Hi! You can call me Nisa. Just a 25 year old who decided life was boring, and she needed to go back to the days where she wrote fanfiction and would eventually come to regret it :) I have a long list of obsessions, but over here you'll see me bring up a lot of One Piece and Seventeen (it's usually just Law and Wonwoo). To be honest I made this blog on a whim, and I don't know when I might come to regret it, but till then, we'll just go with it :P.
Feel free to send in your requests or questions after reading the rules, and if youād like my prompt list. If you just want to explore my work, you can check out my masterlist.
Summary: The cold, composed and untouchable man the world knew as the Surgeon of Death, was a version of himself that Law refused to let go of. But when the sea deals you its cruelest blow, even the man behind the title eventually cracks.
Word Count: 2.5K
Warnings: angst, spoilers for post Wano, canon divergence
Umā¦.so I disappeared for almost a year and now this has manifested. Is there more to come? At this point I have no clue, but if inspiration strikes again, Iāll be back.
The alliance had never been meant to last.
It had been nothing more than a tactical plan by the Surgeon of Death. A plan that was mutually beneficial to all parties involved. Bring down Doflamingo. Take down Kaido. Survive long enough to see it through.
That was all.
But like most things had gone in this alliance - unpredictable and completely away from what Trafalgar Law wanted - things took an unexpected turn.
Perhaps somewhere between the near death experiences, patching each otherās wounds, and arguments that led to late night conversations, he had started seeking Y/N out without thinking. Seeking her out in a crowded room or on the battlefield. Seeking her out whenever the chaos of the rest of the Straw Hat crew became too much for him to handle.
She had become his constant. His sanctuary. Someone who completely dismantled him, capable of settling the most persistent voices in his head. And by the time he realised what he was feeling, it was far too late to stop. Trafalgar Law had fallen in love. So much so that the thought of leaving her behind felt wrong.
Alas, the alliance had come to an end, just as it was meant to be, each crew charting their own course. But despite the distance between them, and Lawās on brand poor excuse for a goodbye, the two of them endured.
For the first time in a long time Law allowed himself to believe that maybe things could remain. That maybe not everything precious was destined to be taken from him.
Then came the next battle. The next clash. The next gamble. And the sea reminded him just how harsh the world could be.
xxxx
The Sunny sailed in an uneasy silence after a particularly gruesome storm had required all hands on deck. But now with the worst behind them, exhaustion had settled over the crew. Most of them had since fallen into slumber below deck, leaving Usopp to suffer the dreadful night watch all alone.
Alone, that is, until he spotted something small, and almost barely noticeable in the aftermath of a storm, moving purposefully towards the Sunny.
The fear that settled in his bones was almost instant, and within minutes he was screaming out for the rest of the crewās attention.
A chorus of groans erupted from the now awake crew that slowly made their way to the main deck, bracing themselves for whatever was in store.
āGh-Ghost!ā Usopp yelled, leaning precariously over the edge of the railing.
āUsopp, if you woke us up because of some floating piece of driftwood, I will come up there and wring your neck!ā Sanji yelled, emerging from the galley, an already lit cigarette hanging from his lips.
āN-No! Thereās definitely something out there!ā Usopp shouted, adjusting his goggles and peering out across the endless stretch of ocean. āSomethingās swimming towards us!ā
That got everyoneās attention. Luffy was practically ready to launch himself to the top of the mast. āWhat!? Who is it?ā
āSwimming?ā Nami frowned, rather wary of Usoppās claim, āOut here?ā
āShould we fire a warning shot?ā Franky called out from near the railing, readying his robotic arm.
āWait! Thereās someone on their back,ā Usopp squinted harder at the approaching figure. His voice wavered, shifting from worry to alarm, āthey look injured!ā
Y/Nās head snapped toward the ocean, a strange feeling settling in her chest, something she couldnāt quite explain. Unease? Or dread perhaps?
The shape drew closer, a flash of white moving frantically against dark waves.
A polar bear.
No a mink.
Usoppās eyes widened.
āShit!ā His voice cracked.
āItās Bepo!ā
Everything stopped. For one brief moment nobody moved. Then chaos broke out on the Sunny. The crew sprung into action at the mention of a former ally.
āGet ropes!ā Nami yelled.
āMove!ā Sanji barked.
Y/N was already running toward the railing, pulse thundering in her ears.
Bepo was struggling. Every stroke looked laboured, desperate, as though pure determination was the only thing keeping him afloat, or keeping someone afloat.
Someone tall, unconscious, and wearing a familiar blue coat.
āLaw,ā the name escaped her lips before her mind could even register what she was seeing.
Within minutes ropes were thrown overboard, and Zoro and Sanji hauled them aboard while Chopper rushed forward with his medical supplies already in hand.
The second Bepoās body hit the deck he collapsed, completely exhausted. His fur was soaked and tangled, and his expression was one of utter devastation. Yet even then, his first instinct was to reach for the nearly unconscious figure beside him.
Only then did the crew get a proper look at him, and the sight nearly stole the air from their lungs.
The Surgeon of Death looked nothing like himself. His signature hat was missing, his coat hung in shredded strips, skin pale and covered in blood. He was barely conscious, breathing shallow, ragged gasps, and pulse almost non existent. For a terrifying moment Y/N thought that he was almost at his end.
She dropped to her knees beside him, carefully brushing the blood matted hair away from his face. His skin was freezing.
āLaw.ā
As if hearing the sound of her voice, Lawās eyelids fluttered weakly, grey eyes flickering towards her with momentary relief. But almost instantly they dulled to a hollow vacant stare.
āY/Nā¦ā Law rasped, eyes shutting.
āShhā¦donāt speak,ā Y/N cupped his face gently, āJust breathe. Weāve got you.ā
With Zoroās help, she carefully lifted him to his feet, most of his weight sagging against her.
For the first time since sheād met him, Trafalgar Law looked fragile, and that sight terrified her more than any storm ever could.
xxxx
The days that followed were a blur of antiseptic, sleepless nights and a suffocating tension that settled over the Sunny like a storm cloud that refused to pass.
Physically, Law and Bepo had survived. Chopper had guaranteed that, working tirelessly until they were both eventually stabilised; stitching wounds, treating infections and forcing enough fluids into Law to keep him from collapsing entirely.
The physical injuries, however, were the easy part.
While Law had spent most of those first few days unconscious, Y/N rarely left his side.
She sat by his bed through long nights, listening to the creak of the Sunny as it sailed through quiet waters. Sometimes she would brush dark strands of hair from his face. Sometimes she would simply hold his hand, completely helpless when his features would twist in pain, or a quiet, broken whimper escaped him during a nightmare he never seemed to remember upon waking.
All she could do was stay. Hoping eventually he would heal.
When Law did finally recover completely, the crew breathed a collective sigh of relief. Unfortunately, that didnāt make things any better. If anything, it made them worse.
It was almost as if he had retreated back to his stoic self. The sharp tongue returned, as well as the clipped responses, and a stubborn insistence that he was fine and didnāt need help. Along with everything else that made him, him.
Most of the crew took it as a good sign. But to the keen eye, the captain of the Heart Pirates was no longer the same.
Y/N knew better. Because this wasnāt the Law she knew from the late night conversations. This wasnāt the Law she knew who would argue with her over reckless plans. This was someone he pretended to be. A composed man who would not let the slightest emotion show. Someone desperately trying to convince everyone, including himself, that nothing had changed.
But everything had.
She saw it in the way he barely slept. The way at times she would catch him staring silently out at the ocean for hours, gaze fixed far beyond the horizon. The way he could never quite bring himself to look Bepo in the eye whenever the mink spoke to him. The way concern seemed to make him uncomfortable, his shoulders tensing almost imperceptibly, when someone asked him if he was alright.
It was as though the moment he allowed himself to acknowledge what heād lost, it would make everything real, and he would lose whatever fragile control he was clinging to.
xxxx
Late one night, sleep refused to come. After nearly an hour of staring at the ceiling, Y/N finally gave up. Figuring she could at least keep whoever was on the night watch company, she quietly slipped out of the room and onto the deck.
The Sunny was silent, as it had been the past few nights. For a moment, she thought she was alone.
Then she spotted him.
Law sat against the railing near the bow of the ship, Kikoku resting against him. His head was tilted slightly upward, eyes fixed on the starry night sky, looking on with an expression of indifference.
āYou should be resting,ā Y/N said softly as she approached. Law didnāt look at her.
āIām fine.ā
The response was immediate, practiced. The same answer heād been giving everyone, with a hint of annoyance that hurt more than she wanted to admit. But she sat down beside him anyway, the wooden deck creaking beneath her weight.
āYou havenāt slept properly in days.ā
Silence.
āYou barely eat.ā
Still nothing.
āAnd every time someone asks if youāre alright you look like youāre ready to throw them overboard.ā
A faint twitch of his jaw was all she got. The closest thing to a reaction sheād gotten in weeks.
Y/N let out a quiet sigh, āYou donāt have to keep pretending with me.ā
Lawās grip on Kikoku slightly tightened, and for a brief second she thought he might say something. Instead, his gaze drifted to the ocean, shutting her out once again.
Carefully, she reached for his free hand. But the moment her fingers brushed his, he pulled away. Not harshly, just instinctively, as though he couldnāt bear to be touched.
Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat.
āLaw.ā
Nothing.
āLaw, look at me.ā
For several seconds he remained motionless. Then slowly he turned his head.
The sight nearly broke her heart.
His face was thinner than she remembered. He looked small, fragile. Exhaustion clung to him. And his eyesā¦dark circles laid beneath them, but they looked empty. Not tired, not even numb. Vacant.
Trafalgar Law somehow managed to simultaneously show every emotion he was feeling and also not.
āIā¦ā The words caught in his throat. Y/N stilled.
Law frowned immediately, as though frustrated with himself for even speaking, his hand curling into a fist.
āI left them.ā The words were so quiet she almost thought sheād imagined them.
āWhat?ā
Law grimaced, trying to control his emotions. For a moment Y/N thought he would take it back, or pretend he never said anything. Instead, he stared down at the deck.
āI left my crew behind.ā The words sounded almost clinical, detached. He was back to being the composed pirate captain she had seen far too often. A defence mechanism heād relied on for years.
āA captain shouldnāt leave his crew behind.ā His voice remained flat, controlled. āIām meant to protect them.ā
āYou didnāt choose this,ā Y/N tried to reason.
āNo.ā
For the first time something cracked, small and almost indiscernible.
āBut I survived.ā
His throat bobbed.
āAnd they didnāt.ā
Y/N attempted to reach out for him again, only this time he didnāt pull away. Ice cold fingers wrapped around hers.
āWe donāt know that.ā
Law let out a bitter laugh, a humourless sound. Then he looked at her. No mask on, just Law - exhausted, heartbroken, and lost.
āI donāt know if theyāre alive.ā
Y/Nās chest tightened.
āI donāt know if theyāre hurt.ā His breathing became uneven, a sudden tremor in his hands.
āWhat if they think I abandoned them?ā
The question was so quiet, that Y/N almost missed it.
āLaw you didnāt abandon them.ā
His jaw clenched as he looked away, eyes squeezing shut as he still tried to hold himself together.
āBut I left them.ā
His breathing hitched once more, the words getting harder for him to force out.
āI left them.ā He repeated.
Y/N noticed tears brim his eyes. They had appeared so suddenly that she didnāt know if even he realised they were there.
āI left my friends behind.ā
And just like that, the fragile wall heād spent so long building finally shattered.
Law lurched forward, arms wrapping around her waist, pulling Y/N in with a sudden desperate need, as though he was drowning and she was the only thing that could keep him afloat.
He buried his face in the crook of her neck, grip tightening. The sound that tore from his throat next was raw and guttural. Law didnāt just cry; he broke. His entire body shook, wracked by violent, uncontrollable sobs. He was grieving with every fibre of his being.
No longer the Surgeon of Death, but a man who had lost too many people, and couldnāt bear losing anymore.
Y/Nās arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace. āYou fought for them. You did everything you could.ā
āIt wasnāt enough!ā he screamed into her skin, his voice muffled but piercing.
āItāsā¦itās never been enough.ā
His fingers curled tighter against her back, as if she too would vanish if he didnāt hold onto her. She could feel tears soaking into the fabric of her shirt.
Law never cried. Not like this. Not when anyone could see. Yet now it seemed that the years of anguish were pouring out all at once.
āI promised myselfā¦ā his voice caught in his throat, āAfter everythingā¦after Cora-san,ā he let out a soft whimper, inhaling heavily, āthat I would protect everyā¦ā his voice drifted off, unable to finish his sentence, grief lodging itself somewhere in his throat.
āWhy does this keep happening?ā
The question wasnāt directed at her. It wasnāt directed at anyone. But if the universe knew the answer Law was desperate to know why.
For years, he had carried the weight of every person he had failed to save. Every decision. Every sacrifice. Every loss they had faced that led to their demise.
And now, despite everything he had become, despite the years spent hardening himself into the man the world knew as the Surgeon of Death, he felt no different from the terrified boy from Flevance. The teenager on Minion Island. The man on Winner Island. All of them existing at once, crushed beneath the same unbearable agony. Powerless, helpless, and alone.
Y/N said nothing more. She knew words would no longer help him. Neither words of encouragement or comfort would erase his pain. Instead, she held him.
Held him while the sobs tore through his throat.
Held him while years of guilt spilled out.
Held him while he mourned.
Eventually, Lawās sobs faded into heavy, shuddering breaths, his grip around her waist loosening slightly. But he didnāt let go. His face remained pressed against her neck, breath warm and uneven against her skin. One of her hands threaded through his hair while the other rubbed slow circles against his back. Y/N placed a gentle kiss against his temple, a silent reminder that he wasnāt alone.
āWeāll find them,ā she whispered.
Law didnāt answer. But for the first time since his arrival on the Sunny, he allowed himself to stop carrying everything on his own.
And when another choked sob escaped him, Y/N simply held him tighter, letting him break and fall apart in the only place where he felt safe enough to do so.
Summary: The cold, composed and untouchable man the world knew as the Surgeon of Death, was a version of himself that Law refused to let go of. But when the sea deals you its cruelest blow, even the man behind the title eventually cracks.
Word Count: 2.5K
Warnings: angst, spoilers for post Wano, canon divergence
Umā¦.so I disappeared for almost a year and now this has manifested. Is there more to come? At this point I have no clue, but if inspiration strikes again, Iāll be back.
The alliance had never been meant to last.
It had been nothing more than a tactical plan by the Surgeon of Death. A plan that was mutually beneficial to all parties involved. Bring down Doflamingo. Take down Kaido. Survive long enough to see it through.
That was all.
But like most things had gone in this alliance - unpredictable and completely away from what Trafalgar Law wanted - things took an unexpected turn.
Perhaps somewhere between the near death experiences, patching each otherās wounds, and arguments that led to late night conversations, he had started seeking Y/N out without thinking. Seeking her out in a crowded room or on the battlefield. Seeking her out whenever the chaos of the rest of the Straw Hat crew became too much for him to handle.
She had become his constant. His sanctuary. Someone who completely dismantled him, capable of settling the most persistent voices in his head. And by the time he realised what he was feeling, it was far too late to stop. Trafalgar Law had fallen in love. So much so that the thought of leaving her behind felt wrong.
Alas, the alliance had come to an end, just as it was meant to be, each crew charting their own course. But despite the distance between them, and Lawās on brand poor excuse for a goodbye, the two of them endured.
For the first time in a long time Law allowed himself to believe that maybe things could remain. That maybe not everything precious was destined to be taken from him.
Then came the next battle. The next clash. The next gamble. And the sea reminded him just how harsh the world could be.
xxxx
The Sunny sailed in an uneasy silence after a particularly gruesome storm had required all hands on deck. But now with the worst behind them, exhaustion had settled over the crew. Most of them had since fallen into slumber below deck, leaving Usopp to suffer the dreadful night watch all alone.
Alone, that is, until he spotted something small, and almost barely noticeable in the aftermath of a storm, moving purposefully towards the Sunny.
The fear that settled in his bones was almost instant, and within minutes he was screaming out for the rest of the crewās attention.
A chorus of groans erupted from the now awake crew that slowly made their way to the main deck, bracing themselves for whatever was in store.
āGh-Ghost!ā Usopp yelled, leaning precariously over the edge of the railing.
āUsopp, if you woke us up because of some floating piece of driftwood, I will come up there and wring your neck!ā Sanji yelled, emerging from the galley, an already lit cigarette hanging from his lips.
āN-No! Thereās definitely something out there!ā Usopp shouted, adjusting his goggles and peering out across the endless stretch of ocean. āSomethingās swimming towards us!ā
That got everyoneās attention. Luffy was practically ready to launch himself to the top of the mast. āWhat!? Who is it?ā
āSwimming?ā Nami frowned, rather wary of Usoppās claim, āOut here?ā
āShould we fire a warning shot?ā Franky called out from near the railing, readying his robotic arm.
āWait! Thereās someone on their back,ā Usopp squinted harder at the approaching figure. His voice wavered, shifting from worry to alarm, āthey look injured!ā
Y/Nās head snapped toward the ocean, a strange feeling settling in her chest, something she couldnāt quite explain. Unease? Or dread perhaps?
The shape drew closer, a flash of white moving frantically against dark waves.
A polar bear.
No a mink.
Usoppās eyes widened.
āShit!ā His voice cracked.
āItās Bepo!ā
Everything stopped. For one brief moment nobody moved. Then chaos broke out on the Sunny. The crew sprung into action at the mention of a former ally.
āGet ropes!ā Nami yelled.
āMove!ā Sanji barked.
Y/N was already running toward the railing, pulse thundering in her ears.
Bepo was struggling. Every stroke looked laboured, desperate, as though pure determination was the only thing keeping him afloat, or keeping someone afloat.
Someone tall, unconscious, and wearing a familiar blue coat.
āLaw,ā the name escaped her lips before her mind could even register what she was seeing.
Within minutes ropes were thrown overboard, and Zoro and Sanji hauled them aboard while Chopper rushed forward with his medical supplies already in hand.
The second Bepoās body hit the deck he collapsed, completely exhausted. His fur was soaked and tangled, and his expression was one of utter devastation. Yet even then, his first instinct was to reach for the nearly unconscious figure beside him.
Only then did the crew get a proper look at him, and the sight nearly stole the air from their lungs.
The Surgeon of Death looked nothing like himself. His signature hat was missing, his coat hung in shredded strips, skin pale and covered in blood. He was barely conscious, breathing shallow, ragged gasps, and pulse almost non existent. For a terrifying moment Y/N thought that he was almost at his end.
She dropped to her knees beside him, carefully brushing the blood matted hair away from his face. His skin was freezing.
āLaw.ā
As if hearing the sound of her voice, Lawās eyelids fluttered weakly, grey eyes flickering towards her with momentary relief. But almost instantly they dulled to a hollow vacant stare.
āY/Nā¦ā Law rasped, eyes shutting.
āShhā¦donāt speak,ā Y/N cupped his face gently, āJust breathe. Weāve got you.ā
With Zoroās help, she carefully lifted him to his feet, most of his weight sagging against her.
For the first time since sheād met him, Trafalgar Law looked fragile, and that sight terrified her more than any storm ever could.
xxxx
The days that followed were a blur of antiseptic, sleepless nights and a suffocating tension that settled over the Sunny like a storm cloud that refused to pass.
Physically, Law and Bepo had survived. Chopper had guaranteed that, working tirelessly until they were both eventually stabilised; stitching wounds, treating infections and forcing enough fluids into Law to keep him from collapsing entirely.
The physical injuries, however, were the easy part.
While Law had spent most of those first few days unconscious, Y/N rarely left his side.
She sat by his bed through long nights, listening to the creak of the Sunny as it sailed through quiet waters. Sometimes she would brush dark strands of hair from his face. Sometimes she would simply hold his hand, completely helpless when his features would twist in pain, or a quiet, broken whimper escaped him during a nightmare he never seemed to remember upon waking.
All she could do was stay. Hoping eventually he would heal.
When Law did finally recover completely, the crew breathed a collective sigh of relief. Unfortunately, that didnāt make things any better. If anything, it made them worse.
It was almost as if he had retreated back to his stoic self. The sharp tongue returned, as well as the clipped responses, and a stubborn insistence that he was fine and didnāt need help. Along with everything else that made him, him.
Most of the crew took it as a good sign. But to the keen eye, the captain of the Heart Pirates was no longer the same.
Y/N knew better. Because this wasnāt the Law she knew from the late night conversations. This wasnāt the Law she knew who would argue with her over reckless plans. This was someone he pretended to be. A composed man who would not let the slightest emotion show. Someone desperately trying to convince everyone, including himself, that nothing had changed.
But everything had.
She saw it in the way he barely slept. The way at times she would catch him staring silently out at the ocean for hours, gaze fixed far beyond the horizon. The way he could never quite bring himself to look Bepo in the eye whenever the mink spoke to him. The way concern seemed to make him uncomfortable, his shoulders tensing almost imperceptibly, when someone asked him if he was alright.
It was as though the moment he allowed himself to acknowledge what heād lost, it would make everything real, and he would lose whatever fragile control he was clinging to.
xxxx
Late one night, sleep refused to come. After nearly an hour of staring at the ceiling, Y/N finally gave up. Figuring she could at least keep whoever was on the night watch company, she quietly slipped out of the room and onto the deck.
The Sunny was silent, as it had been the past few nights. For a moment, she thought she was alone.
Then she spotted him.
Law sat against the railing near the bow of the ship, Kikoku resting against him. His head was tilted slightly upward, eyes fixed on the starry night sky, looking on with an expression of indifference.
āYou should be resting,ā Y/N said softly as she approached. Law didnāt look at her.
āIām fine.ā
The response was immediate, practiced. The same answer heād been giving everyone, with a hint of annoyance that hurt more than she wanted to admit. But she sat down beside him anyway, the wooden deck creaking beneath her weight.
āYou havenāt slept properly in days.ā
Silence.
āYou barely eat.ā
Still nothing.
āAnd every time someone asks if youāre alright you look like youāre ready to throw them overboard.ā
A faint twitch of his jaw was all she got. The closest thing to a reaction sheād gotten in weeks.
Y/N let out a quiet sigh, āYou donāt have to keep pretending with me.ā
Lawās grip on Kikoku slightly tightened, and for a brief second she thought he might say something. Instead, his gaze drifted to the ocean, shutting her out once again.
Carefully, she reached for his free hand. But the moment her fingers brushed his, he pulled away. Not harshly, just instinctively, as though he couldnāt bear to be touched.
Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat.
āLaw.ā
Nothing.
āLaw, look at me.ā
For several seconds he remained motionless. Then slowly he turned his head.
The sight nearly broke her heart.
His face was thinner than she remembered. He looked small, fragile. Exhaustion clung to him. And his eyesā¦dark circles laid beneath them, but they looked empty. Not tired, not even numb. Vacant.
Trafalgar Law somehow managed to simultaneously show every emotion he was feeling and also not.
āIā¦ā The words caught in his throat. Y/N stilled.
Law frowned immediately, as though frustrated with himself for even speaking, his hand curling into a fist.
āI left them.ā The words were so quiet she almost thought sheād imagined them.
āWhat?ā
Law grimaced, trying to control his emotions. For a moment Y/N thought he would take it back, or pretend he never said anything. Instead, he stared down at the deck.
āI left my crew behind.ā The words sounded almost clinical, detached. He was back to being the composed pirate captain she had seen far too often. A defence mechanism heād relied on for years.
āA captain shouldnāt leave his crew behind.ā His voice remained flat, controlled. āIām meant to protect them.ā
āYou didnāt choose this,ā Y/N tried to reason.
āNo.ā
For the first time something cracked, small and almost indiscernible.
āBut I survived.ā
His throat bobbed.
āAnd they didnāt.ā
Y/N attempted to reach out for him again, only this time he didnāt pull away. Ice cold fingers wrapped around hers.
āWe donāt know that.ā
Law let out a bitter laugh, a humourless sound. Then he looked at her. No mask on, just Law - exhausted, heartbroken, and lost.
āI donāt know if theyāre alive.ā
Y/Nās chest tightened.
āI donāt know if theyāre hurt.ā His breathing became uneven, a sudden tremor in his hands.
āWhat if they think I abandoned them?ā
The question was so quiet, that Y/N almost missed it.
āLaw you didnāt abandon them.ā
His jaw clenched as he looked away, eyes squeezing shut as he still tried to hold himself together.
āBut I left them.ā
His breathing hitched once more, the words getting harder for him to force out.
āI left them.ā He repeated.
Y/N noticed tears brim his eyes. They had appeared so suddenly that she didnāt know if even he realised they were there.
āI left my friends behind.ā
And just like that, the fragile wall heād spent so long building finally shattered.
Law lurched forward, arms wrapping around her waist, pulling Y/N in with a sudden desperate need, as though he was drowning and she was the only thing that could keep him afloat.
He buried his face in the crook of her neck, grip tightening. The sound that tore from his throat next was raw and guttural. Law didnāt just cry; he broke. His entire body shook, wracked by violent, uncontrollable sobs. He was grieving with every fibre of his being.
No longer the Surgeon of Death, but a man who had lost too many people, and couldnāt bear losing anymore.
Y/Nās arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace. āYou fought for them. You did everything you could.ā
āIt wasnāt enough!ā he screamed into her skin, his voice muffled but piercing.
āItāsā¦itās never been enough.ā
His fingers curled tighter against her back, as if she too would vanish if he didnāt hold onto her. She could feel tears soaking into the fabric of her shirt.
Law never cried. Not like this. Not when anyone could see. Yet now it seemed that the years of anguish were pouring out all at once.
āI promised myselfā¦ā his voice caught in his throat, āAfter everythingā¦after Cora-san,ā he let out a soft whimper, inhaling heavily, āthat I would protect everyā¦ā his voice drifted off, unable to finish his sentence, grief lodging itself somewhere in his throat.
āWhy does this keep happening?ā
The question wasnāt directed at her. It wasnāt directed at anyone. But if the universe knew the answer Law was desperate to know why.
For years, he had carried the weight of every person he had failed to save. Every decision. Every sacrifice. Every loss they had faced that led to their demise.
And now, despite everything he had become, despite the years spent hardening himself into the man the world knew as the Surgeon of Death, he felt no different from the terrified boy from Flevance. The teenager on Minion Island. The man on Winner Island. All of them existing at once, crushed beneath the same unbearable agony. Powerless, helpless, and alone.
Y/N said nothing more. She knew words would no longer help him. Neither words of encouragement or comfort would erase his pain. Instead, she held him.
Held him while the sobs tore through his throat.
Held him while years of guilt spilled out.
Held him while he mourned.
Eventually, Lawās sobs faded into heavy, shuddering breaths, his grip around her waist loosening slightly. But he didnāt let go. His face remained pressed against her neck, breath warm and uneven against her skin. One of her hands threaded through his hair while the other rubbed slow circles against his back. Y/N placed a gentle kiss against his temple, a silent reminder that he wasnāt alone.
āWeāll find them,ā she whispered.
Law didnāt answer. But for the first time since his arrival on the Sunny, he allowed himself to stop carrying everything on his own.
And when another choked sob escaped him, Y/N simply held him tighter, letting him break and fall apart in the only place where he felt safe enough to do so.
Summary: Ace was fire - not just in power, but in everything that made him: wild, warm, and impossible to hold. But some fires burn you alive - you just didnāt think his would too.
Word Count: 1.2K
Warnings: angst, hurt no comfort, unrequited love (sort of), hints at Ace struggling emotionally, spoilers for Marineford, overall just tragic themes
Yāall the way this manifested is pretty insane. Like I was truly going through it and I donāt even know why. Anyway, Iām so excited to be releasing my first ever Ace fic, and I canāt wait to write more in the future. Also, I apologise in advance if this is just a bit too tragic, though I hope it hits the right emotional chords.
Listening to I See Fire by Ed Sheeran kinda goes with the vibes of this fic, and I also think itās a very Ace songā¦not sure if that makes senseā¦Another song that I was listening to while writing this was The Night We Met by Lord Huron, so give that a listen as well if you guys want.
Ace always had this fire within him. Not one that sparked from his devil fruit, but something deeper, something more human. It crackled behind his smile, danced in his laughter, glowed behind his eyes. And it burned. It burned through every reckless choice he made, every wild grin he threw over his shoulder like it was nothing.
It was the kind of fire that drew people in and made them want to stay. Youād watched it happen countless times, like moths to a flame.
And youā¦you hadnāt been able to resist it either.
No one could. Not when he looked at you with that crooked, disarming grin, nor when he tossed out laughter like flint to dry wood, kindling something in your chest you didnāt know could burn. He carried a heat in him that made even the coldest hearts thaw. A fire that didnāt just warm, but invited.
But sometimes, when he thought no one was watching, that fire dimmed.
In the quiet moments, when the world was asleep or distracted, youād catch a glimpse of it. A small, subtle shift. His gaze would fix on nothing, brows drawn tight, jaw clenched. The same arms so often thrown around friends or braced for battle, would hang limp at his sides. His back, always so straight and proud, would curve inward, like he was folding into himself, bracing for something no one else could see coming.
It was as if he was carrying the weight of something unbearable. As if the fire in him, for all its warmth, was quietly burning him alive.
And maybe it was.
But he never said a word. Not to you. Not to anyone. He always smiled. Always lit up the room like he hadnāt just been flickering in the dark.
Except for one night. The only night you thought you got close enough to feel the fire lick at your fingers.
It was bitterly cold, the sea stretched out - black and endless. You found him alone on the deck, staring into that darkness as if it were whispering secrets only he could hear. The wind howled, sharp enough to make your teeth rattle, but he didnāt flinch. Bare-chested, hat low, with a soft glow emanating from his hands - his only warmth against the biting cold.
The floorboards creaking under your feet, was all it took. Like a dying ember catching wind, he turned and flashed that effortless grin. So warm, so bright it could almost convince you that what you had seen was a trick of the moonlight.
His hand reached out toward you, a silent invitation.
āCouldnāt sleep?ā
You didnāt answer, only nodded, walking toward him, drawn in as always. His eyes flicked back to the sea, and for a heartbeat the fire within them dimmed. Then when he looked at you again, it sparked back to life.
But youād seen it. Too clearly this time.
You stopped in front of him, watching him closely.
āAce,ā you asked gently, āIs everythingā¦alright?ā
His grin faltered, just for a second. Like a candle almost snuffed out by the wind.
āWhat do you mean?ā he asked, voice still warm, still teasing.
āJust nowā¦the way you were staringā¦I-I-ā you fumbled with your words, eyes searching his for a hint of what you had seen seconds ago.
āIām fine,ā he said, quieter this time. And there it was again, that brief but evident flicker. A hidden truth slipping through, just for a moment.
You reached for him, fingertips brushing his warm skin. āYou donāt have to be. Not with meā¦ā
āIām fine,ā he repeated, firmer now, a flare of defensiveness to mask the cracks forming. āShouldnāt I be asking you that? Whatās keeping you up?ā he deflected with a grin, nudging your shoulder, warmth in his voice from a fire burning not from peace but from habit.
And as his fingers laced through yours, you felt it - the mask slipping back on like kindling catching fire.
You shouldāve let it. Shouldāve smiled and played along. But this time you couldnāt dance around the flames. āPlease donāt lie to me,ā you murmured. āNot tonight.ā
Your eyes met, but he didnāt answer. He didnāt need to. The blaze behind his gaze - wild, stubborn - was answer enough.
āYou donāt have to,ā you pleaded, stepping closer. āAce, you donāt have to go after him. Heās not worth it.ā
āI canāt stand by,ā he said, voice quiet but unwavering. āHe was my responsibility.ā
āNo one blames you-ā
āI do,ā His voice was steady, but beneath it, you heard it - crackling, fierce, self-consuming. āAnd thatās enough.ā
You reached for his hands again, your fingers clinging to his as if that would be enough to contain the fire. āAce please donāt go,ā you begged. āPleaseā¦just stay.ā
His smile faded. That dimness, the low flicker of flames, for once lingering more than a second.
You had longed for that moment. For him to let you in. But when he finally did, it shattered you.
āI donāt want to lose you,ā you said, voice cracking under the weight. āNot when I-ā
The words caught in your throat, then tumbled out, raw and fragile.
āNot when I love you.ā
The silence that followed stretched too long. You could feel it break something inside you with every second that passed.
Ace didnāt speak. Didnāt smile. Just held your gaze, as if trying to memorize you.
Then, slowly, he wrapped his arms around you. His warmth pressed against you, heartbeat steady beneath your cheek. But this time it didnāt chase away the cold. For once, his warmth couldnāt reach you.
He didnāt say it back.
Maybe he didnāt think he could. Maybe he didnāt think he deserved to.
And maybe, for once, his silence hurt more than the laughter he used to hide behind.
You never saw Ace again after that night. Not until the world itself burned, or maybe just yours did.
Amid the chaos of a battlefield drowned in smoke and screams, you found yourself moving before your thoughts could catch up, heart pounding with one name - his name.
And then you saw it.
The moment the flames stilled.
Across the wreckage, through all the madness, you caught sight of him. On his knees, breath shallow, blood soaking through his chest. His fireā¦fading.
The world around you went out like a light. Voices blurred into static, gunfire reduced to soft thuds. All that remained was him, glowing faintly, like the dying embers of a flame so many had tried to protect.
You tried to run to him, throat raw with his name. But arms held you back. Voices called, but none of them were his.
Then, he slowly lifted his head from the shoulder it rested on. Eyes barely open, yet unmistakably full of a lingering fire when they found you.
Even then, bloodied and broken, he managed a smile; a faint flicker, almost unnoticeable.
āThank you for loving me.ā
And his lips stayed parted, not to whisper more words of comfort, not to cry out. Just to take one last breath.
Fingers silencing a flame.
You watched as the fire dimmed again.
But this time it didnāt reignite.
It went out.
Okie imma go cry now cause Iām lowkey hating on myself for writing this
I so so desperately want to write something or work on those prompts, but yāall life has been a bish these past couple of months and I do not have the time to write or even think of writing š
Pairing: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Law, Sabo, and Ace x gn!reader
Summary: Exploring what baking with some One Piece men would be like.
Word Count: 1K
Warnings: fluff, honestly itās not really character x reader, but Iāve tried to include a few bits
Andjkskahdh loved writing this. As someone who likes to bake, this is basically my Roman Empire, and I enjoyed every minute of it. Anyway, I hope yāall like reading this!
Luffy
Couldnāt care less about the process. He only showed up because you said cookie. Now heās perched on the counter, swinging his legs, eyes locked on the bowl of cookie dough. HE JUST WANTS THAT DANG COOKIE.
Tries to help, but does not give a shit about measurements, āWeāre just going to have more, right?ā You blink and thereās an entire bag of sugar in the bowl.
Insists on tasting the dough. Now all youāre left with is enough for one single cookie. Which he eats. Zero remorse.
Licks the spoon and puts it back. You smack him on the head. He does it again. Like the absolute gremlin he is.
āIs it done yet?ā āHow much longer?ā You have to wrestle him away from the oven. Endless pouting until the timer finally rings.
Favourite thing to make: Anything that involves cookie cutters and decorations. Also meat. Anything that has meat - like sausage rolls - heās inhaling like itās his last meal.
Zoro
Bold of you to assume heās baking. Absolutely useless if he does. (I said what I said.)
āWhat do you mean beat the eggs? Like in a fight?ā His fists are up. Heās ready. Letās go.
Does not pay attention to instructions. āAdd a half cup of sugar.ā āSalt? Got it.ā
If you ask him to watch something while it bakes, he 100% falls asleep. Then glares at the timer when it goes off, like it did something wrong.
Only skill? Cutting the cake. You hand him a knife and he gives you flawless slices. Like, perfect.
Ends up covered in flour but doesnāt know how. He claims it was intentional.
Favourite thing to make: Chocolate cake. Simple, but I can see him liking it. Almost like a source of comfort. Youāll catch him sneaking pieces in a quiet corner with a smile on his face.
Sanji
The only one who actually knows what heās doing. He sees you struggling with the flour and immediately slips into chef mode.
Weirdly passive-aggressive if you mess up, but itās kinda endearing? āMon amour, youāre whisking too much - unless you want to make butter?ā
This is now The Great British Bake Off: Strawhat Edition. Everyoneās yelling. Sanji is simultaneously mixing, plating, and tending to everyoneās needs.
Cut to a contestant interview, and thereās Sanji in the background, furiously whipping said contestantās egg whites.
Has a spatula in hand at all times in case he needs to whack Luffy when he goes for the frosting.
Short-circuits if you get flour on your nose or cheeks. He has to take a break to compose himself.
Favourite thing to make: Something elaborate, but he makes it look like childās play. Mille-feuille, or croquembouche. The kind of dessert youād want to flex.
Law
Does not want to be here. He gives you that flat, dead-eyed stare when you ask him to help. āYou canāt be serious.ā Heās helping anyway.
Very methodical. There are steps for a reason. What kind of a world would we live in if we didnāt follow the instructions to Betty Crockerās French Vanilla Cake Mix??
āIt says 175 grams. Thatās 178.ā āItās just a little extra, Law-ā āWe have systems in place for a reason.ā
Deadpan, but you can feel the judgment radiating off him when you donāt know what youāre doing.
The kitchen has to be clean at all times. Washes his hands after every step.
Secretly loves decorating. Give him a piping bag and heās laser-focused, piping intricate designs. Gets all awkward when you compliment him. āTsk. Itās not a big deal.ā (His ears are bright red)
Favourite thing to make: Why do I see him liking something like a rhubarb tart with a really fancy crust? Heās just bougie like that. Bonus: Tell him itās your favourite once, and suddenly, he ājust happenedā to make it.
Sabo
Surprisingly (or maybe unsurprisingly) does a solid job? Heās no Sanji, but the guyās got good instincts and knows what heās doing.
If Luffyās around heās just trying to do damage control. āLuffy no! Those are raw.ā
Super helpful. Like you can just tell him what to do and he executes it perfectly. You feel like the head chef, and Saboās your very competent and very handsome sous-chef.
Also very playful. āQuarter cup of chocolate chips?ā Pours the whole bag in. Winks. āI wonāt tell if you donāt.ā
āAccidentallyā brushes your hand when he passes you ingredients. But at some point, heās done playing coy - one handās stirring the batter, the otherās resting on your waist. Soft smiles. Low chuckles. A bit of flirting. The vibes are immaculate. (please can this be me??)
Favourite thing to make: Something warm and homey, like apple pie or sticky toffee pudding. Big smiles when he sees you going for seconds, you just made his whole day.
Ace
āWe donāt need an oven. We have an oven at home.ā Heās pointing at himself. Very proudly, might I add. āAce. No.ā
Wants to use his flames for everything. Preheating? Boom. Caramelising? You know it. The only problem? He doesnāt know how to not burn everything to a crisp.
Now you have brownies with the structural integrity of concrete. You could build a bridge with them. (But likeā¦London Bridge is falling down, falling down, or something like thatā¦)
You do genuinely have fun, but youāre left with smoke, flour everywhere, and somehow a melted spoon. āWhoops, my bad.ā He grins. No regrets here.
At the end of it, you might have one salvageable piece of whatever you made. He breaks it in half and offers you the better half, cause heās sweet like that.
Favourite thing to make: Cinnamon rolls (cause he looks like he could kill you, but is a cinnamon roll). A hint of sweet, a hint of spice - just like him. Plus, he lives for the moment you get icing on your lips. Claims itās a good excuse to kiss you. Okay, dude, whatever you say.
Need one of them to bake with me now š (can it be Sabo??)
Heyyyy, so I know I just started the prompt list thing, but lifeās been hectic and I just havenāt had time to think about plots for the prompts. So, I apologise if it takes a little longerā¦.BUT some time tomorrow, I should have a short headcanon out, so I hope that makes up for my lack of activity
