summary: you're an aspiring chef that never planned to end up on a submarine full of pirates. but after collapsing in the rain, you wake aboard the Polar Tang, surrounded by a crew that’s far more chaotic (and sweet) than you expected, alongside a certain captain with storm-grey eyes you can’t seem to decipher… or stop thinking about.
tag list: law/you, corazon is alive and well and a member of the heart pirates au, slow burn romance, found family, food as love language, romcom vibes, happiness bc they fucking deserve it
chapter list:
chapter one
Chapter 1: Cinnamon & Rain
The storm had crept in like a bad habit—quiet at first, but relentless in its persistence. Raindrops hissed against the cobblestones, soaking the narrow streets of the port town in a cold, unwelcoming sheen. The distant thrum of thunder rolled across the rooftops like a sigh of warning.
Corazon’s coat flapped heavily behind him, waterlogged and clinging to his frame. He muttered something half-hearted under his breath, not quite a curse, but far from cheerful.
This had been meant to be a simple errand. In, out, back to the ship with a restock of medical supplies and something warm to eat for the crew. Instead, he was soaked to the bone, the bakery had been closed, and the only thing he’d managed to pick up was an umbrella he forgot to open until after the rain started.
Brilliant.
He rounded the corner, boots splashing quietly through shallow puddles, and tugged the collar of his coat higher. The streets were mostly deserted now, save for flickering lanterns hanging beneath awnings and the occasional stray dog darting between crates. The town, in all its gloomy hush, almost felt asleep.
Until he collided with something—someone.
He staggered back a step, arms reflexively catching hold of what at first he thought was just a bundle of fabric. But it wasn’t. It was warm. Breathing. Trembling.
A young woman.
Corazon blinked, startled, looking down at the figure now cradled awkwardly in his arms. Her clothes were soaked, her hair plastered to her face, and she looked like she’d been out in the rain far longer than he had.
“Hey—” His voice cracked out of his throat, rusty from disuse. He cleared it and tried again, softer. “Hey. Are you alright?”
She stirred faintly at the sound, lips parting, her expression flickering with something between confusion and relief. Then her knees buckled fully.
Corazon caught her before she hit the ground.
A moment passed. The rain fell.
He knelt there in the street, her weight in his arms, heart thudding not from fear—but from a strange, quiet urgency he hadn’t felt in a long time. She wasn’t unconscious, not fully, but close. And burning up.
Fever.
Corazon shifted her in his arms, brow furrowing under the wet strands of his hair. He glanced down the street. The Polar Tang wasn’t far—just past the next dock. Law was still aboard, probably irritated that he hadn’t returned yet, but—
He looked at the woman again. She smelled faintly of sugar and spices, even soaked to the skin. Her hands were scratched. Fingernails stained with something—cinnamon?
A baker?
No. A cook, maybe.
What the hell were you doing out here?
He sighed and stood, adjusting her weight gently in his arms. Rain rolled down the side of his face, stinging against the cuts he'd gotten earlier from a smashed bottle. He ignored it.
“I’ve got you,” he muttered quietly, voice barely more than a breath. “Hang on.”
And with that, Corazon carried her through the rain.
Toward the ship. Toward safety.
Toward something none of them knew yet.
After about ten minutes, her breathing started getting worse.
Sharp, shallow gasps against his coat, each one shuddering like her body couldn’t decide whether it was hot or freezing. Her fingers curled lightly into the fabric at his collar, grasping at something—anything—to anchor herself.
Corazon’s boots pounded against the slick stone as he picked up his pace, arms tightening protectively around her trembling frame. She was still conscious, barely, but whatever had weakened her was setting in fast. And the storm wasn’t letting up.
Another crack of thunder split the sky, closer this time. Wind surged through the streets like a living thing, howling between buildings and slamming a nearby shutter open and shut.
He didn’t flinch. He couldn’t afford to.
“There, just a little more,” he whispered to her, though he wasn’t sure if she could hear. “Stay with me.”
The Polar Tang came into view—its clean white hull a comforting contrast against the dark storm. Crew members stood just outside the hatch, scrambling to secure tarps and equipment before the wind tore them loose. Two men in matching uniforms looked up when they heard the hurried footsteps. Their eyes widened.
“Rossi?!”
“Who’s that?!”
Corazon didn’t stop to answer. Rain streamed off his hair and down his face, his coat dragging like lead behind him as he barreled toward the ramp. His arms shifted her weight again instinctively, his voice raised—not panicked, but tight.
“She needs help. Get Law.”
The commotion brought more of the crew to the entryway, boots thudding, voices overlapping in confusion. A few of them backed up at the sight—Corazon, drenched, carrying someone unknown and clearly feverish.
The sight of him alone was enough to send alarm bells.
“She’s burning up,” he said more firmly this time, breath hitching. “She collapsed—on the street—"
The crowd parted.
And Law stepped forward.
He was dry, composed, standing just inside the threshold with the lighting overhead casting shadows under his eyes. His coat was unbuttoned, a cup of untouched coffee in his hand. But the second he saw Corazon, soaked and wild-eyed, and the girl in his arms…
The mug was forgotten.
“Bring her in,” Law said sharply, voice already shifting into command.
The medical bay lights flickered on.
And Corazon—heart pounding, soaked to his bones, and still not letting go—finally crossed the threshold, never once loosening his grip.
The metal doors hissed open, the soft sterile glow of the Polar Tang’s infirmary spilling across the floor as Law strode in ahead of them. He’d already rolled his sleeves to the elbow, black gloves snapped on with clinical precision. The moment Corazon stepped through the threshold, the warmth hit like a wave—artificial but welcome.
“Put her on the table,” Law instructed calmly, pointing to the main med bay cot. He was already moving to the cabinets, grabbing supplies with practiced ease. “Bepo, start the vitals. Shachi, Penguin—blankets, towels, anything dry.”
“Aye!”
“On it!”
Corazon didn’t say a word as he laid her down gently, water dripping from his coat onto the tile. He knelt at the edge of the bed for a moment longer, brushing her soaked hair from her face with fingers that were starting to tremble—from cold, probably. Probably.
Her brow was furrowed. Her lips parted. Her breathing, still shallow, rasped faintly with each inhale.
She looked… like hell. Yet, there was a softness to her face, even beneath the paleness and damp hair. Skin flushed with fever, lashes clumped from the rain. A bruise was forming at her knee from the fall, and a faint cinnamon scent still clung to her.
“Rossi,” Shachi’s voice broke through the hush, “you’re soaked. You’re gonna catch somethin’. Go change before you collapse too.”
Corazon blinked, barely registering the towel that had been shoved into his hands.
Bepo stepped between them, paws already checking her pulse and temperature. “She’s burning up. Fever’s been building for hours, maybe longer. Did she say anything?”
“No,” Corazon croaked, then cleared his throat. “Just collapsed. She was standing. Then—gone.”
“Then she’s lucky you found her,” Law muttered without looking up, focused entirely on inspecting her limbs, checking her responsiveness. His brows knit as he observed her condition. “There’s no sign of injury aside from the fall. This looks viral. Possibly exhaustion too—malnourished, dehydrated…”
He paused, glancing at her hands.
Small cuts, calluses. Fingertips stained faintly red-brown.
“…Cinnamon?”
Shachi peered closer. “Wait, is she a baker?”
“She smells like cookies,” Bepo offered, ears twitching.
Law didn’t reply, but his gaze lingered for just a second longer than it needed to. That's when your eyes fluttered open briefly, hazy and unfocused, and he caught the faintest glimpse of color—somewhere between honey and warm morning light—before they slipped closed again.
“Responds to light stimuli. That’s good.” He reached for an IV line. “Let’s stabilize her vitals, get her fluids—Penguin, prep antibiotics.”
“I’m serious, Rossi,” Shachi warned from behind. “You’re sneezing already. You’re not helpin’ anyone if you keel over.”
As if on cue, Corazon sneezed. Loudly.
“…That’s not a denial,” Penguin added, tossing him a dry shirt and a sour look. “Get your ass changed.”
Corazon, who had been hovering just out of Law’s way, reluctantly caught the clothes. His eyes never left her as he slowly backed toward the door.
“I’ll be right outside,” he murmured.
Law gave a curt nod without looking up.
The door slid shut behind him.
The room quieted—save for the steady beep of a monitor, the rustle of blankets, and the slow, strained breathing of a girl who smelled like warmth and sugar, even as she lay on the brink of breaking.
Law glanced down once more, his hands stilling slightly as he adjusted the IV line. For all her softness, there was something stubborn in her brow, something that made him pause.
“…What the hell were you doing out there?”
He didn’t expect an answer. But he waited.
Eventually, the rain began to soften outside.
It still pattered gently on the steel of the hull, rhythmic and distant like the lingering echo of a heartbeat. The ship had stilled with it—no rushing crew, no barking orders. Just a hush that settled over the halls of the Polar Tang like a blanket.
Corazon sat on the bench just outside the infirmary, now clad in dry sweats and a towel draped around his shoulders. His hair, still damp, clung lazily to his temples. A mug of tea rested untouched in his hands, the steam rising up to kiss his nose, but he didn’t drink.
He was listening.
Through the door, he could hear the soft beeps of the machines, the quiet shuffle of movement as Law wrapped up treatment. No alarms. No panic.
She was stable.
That alone made his shoulders ease slightly, though the knot in his chest refused to fully loosen.
The door opened with a soft hiss. Law stepped through first, removing his gloves with a snap. Bepo followed, giving a small nod and thumbs-up. Behind them, Shachi and Penguin trailed in with quieter footsteps.
“She’s asleep,” Law said flatly, coming to a stop across from Corazon. “Vitals have normalized. Fever’s still high, but under control.”
Corazon exhaled, just barely.
Bepo sat beside him with a warm sigh. “She’s lucky you found her when you did.”
“I didn’t find her,” Corazon muttered, rubbing at his nose with the back of his hand. “She found me. I turned a corner and—bam. Face full of cinnamon girl.”
“…Cinnamon girl?” Penguin repeated under his breath, exchanging a look with Shachi.
Law raised a brow. “You didn’t see anyone else?”
Corazon shook his head. “Just her. Standing in the middle of the street. She looked confused. Pale. Barely upright. Then she fell into me.”
“She might’ve been looking for help,” Bepo said gently.
“Or trying to get somewhere,” Shachi added. “Didn’t look like she had anything on her, though. No bag. No coat.”
“Yeah,” Penguin muttered. “Just soaked and barely breathing. She definitely wasn’t out there sightseeing.”
Law crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. “We’ll need to ask her questions once she wakes up. For now, let her rest.”
Corazon nodded, but his brows tugged together.
“…She smelled like bread, Law,” he said suddenly. “Even through the rain. Not just cinnamon. Dough. Yeast. Butter. She must’ve been cooking.”
Law gave him a sour look. Bread, ew.
“I’m saying,” Corazon added, defensively, “she might be a chef. Or worked in a bakery. Something happened to her. Maybe she got caught in the storm trying to escape something.”
Law didn’t argue. He just sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Look, I’m not patching up a cinnamon-scented mystery girl just for you to adopt her, you know.”
“Well, duh. She’s not a stray cat.”
“You sure?” Penguin teased. “You already brought her home and wrapped her in a blanket.”
Corazon opened his mouth, then sneezed again.
“Get back in bed,” Law said flatly.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re always ‘fine’ until you faint in the hallway.”
Corazon grumbled but sank further into the bench. Bepo gently patted his arm.
Inside the med bay, the girl lay curled under thick blankets, color slowly returning to her cheeks. She didn’t stir—but a small crease remained between her brows, like her dreams hadn’t quite let her go.
Corazon’s gaze lingered on the closed door.
“She looked scared,” he said quietly. “Even before she collapsed.”
Law followed his line of sight, arms crossed again.
“Then let’s make sure,” he murmured, “she has no reason to be anymore.”
A few hours passed after that.
And the Polar Tang hummed gently, cradled in quiet waters.
The storm outside had faded to a light drizzle, barely audible against the hull. Inside the infirmary, the harsh white lights had been dimmed, casting the room in a calmer, warmer tone.
She was still asleep.
But this time, it looked peaceful.
Her brow had smoothed out. Her breathing had evened, soft and steady. A faint flush returned to her cheeks, the fever no longer raging but resting, like embers banked in a hearth. Her damp clothes had long since been changed into one of the med bay’s clean shirts, slightly oversized, the collar dipping off one shoulder.
She looked… better. Human again. Real.
Law stepped in first, his clipboard in hand, though he didn’t bother pretending to take notes. Corazon followed, this time dry, and significantly less sneezy. He’d left the towel behind but still had a faint halo of frizz around his head from letting his hair air-dry in true stubborn fashion.
Neither of them said anything at first.
They just stood there, a comfortable silence settling between them. The kind that came after everything had gone wrong… but then slowly started to go right.
The kind they were used to.
Law glanced down at the sleeping woman, his gaze scanning her face for any lingering signs of distress. None.
He didn’t realize how much tenser he’d been until his shoulders eased.
“She’s recovering well,” he murmured, voice low to avoid waking her. “Temperature’s nearly normal. Her immune system’s fighting back.”
He paused.
“…She’s stronger than she looks.”
Corazon stood at the edge of the bed, one hand in his coat pocket, the other lightly tapping against his thigh. His gaze was steady.
And then—softly, thoughtfully—
“She’s pretty, huh?”
Law blinked. Looked at him. Then scowled.
“That’s not medically relevant.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
Corazon didn’t repeat himself.
He just tilted his head slightly, eyes never leaving her sleeping form. His voice wasn’t teasing or flirtatious. It was just… honest.
Law followed his gaze. He looked again. Properly this time.
And now that he wasn’t in surgeon mode—now that the fever had broken and she was no longer clinging to life—he saw it too.
There was something warm about her. Even asleep. Even still pale and recovering. The roundness of her face, the soft lines, the faint crinkle of her lashes. The way her lips curved, just barely, like she was dreaming about something sweet.
“Hmph,” Law muttered. “Still not medically relevant.”
Corazon smiled faintly, a hand brushing over his damp bangs.
“And yet you haven’t disagreed.”
Law gave him a look.
“I’m just saying,” Corazon shrugged, sheepishly.
The girl stirred slightly, shifting beneath the blankets. One hand peeked out from under the covers—small, fingers twitching slightly, reaching toward the empty air beside her like she was searching for something in a dream.
Law stepped forward automatically, leaning in to check her pulse again, but her breathing stayed steady.
“She’ll wake soon,” he said.
Corazon nodded, glancing toward the corner of the room. “You want me to set out something for her to eat? She’ll be starving.”
Law hesitated.
“…Something light.”
“You got it.”
Corazon turned to go, a hint of his usual lopsided smile returning to his face.
“I think she’s gonna be alright,” he said quietly, more certain this time.
Law didn’t answer.
Just stood there a moment longer, watching the cinnamon-scented stranger sleep as the storm finally passed.
i think mihawk surprises himself by letting you stay in his castle for days on into weeks after you washed ashore…… doesn’t quite understand why he’s tolerated it until he comes back from a supply run and slips inside to find you wandering the halls like this—tentative steps, candle in hand, nightgown he left for you just brushing bare ankles. Then it clicks
Tragic that shanks lost an arm bc he wld actually be so prone to cradling ur face w both hands while kissing u. Instead he’ll put that big ass palm against your jaw and press the tips of his fingers at the center of your nape to draw you in…….
and he'd not only do it to kiss you but also just to talk to you, driving you mad by pulling you so close as he talks about his day, closer and closer until you can only see his face and he's warm and you're staring at his mouth while he talks, nodding and mumbling "uh huh"s not realising the grin on his face is growing by the minute bc he loves being a tease
you're luffy’s sister, and after the tragedy at marineford, you join the heart pirates to heal and grow stronger during the two-year wait—but what happens when you start to fall for law, and neither of you knows how to say goodbye?
a/n: btw I have a similar one you might like too if you didn't read it yet 'tides of fate' (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)
words count: 7.1k
tags: marineford spoilers, angst and fluff, hurt and comfort, marineford aftermath, protective reader, slow burn, healing
masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi
The battlefield smells like blood and burning.
You stumble through the wreckage, heart pounding so loud it drowns everything out. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. You saw Ace falling, the hole in his chest, the way Luffy screamed like his soul got torn away.
You try to grab Luffy’s arm, but he’s already out cold. Broken.
“Lu! Luffy, come on, stay with me!” you cry, shaking him. His body is limp. His skin is hot, burning with fever and blood.
You fall to your knees beside him, useless, shaking, trying to wake your baby brother who doesn’t even hear you anymore.
Then, a voice, sharp, calm, cutting through the chaos “I’ll take him.”
You look up, eyes wide and wild. A man with dark hair and tattoos crouches beside Luffy. His gaze flicks to you quick, judging, but not unkind.
“You coming too?” he asks simply.
You don’t even think. You tighten your grip on Luffy and nod, tears blinding you.
“Please… Please don’t let him die” you whisper, voice cracking.
He nods once “Trafalgar Law. Captain. Now move.”
His crew surrounds you. You cling to Luffy as the door of the submarine slams shut, cutting off the nightmare behind you.
Amazon Lily is too bright. Too loud. Even the clean air hurts.
You sit beside Luffy’s bed, knees pulled to your chest, staring blankly at the wall. You barely notice the Heart Pirates moving around, whispering and working.
Days pass. Maybe weeks.
Sometimes you touch Luffy’s hand, just to make sure he’s alive.
Sometimes you dream of Ace’s last smile, and wake up gasping, your throat raw from silent screams.
One night, you sit in the hallway outside the infirmary, shivering even though the air is warm.
Footsteps approach. Then Law’s voice, low and firm “You can’t stay like this.”
You don’t answer. You keep your eyes on your hands, wishing you were stronger. Faster. Smarter.
He crouches beside you. His presence is steady, not pushing you but not leaving either.
“You fought to get him here,” Law says “You’re not useless.”
You laugh, but it’s a broken sound “Feels like I am.”
He sits down beside you, arms resting on his knees. His voice drops even softer.
“When he’s ready, Straw Hat’s going to train. Two years. Away from everyone.”
Your stomach twists painfully “I can’t leave him.”
“You don’t have to,” Law says. His eyes are sharp, cutting right through you “You’ll train too. Learn medicine. Herbs. Whatever you already know, I’ll teach you more.”
You finally lift your head to look at him. His expression is calm, but his eyes are serious.
“You mean it?” you ask, voice small.
“I don’t offer things I don’t mean” Law says. There’s the ghost of a smile at the corner of his mouth “You’re stubborn. You’ll fit right in.”
Later that night, you sit quietly beside Luffy’s bed. He’s awake now, barely, his body weak but his spirit burning stubborn as ever.
Law is sitting a little distance away, pretending not to listen but not going far either.
Luffy’s voice is hoarse when he speaks “You’re gonna train too, right?”
You blink “Luffy, I—”
He grabs your hand weakly, squeezing with what little strength he has. His eyes are serious, more serious than you’ve ever seen them.
“I’m gonna get stronger” he says, voice trembling a little “Strong enough to protect everyone. I’m gonna find my crew again. I’m gonna be Pirate King.”
Your throat tightens.
“But I need you too,” Luffy says. His hand squeezes yours tighter “You gotta get stronger too. So you can protect yourself. So you can sail with me.”
You feel tears welling up again, but you bite them back.
“I will,” you whisper “I’ll train. I’ll learn. I’ll get strong enough… strong enough to protect myself. Strong enough to protect you too, Luffy”
Luffy smiles, even though it hurts “I’ll be waitin’ for you.”
You lean your forehead against his hand, your heart aching with love and hope and fear all at once.
“I promise,” you whisper “I’ll come back stronger.”
A few feet away, Law watches silently. He doesn’t say anything. But for the first time in a long while, you feel something steady beneath your feet, like maybe, somehow, you’ll be okay.
The Heart Pirates welcome you in without questions.
Bepo brings you tea. Shachi and Penguin joke around loudly to make you smile. Even Jean Bart nods at you sometimes when you pass him in the hall.
You try to smile back. You try to act normal. You try so, so hard.
In the daytime, you throw yourself into studying. Law gives you heavy books, scrolls, and old medical charts. He shows you how to grind herbs, how to recognize poisons, how to stitch a wound without shaking.
“Again,” he says calmly when your fingers fumble “Until it’s second nature.”
You nod. You always nod. You’re determined.
You even start making your own little mixes, salves for bruises, sleeping powders (not that you dare take them yourself), small bombs made from herbs and oils.
“You’re like a damn witch” Penguin laughs one afternoon, watching you stir a smoking green liquid in a jar.
You snort “Better than being useless.”
Law watches from the corner of the room, arms crossed, saying nothing.
At night, though, everything falls apart.
You can’t sleep. Every time you close your eyes, you see Ace falling. You hear Luffy screaming. You feel the helplessness crushing your chest until you can’t even breathe.
You jerk awake gasping, heart slamming against your ribs, your clothes sticking to you with cold sweat.
You curl up on your bunk, pressing your fists over your face, trying not to cry out.
You think no one notices.
You’re wrong.
One night, after another nightmare rips you out of sleep, you stumble out of your room, trying to catch your breath. You sit on the cold metal floor of the hallway, pressing your back against the wall.
“Nightmare?”
The voice makes you jump.
You look up. Law stands a few feet away, arms folded, leaning against the wall. His face is calm as always, but his eyes… his eyes are softer. Sadder.
You wipe your face quickly “I’m fine.”
He doesn’t move. Just looks at you for a long moment.
“You’re a terrible liar” he says finally.
You let out a shaky laugh “Thanks.”
Silence stretches between you.
“You’re not weak for hurting” Law says after a while, voice low “Pain doesn’t disappear just because you pretend it’s gone.”
You swallow hard. Something cracks in your chest.
“I lost him,” you whisper “I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t save him. I just watched, just like with Sabo.”
Law’s jaw tightens slightly. He walks closer, slow, like he’s giving you time to push him away if you want.
“You did everything you could” he says “Sometimes… that’s just not enough but doesn't mean you did something wrong.”
You blink up at him, surprised by the rough edge in his voice.
“You talk like you’ve lost someone too” you say, almost without thinking.
His mouth tightens into a thin line. For a second, he doesn’t answer.
Then he says quietly, “Yeah.”
Another silence, heavier this time.
You hug your knees to your chest “It hurts. It hurts so much.”
Law kneels down in front of you. Close, but not touching.
“I know” he says simply.
And somehow, that’s the first thing that makes you feel less alone.
From that night on, things change.
Law still trains you hard. Still corrects your mistakes with sharp words and steady hands. But sometimes, when he catches you zoning out, lost in memories, he’ll tap the table sharply to pull you back. Sometimes, when the nightmares get really bad, you’ll find a cup of calming tea left outside your door. No note. No explanation.
You never say thank you and he never asks for it, but you both know.
Slowly, painfully, you start stitching yourself back together.
One day, you swear, you’ll be strong enough to protect what you love. And this time you won’t lose.
Days turn into weeks.
You spend most of your time training, reading, studying, practicing stitches, memorizing herbs. You work until your hands cramp and your head pounds.
One afternoon, you sit on the deck of the Polar Tang, grinding dried leaves into powder. Your hair is a mess, your fingers stained green, but you don’t care. You’re focused.
Law watches you for a while from the stairs, arms crossed.
“You’re learning fast” he says finally.
You look up, smiling a little “Thanks.”
“But,” he says, walking closer, “the Straw Hats already have a doctor. From what I know, he is… good.”
You blink. The words sting a little more than you want to admit.
“I’m not trying to replace him” you mumble.
“I know.” Law sits down across from you, setting his sword beside him “That’s why I’m telling you this now that you know enough.”
He taps a finger against the deck, thinking.
“You’re good with herbs. With potions. You’re creative,” he says. His eyes narrow a little, studying you like he’s fitting a puzzle together “What if we move on now and you focus on something that makes you stronger in battle?”
You frown, confused “Like what?”
Law leans back against the wall, looking almost lazy but you can tell he’s serious.
“Potions. Weapons. Transfiguration, even” he says calmly “You could craft poisons. Healing salves. Smokescreens. Maybe even weapons that change shape. Things nobody expects.”
You stare at him, heart thudding faster.
“You mean… like a battle witch?” you say half-joking.
Law smirks, just a little “If that’s what you want to call it.”
You stare down at your hands. It feels scary. Different. But also… right.
Something you can be. Not just following in Luffy’s shadows. Your own strength.
“I want to try” you say, voice steady.
Law nods once “Good. Then we start tomorrow.”
You blink “That fast?”
“Battlefields don’t wait,” Law says, standing up “Neither should you.”
He pauses for a second. His voice drops softer “You have potential. Don’t waste it.”
Before you can even answer, he’s already walking away, coat swishing behind him.
You sit there, stunned. Excited. Terrified.
And for the first time since Marineford, you feel something else, too... hope.
And then training starts again, and as hard as always.
Law doesn’t go easy on you just because you’re still healing. If anything, he pushes you harder, drilling you on herbs that can paralyze, potions that heal faster, even how to throw small smoke bombs to cover retreats.
“You can’t just make things,” he says one day, hands folded behind his back “You have to use them. In real time. No hesitation.”
You nod, teeth gritted.
The first mission comes faster than you expect.
A small island. A skirmish. A cargo pickup gone wrong.
You cling to the sides of the Polar Tang as it surfaces just offshore. Your stomach twists with nerves, but you press a hand to the little pouch of potions at your belt.
“You ready, Witch?” Penguin teases, grinning.
Law calls you that sometimes too now “Witch”.
At first it annoyed you.
Now… when Law says it, it almost sounds fond.
You push the thought away “Let’s go” you say, voice steady.
In the fight, everything you practiced crashes into reality.
You duck under a sword swing, whip a vial of sleeping powder at the enemy’s face. It explodes in a soft green puff, the man drops like a rock.
You barely have time to breathe before another rushes you.
Your heart races. You fumble for another potion, a heavier one before a blur of blue and steel slices the air.
Law steps between you and the attacker, katana flashing. In one smooth motion, he drops the enemy without even blinking.
“You’re still slow,” he says coolly, glancing at you “Fix that.”
Your face burns “I’m trying!”
But later, when the battle is over and everyone’s tending to scrapes and bruises, Law walks by you, pausing just long enough to murmur “Good instincts.”
You blink.
You don’t answer, but your heart skips anyway.
Weeks pass.
Your skills sharpen. Your hands move quicker, your ideas flow faster. You make small grenades from seaweed oil. Healing sprays that numb pain instantly. Distraction bombs that flash bright colors.
Law watches you more often now, from across rooms, over the tops of books, during training drills.
At first you think you’re imagining it. Until one day, after you bandage a wound on his arm, quick, clean and professional, and Law looks at you with something unreadable in his eyes.
“You’re not the same person you were when you got here” he says.
You smile faintly “Neither are you.”
His mouth quirks, just slightly, like he wants to smile but doesn’t know how.
You notice stupid things now, the way his hair falls into his eyes when he’s tired, the rare rasp of laughter when Bepo does something ridiculous, the low, calm hum of his voice when he explains something complicated just to make sure you understand.
You hate it.
You hate that your chest tightens when he stands too close.
You hate that you look forward to hearing him call you “Witch”.
You hate it because caring about people hurts. You already know how that story ends.
One night, you sit alone on the deck, knees pulled to your chest, staring at the stars. The ocean is quiet. The world feels… less heavy.
You hear footsteps behind you, soft and careful.
Law sits down beside you without asking.
For a long time, neither of you speaks. Then, he says, voice low “You’re still not sleeping.”
It’s not a question.
You close your eyes “Neither are you.”
The corner of his mouth lifts, a real smile this time, small and tired “Touché.”
You breathe in the salty air, heart beating way too fast.
It feels dangerous, but somehow, it feels okay.
Maybe caring doesn’t have to mean losing. Maybe sometimes, it means surviving together.
Months pass.
The Polar Tang feels like home now. The crew jokes with you. Bepo brings you your favorite tea without asking. Jean Bart lets you win at cards sometimes even though he’s terrible at hiding it.
And Law is still Law. Sharp words. Quiet stares. But sometimes, when you pass by each other in the narrow halls, your shoulders brush and neither of you moves away.
One afternoon, you’re hunched over a workbench deep in the ship. Herbs, powders, pieces of metal, tiny vials, all scattered in front of you. Your latest project.
“You’ve been sitting there for hours.”
You jolt, almost dropping your vial. Law stands in the doorway, arms crossed, watching you with that unreadable look again.
“I’m working on something” you say, defensive.
Law walks closer, glancing over your shoulder.
You bite your lip, a little embarrassed. On the table is a rough design of a kind of weapon. A bracelet lined with tiny hidden capsules you can trigger during battle, potions for healing, poison, smoke bombs, even flash bursts.
“Smart,” Law says, surprising you “Lightweight. Quick access.”
You blink up at him “You really think so?”
He leans in a little closer, studying the rough sketches. His shoulder brushes yours, warm through the thin fabric.
“You could stabilize the capsules with resin,” he murmurs, half to himself “Faster activation. Less chance of them breaking accidentally.”
You nod quickly, grabbing a pen, scribbling notes.
Law watches you work for a second. Then he pulls something out of his pocket and sets it on the table, a small silver clasp, shaped like a skull.
You look at it, confused.
“Found it last mission,” he says. His voice is almost… shy “Figured you could use it. For the bracelet.”
Your throat tightens.
It’s nothing. Just a small piece of scrap metal.
But it’s from him.
You swallow the lump in your throat and pick it up carefully.
“Thank you” you whisper.
Law shrugs like it’s no big deal. But when you glance up, you catch him looking at you, in a way that looks like you’re something rare and breakable and important all at once.
You force yourself to smile “If you keep being this nice, people are gonna think you like me or something.”
It’s a joke. A stupid, nervous joke.
Law’s eyes flash and for a second, just a second, you see something real. But he only smirks, tilting his head “Guess I’ll have to be meaner, then.”
You laugh real, loud, from your gut. And for once, the sound doesn’t feel heavy.
Later that night, you finish the bracelet.
It fits perfectly around your wrist, it's light, strong, deadly.
Yours.
You stand on the deck alone, letting the sea breeze whip through your hair.
Your fingers trace the little silver skull at the clasp. A gift. A promise.
And for the first time, you don’t just feel like someone who survived. You feel like someone who’s becoming.
Eight months.
That’s how long it’s been since Marineford. Since you left Luffy on the beach and promised you’d come back stronger.
You’re not there yet. But you’re close.
Your potions work. Your body is faster. Your mind sharper. You’ve learned how to move through chaos and how to survive it.
Your new mission’s supposed to be simple. Quick trade. Neutral island. In and out. Of course, it goes to hell.
A double-cross. Gunfire. Mercenaries.
You fight your way through smoke, throwing a blinding bomb at the enemy, your bracelet hissing softly as it dispenses the next ready capsule.
It’s working until you hear a gunshot too close.
You whip around just in time to see Law drop to one knee, clutching his shoulder.
Your heart stops.
“Law!”
You run to him, potion already in hand, shoving it into the wound before he can even argue “Don’t move—just let me—dammit, don’t move!”
He grabs your wrist, tight, to steady you “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine!” Your voice cracks “You’re bleeding!”
He watches you, not with pain, but surprise.
You never yell at him like this. Not even during training. But something about seeing him hurt, even a little, rips through you like fire.
You help him to cover. Bepo and the others push the enemy back, and soon it’s over but your hands are still shaking.
Later, back on the ship, the crew patches up the rest of their injuries.
You sit beside Law in the infirmary, cleaning blood from his coat.
Penguin strolls in and drops onto a stool beside you “Not bad back there, Witch. You actually looked kind of cool.”
You raise a brow, smirking “Kind of?”
He grins “Don’t get cocky.”
You snort and keep cleaning. But out of the corner of your eye, you catch Law quietly watching. His jaw a little tight.
He says nothing but you kind of feel the shift in the air.
Two days after the fight, you’re in the engine room mixing new compounds.
Penguin walks in, grinning as usual "Need a taste tester, Witch?"
You don’t even look up "Unless you wanna grow gills or pass out for an hour, I’d wait."
He laughs and leans against the counter "Still impressive, though. The way you protected Law back there."
You pause, hands tightening around the vial you’re holding.
"He’s the captain," you say flatly "I wasn’t gonna let him bleed out in the dirt."
“Still,” Penguin says “You were… intense. I think he even let you yell at him.”
You finally look up, frowning.
Then movement at the door. Law. He’s standing just outside the room, arms crossed. Listening. Watching.
You don’t know how long he’s been there. He doesn’t speak. Just turns on his heel and walks away.
Later that night, you find him alone in the medbay, reviewing some notes.
"You good?" you ask softly.
He doesn’t look up "Fine."
You hesitate "You sure?"
He finally glances at you. His voice is cool, not cruel, just... distant "As long as no one else is talking about how I was bleeding out in the dirt, yeah."
You blink. Okay. So he did hear that.
You try to shrug it off "Penguin’s just messing around. You know how he is."
Law doesn’t answer.
You stay there a few more seconds, then quietly leave.
The next day, on the island, you’re helping organize supplies when you see Law at a vendor’s table, trading herbs with a woman who keeps laughing too loudly at everything he says.
He doesn’t laugh back. But he doesn’t walk away either.
You feel something twist in your chest. You force yourself to smile, to turn back to your work.
Later, when he joins the crew again, you barely meet his eyes.
"You okay?" he asks, voice even.
"Yeah" you lie.
What the hell is happening to you?
That night, you lie awake in your bunk, staring at the ceiling.
You keep replaying the moment Penguin made that comment. The way Law left without a word. The way he stood near that woman. The fact that none of this should matter but it does.
Like why lately you notice things you never noticed before. Like why does it matter to you if a woman flirt with him?
You press your hand to your chest, right where your bracelet rests against your skin.
You don’t know what this feeling is.
You just know you can’t let it grow.
Across the ship, in his own room, Law stares at a half-written report.
He can’t stop thinking about the way you laughed with Penguin. The way you avoided his eyes afterward. The shift in your voice.
He tells himself it’s nothing. He tells himself you’ll be gone in a year anyway.
Still… he closes the report and doesn’t sleep at all.
One year and three months.
You’re stronger now. Faster. Sharper. You know how to fight, how to mix, how to survive.
You’ve lived through storms and gunfire. You’ve taken lives, and you’ve saved them too.
But sometimes, the past doesn’t care how strong you are.
Sometimes it sneaks in when you least expect it.
You’re sitting in the Polar Tang’s storage room, sorting herbs by scent. It’s a quiet job. A repetitive one. Usually it calms you.
Not today.
A smell hits you, one of the dried plants from a southern island. Strong. Burnt. Familiar.
You freeze.
Because it smells like Ace’s coat. The one he used to throw over you when you were cold. The one that always carried smoke and fire and sun.
Your hands stop moving.
Your chest aches like it did that day on the battlefield.
You press your palms over your face. Try to breathe.
You can’t.
You leave the room without thinking. Stumble down the hallway. Find the old supply closet and slip inside, shut the door, slide to the floor. And then you’re crying. Harder than you have in months.
You don’t hear the door open.
But you feel it when someone kneels in front of you.
"Hey" Law says quietly.
You wipe at your face, but your voice still shakes "I’m fine."
He doesn’t answer right away. Just sits beside you. Close, but not touching.
"You’re not."
You swallow hard "It’s stupid. Just a smell. Just—"
"Fire?"
Your head jerks up.
He’s not looking at you. He’s staring ahead, eyes distant.
"It reminded you of your brother" he says.
You nod slowly “It’s been so long. And I still—”
"I know."
You look at him.
And that’s when he says "Corazon… used to smell like gunpowder and old cigars. Not in a bad way. Just… constant. Burned into my memory."
Your heart skips. Because Law never talked to you about Corazon so openly.
You barely breathe.
"I forget his face sometimes," Law says softly “But I never forget that smell.”
The silence after is thick. Full of ghosts.
You sit with it.
Then, quietly, you say, “What happened to him?”
You think he won’t answer but then "He died to save me."
You blink fast, chest twisting "I'm sorry."
Law’s voice is dry "You didn’t do it."
"I know. I just..." You reach up, rub your thumb along your wrist "It hurts, doesn’t it? When someone gives up everything for you. And then they're just… gone."
He doesn’t speak but then you feel his hand, brushing yours. He doesn’t hold it. Doesn’t grip. Just enough to let you know he’s there.
You let your fingers brush back.
Both of you sit there, in the dark and the quiet. Neither of you names the weight in your chest. Or the heat that’s slowly grown between you over the months. The way your breath catches when he’s too close. The way you watch him when he’s not looking. The way you burn when someone else does.
You don’t name it but it’s there, unmistakable.
A minute passes. Maybe five.
Then Law stands.
"You should rest."
You nod, eyes red “You too.”
He steps toward the door. Then pauses.
“You don’t have to forget him,” he says “You just have to keep living.”
Your breath catches.
“Same goes for you” you whisper.
Law doesn’t turn around but you see his hand curl at his side. Tight.
Then he walks out, and the door closes behind him.
One year and six months.
That’s how long it’s been since Marineford.
And you are stronger and sharper.
The crew trusts you. Your skills are unmatched. Even Law lets you take the lead on some missions now.
But underneath all that, something else has grown. You and him, you're close.
He watches your back in battle like it's instinct. You can read the tension in his jaw before he even speaks. You can finish each other's plans before they're spoken.
But there’s a weight behind every shared glance because neither of you says what’s circling in your chest.
And now there’s a clock ticking.
“Four months” you say quietly, looking out over the deck at the open sea.
Law is beside you, leaning against the rail, arms folded.
You don’t look at him when you say it. You can’t.
“I go back to him in four months.”
Law doesn’t reply.
The silence stretches, long and heavy.
You force a smile “You’ll be glad to have the quiet again.”
Still, he says nothing.
Then finally, softly “I won’t.”
You freeze.
He looks ahead. Not at you. Not even close but your heart is pounding now.
You don’t know what to say. So you don’t say anything.
The silence between you shifts after that.
He stands closer now. His fingers brush yours more often. Sometimes, his eyes stay on you too long when he thinks you won’t notice. But you notice everything.
That night, you can’t sleep.
Your chest aches like it used to, only it’s not grief for the past this time, it’s for the future. For leaving this ship, this crew... him.
You lie on your side, staring at the dark ceiling. And just like before, when you’re about to drown in it there’s a knock.
Soft.
Rhythmic.
You already know who it is.
You don’t say anything. Just open the door.
Law stands there. Still in his coat. Still unreadable.
You don’t ask why he came.
You don’t speak.
You just step back and let him in.
He doesn’t touch you.
But he sits on the bed beside you, closer than he ever used to, and he stays for hours.
The two of you say nothing, but in that silence everything hurts, everything burns, because in four months, you leave and neither of you knows how to say don’t go.
You can feel it in the air.
There’s only a month left before you leave the Polar Tang, before you return to Luffy. To the Straw Hats. To the promise you made.
And everyone knows it.
Bepo watches you with round, quiet eyes whenever you walk into the room.
Shachi and Penguin keep pulling you into games and conversations, laughing a little louder than usual.
Even Ikkaku made you a new satchel for your potion tools with stitched initials and everything.
You feel it in the little things.
The way they hover when you pack.
The way Bepo asks if you’ll remember them.
The way Shachi elbows you and says, "Don’t get too famous without us."
They’re hurting but they’re making room for your goodbye.
All of them... except him.
Law has gone suddently cold.
Gone are the long silences in your room. Gone are the late-night conversations, the tea he used to make when he thought you weren’t sleeping.
Gone is the warmth.
Now it’s curt nods. Dismissed glances. Command-voice only.
He walks past you in the halls like you’re already gone, and you hate it so much it makes your hands shake.
You try to bring it up. Carefully.
Sitting at the dinner table with the crew, twirling your fork through your food.
“Hey,” you say “Is something going on with Law?”
The table stiffens.
Shachi and Penguin suddenly become fascinated with their soup.
Bepo clears his throat.
“What do you mean?” Bepo asks, too lightly.
“I mean he’s acting weird,” you say, eyes scanning them “He won’t even look at me. Did I do something?”
“No! No, of course not” Shachi says quickly.
“Maybe he’s just busy” Penguin adds.
You narrow your eyes “You’re all lying.”
Ikkaku chimes in “You’re imagining it.”
But they can’t even hold your gaze.
You drop your fork and lean back.
Something is wrong.
That night, you find him in the medbay.
Again.
Head bent over papers he doesn’t need to read. Same ones as last week. Maybe the week before.
“Hey...” you say, stepping inside.
He doesn’t look up.
You close the door behind you.
“You’re avoiding me.”
“No I’m not.”
“Don’t lie to me, Law. You haven’t looked at me in a week.”
“I’ve been working.”
“Bullshit.”
His eyes flick up, sharp.
You take a breath and step closer “Why are you doing this?”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re pretending I’m already gone.”
“You are going.”
The words slam into your chest.
“I’m still here now.”
“But you won’t be.”
Your voice rises “That doesn’t mean you get to treat me like I’m nothing!”
“I’m trying to make it easier.”
“For who? You?! Because it sure as hell isn’t easier for me!”
“I can’t—” He stops. Swallows.
And then, low, rough “I can’t do this.”
“Do what, Law?” your voice still high.
He finally looks at you and you wish he hadn’t.
His eyes are full of things you don’t understand.
“You’re going back...” he says “To your brother. To your captain. To your real crew.”
"And? These were the plans."
And for the first time since you met him, Law yells... and he yells someting you would have never expected “I’m gonna lose you!”
You freeze.
For you it just doesn’t make sense.
“...I’m not yours to lose.”
The words hang in the air like a slap.
You regret them the second they leave your mouth. But he’s already moving.
Crossing the space between you in two steps, fast and wild and furious, and then his hands are in your hair, his mouth on yours. And your world stops.
The kiss isn’t sweet.
It’s desperate. Like a dam finally cracking after months under pressure. His hands tremble as they hold your face, lips crashing against yours like he needs this to breathe.
You don’t think.
You kiss him back, full of every ache, every longing, every unanswered question.
You grip his coat, pull him closer. Your chest presses to his. Your heart feels like it’ll break through your ribs.
And when he finally pulls away, he looks at you like he’s ruined everything.
His voice is barely a whisper “I’m sorry.”
You open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out.
You’re stunned. Breathless. Heart raw.
So he turns and leaves and you just let him.
It’s been four days since he kissed you.
Four days since his hands were in your hair.
Four days since his mouth was on yours like it was the only way he could speak. And he’s pretending it never happened.
You tried to wait. To give him time. To breathe. To be patient even though your heart won’t stop pounding every time he walks into a room.
But every time he does, it’s like it never happened.
He’s back to clinical, sharp, captain-mode.
“You missed a measurement in this report.”
“Meet me on deck in fifteen.”
“Test batch needs refinement.”
Not a single glance. Not a crack in his voice. And it’s killing you.
Even the crew notices.
Bepo watches you with big worried eyes.
Shachi looks like he wants to say something every time Law leaves the room, but never does.
Penguin just sighs.
You try to keep it together, you really do... until the fifth day.
You find him alone in the engine room, hunched over blueprints. Your stomach turns, but you step forward anyway.
“Law” you say, soft but steady.
He doesn’t look up “What?”
You stare at the back of his head “You’re really gonna act like nothing happened?”
Silence.
He slowly rolls up the blueprint “I don’t know what you mean.”
A hot, bitter laugh escapes you “Unbelievable.”
“Don’t start.”
“Don’t start?” Your voice rises “You kissed me, didn't you Trafalgar? You kissed me like I was the last person on earth, and now you won’t even look at me!”
He sets the paper down. His back still to you “It was a mistake.”
Your throat tightens.
“A mistake...” you repeat.
He finally turns, face blank. But his eyes are just dead and cold, like he’s trying to kill something inside.
You step forward “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to pretend I imagined it.”
“I don’t have time for—”
“Stop lying.”
Your voice cracks “I’m leaving in three weeks, and you’d rather throw all of this away than be honest with me.”
“You’re leaving,” he growls “What’s the point in—”
“So what?! So you’d rather throw away everything we are than admit it hurts?”
He says nothing.
Your hands are shaking. Your chest heaves “I know what that kiss meant. Don’t treat me like I’m stupid.”
You’re close now. Too close. And still he won’t look at you.
So you whisper “…Did it really mean nothing to you?”
He finally looks at you and his mask slips just for a second.
Something flashes in his eyes, something like pain, regret and fear, and you see it, but then it’s gone, and his jaw hardens.
“I’m your captain,” he says, voice low “That’s all.”
You feel like the floor falls out beneath you.
“Right...” you whisper “Of course.”
You turn but stop right in front of the door and without turning to look at him you just say "Honestly? Fuck you."
You open the door and leave.
He doesn’t stop you.
The morning you’re supposed to leave is quiet. Too quiet.
Even the sea feels like it’s holding its breath.
You stand on the dock with your bag slung over one shoulder and your coat hanging heavy on your back. The same coat Bepo helped you patch up. The same bag filled with tonics, vials, and handmade notebooks stuffed with training notes.
You’ve done what you came here to do.
You’ve kept your promise to Luffy.
You’ve survived. You’ve grown.
And still, your heart is aching like it’s being pulled in two.
The crew is gathered to see you off.
Bepo’s ears droop “Write us.”
Shachi holds out a charm he carved, a tiny wooden whale “For luck.”
Penguin hugs you a little too tight and mutters “We’ll miss you.”
Even Ikkaku pulls you in and ruffles your hair with a forced smile.
They all know what this is. What it feels like to say goodbye to someone who became more than just crew.
But still, they try to send you off with warmth.
They all do... except him.
Law isn’t there. Not on the dock. Not by the ramp. Not even watching from the shadows like he usually does.
You glance toward the ship. Empty.
He’s really not coming...
It stings worse than you thought it would.
You pretend it doesn’t. You keep your smile steady. You hug Bepo one last time, gripping him tight like he’s the last safe thing left in the world. And then you step forward toward the small boat waiting for you.
The one that'll take you to Sabaody Archipelago so that the Heart Pirates don't have to change their route.
You’re two steps from the ramp.
And then “Wait.”
Your breath catches.
You turn and there he is.
Law stands at the edge of the dock, coat billowing in the sea breeze, expression unreadable but eyes unmistakably wrecked.
Your heart punches into your ribs.
You don’t move.
Neither does he.
So you speak first. Voice soft “You weren’t going to come.”
“I wasn’t” he admits.
Silence.
“Changed your mind?” you ask, half a smile, half a plea.
He doesn't answer that. Just walks closer until he’s a few feet away. Not touching distance but too close to pretend you’re strangers.
He looks at you like he's memorizing every inch.
You want to cry but you don’t, even though your eyes are so full that your vision is all blurry.
“You came to say goodbye?” you ask.
“No.”
His voice is rough. Not angry. Raw.
“I came to say I hate this.”
You blink.
“I hate that you’re leaving. I hate that you’re not staying. I hate that I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again.”
Your heart clenches “I’m not dying, Law.”
“But you’re still leaving.”
“I told you I would.”
“I know.”
More silence but the wind is loud. The gulls are louder. But all you can hear is him.
“I don’t want to lose you” he says, eyes locked on yours.
The same words from weeks ago but this time, there’s no mask.
No cold walls.
Just him.
You swallow “You’re not.”
“I am.”
“No, you’re not—"
“I don’t know how else to say it,” he snaps suddenly, and his voice cracks “As you said you’re not mine, and you never were, but I... I still...”
He cuts himself off.
And you’re shaking.
The words hover between you. Unfinished. Alive.
Your throat is tight “I never said I wanted to leave you behind.”
“You’re going back to him. To your new crew with your brother. That’s where your place is.”
“And where’s my heart supposed to go?”
The question spills out before you can stop it.
And that’s it. That’s what breaks him.
He steps forward. Hands trembling, eyes burning.
He grabs your face, not hard, but desperate, and presses his forehead to yours like he’s praying.
“I don’t know what this is,” he breathes “But it hurts.”
You’re crying now. Quietly.
“I don’t know either,” you whisper “But I think I’ll miss you so much it might kill me.”
He pulls you in, arms wrapping around you, burying his face into your shoulder. And for the first time in two years, Trafalgar Law lets himself hold you.
He holds you like he’s trying to burn the shape of you into his bones.
No kiss.
No promises.
Just the truth in the silence between your heartbeats.
And when you finally pull away, when the ship horn calls, when the wind rises again, he lets you go.
Not because he wants to. But because he has to.
You step on the boat.
The ramp is pulled up and you see the crew waving. And you see him still there, still watching.
And you think, I’ll see you again.
No matter what.
You will.
The boat begins to move.
Too slowly.
Too quickly.
Too final.
You're still facing the dock, still watching Law, frozen where you left him. Stoic. Silent.
The others wave. Bepo wipes his nose. Shachi keeps yelling “We love you, stay alive!” while Penguin shushes him with red ears.
But Law doesn’t wave.
He just stands there.
Like if he moves, he’ll lose whatever last piece of you he’s clinging to.
And then you feel it in your chest. That you can't go like this. That he needs more than silence. And so do you.
So you do something impulsive.
Something wildly you.
You cup your hands to your mouth and scream “LAW!”
Heads arount there all turn. The crew jolts. Even Bepo flinches.
But Law lifts his head. Eyes wide.
And you yell again, urgent and fierce and blazing “COME HERE—HURRY!”
He doesn’t ask why, doesn’t think.
He just runs.
For the first time anyone on his crew has ever seen, Trafalgar D. Water Law runs, coat flying, sword swinging on his hip, boots pounding against the dock.
Penguin blurts, “Holy shi—he’s running?!”
Even Bepo looks speechless.
Law reaches the edge just as the boat’s still close enough.
You’re at the railing, knees on the side, hand reaching.
He gets close.
You grab him.
Fist clenched in the collar of his coat, you pull him upward just enough and you kiss him. Fast. Fierce. Final.
You kiss him like it’s the last thing you’ll remember. And he doesn’t hesitate. Not this time.
His hands find your arms, just briefly. But you’re already pulling back, already slipping away as the boat starts to rise off the waterline.
His fingers curl at his sides like he’s trying not to reach again.
You’re breathless, flushed, beaming.
You cup your hands again.
“I’ll come back!” you shoutn“Wait for me, I promise!”
His lips part, chest rising. He doesn’t say anything but you see it in his eyes, that he believes you.
You grin wildly, tug your coat tighter, and shout one last thing “Break it!”
You point at his jacket where your hand was.
He looks down slowly.
Fingers brush his collar. Something’s there.
A small orb. Light, palm-sized, sealed with your initials carved faintly into the surface.
He narrows his eyes then snaps it.
A puff of smoke bursts out instantly, curling into the air in a soft spiral. The wind brushes it aside…
And inside, where the smoke clears a charm. Small. Handmade.
It’s a tiny glass bottle. Inside it, dried blue bell petals, the same flowers from that island you said reminded you of Ace.
The same ones you once said helped you sleep.
Around the neck of the bottle is a black thread.
A single word carved on a tin tag looped around it “Love”.
Law stares.
No one says anything.
Bepo swallows loudly “…She gave him a charm?”
Shachi whispers, “He’s gonna wear it under his coat, I bet."
But Law doesn’t respond. He doesn’t move.
He just stands there, charm in hand, watching your boat fade into the distance.
Watching until he can’t see you anymore.
And only then, he allows himself to close his eyes and hold the charm to his heart.
I AM DEAD I HAVE DIED AND GONE TO HEAVEN THIS WAS SO GOOD I CRIED REAL TEARS HOLY SHIIITTTTT!!! THE BUILD UP?!?! THE BANTER?!? THE ANGST??!? THE SLOW BURN??!?? THE CONFRONTATION AND HOLY SHIT THAT KISS?!??!? PERFECTION, 100/10 JUST AHHHH
you don't understand i need to be his indulgence! the temptation that makes him give in! throw caution to the wind! sink his teeth into me as if my skin is deep red and my flesh is sweet! lured in by the promise of tasting something that he thought forbidden for him! he needs to cast all feelings of guilt aside and ask himself why he waited this long to have my taste dripping from his lips!
what makes me laugh is the amount of loser energy law gives off. man is just lame and he has no game. or so everyone thinks. but what no one realizes is that law is far wittier and flirtatious than anyone really gives him credit for. the catch is he has to be falling in love with you.
like one day you and law are out at dinner with his siblings. its a casual affair. planned last minute. the two of you are squeezed on one side of the booth while lami and cora sit on the other. law is doing something on his phone, while you hold a conversation with lami over the table. you assume he's not really paying attention. especially given the fact that you and lami are discussing clothes.
"y'know, i've noticed you don't really wear white," lami says, after waving to her white blouse.
"you're right," you laugh, "i don't even think i own anything white now that i think about it."
"she's reserving that color for our wedding day," law says, seemingly absentmindedly and still looking down at his phone.
there's a quiet that falls over the table. you and lami just stare at each other, then your eyes jump over to cora who's looking at his brother with his head tilted and a bemused smile on his face.
"here's the caesar salad," the server says as they slide a small bowl in front of lami. the conversation effectively ends there, but law knows exactly what he did. the seed he has planted. his hand finds your thigh beneath the table and he only looks at you when your gaze has burned a hole into the side of his face.
coming home after a little shopping spree and trying on all your new outfits for your fave as they sit legs spread (and hard). their head resting on their hand while the other one twitches on their lap. they want to let you have your little fun but they’re absolutely losing their minds
desperately need to lie on the couch with Law rn and he's on top of me his face buried in my neck which is raw and red from his biting and kissing, soothed in between by the touch of his cool fingers that run up the heated skin to slip into my hair and softly pull at the roots, no pain just enough pressure to really feel it, need him to play with my chest, kiss it, bite my breasts and nipples just all of it while I run my nails across his back, his neck, his ears just touching each other with no intention to let it become more just feeling good, making each other feel good and relaxed and safe...
