n. we've lost years, and you're going to go on with pleasantries?"

"well, time has passed. what do you suggest we do?"

so law does the only thing he knows to do - make up for it.

he has his schedule cleared. you're the one who does it for him, in fact, and decide that there is no better way to show trafalgar law around new-and-improved wano than by doing it yourself. instead of spending all day hemming and hawing over tourist spots, you lead him through the vibrant streets and backalleys with one hand firmly through his.

the crew gives him hell for this every night, obviously, giggling and making jokes like preschoolers, but he can't help but let them when he sees the adorably flustered look you sport as he wishes you good-night outside your chambers.

it's nice being in love again. it's like meeting an old friend, except there's no awkwardness and he knows exactly where to pick up from. he's been doing better lately, but as he sailed all across the new world, thoughts of you swirled around his head, mimicking the wispy clouds in the sky of this country.

a summer island with pristine beaches and aquamarine waters - you would enjoy it here. a bar in a hidden corner of loguetown; he wishes you would come with him. a cave found in a godforsaken corner of sabaody with glittering stalagmites of mica; they glitter in a way that falls short to the sparkle of your eyes.

he missed you at sea. horribly so.

for you, it's like fitting the last tile into a mosaic. the feeling of guilt and exhaustion stops, the idea that you were running from love is no longer present. the wildfire that races across the boundaries of your heart - and spills over to the borders of the island - is extinguished.

you are at ease, more relaxed than you've ever been.

you love wano, you love seeing it's growth, the people, but it felt so small when you'd read the papers, reading all about the new pursuits and adventures of law in the new world. you'd have this feeling that you are but a tiny pinpoint on the map that he has spread out on his table everyday, just one in a mere one thousand of places to go to.

there's an estate, just by the outskirts of the flower capital that is originally the shogun's, but has been lent to you indefinitely. it's vast, acres of woods, with a pond for koi and a small cottage surrounded by sakura trees.

you spend law's last two weeks in wano there. there's a question at the back of both of your heads, that you drown out in mornings of domesticity, afternoons of napping and evenings of drinking and chatting.

since you can't cook for shit, and have been blessed with a house full of servants to cook and clean for you as you work, you leisurely wake up in the mornings to see a breakfast for two set on the outside pavilion, with law fingering through some obscure medical book borrowed from the archives.

the morning sun warms your bones, and you pull your kimono closer at the chill in the air. approaching the table, you ruffle law's mussed-up bedhead, and he grabs your hand to deliver a soft kiss to your knuckles as he continues reading the text.

"ooh, taiyaki. thank you," you practically sing, doing a quick bow with your chopsticks and raising a surprisingly cute fish cake to your mouth.

"how is it?", he asks, placing a faded green bookmark into the book and snapping it shut. you give him a thumbs up with rosy cheeks and a full mouth, and it's satisfaction that crosses his face.

"i would have never expected you to cook," you giggle, reaching for another one as he simply hums in response.

"well, since bepo basically eats fish raw and the rest are good for nothing boozehounds, someone had to do the work on a submarine. thankfully, ikkaku managed to dig up an old cookbook from somewhere, and since then i've been doing this", he huffs, gazing off into the distance.

you can't help but chuckle at the mental image of a grumpy law cooking breakfast first thing in the morning on the polar tang for a crew of rascals.

"what're you thinking?"

"nothing. don't waste the food!"

"i'm the one who cooked it, woman?!"

in the afternoons, it is you who works and law who dozes under the shade of an evergreen sakura blossom tree.

his head in your lap, he catches petals as they drift off into the wind, and there's a fairly reasonable sized pile in his palm right now as he squints up at the sun rays filtering through the blobs of varying shades of pink.

you, on the other hand, card one hand through his hair and intently study documents with the other. you hum a tune - a folk song about a woman searching for her samurai all across the land - and continue reading.

all is well, until your hand retracts from its rightful place in his hair to grasp at the newspaper and jot something down. he can't help but let out a grunt of annoyance.

"ssh, i'm trying to work," you swat absent-mindedly at his forehead, and he frowns. small furrows appear on his tan skin.

"you can work like this," he instructs, taking your wrist in one heavy, tattooed palm and setting it back on his head.

"i need to make notes," you beseech him, but his grip is vice-like, and you know when the odds are against you, so you resign yourself to a defeat.

"i can make notes for you," he smirks, motioning for the paper and notepad.

you, surprisingly, blush furiously and clutch both to your chest frantically. of course, that does not go unnoticed by your petty lover, who in quickly snatches them out of your looser grasp.

"this month's horoscope? really, y/n, you believe in that crap?", he snorts derisively.

"it's legit! madame ping from water 7 has really impacted my life, okay?", you try to weakly defend your guilty secret of noting down the horoscope every month to somehow ordain your future.

"water 7? not only is it baseless, you're listening to a marine?"

"see? this is why i didn't wanna show you," you wail, covering your face with your hands.

"hm, let's see what you've been noting," he says smugly. "libra: too many things on your mind can dampen passion, but your partner will have the solution!", he says in a high-pitched falsetto, to which you roll your eyes at.

"so, y/n, what solutions do you propose?", he asks, wiggling his eyebrows in a stupidly endearing gesture. you sigh. how infuriating this man is, how easily does he drive you crazy?

in one swift motion, you tilt your head downwards (he meets you halfway), to press your lips onto his, moving them languidly against his more chapped ones under the warmth of the golden afternoon sun.

the newspaper and notepad fall out of his grasp. an effective solution indeed.

evenings are for gossip.

the sake flows freely, so do secrets that were sworn to never leave the halls of court. and law, is surprisingly, a massive gossip too. he devours every salacious piece of news with a politely curious "oh", or a backhanded comment about how he "knew it was going to happen", but as the moon two of you across the hours, he talks even more, often cutting you to deliver his own verdicts.

the cicadas strike up their orchestra as you and him sit by the edge of the koi pond, talking like old friends as the moonlight grew on ripples of water caused by the luminescent koi.

"oh god, hiyori refused to shut up when she heard that silly marimo was going to come," you giggle, a happy tinge of red coating your cheeks as you confide to law about hiyori's delight at the thought of meeting zoro again.

"hah, i knew it," law says with a small smile, pouring another glass of sake for himself. "zoro's not too unhappy about being here either."

"i hope not, otherwise i'll be dealing with a very sad princess when i go back to the capital," you chuckle cheerily. you instantly regret your words, attributed to your tipsy nature as law stares at you.

uncharacteristically for him, he too, had been avoiding talking about the "after." after he leaves, to go on to raftel and god valley, after you choose to stay back, the aftermath of you realising your love for each other - physically expressing it, even - but choosing to do so only once, and never again.

if law's learnt anything through the three weeks he's spent here, getting drunk, feasting, spending afternoons and mornings and nights with you, it's that it's not enough.

the time he spends with you, he feels, will never be enough. every day wiled away with you is a day well spent, well-earned for him. he wants this with you onboard the polar tang. he wants to cook breakfast for you, to kiss you good morning and good night, to have you hold him. he's far too tired of running away from love and far too old to find someone else, someone who will accept him and give him solace the way you do.

hell, he knows you better than you do. you like 300-count bedsheets, a special type of tea imported from dressrosa, sake from kuri, how he hugs you from the back (he's heard your heartbeat), when he kisses your hand, late night talking, and the fact of the matter is that he loves all of it, as he loves all of you.

so he says it.

"i don't know where we're going to go after the last few islands. i don't have any agenda of going anywhere, so," he clears his throat, feeling the burn of your curious eyes on his.

"what do you say of coming with me? we could go anywhere you want."

the smile you give him is so sweet, so calm, like you've been waiting for this all of your life (in a way, you have.) like you've been waiting for him all your life. and now he's here, holding his hand out for you before he's swept away by the current.

you take it.

"let's start with the north blue. take me to your home."

A SWIRL OF WATER (MAKES MY HEART A CLEAR POOL)

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