Summary: Law isn’t good with words. But after finding himself thinking about the quiet ways his father used to show love to his mother, Law decides to try something different.
You sat at the table with Penguin and Shachi while Bepo lay sprawled comfortably across your lap, quietly enjoying the way your fingers scratched through his soft fur. Your fingers moved lazily through the white fluff, and the large polar bear instinctively shuffled closer, fully embracing his role as an oversized stuffed animal.
From across the room, Law watched you.
There was something soft in his gaze, something thoughtful. The corners of his lips threatened to curl into a smile.
The truth was, he had always had a weakness for cute things. And for quite some time now, he had considered you to be the cutest of them all.
You in your warm, soft pajamas. You peeking into his office late at night carrying a fresh cup of coffee and something to eat. Sometimes it was hot chocolate instead, accompanied by yet another attempt to convince your doctor, your captain, and your boyfriend to try the sugary disaster despite his constant insistence that he “wasn’t really into sweets.”
You, always willing to listen whenever he rambled about a new medical discovery, your eyes bright with interest and your smile completely genuine. Even when he talked about things the crew would relentlessly tease him for, like his comic books or his coin collection, you never looked bored. Not once.
He found your clumsiness endlessly endearing too. Somehow existing within the same person capable of deadly combat and flawless strategy. It reminded him painfully of someone from his past—someone just as warm and sincere.
Though you were considerably less accident-prone, he had to admit.
He still hadn’t found the strength to tell you about that person.
Truthfully, there were many things about his past he hadn’t managed to share yet. You had probably pieced fragments together already through conversations, things overheard from the crew, and your own intuition. Your relationship was still young enough that there were chapters of each other’s lives left unread, but old enough that neither of you needed every detail to understand the other.
He loved finding you curled up in the library with a book, or half-asleep in bed—sometimes your own, sometimes his—waiting for him to finally stop working and come lie down too.
He loved the spark that lit your eyes whenever the two of you visited museums in whatever city the crew temporarily docked at. The conversations about paintings, writers, history, myths. The way your excitement spilled into every topic you touched.
And he loved your affection for sweet things.
Especially, as you constantly reminded him, for him.
“The sweetest thing of all.”
Every single time, it earned an exasperated eye roll, ears tinged pink beneath the brim of his hat, and a desperate attempt to change the subject or stare intensely at the nearest wall.
Sweet. Sweet. Sweet.
Law wasn’t always fond of revisiting the past. It followed him regardless of where he went, a shadow he had never quite managed to outrun.
But that evening, his thoughts drifted to his family.
To his father.
He remembered the way his father would surprise his mother with bouquets of the freshest flowers he could find. There was always a small note tucked among the stems, usually containing only a few words, yet somehow capable of bringing an even brighter smile and a blush to her cheeks.
Sometimes his father would return home early from work, a near impossibility for a doctor as respected as he had been, simply because he wanted more time with his wife and children.
Law remembered him helping around the house without being asked. Cooking lunch. Washing windows. Dusting shelves. Even the smallest, most ordinary little acts had been woven together with care and affection.
The captain found himself yearning for that too.
Love didn’t always have to be spoken.
Perhaps that was why the memories lingered.
Because words had never been his strongest point.
He loved you.
God, he loved you.
There was never any doubt about that.
Yet sometimes it felt as though an unbearable invisible weight sat heavily across his shoulders, preventing him from taking that final step and showing you every ounce of tenderness he carried for you.
And there was so much tenderness. More than he knew how to express.
He only hoped you knew that already.
So he started small.
Just as you were about to leave your room and march down the corridor to his office and force your chronically sleep-deprived boyfriend into getting at least a tolerable amount of rest, the door slid open.
Law stood there holding two mugs of hot chocolate piled high with whipped cream and two books tucked beneath one arm.
“I figured you could use about three hundred milliliters of concentrated sugar shock right now.”
His voice was as flat as ever, but the warmth in his eyes betrayed him. One corner of his mouth twitched upward as he stepped inside.
You blinked.
Before you could say anything, he crossed the room, placed one of your favorite books in your lap, and set the mugs on the nightstands on either side of the bed.
A moment later he slipped beneath the blankets beside you. Without a word, he nudged you gently against his shoulder and opened his own book.
You stared at him. Then at the hot chocolate. Then at him again.
“…Are you feeling alright?”
Law snorted.
“Unfortunately.”
You laughed, and the sound alone made the strange fluttering sensation in his chest feel worthwhile.
A few mornings later, you woke to something even stranger.
Instead of waking up alone in bed while Law disappeared into another round of research before sunrise, you woke up wrapped tightly in your lover’s arms, his hands resting securely around your waist.
For a long moment, you simply stared.
It wasn’t unusual to fall asleep together.
It was unusual to wake up together.
Usually, by the time dawn painted pale streaks across the submarine’s metal walls, he had already disappeared into his office to bury himself beneath stacks of notes and medical journals.
As though he sensed you stirring awake, he pulled you even closer, a sleepy sound escaping him.
Then he buried his face deeper into your hair.
“Keep sleeping.”
His voice was muffled against your head.
“We’re comfortable like this.”
You smiled despite yourself.
“Captain, are you cuddling me?”
“No.”
“You literally have me trapped.”
“It’s a strategic embrace.”
A laugh escaped you.
The vibration of it made him pull you even closer. He inhaled slowly, catching the familiar scent of coconut and mango from your shampoo.
Warm. Comforting. Home.
For once, neither of you moved.
On another morning, you walked into the kitchen expecting to begin preparing breakfast for the crew since it happened to be your turn.
Instead, you found Law already there.
The counters were occupied by ingredients, dirty bowls, and evidence of what could only be described as organized chaos. He was in the middle of arranging food onto plates.
When he noticed you standing in the doorway, he immediately became very interested in the knife he was holding.
“I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d make things easier for you.”
His eyes flicked toward yours, nervous despite himself as he waited for your reaction.
Your entire face lit up and you immediately walked up to shower him with kisses..
Before he could retreat, you crossed the kitchen and threw your arms around his neck.
“Law!”
You kissed one cheek.
Then the other.
Then his jaw.
Then his forehead.
The poor man nearly short-circuited.
He blushing so hard it was almost concerning, grumbling under his breath and pretending to complain the entire time.
Heat rushed straight to his ears.
“H-Hey.”
Another kiss.
“Cut it out.”
Another kiss.
“I’m serious.”
Another.
You finally pulled away enough to see his face.
Bright red.
Absolutely mortified.
And cute. Very cute.
Law muttered something incoherent under his breath and turned back toward the food as if the frying pan had suddenly become the most fascinating object in the world.
You only laughed harder.
The gifts continued.
Whenever the Polar Tang docked somewhere for supplies and circumstances forced you to stay behind to guard the submarine, your Surgeon of Death always returned with something for you.
A rare edition of a book.
A dress he’d spotted in a shop window.
A local dessert from a bakery tucked away in some side street.
A trinket tied to the history of the island.
Something thoughtful, chosen specifically for you.
He never made a big deal out of it. Usually he’d leave the gift beside you with a muttered explanation before pretending it wasn’t important.
Once, he returned with a shirt he clearly intended for you to sleep in—a design modeled after the tattoos stretched across his chest.
He didn’t even stay long enough to watch you open it.
The second he dropped the bag onto the couch beside you—where you sat listening to yet another one of Penguin’s ridiculously long jokes—he turned on his heel and marched straight back to his office.
He did not wait to watch you open it.
His stomach was performing acrobatics the entire way there. His pulse wouldn’t settle and something beneath his ribs felt unbearably strange.
Fifteen minutes later, a knock sounded at his door.
Then it opened.
You stepped inside wearing only your robe and the shirt.
Law glanced up and promptly forgot how breathing worked.
The oversized black fabric disappeared beneath your bathrobe, but the familiar tattoo design stretched across your chest exactly as he’d imagined.
Heat rushed violently up Law’s neck, spreading over his ears and across his cheeks in seconds.
“H-Hey… what are you doing?” he asked, heart pounding so hard he was convinced it might burst straight through his ribs and sink the entire submarine.
You smiled at him from beneath your lashes.
“I wanted to show you how much I like my gift.”
You walked over slowly, placing both hands on his shoulders before covering his face in kisses—his jaw, cheek, forehead, eyes, eyebrows, nose, and finally his lips.
By that time whatever remained of his composure had surrendered completely.
He deepened the kiss immediately.
Strong arms wrapped around your waist before sliding lower, lifting you effortlessly into his lap and pulling you flush against him.
When the kiss finally broke, his forehead rested against yours.
“I like it too,” he whispered against your mouth, the corners of his lips curved slightly.
“Especially on you.”
The following week, the Polar Tang surfaced near a small coastal town.
For once, there were no emergencies and the crew scattered to enjoy the rare sunlight however they pleased. Some swam. Others wandered into town. Some napped on deck, read books, or simply enjoyed the fresh air before the submarine inevitably returned to the dark depths below. Some headed into town.
You and Bepo claimed a comfortable spot on deck and spent the morning enjoying the warmth.
Law had gone into town on urgent business—restocking ingredients for his medicines—but insisted he wouldn’t be long and that there was no need for you to come with him.
Bepo had strangely supported this argument with suspicious enthusiasm.
Still, you didn’t think much of it. Days like this were rare.
At some point, Bepo wandered off to grab cold lemonade while you stayed stretched out in your chair, eyes closed, listening to the waves and feeling the ocean breeze brush softly against your legs.
Everything felt peaceful.
Then suddenly, a tall shadow blocked the warmth of the sun.
You peeked over your sunglasses and found your beautiful, impossibly tall boyfriend standing over you, holding an enormous bouquet of peonies in soft pastel shades—soft pink, white, creamy, pale lilac. Petals layered like clouds.
Your breath caught.
“They’re beautiful,” you whispered, eyes shining as you buried your nose into the sweet floral scent. “How did you know these were my favorite?”
Law watched you quietly.
His expression softened.
He’d known because months ago you’d stopped in front of a flower stall and spent nearly ten minutes admiring peonies.
You hadn’t realized he’d noticed, but he did of course.
Law noticed everything about you.
“Lucky guess,” he replied quietly, watching you instead of the flowers.
You narrowed your eyes.
“Liar.”
He shrugged.
Your fingers brushed against a folded note tucked between the stems.
The moment you noticed it, Law swallowed hard.
Suddenly he felt far more nervous than he had facing emperors, marines, or sea monsters.
Slowly, you unfolded it and three words stared back at you.
I love you.
You looked up at him immediately, startled and flushed pink.
Then Law exhaled.
“I mean it,” he said before you could speak.
“Even if saying it out loud is hard for me sometimes. I love you. Breathing feels easier when you’re around. I sleep better beside you. You make every day better.”
He continued before courage could abandon him.
“Everything is better.”
The vulnerability in his expression nearly broke your heart. And he swallowed thickly.
“Sorry if I’m not always good at showing it.”
Tears gathered in your eyes before you could stop them and you laughed softly and shook your head.
“I love you too, idiot,” you whispered, hugging the bouquet tighter. “Very, very much.” A tear escaped despite your smile.
“And trust me—you show it plenty. I never want you to stop.”
Something warm settled inside his chest. The anxious knot he’d been carrying all morning finally unraveled.
“I don’t plan to.”
He carefully took the bouquet from your arms and placed it on the lounge chair beside you, You could put them in a vase later.
❝Raising their children alone can't be that bad...❞
Monkey D. Luffy, Roronoa Zoro, Trafalgar Law ╱ fem!reader
Tags: fluff!!! angst, humor, reader's death, teenage pregnancy, minor spoilers from Dressrosa, spoilers about Law's past, sexual harassment, pedophilia, rape
Words count: 20k
MONKEY D. LUFFY
Sudden appearances and fated intrusions. The first time you spoke to him about these concepts, he just smiled as he listened, without fully understanding.
For a boy like him, envied by those who swore they were free under established rules, ignored by those who did not know what loneliness was, and adored by those who loved happiness, your existence was a miracle.
He was twelve years old the afternoon he met you on his way to Partys Bar.
The evening sun was warm, summer was just beginning. He took steps that almost seemed like jumps as he hummed and stroked the overgrown grass. Surely someone would come by in a few days and cut it, because there was always a good neighbour who cared about this area. Especially grandma Yukiko.
That old woman, with grey strands so long they touched her knees and a white dress down to her ankles, had frightened Luffy more than once. She looked like a ghost if you saw her at night. Ace teased him for crying the first time, when he was eight years old and saw her returning from visiting Makino.
His older brother knew her. Despite being a serious boy, he often saw him shopping for the lady. And soon he joined him.
Passing by her cottage meant praying that she was well. She lived alone, amid leaks that reappeared every rainy day, yellowed, peeling windows with broken shutters, and creaky wooden steps at the entrance. The neighbours' proposal to find her a new place had been declined multiple times. Lady Yukiko did not want to move from her beloved home where she had grown up, nor did she want the brothers Dadan was raising to waste their energy on an old person like her.
Luffy understood her loneliness.
And he couldn't accept it.
Over the years, he became friends with that woman, sometimes having breakfast with her, other times singing and dancing to the rhythm of her guitar, played with the same passion of her youth despite the arthritis that bothered her.
He adjusted his hat, smiling as he heard her playing the guitar, opening the small unlocked door as if it were his home. He was about to shout at the top of his lungs so that the woman would hear him, but he stopped in his tracks, looking up at the ceiling.
Raising her head and wiping her sweat with her forearm, there was a girl. She held a hammer in her hand and a clove in her mouth, frowning in concentration.
Luffy tilted his head to one side curiously. She seemed to be his age. Or maybe a year older or younger? He opened his mouth to call out to her, but was interrupted by Yukiko.
"Luffy? You're back again? Kid, I told you to stop doing that. You should be enjoying your youth, not hanging around with this old woman."
You looked down at the garden, glimpsing only a straw hat with a red ribbon around it. You couldn't hear the conversation very well, and you weren't interested anyway. You had to replace some old wooden beams in the roof and fix the leaks. It was the least you could do while staying with your grandmother.
By the time Luffy finished entertaining Yukiko with his stories about training with his brother, the beasts he defeated in the forest, and his new attacks with his devil fruit, he looked for you again, but couldn't find you anywhere.
In the long run, you became a mystery he wanted to solve. No one could stop Luffy's curiosity. Especially when he had a fixed goal. And that goal was you.
Every afternoon he returned to visit the old woman, and day after day he found you doing something new. Removing the shutters, sanding the old wood and painting it a soft green. Sweeping the whole place. Mowing the lawn. Replacing the wooden steps. Painting the door the same colour as the windows. Cleaning all the glasses. Planting flowers all over the garden.
For two months, Luffy just sat next to Yukiko for tea, watching you do everything, without speaking to you yet. The little he had gathered about you only told him your name, that you were his age, and that you were the granddaughter of the owner of this cottage. Unlike him, you seemed like a more serious girl, which filled him with curiosity. He liked to play. You should like to play too.
That was his biggest undertaking that year. Especially when summer came to an end and you opened a flower shop there. Suddenly, this place seemed to come back to life, and Yukiko looked happier than she had since you came into her life. Not a single day went by without the cottage looking resplendent, the scent of flowers filling the air and delighting everyone who came to shop.
Your bouquets became famous in Foosha. Luffy saw the effort behind them every day. The care you took with your garden and the instructions your grandmother gave you so that everything would be perfect. Another difference he had noticed. You were good at taking advice, you didn't always do what you wanted. You knew when to stop and listen to your elders.
When he mentioned it to Ace, he just replied that he was a wild child of the forest. And you were a little princess who lived among flowers.
It was Makino's birthday that sparked your story.
Luffy was desperate. He didn't know what to give the woman. He wasn't as good as Ace at robbing nobles, and his brother didn't do it anymore. In fact, he had done a few odd jobs to buy her a nice, inexpensive necklace. He was the only one without a gift. Even the mountain bandits had pooled their money to buy her a ring! Oh, Luffy was bad with birthdays. Would Makino get angry if he gave her meat wrapped in paper?
The little rubber boy sighed, twirling his hat between his hands, leaning against the wooden floor of Yukiko's cottage. The cool air hit his face, relaxing him as it carried the scent of flowers for him to enjoy.
"Are you here again? Don't you have any other friends?"
He placed his hat on his chest and looked up at you. You had your hands on your hips and your brow furrowed. The apron you were wearing was covered in dirt and old mud stains.
"I only have Ace."
"Well, go to him."
"I can't! He's at the bar showing Makino his gift, and I'm the only one who doesn't have anything for her."
The pout he made brought a mocking smile to your face.
"Why don't you say it's a gift from both of you?"
"Ace will hit me."
You nodded slowly. You had no reason to help him, but your grandmother adored him. You had grown accustomed to his presence and to hearing him laugh over the past two months. Seeing him now, defeated and pouting, was not pleasant. You turned on your heels and entered the cottage. What used to be the living room was now the flower shop. There you prepared bouquets under your grandmother's instructions.
"Then give her some flowers. Is she allergic to pollen?"
"What's that?"
You rolled your eyes.
"She's the woman from Partys Bar, right?"
"Yes! Makino," he said, poking his nose. You grimaced.
"Does she usually have flowers in her bar?"
"Under the window and on the counter."
You nodded again, looking for a pot. Luffy followed you closely, standing next to you at the counter. The tiny spade caught his attention and he picked it up. There was a huge bag of soil nearby and other strange things. Everything you did, your explanation of how you did it or why you had chosen purple flowers, went in one ear and out the other. Had you said something about health and prosperity? Or love and talent? Or were those other flowers? At some point he got lost, but he appreciated the red bow around the pot and the little note that said what flower it was, its meaning, and how to care for it. Makino would surely like it.
From that day on, the rubber boy stuck to you. He drew words from your mouth effortlessly, making you laugh, tease him, and follow his jokes. Luffy was captivated by your smile. Little by little, you loosened up around him, and your grandmother liked that too. A twelve-year-old girl should be just that, a girl, and not someone who was forced to grow up too quickly.
As the months went by, Luffy learned your story. The death of your parents and the long search you undertook until you found your maternal grandmother moved him. The fact that he was your first friend somehow made him happy. It was no longer just Ace and him in his life. Now it included you too.
The day you met Ace, you were already thirteen years old. Something stirred inside Luffy when he saw you blush in front of his brother. He didn't understand what it was, why his heart tightened and made him frown. He didn't understand why that expression came out with the freckled one, and he only got a pinch of the nose from you. But he never asked.
That feeling vanished as quickly as his brother showed him the big bear he had hunted. Inviting you to Dadan's house with the bandits had been quite an experience. They had behaved so politely when they saw lady Yukiko's granddaughter, who was carrying a basket full of plants. Lots of colourful flowers to plant in their cabin, you had said. They were surprised to see someone so sweet with Luffy. The contrast between your white dress with tiny red flowers printed on it and the scruffy appearance of the rubber boy (who was forced to bathe) made more than one person sigh.
And when you finally met Makino, you never imagined you would receive so much love from someone. She was so warm, like a mother caring for her children. She welcomed you with open arms, praising your work and showing you how well she had cared for the plant that Luffy had given her on her last birthday. Now it looked bigger. She had learned how to propagate it with grandma Yukiko. The food you tasted at her bar was unmatched, and fighting with Luffy so he wouldn't eat your portions was daring.
Before you knew it, you were both fourteen. You loved running through the forest playing hide and seek. Chasing each other around like fools until you ended up exhausted. The laughter that escaped from within you filled the place, bringing huge smiles to Luffy's face.
It hadn't been long since he had nervously visited Makino, thinking he was ill. He told her how his heart beat fast when he saw you. You could do something as simple as make a bouquet for a local man who wanted to confess his love to his girlfriend, and he would be stunned. You could run alongside him, your hair floating and bouncing in the air with every movement, and he would be mesmerised. You could talk to Ace, giggling foolishly, and he would sulk. As if something that was his had been taken away.
The woman listened patiently, smiling tenderly. She did not explain what he was feeling, merely confirming that he was not ill. If Luffy found out, he would do so on his own. No one should rush his heart. Everyone in Foosha had bet that sooner or later something would happen between the two of you. But no one knew who would be the first to make a move.
The famous confession came months after Ace set sail, beginning his life as a pirate.
He had invited you to the tree house he had built with Ace and his other brother, Sabo, whom you had only just learned existed. You understood why he had never taken you there or why he had never mentioned him, despite how long you had been friends. For Luffy, it was an important occasion. You were both fifteen years old and seventeen was closer than ever.
"My dream is to be the king of pirates," he repeated, lying down, wrapped in an old blanket.
"It's a good dream. You'll make it," you murmured sleepily the answer you always gave him when he said that to you.
"I want you to be part of my crew."
It took a great effort to half-open your eyes and stare at him dazedly. It had been a hard day and sleep was overcoming you.
"What use would a florist be to the crew? Don't be silly, Luffy. You need strong people who will protect you and who you can protect. People who will fight."
"You can always learn to use a gun or a katana," he said, turning sideways to look at you. "You can even fight with your fists like me. Or with kicks."
You rested your head on one arm, stretching out the other to pinch his nose. You liked it when it stretched. And it didn't seem to hurt him.
"I don't like to fight."
"I just want you to come with me."
"Luffy..."
"I'll protect you! You can continue being a florist. I don't need my mates to be strong, I just need us all to have a great adventure," he insisted.
The sigh you let out made him shudder.
"Why me?"
"Because I like you," he murmured, frowning.
"I like you too, Luffy. You're my best friend, you know that. But I don't think..."
He interrupted you, sitting up abruptly and looking down at your body lying there, wrapped in an old blanket. Maybe Ace's. Maybe Sabo's. Or even his own. It didn't matter.
"You don't understand. I like you in that way, and you're coming with me."
They say you never forget your first love.
Luffy certainly wouldn't. By your side, his curiosity ran wild, doing everything that came to mind. Did he see a man in Foosha kissing his girlfriend? He would ask for one too. He liked the warm, soft feeling of your lips on his. Your arms around his neck and your fingers stroking his hair, all so that you could pull away slightly and whisper that he should cut it because it was too long. He wanted to tell Ace that he had had his first kiss, and that you were his girlfriend. As if the older one hadn't been one of the many who had bet on their relationship years ago.
Holding hands, continuing to play in the forest, watching him train, watching you make bouquets of flowers, being teased by Dadan and the bandits for having a girlfriend, receiving advice from the mayor that he never listened to. His fifteen years had been crazy. Beautifully crazy.
And maybe he should have listened to the mayor, that grumpy old man who always insisted that he shouldn't become a pirate because it would be a disgrace to Foosha. Protection? Luffy didn't like to use it. He was young and careless. He did everything his own way and you just let him, because you enjoyed it as much as he did.
The consequences came a month before you turned sixteen, when you got pregnant.
It was the biggest event in the village. The cheerful little boy everyone adored was going to be a father. A teenage father.
More than one adult scolded the two of you. Dadan went crazy after hearing the news, being held back by the bandits when she tried to hit Luffy, and everyone agreed not to tell Ace yet. There was no way to contact him either. Makino just looked at them. Her heart ached. Seeing Luffy about to have a child interfered with the image she had of him as a little boy, crying on the dock, clutching his straw hat to his chest because Shanks was leaving. The mayor shouted as he entered the bar, hitting Luffy on the head with his cane for not listening to him, doing the opposite of what he told him to do.
And your grandmother, that old woman who had lived so much in her life... The sigh that escaped her lips made you sob. She didn't have the strength to shout at you. She hadn't had any strength lately. Getting out of bed was impossible for her, so she relied on you to bathe and feed her. She didn't know if she would be there on the day you gave birth.
It certainly wasn't the life she wanted for you. Discovering that she had a granddaughter and that her daughter had died consumed her. She did her best for you, giving you what little she had. Now all she could do was support you in this new stage of your life.
Because having a child as a teenager would bring many difficulties into your life. Difficulties for which you were not prepared. But you would not be the first or the last woman to go through this experience.
Luffy was twelve when he met you.
And he was sixteen when he lost you.
He didn't know what had gone wrong.
He didn't understand.
He didn't want to understand.
He wanted to cry out loud, but the tears stopped as soon as he heard soft babbling. Dadan tried to explain. You had suffered a haemorrhage after giving birth. The baby was in perfect condition. She was a healthy girl. The information didn't register in his brain, he could only hold her in his arms with tears running down his cheeks.
He didn't want to lose anyone else.
He had to be strong.
No one else was going to take care of that girl. She was his girl. Yours.
The first month was torture. He didn't understand what to do. He didn't understand how to change a nappy or how he was supposed to bathe her if he couldn't put her in the water. And the baby wouldn't eat meat either. How could she not eat meat? If it weren't for Dadan and Makino, everything would have been a disaster. The women raised the girl in her first months, feeding her, bathing her, changing her nappies and dressing her up cute. They were delighted. She was a sweet girl, with Luffy's huge eyes and smile.
And when the long-awaited day arrived, everyone was anxious.
Luffy was already seventeen years old. He would set sail to fulfil his dream in a tiny boat, with only a barrel of provisions and a baby in his arms.
He had learned everything he needed to know from the women around him. Dadan and the other bandits watched them from behind a building, not wanting to alarm the inhabitants of Foosha, who hated them but had come to say goodbye to their beloved Luffy. Her heart beat with longing as she looked at the baby. At her babies. First Ace had left. Now Luffy and his little one. Tears stung her eyes. She couldn't stop the passage of time, she couldn't deprive these kids of their dreams or of living up to their expectations.
They watched him set sail, barely knowing how to change her nappy or feed her properly. Had it been a mistake? Should they have told him that they would raise her until he returned home? That the girl would grow up safe and sound in Foosha, in her mother's old cottage, witnessing her great-grandmother's final moments? Even if they had suggested that, lady Yukiko had begged the rubber boy to take the girl with him. No one knew how she had whispered that she didn't have much time left, that the baby would have no one there and would constantly ask for her parents or why they had abandoned her. No one but Luffy, who took her hand and promised to take care of her on his journey.
Now Luffy was leaving, and everyone prayed that he would find a good crew that would know how to help him.
He found them little by little.
First came Zoro. The events leading up to him joining the crew as the first member had not been seen by the baby, so he choked when Koby handed a little girl to Luffy, bidding them farewell so they could continue their adventure.
Zoro went crazy, not knowing what to do. He was more alert than ever, his hand on his katanas at the slightest sign of danger. He shook Luffy more than once, upset. His captain had a daughter. A baby girl just a few months old who babbled and squeezed the swordsman's finger with her tiny hand, laughing when she looked at him intently with eyes as big as those of the boy in front of him. He had to learn how to change nappies and prepare bottles. But they didn't understand how to bathe her.
The addition of Usopp and Nami to the crew was a blessing. The short haired woman knew how to navigate, and the long nosed man had secured a good ship for everyone. Their reactions to the baby were not the best.
Usopp was terrified, consumed by uncertainty. How would she survive the Grand Line? How would he survive? The fear haunting his soul faded with each passing day as he watched her crawl across the deck, giggling foolishly into the air every time the sun caressed her face. She often approached him, taking the things Usopp bought in her hands, preventing him from continuing to work because he had to watch her so she wouldn't swallow anything or hurt herself, but his heart warmed when he saw her. She was a cheerful and curious child. It seemed that when she grew up, she would like to build or fix things.
Nami had to sit down and listen to the whole story, apologising to Luffy for doubting him and Zoro, her harsh words about them kidnapping the girl dying on her lips.
The short haired woman unwittingly took on the role of aunt, following the baby everywhere. Her weakness for children was palpable from the moment they met her, and they could only watch as she took over the tasks they had been doing. The strange coloured baby purees that Zoro prepared were replaced by tastier and more edible ones. The bottles that Luffy gave her were almost replaced.
"Nami, feed her!"
"Huh? I already gave her porridge a few hours ago," she said, drawing a map.
"But she's hungry, she keeps babbling."
The woman looked up. Luffy was standing in front of her, arms outstretched, showing her daughter who was sucking on her fist.
"Luffy, go play."
"Feed her."
Her eye twitched.
"She's not hungry."
"You have boobs, feed her."
Nami took the baby from his arms. The blow Luffy received sent him flying out of the kitchen and onto the deck floor.
Sanji joining in was all Nami needed. Now she had more help. The blond had adored his captain's daughter from the moment he saw her at the Baratie.
"What's the princess's name?" he asked, leaning on the deck railing.
He tried to smoke away from her, watching the girl playing with Zoro's katanas, who was asleep on the floor. The pretty dress with a mandarin print indicated that Nami had taken good care of her. He didn't want to imagine what her first days at sea had been like, with only the swordsman and the rubber boy.
Luffy looked up, swallowing his meat.
"Nika."
"Nika?" Sanji murmured. "That's a strange name."
"Makino wouldn't let me name her Niku."
"Of course not!" Nami shouted, hitting him on the head.
"How could you call her meat, Luffy?" Usopp shook his head.
The journey was full of adventures. When Chopper joined them, the little one examined the baby to see if she had any pain or illness. It was a miracle that she was healthy so far. That whatever Nami had contracted had not affected her.
It was at night that the navigator watched her captain most closely.
Luffy used to spend every night on the Grand Line with his daughter by his side. He would sit on the deck with her between his legs, stretching his rubber fingers and making his little girl do the same. After a few hours, in the stillness of the sea and under the stars, they would both fall asleep. The captain would wrap his arms protectively around her, as if afraid she would slip through his fingers. If a tear or two escaped in his sleep, Nami said nothing.
Nika's mother was never mentioned. If Luffy was suffering, he would always pretend to be fine. Everything was hidden behind huge smiles.
The arrival in Alabasta had everyone on edge. The heat was so intense that it could almost rival the fires of hell. Chopper and Nami took care of Nika, keeping her hydrated and in the shade to prevent heatstroke. They would have preferred to stay on the Going Merry, but circumstances required them to remain alert.
That's why Luffy's brother's visit was ideal.
"Oi, Luffy, didn't Y/N come with you? I thought you'd still be obsessed with bringing her along," said the freckled man, drinking his beer.
The rubber boy tensed up and then smiled, biting his lip. A cry echoed through the ship, causing Ace to frown.
"Did you guys kidnap a baby?"
"No!" They all shouted.
Chopper left the room, moving his short legs carefully, trying to calm Nika down. Long arms picked her up, and the last thing Chopper saw was the baby flying through the air.
"Luffy! Don't do that!" the doctor screamed.
"Shishishi, it's okay," he placed the baby in front of Ace. "Look!"
The commander of Whitebeard's second division tensed up. A baby. There was a baby in front of him. She didn't look like anyone else there. And those big, bright eyes.
"Luffy..."
"Doesn't she look just like Y/N? Makino said she looked like me, but I think she smiles like Y/N."
"Luffy."
"Dadan told me not to bring her because it was dangerous. Even the mayor tried to convince me."
"Luffy!"
The boy looked at him with tears in his eyes, but without losing his smile.
"I'm all she has."
It didn't take long for the eldest brother to understand the situation.
The answer to your absence was right in front of him.
That girl who ran through the forest, playing freely after working at her flower shop for a plate of food, that girl who took time to watch her little brother's training sessions and congratulate him when he won, that girl who burst into Dadan's cabin holding Luffy's hand to eat with them, making a place for herself among the bandits, that girl he had nicknamed little princess. That girl was no longer among them.
She had taken his brother's love with her and, in gratitude, had left the baby he held in his arms. Only memories would take care of Luffy on this journey.
Ace did not scold him, not when he himself was a mess.
For a while, he stayed on the Going Merry, looking after his niece while the crew completed their mission. Nika's clothes were stored in a drawer in Nami's wardrobe. The number of patterns and colours he saw left him in no doubt. The navigator loved the little girl and treated her like her own doll. The commander of Whitebeard's second division had fun with her, watching her crawl around the deck, smear her face with ice cream made by Sanji, and play in the water in the tiny pool Usopp had built for her.
The following adventures were crazy for everyone. The addition of Robin, Franky, and Brook to the crew had brought more joy to their lives.
Luffy enjoyed watching the archaeologist tend to her plants. The sweet smile on his face gave the woman an idea of what he might be thinking.
"Y/N had a flower shop," he said casually. "It seems Nika likes flowers too."
The little girl played with the dirt and occasionally touched Robin's flowers. Luffy stroked her hair. She would soon be one year old. If it weren't for his friends, he wasn't sure he would have been able to raise her. He needed them. He needed the help of others and would never say otherwise. Sanji fed her. Nami bought her cute clothes that a little girl would wear. Usopp made her laugh. Zoro protected her. Chopper took care of her health. Robin let her play in her garden and had offered to be her teacher when she was old enough. Franky made toys for her. Brook played songs and made her clap her hands.
Would Y/N be happy to see them? Would she be proud of him? Would she smile when she saw how grown up Nika was? Would she like her name or would she think it was silly? Would she have liked to accompany him on this adventure or would she have told him she would wait for his return in Foosha?
His lower lip trembled.
"You're doing an amazing job, Luffy."
The affection in Robin's voice made the rubber boy hold back a sob.
"Not everyone would do what you did. You brought hope to the lives of everyone in the crew, and you gave us a great gift," the archaeologist smiled kindly at him. "It's difficult to raise a baby in her early years, but we'll all help you. Just like you helped us."
No one but the two of them and little Nika knew about that conversation. For some reason, Robin seemed to understand him very well. Always with good advice to give. Always trusting him.
The passage of time made Dadan anxious. Every year in Foosha, they prepared a party for Nika. Her first year of life, her second year, her third year, her fourth year. All were celebrated by the bandits, Makino, and the mayor.
And like them, the Straw Hats also celebrated.
"Come back here, Nika!" Usopp shouted, running across the Sunny.
The five year old girl burst out laughing as she jumped from the second floor onto the deck. Nami held her breath. Zoro didn't have time to react. And Luffy caught her in his arms, laughing.
Her brown curls bounced from side to side with every step she took. She was a girl with a lot of energy. The older she got, the more grey hairs she gave some people. Jinbe used to say that she would be worse when she turned ten. And at twenty, she would be a force of nature. Robin laughed, covering her mouth, thinking that maybe her name had something to do with it.
Her name, which had caused problems with the world government more than once. It took them two years to discover its meaning and why, when it became public knowledge that the Straw Hat Yonko had a daughter, some adored her and others sought to kill her. The only one who managed to lay a hand on Nika, squeezing her arm until it bruised, suffered a painful death at the hands of Luffy. He was not a violent man, at least not without a purpose. He did not kill. But he would do anything for his little girl.
"Sanji-san, can I have some more ice cream, please?" she asked when she saw him coming out of the kitchen.
They still remembered the night they asked the girl who her favourite member of the crew was. They thought she would say Luffy, after all, he was her father. But her answer was Sanji, because he cooked her everything she asked for. Then they fought for second place without receiving any comment from Nika confirming or denying who had it.
The bright eyed girl ran towards him after letting go of her father, hugging his leg and looking at him sweetly. Sanji smiled tenderly, ruffling her hair.
"Today you'll have all the food you want."
"You spoil her too much, shitty cook."
Zoro growled as he walked towards him. Although he wouldn't admit it, the fact that Nika didn't choose him as her favourite hurt his pride. He was the first one in the crew to change her nappy. He even had to cook for her.
"You're one to talk, stupid marimo. I saw you lending her your wado ichimonji the other day."
The two began to fight, distancing themselves from the girl.
Luffy climbed into his special seat on the lion's head, watching his crew interact with his daughter with a smile from ear to ear.
"Beautiful Nika, your favourite song," exclaim Brook, taking the little girl’s hand and spinning her around.
His violin played a tune familiar to all, followed by their voices.
"Yohohoho, yohohoho!"
"Sudden appearances and fated intrusions? I still don't understand."
You looked at him amused. It was the third time you had explained it to him.
"It's when..."
A person suddenly appears in your life, unaware of how timely their presence is. Using a force that is not force, they make a space for themselves in your daily life. You forget what your life was like before them, because every second by their side feels as if destiny had planned it all.
Luffy stretched out his rubber arm, slipping between his friends, until he managed to gently place his straw hat on his daughter's head.
He had been that person in your life. It had taken him several years to understand it. Only now, seeing the smile of his little girl, who was growing more like you every day, did he understand.
"Dad, come play with me!"
"I always beat you! I'll only do it for a prize."
Nami smiled happily, listening to them shouting at each other across the distance between them, something that had become normal since Nika started talking.
"Fine! If I win, I'll have all your meat for a day," shouted the girl, adjusting the straw hat on her head as she looked up at the man who loved her most.
Robin, Jinbe, Franky, and Brook laughed.
"Okay, but if I win..."
Usopp and Zoro agreed among themselves that he would ask for the same thing, all of his daughter's meat. Sanji, Nami, and Chopper agreed. He never asked her for much. He even let her win just to see her laugh.
Luffy let out a soft "shishishi" as he closed his eyes.
"I want a bouquet of flowers."
RORONOA ZORO
He never regretted his actions.
Every step he took, every decision he made, and every word he used had made him the man he was. His confidence did not waver in encounters that could push him to the brink of life and death. His confidence did not waver when someone stronger than him stood in his way, demanding a fight. His confidence did not waver when he had to protect those he loved. And it certainly did not waver when he had to be tough to control a situation.
That's why his imbalance upon meeting you baffled him.
It didn't make sense. Not to him.
Dressrosa was a lively kingdom. Its people danced to the rhythm of guitars under clear skies. Children played with various toys as they roamed the streets. Restaurants were packed with tourists. Zoro had only one mission: to find Luffy.
The sudden excited shouts caught his attention as he approached the city centre. Outside the Coliseum, a huge screen was broadcasting an event, and the inhabitants were watching the spectacle. He didn't know the reasons for the competition, but anything that involved a good fight appealed to him. However, he was forced to be just another spectator. Registration had closed.
And his search had not been a failure. He shook his head, adjusting his fake moustache, watching his captain compete against a whole block of experienced fighters. He couldn't say he had gotten himself into a mess. He wasn't breaking any of Trafalgar Law's rules. His straw hat was covered, and he was wearing a helmet, a beard, and a cape. He had even changed his name. He could relax, they wouldn't find him out.
Watching Luffy win entertained him. He was the most reliable person he knew. Whatever he was trying to achieve, he would succeed.
Or so he believed until he saw you appear.
A swordswoman. Two katanas.
There were few swordswomen he had ever met. His interest grew uncontrollably.
Your movements were graceful. Your turns were controlled, precise. The way you dodged your opponents made him grip his wado ichimonji tightly. There was something about your katanas that drew him to look at them closely. They were cursed. Could they be better than his? Could you withstand an impact with all his strength? What was your goal? Why were you a swordswoman? Your next attack made him smirk. In front of you were ten men ready to defeat you with their own weapons and fists, but you remained impassive. Your extreme concentration and the constant twirling of both katanas caused a tornado. He unconsciously read your lips. It was just an inaudible whisper to everyone else, but Zoro could understand you. Pandora's Delirium.
That single attack started your story.
Dressrosa became a nightmare. The Coliseum had collapsed due to an attack by Lucy, who had been crowned the winner of the event. By the time you managed to crawl out from under the rubble, pressing your palm to your bleeding forehead, the sunlight greeted you. You felt frustrated. You wanted the prize, you wanted to see if a swordswoman was stronger with a Devil Fruit, but once again you had to stick to your superior katanas. You trusted them and yourself in using them, but it felt distant. Your skill was no match for him. You were not close to defeating him yet.
You walked through those streets that had welcomed you with such joy. Their inhabitants were now crying and shouting. You didn't understand what was happening, but it didn't take you long to find out. The complaints and pleas were clear. What they were asking for was clear. The removal of their king.
A beeping sound deafened your ears. Doflamingo's voice echoed throughout the place. His face was seen on different screens. You looked at the blood on your hand, growling under your breath as you slid down a yellow-painted wall until you sat on the floor. As you looked up at the screen, a photo appeared. They were offering a reward for him.
Roronoa Zoro.
Your eyes sparkled as a contemptuous smile appeared on your face. So he was here. That swordsman from the Straw Hat Pirates. The one you had been watching for two years, following his progress in the newspapers as his bounty grew and he gradually became a promise of legend. His fighting style with three katanas caught your attention. Even if you tried, you couldn't control the third one in your mouth. But that was fine. He had his style. You had yours.
Knowing that he was in the same place as you, that somehow life had brought you together, excited you. You wanted to see him in action. With any luck, challenge him to a fight. And if you had time, ask him his motivation.
The blow to your forehead had left you disoriented. So much, that you thought you had hallucinated a speck of green hair flying in front of you, towards a huge stone person. How bad had the blow been?
As the minutes passed, the truth revealed itself. A city inhabitant was bandaging your head, asking you questions that you answered disinterestedly, your attention focused on the conversation a couple further ahead were having. Monkey D. Luffy had defeated Doflamingo, and Dressrosa once again had its former ruler. Everyone seemed to be living more peacefully, not caring if they became poor in the future. As long as they were happy and with their families and loved ones, that was enough.
You stood up and thanked the person who healed you. He tried to insist that you stay seated longer, saying something about shock, but you just refused as you took confident steps. You wanted to get to the hill. To the cabin where they said the straw hats were.
Zoro kept his eyes closed, but his rest was not continuous. He woke up at the slightest sound. The marine was still in the city and was not yet looking for them. He did not understand the reason, his main concern was that Luffy would heal so they could escape. Especially after Sabo's words.
He opened his eyes at the sound of jingling. Bells? Who could be announcing their presence so loudly? They must be confident enough not to hide. He took his wado ichimonji and opened the door, closing it behind him. He would only intervene if someone tried to attack his friends.
His steps stopped short when he looked ahead. In that field of flowers, completely surrounded by them and smiling broadly, was she. Two katanas. Incredible strength radiated from her.
Now that he could see them up close, he could notice the small details. You looked like a girl who left her mark on every object. A symbol of your existence. Silver bells hung from the handles of your katanas, jingling as they moved and collided with each other.
"You..."
"Roronoa Zoro, I want a duel."
"That sounds fun!" Someone shouted from the doorway.
You tilted your head to one side. It was the captain. His hair was sticking out in all directions; he looked like he had just woken up.
"Luffy, this isn't the time. We have to run away, the marine wants to capture us."
Nico Robin's melodious voice reached your ears. The woman spoke with an almost maternal gentleness and sweetness as she peeked through the door to see what was happening. Zoro watched you closely.
"It'll be quick. I'll defeat you," you insisted.
"Zoro is the strongest," said the boy in the straw hat, putting his hands behind his head.
"Why are you a swordswoman?" That deep voice rang in your ears, your attention focused on him in seconds.
It was impossible not to look at him. You were finally face to face with him.
"I want to defeat the red haired yonko, Shanks."
Absolute silence. Whether Luffy started a commotion upon hearing the name of the man who inspired him to become a pirate, whether Robin giggled, or whether Franky, who had just woken up, got excited about the idea, none of that mattered. Not when you had Zoro in front of you, smiling sideways, as if he saw something in you that no one else noticed.
"I've made up my mind! You're joining my crew."
Moments like that, where you lose all ability to make your own decisions, where your life undergoes drastic changes without you asking for them, happen. They had convinced you. You had heard the story from your now captain about the original owner of his hat, and you just burst out laughing, explaining that you didn't want to kill Shanks. You had faced him three years ago, when you were still a self-centred young woman who believed she could defeat anyone. The reality check he gave you when he defeated you while laughing at you, amused by the situation, was the catalyst for a new objective. A new goal.
What's more, you could train with Roronoa Zoro. Measure your strength against his. Find out what motivated him to improve. And one day have that duel that was left unfinished in Dressrosa.
Since then, every day of your life has been filled with chaos. Nami's shouts scolding Luffy and Usopp, Sanji's constant flirting and his delicious dishes, Robin's weird comments that made you laugh and her sudden compliments that made you blush, watching Franky build something new with incredible utility, listening to Brook play his instruments and invite you to sing with him (only to later ask you about your underwear), the dedicated training sessions with Zoro that left you panting on the deck, and Chopper's concern as he tended to you and grew larger to carry you to the infirmary.
You had fun. They were all unique, with different personalities, and they all got along and loved each other just as they were, without asking anyone to change.
You liked having sleepovers with Nami and Robin, using the face masks that the navigator prepared or having the archaeologist paint your nails. You liked playing with Chopper, pretending to have some illness so he would treat you. You liked joking around with Luffy and running around with him all over the Sunny Go. You liked trying Sanji's desserts and being the judge who gave him the highest scores.
The comfort that embraced you after a few weeks was, without you knowing it, what you had needed your whole life. The warmth they brought to your life made your journey no longer so lonely. Now you had friends.
Zoro could only watch.
When you thought he was asleep and didn't dare speak to him, he waited for you to turn away before opening his eye and observing you. When you thought he would deliver the final blow in training, he simply reached out his hand to help you to your feet. When you thought you would go alone to visit an island, he accompanied you. No wonder you ended up lost, because he was a stubborn man.
"Zoro, it's that way," you groan, pointing to a path that led to a village.
"No, woman. I'm telling you it's that way."
There was no way you could get to the shop to buy map paper if you went into the forest.
Your time together became constant. You used to fall asleep next to him after training, being found by Chopper who hid behind whatever he could find so you wouldn't notice him. He didn't want to wake you when you looked so peaceful, his mission to heal you interrupted. He couldn't do it when you had your head on his shoulder and he had his resting against yours, as if you'd done that a thousand times before.
Soon it became normal for Zoro to clumsily treat your wounds.
"Not so tight!" you shouted when his bandage on your thigh made it hurt more.
All you achieved was him tightening it even more. And then he loosened it as you requested.
"You complain a lot."
"You're a brute."
"Ah?!"
You used to stay on the Sunny Go to keep watch with him while everyone else visited a new island. You could catch glimpses of his smiles out of the corner of your eye, and when you least expected it, he started laughing beside you. It felt so natural to hear him laugh that you didn't notice Nami and Robin's questioning looks. Or Usopp's jokes.
At banquets, you moved from place to place, enjoying yourself and laughing with everyone. One second you were shoulder to shoulder with Franky dancing, and the next you were stealing Zoro's alcohol while he looked at you with a soft smile.
"I think that's enough for you today."
"I can!" The green-haired man raised an eyebrow when he heard you. "I can keep drinking... I swear."
"Don't lie to me."
"I swear, Zoro."
"I'll take you to bed," he murmured just for you.
Amidst the music and fun, Zoro walked with you on his shoulder. Everyone was oblivious to the situation unfolding between you. To the feelings that were beginning to blossom.
That night was the first time Zoro felt nervous around you. Nervous about his feelings. Nervous about an experience he had never had before. It wasn't like fighting someone powerful and feeling like he was losing. It was like fighting his heart and feeling like he was losing a battle he hadn't asked for. It was like fighting his urge to kiss you even though he didn't really know how to do it, as he watched you lying on your bed, covered with a pink blanket, looking at him with bright, curious eyes.
"Zoro?"
Why did his name feel good on your lips? Why did your lips seem to shine brighter after you licked them? Why did everything seem easier when he was drunk?
"Sleep."
"Zoro... Stay. I sleep better with you by my side."
Those were the words of alcohol. You couldn't really feel that. He didn't want to believe it.
"I won't move and I won't snore. I'll try."
Your insistence would drive him completely mad.
"If that witch Nami finds out..."
"I'll say it was my idea."
He didn't care about listening to you and giving in to your request. He didn't care about Nami's screams the next day, telling him never to enter the women's room again and that he owed her an exorbitant amount of berries for invading her privacy and corrupting her beautiful friend. He didn't care to tell her she would go to hell. How could he care when he woke up with you in his arms, your head resting on his chest and your hair tickling his nose? And that smile you gave him when you opened your eyes, resting your chin on his chest and whispering "good morning".
He no longer knew what to do with his heart.
He had to do something about it soon, before he exploded with pent-up jealousy when he saw you interacting with the cook. Or before he suddenly blushed when you beat him in training and smiled triumphantly, teasing him with your words.
It took him two months to do it. Zoro was not a man capable of confessing his feelings unless he was backed into a corner. That's why, at times like this, alcohol became his true best friend.
It all started with a foolish move.
The atmosphere was charged with joy, and you didn't know why you were still surprised by what your captain could do. He had liberated Wano. He had made an entire country want to live again, given them hope, given them food. You drank while sitting on a hill, not too far from the celebration, but not too close either. You smiled, tapping your foot lightly to the rhythm of the music, watching the people laugh gratefully. From above, you could see most of the place and where most of the crew was. But you couldn't find Zoro.
He had awakened from his injuries, and you hadn't had time to see him, running back and forth with Otama, who wanted to show you the beautiful kimonos for the women in Wano.
You jumped when something heavy fell beside you. You looked up, stopping drinking, to find Zoro in a beautiful green yukata sitting next to you. His knee was gently caressing yours. He decided not to look at you as he poured sake into a cup.
"How are your wounds?" You both asked at the same time.
You looked at each other for a second before you laughed softly and he smiled, looking away.
The passing of the hours and the constant drinking, while he listened to everything you had to say, how you had improved your katana attacks, how you had gotten a scar across your stomach, and everything you had heard about Zoro fighting King, came to an abrupt end when you gave in.
Your head rested on his shoulder and you looked at him enchanted.
The way you looked at him left him speechless, breathless, and he could only look away countless times so you wouldn't see him blush.
No one knew how it happened, but that night, slipping through the crowd, walking holding hands between paper lanterns and all kinds of scents of freshly prepared food, you ended up in a secluded cabin. The touch of his rough hands against your skin, the feeling of his fingers tracing every inch of your chest as he slowly moved down without taking his eyes off you was something you could never forget.
Your first time didn't end there. It wasn't an experience Zoro was willing to let go of. He wasn't willing to let you go.
So he blamed it on the alcohol every night you made love, every time he kissed you softly or buried his face in your neck, panting so softly that no one but you could hear. Something deep in your heart told you that this wasn't normal. That if you tried, confessing could work out.
But you weren't ready to confess something of such magnitude. You were afraid when you received the news from Chopper. The youngest member of the crew was bad at keeping secrets, you had to bribe him with sweets and lots of cotton candy so he wouldn't reveal why he called you to his office every monday. You didn't count on the doctor not being able to hide anything from Robin.
The archaeologist was the first to find out, telling Nami without hesitation, thinking you would need all the help you could get. It was a secret that included all three of you, but you weren't aware of it.
Zoro didn't understand your strange behaviour. Your denials when alcohol went to his head, your refusal of his invitations to drink, your constant escapes to Chopper's office, or how lately you told Sanji that you didn't like his food. You always flattered him and told him he was the best. A score of ten. If he didn't understand, Luffy understood even less.
The girls cornered you on a monday, both of them being in the doctor's office before you. You got nervous. You stuttered and tears welled up in your eyes, but Nami calmed you down. They both held your hands while you confessed. Your nighttime adventures with Zoro, how and when it started, your growing feelings, your failure to confess, and your refusal to talk about the pregnancy.
Chopper spun in his chair.
"But Y/N, Zoro will soon notice. Human females give off a different scent when they are pregnant."
Robin chuckled, stroking the fur on his head. Nami sat down next to you on the examination table, smiling.
"He won't notice until someone tells him. Zoro is an idiot," said the navigator.
"You should confess. He doesn't seem like the type of man who can't handle his actions." Robin's voice made you relax your shoulders.
"Oh, and you should tell him soon. If you keep telling Sanji that you don't like his food, he won't stop crying."
"Today I saw him banging his head against the counter when you rejected his breakfast!" Chopper shouted.
"See?" Nami let out a soft laugh, placing her hand on your belly.
"Zoro is going to be a dad," whispered Chopper, pausing to think for a second. The idea of the swordsman who protected him so much becoming a father was sweet in his mind. "Do you think it will be a girl or a boy?"
"I hope it's a girl. The four of us can go shopping together." The navigator was excited, caressing your belly affectionately.
"Something tells me that won't be the case," Robin refuted, crossing her legs.
"By the way, Y/N, how long has it been since you've eaten something without feeling nauseous?" Chopper inquired.
"Since we found out, I think. I don't like the smell of fish. Three weeks?"
"I'll tell Sanji to prepare a diet until you can talk to Zoro. I won't confess anything, this is Chopper's mission, the best uncle ever."
The confidence with which he got out of his chair and stuck to the wall, taking short steps towards the kitchen as if he were a spy, made the girls smile fondly.
Contrary to the advice you had received from your two friends, you believed you could keep it hidden for another week. You wanted to prepare yourself mentally before giving Zoro such big news. News that would change his entire path. His whole life.
And yours. What would you do in the future, when you had the baby in your arms? You couldn't carry a newborn and two katanas at the same time. You didn't want to give up your dream. But neither did you want to give up that little creation of love you had for the swordsman. Because it was okay if he didn't love you or if you didn't mean anything to him, at least you felt it.
"Doctor Chopper, do you smell that sweet scent in the air? It's as if someone is pregnant," Jinbe murmured when they were all on deck.
"Pregnant? I don't smell anything. Maybe your nose is wrong, Jinbe!"
You shifted nervously on the grass. You didn't know that the fishmen could know about those things too. A peculiar silence accompanied them for a few seconds.
"Pregnancy? Among us? Nami, are you pregnant?" Luffy asked.
The navigator hit him on the head.
Sanji frowned as he lit a cigarette. Recent events flooded his mind. Jinbe's comment. Chopper's nervousness and quick denial. Your sudden dislike of his cooking. The way you ignored Zoro. He paused, the cigarette suspended midway and his lips parted.
Zoro? It couldn't be.
That stupid marimo?
He looked at you again, but you were more attentive to the sea. Then he looked at Zoro. He looked at you intently and seemed frustrated that you weren't looking at him.
"It can't be Robin," Usopp said, laughing. "Is it you, Y/N?"
You frowned without looking at him.
"How could it be Y/N!? Although I did see her in Wano running away with Zoro, shishishi."
Luffy's words confirmed Sanji's suspicions. Robin and Nami said nothing about it, but others such as Usopp, Franky, and Brook congratulated Zoro, who frowned more and more. Jinbe understood that it was not a matter for others to concern themselves with, but with all the commotion, he did not know how to divert attention.
"I made a new chocolate dessert, Luffy, don't you want to try it?" Sanji asked, distracting everyone with just that one sentence.
The cook glanced at Zoro before leading everyone to the kitchen, leaving you alone with the swordsman. You would thank him later for covering for you, but now it was on everyone's minds. The next member of the Straw Hat Pirates could be in your belly. They would have a baby on board. No one said anything as they ate their desserts, pretending they didn't want to peek through the window to eavesdrop on the pending conversation between Zoro and you.
The green haired man sat down carefully beside you. His katanas rested in his lap. His expression was impossible to read. His thoughts were beyond your comprehension.
"Y/N?"
You played with the silver bells on your katanas, indecision written all over your face as the idea of confessing your feelings and the reality of confessing your pregnancy clashed with each other, almost fighting over which was more important. But you knew the answer. You knew what you had to do. You knew the reason why you should live in the future.
"I'm pregnant." Your voice came out almost as a whisper, not daring to look at him.
Zoro remained silent for a few minutes, just listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the ship and the jingle of those bells. He liked them. He liked to hear them every time they fought in training or against an enemy. With them, he could find your location on the battlefield. With them, he knew when to protect you and when not to.
They were a grounding force for you. He didn't know the meaning behind them, but he always saw you fiddling with them when you were indecisive or nervous.
Just like now.
"I will train him to be a good swordsman."
You blinked a couple of times until his words registered in your mind. You frowned and turned your head to look at him, your lips parted slightly.
"What?"
The green haired man shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest as he closed his eyes, ready to sleep. You noticed a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
He was calm. As if that news didn't change everything in both their lives. As if it weren't a problem. Not for him.
"Don't ever leave me again."
You raised an eyebrow.
Something in his expression changed and the tips of his ears flushed. His heart felt trapped by the weight of his words. He wanted to keep it inside a chest that you couldn't open yet, but it stumbled and cracked, becoming impossible to close. He didn't mean to sound like that. As if he missed you. As if those weeks without your attention had not been the greatest loss of his soul.
"I mean... You're pregnant now. I don't want anything to happen to the baby."
You nodded, turning your gaze back to your katanas.
Both of you were too stubborn to confess.
"Aren't you angry that I hid it from you?"
"No."
"Not even a little?"
"No."
"Really, not even a little bit?"
"Shut up and let me sleep, woman."
The confirmation of your pregnancy reached the crew the next morning. Luffy smiled broadly, patting your shoulder hard and saying he already knew before anyone else did. Nami pulled on his red shirt, scolding him for hitting you. Robin and Chopper smiled, both happy that you could finally be free. Franky shouted that he would make toys and a crib for the new crew member. Brook composed lullabies, one for a girl and one for a boy. Jinbe apologised to you for bringing up the subject in front of everyone without meaning to, grateful for your quick forgiveness. Usopp congratulated you both, arguing with Luffy over who would be the best uncle.
"Stupid marimo, a baby and a beautiful woman," Sanji whined, placing a cup of tea in front of you. "Sweet Y/N, why couldn't it be me? He doesn't bathe... Is that your type? Is that how I should be?"
"Get lost, you shitty cook."
"I hope you take good care of them," warned Sanji. Zoro's eyebrow twitched and he drew his katana.
Carrying your pregnancy with them was a blessing.
The months passed and your belly grew larger. Sanji's meals no longer made you feel sick. He had made sure you were eating a healthy diet and that all your meals were nutritious enough to give you strength. Zoro didn't say so, but he was grateful to the blond.
At some point, your usual clothes no longer fit, but you didn't have time to feel bad about it, because Nami and Robin were there to take you shopping and always find the prettiest things in the shop for you. Zoro would take a minute to just stare at you while you got ready in front of the mirror. You could hear him whisper that you were beautiful, and then he would take you for a walk around the islands, walking with one hand on his katanas and the other on your waist. Slowly, not wanting to rush you.
Brook sang you different songs every day with possible names for the baby. Jinbe entertained you with stories and adventures from his youth. Usopp and Franky showed you the toys they created, most of them for men. Luffy kept asking if he could be the favorite uncle, unaware that Zoro had already chosen him as such.
And Chopper... Chopper was worried.
Taking care of you had made him happy at first. Everything seemed to be going well. Sanji's meals kept you healthy. Then he didn't know what started to go wrong in the seventh month. He had to respect your wish to keep it a secret so as not to alarm anyone, but your constant headaches and fatigue made him stay closer to you than he should have.
Then he noticed your high blood pressure. And the grimaces you made when touching your belly. You weren't having contractions, but you whispered to him that it hurt and that surely, surely, it would pass quickly. He never knew that you were short of breath, that you felt your throat closing up and forced yourself to close your eyes and wait to stabilise.
On the day after your last check-up, you squeezed Zoro's arm tightly. He looked at you, alarmed, not knowing what was happening. He shouted for help and everyone came running. Chopper noticed your contractions and broke out in a sweat. Premature labour was not ideal. With the swordsman's help, they took you to the infirmary and the little blue nosed one tried to stop the contractions.
The serum was cold. Your gaze was lost, staring at the light on the ceiling, not fully recognising that Zoro was holding your hand. The green haired man squeezed it between his own when he felt you trembling. It was slight, but it was there. And your breathing. Your breathing was rapid. He didn't understand what was happening. He whispered that everything would be fine, that you should relax.
That Chopper would know what to do.
That you were safe.
The crew's doctor entered the infirmary again, climbing onto a bench to examine you. He frowned. Only Zoro noticed.
"Chopper?" His voice sounded strangled. He didn't like that expression.
"The baby's heart beat is slowing down." The swordsman didn't understand his words. But Robin and Nami standing in the doorway did. "Get ready for the childbirth! Y/N, everything will be fine, please... You can do this."
The speed with which things happened left deep wounds in the crew. Those listening from outside could only wait. Sanji paced back and forth smoking, Usopp bit his nails, Luffy stood in surprising silence leaning against the wall, Franky, Brook, and Jinbe silently prayed that everything would turn out all right.
Nami stroked your hair, whispering words of encouragement in your ear as you pushed. Zoro squeezed your hand anxiously. Robin helped Chopper.
When a baby's cry echoed through the ship, everyone breathed again. The girls smiled tenderly. It was a boy.
Everyone crowded around the door to see the newborn, distracting them a little from you. The only one who paid you any attention was Zoro, who kissed your hand tenderly and cried silently at the miracle. His son. And the woman he loved. He kissed your head and smiled sweetly at you.
But you were lost.
You tried to breathe, but your chest felt heavy. Zoro stood up, squeezing your hand.
"Y/N." His voice caught Robin's attention. The baby in Chopper's arms was placed in Nami's arms.
"Y/N?" Chopper said, rushing over.
"I can't..." That was the only word that escaped your lips.
You gasped for air that never reached you. You couldn't hear anything. You looked lost at Zoro. He squeezed your hand and shouted. Luffy shouted. Brook, Nami, Franky, and Usopp cried desperately. Jinbe's heart beat faster than it had in a long time.
The despair that afternoon in the infirmary tormented them from time to time.
Chopper fell to his knees on the floor, sobbing heavily.
He hadn't been able to do anything. He hadn't been able to save you. Did his promise to cure all the diseases in the world mean anything if he hadn't been able to save his friend?
The diagnosis he gave devastated everyone.
Amniotic fluid embolism and cardiorespiratory collapse.
You had passed away holding Zoro's hand, amid the pleas of all your friends and the cries of your newborn baby, disturbed by the commotion. Although Chopper did everything he could, from chest compressions to medication, your heart did not respond.
Zoro's tears of happiness soon turned to tears of sadness. The entire crew was devastated.
The little blue nosed one apologised over and over again, crying, while Robin hugged him and cried silently.
As the days passed, nothing improved. The atmosphere was heavy. Zoro barely ate. Sanji forced him to eat and sat silently beside him, smoking and staring into the distance.
The passing months made the swordsman nervous.
He had a premature son. A healthy son who had been cared for by Chopper, who even fed him for him.
It tormented him that you never got to meet him. To see how his hair was also green. But when he laughed so happily, holding his finger, it made him forget all his pain.
Everyone in the crew found it difficult to live with the fact that you were no longer there. It was Robin who cheered them up in the second month of the child's life, saying that you were still there through the little one.
Soon the women set out to teach Zoro everything.
Nami deducted nappies, talcum powder, wet wipes and everything else the baby needed from his treasure share. Zoro looked at her irritably. But it was valid. But she could be good with a single father. Robin taught him how to change nappies and bathe him. Unfortunately for him, he had to let Sanji help him.
"Stupid marimo! You can't feed him that! Do you think he's a beast like you?" shouted the blond man irritatedly.
The green haired man grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. The fight was stopped by the navigator, who hit them both. The swordsman had to accept that there was no one better to feed someone than Sanji. He made apple and banana puree, and Zoro ate it from time to time as well.
Jinbe always laughed at how similar Zoro and his son were. Usopp would shout every time he saw him crawling towards the deck railing, on the verge of falling, only to turn around and find his father sleeping peacefully under a tangerine tree. Relaxed, with his hands behind his head as if his son wasn't about to fall overboard.
The question that drove Zoro crazy was asked by Brook.
"Yohoho, I can't sing to this little one if he doesn't have a name yet, Zoro-san."
The swordsman drank his sake, squinting his eye.
"This idiot probably doesn't have anything yet. He'll reach the age of five without a name," scowled Nami.
Luffy held out a piece of meat to the green haired baby. When the little one tried to take it, Luffy quickly snatched it back and put it in his mouth.
"He should be named after me, so he'll be an incredible warrior of the sea," Usopp suggested, puffing out his chest and smiling.
"He'll be a swordsman." That was all Zoro said.
"Usopp... Usopp... Sweet Usopp..." Brook sang to the baby, who was eating his apple puree with his hands, not understanding the skeleton.
"Haku would suit him well," Robin commented.
Zoro considered it for a second. Haku. It sounded good. Would you have liked it too? He took another sip of his sake, silently agreeing.
Haku was growing quickly. And every day he looked more like Zoro. His green hair was short, just like his, and in his first year he already knew how to take a few steps before falling down. He never cried, which made the navigator and the archaeologist laugh quietly, noticing how similar father and son were.
The men pretended not to notice, closing their eyes every night, but they could hear it. At bedtime, the baby cried, unwilling to leave the warm chest of his father, who carried him all day. The only thing that relaxed him in his cot until he fell asleep was a sound.
A jingle.
The jingle of the silver bells on your katanas.
Haku giggled, making everyone smile, stretching out his tiny hands to touch the bells. Unknowingly claiming his mother's katanas as his own.
It was on his birthdays that Zoro missed you the most. Seeing him grow up, seeing him learn to talk, even if it was just silly words, seeing him play with everyone calmed his soul. But even with all that, he couldn't help but imagine you among them, carrying his son in your arms, wearing something pretty and singing happy birthday with a huge smile.
He had seen you interact with other children. He had seen you bandage their scraped knees after they fell while playing. You were sweet. You were caring. And he was sure you would have been a good mother.
All the unfulfilled dreams you had left behind hurt him. Wanting to defeat Shanks, wanting to visit thousands of places with him, wanting to raise the baby you had carried with so much love for months.
It hurt him that he had never confessed his love for you. It hurt him to hear from Nami that you did love him, but that you were just as stubborn as he was.
Life was uncertain. Destiny was uncertain.
Haku was three years old when he first picked up a wooden katana. He wielded it clumsily, it being enormous for his tiny hands.
"You're silly!" Luffy shouted from the lion's head, laughing at the sight of the child.
"Shut up!"
And Haku was rude to his father's captain. Luffy's playfulness amused everyone. Nami said it was like having two children on board.
"You have to be tall to wield one of those." The rubber boy stuck his tongue out at him.
"I'll be tall like dad!"
The green haired boy's lower lip trembled, frustrated at not being able to carry the katanas. Zoro lifted him up in his arms, placing him on his shoulder.
"Now you're taller than everyone else."
His giggle warmed the crew's hearts.
"I'll teach you how to use the katanas when you're five," he promised.
"I won't let a child carry katanas!" Nami shouted.
"He's my son!" Zoro protested.
"And Y/N's son," she replied.
"She would teach him too. And she wouldn't let him wear all those silly clothes you buy him. He should wear a haramaki like me."
"Dad looks silly in that," Haku muttered.
Sanji burst out laughing, making Zoro blush with embarrassment and anger.
Every day was like that. Jinbe taught him how to swim and many tricks with water, promising that one day he would show him the underwater world. Brook sang to him non-stop, only getting nods from the boy. Sanji made him try different desserts, wanting to find his favourite, but he could never guess. Haku was impossible with him. The cook thought that Zoro was teaching him to be that way.
Nami and Robin took him shopping, dressing him according to their tastes. They also made him bathe every day. But it seemed that in a few years he would be like his father, showering once a week.
Usopp showed him different gadgets that the boy couldn't understand how they worked, but he still thought they were great. Franky took him to his factory twice a week, letting him choose designs for new additions to the Sunny.
Chopper healed his wounds whenever he got hurt fighting his father with just a wooden katana. The boy flew into the wall more than anyone would have liked. And he and Luffy lived by fighting, as if the captain were a child.
Haku was five years old when everyone was sitting on the deck, enjoying the warm day.
A tinkling sound caught everyone's attention. A tinkling sound they hadn't heard in five years. Soft, slow with each step. A marked rhythm they only heard when...
All eyes turned to the little boy in front of them.
Your katanas hung from his hips. They were still too big for him. But they were his first real katanas. And they were yours. The girls pressed their lips together, holding back their tears. They thought they would never see them again. Zoro had kept them after your death, refusing to leave them on your grave, because he said they would find their new owner in a few years.
And those years had now passed.
Haku smiled excitedly. He looked almost mischievously at his father.
"Dad, I want a duel."
Some had déjà vu. Franky sobbed loudly, causing Haku to roll his eyes. He didn't understand what was wrong with everyone. Luffy bit into his meat, smiling broadly.
"That sounds fun!"
Robin rested her cheek on her hand, smiling tenderly.
"Haku, we're almost at a new island, that'll be impossible."
"I'll beat him! It'll be quick," insisted the boy, stamping his feet on the grass. His movement made the bells jingle.
Zoro smiled. He smiled broadly for the first time in a very long time. You were still there with them. You were still there in his son. In the end, he had been right. You were a woman who left a trace of your existence in every little thing. In every little detail.
The swordsman wielded his wado ichimonji.
"What is your motivation, kid?"
TRAFALGAR LAW
He still believed in miracles.
Being touched by them was reason enough. The loss of hope for his own future, his uselessness weighing heavily on his feelings, his inadequacy tormenting his dreams, and his resignation to an early death had marked a point in his life that had found redemption thanks to one person.
Cora-san had taught him to fight, to have faith, to trust in tomorrow no matter how difficult the present might be.
To dwell on his past or discuss it with others was not something he enjoyed. He carried it in his soul as something precious, cherishing the people who remained there as something to be treasured.
And you entered into them.
The toothless smile was something that came to mind from time to time, making him laugh in the solitude of his office.
The two of you were just kids attending school in Flevance. Restless as you were, one day you couldn't stop talking about your loose tooth. You touched it and touched it, loosening it more. You showed it to your classmates with a huge smile, saying you wanted it to fall out so you could see the new one, but that it was taking too long.
You decided to do the silliest thing in the world. Law watched everything from his seat, frowning slightly. Somehow you had managed to get some thread, and one of your friends carefully tied it to your tooth. The other end of the thread was tied to the classroom door handle.
Your scream echoed in everyone's ears when your friend pulled the door shut and your tooth was ripped out.
You were a silly girl. That's what Law thought of you as he looked inside your mouth, holding back his urge to scold you. You refused to go to the infirmary, and he knew a little about medicine thanks to his father. Treating his first patient couldn't be that complicated. Luckily, the tooth had come out clean, but the bleeding had stained your white shirt, and it was slowly stopping after he put some gauze on it.
The bad thing about the situation was that before he knew it, it had become an everyday occurrence.
You lived across the street from his house. Clinging to him after being healed by those tiny miraculous hands didn't seem strange to you, it was natural.
It was natural how you got used to knocking on his door every morning, waiting for him to go to school with him. Law suspected that you had changed your sleep schedule. He went to class early. And you arrived just in time. But now you smiled and said good morning, swaying your body from side to side as you tightened the straps of your pink backpack, eager to go together.
It was natural for you to leave your usual place in the classroom and sit next to him, just watching him study.
It was natural for you to become his friend. To enter his house, to insist on going to the fairs with his younger sister, the three of you holding hands, to catch frogs because you knew he liked to study them, to have him heal your scrapes every time you played and he would laugh quietly because you were crying.
That girl who called herself his best friend and promised to protect him from everyone disappeared one day.
There was no trace of you when tragedy struck Flevance. The screams echoing in his ears, the desperation in every cry and plea made him nervous. He had seen his parents die. He had been useless in saving his younger sister. He had witnessed the death of all his classmates. All because of that incurable disease. All because the world government did not want to help them. All because they believed it was contagious. That they were the plague.
He was devastated. He had lost everyone he loved. And he couldn't find you anywhere.
Hiding among the dead bodies until everything calmed down gave him time to look for you. Not finding you among them made him anxious.
It was a year later, as he was being carried on Cora-san's back, walking under the cherry trees after leaving another hospital, that Law told him about you. The man with the splendid make-up smiled broadly at him.
"Do you see the good in that, Law? She's alive out there. She's alive! So you must live to find her."
Law lived for many years believing those words. If Cora-san was right, and he always was, then a miracle would happen and you would come back into his life. Someone from his past, from his childhood in Flevance, was out there in the big wide world, waiting for him. He wanted to find you and hold on to the memories of his parents and little sister through you. To the memories of his friendship with you. To the happy memories.
And yet, he never found you.
His secret search caught the attention of Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo, the friends he had recently made. They believed you were his girlfriend and that he didn't want to introduce you, only to receive a threat from Law if they continued talking nonsense.
He had asked everyone he could. Normal people, farmers, and merchants didn't know you. Not even if they saw a half-burnt photo of you next to Law. A girl with that appearance never passed through the islands.
And when he began his pirate life, entering the Grand Line, he had his first encounters with the underworld. That dirty network he knew all too well since childhood now served him well. Some informant should get information about you, a clue that would show him your whereabouts.
Even if it's just a photo of how you are now.
Law was looking for a miracle that would never come.
You were a helpless child, screaming and crying amid the fire and dead bodies when a marine found you. You wiped away your tears, sobbing for help, feeling safe when you saw that uniform. The marines protected the weakest from the wicked. That's what they said at school. And that's what Law said when he talked to you about Sora.
You believed you could trust him, following him by the hand to a "safer" place.
Words that should never have been used to describe a minor. That marine held a den den mushi in his hand, watching you out of the corner of his eye as you trembled on the "rescue ship".
It took you a few days to realise that something was wrong. You couldn't be the only survivor from Flevance. There should be more ships. There should be doctors trying to heal everyone. You were lucky enough not to contract the disease. Law's father had said he should keep an eye on you for a few more months in case you developed antibodies that could save lives. You could help them. You could talk to that marine who saved you. You could talk to the doctors yourself if necessary.
But it would never work, because the place you were in didn't look anything like a marine barracks.
The high walls made you dizzy. The white marble everywhere blinded you, and that skylight didn't help, with the sun beating down on your face with its intense rays. The marine gently pushed you forward, towards a golden throne occupied by a man who must have been about fifty years old.
You squeezed your eyes shut tightly and opened them again, trying to get used to the brightly lit room.
The man in front of you had little hair, which he concealed with an enormous crown. He stroked and stretched the moustache on his face between his fingers as he scrutinised your body with his gaze. Every inch was analysed for several minutes.
"She is perfect. When she has her first period, I will make her mine." You heard the man, the king, say.
The tension in your muscles was an immediate response.
The passing of the years had not healed the wound of that memory. It had not made you forget.
You had been sold by someone in the marine as if you were nothing more than an object. As if you were nothing more than your body and a beautiful face. You had been stripped naked by that man who took you away, with the eyes of the king of that country in North Blue upon you. He ignored the trembling of your body, your pleas for him not to do it, your lower lip quivering and the tears running down your cheeks. You had seen the king's erection at the sight before him. You had felt the marine captain's hands on your undeveloped breasts as he explained to the king how you would develop.
You remembered your first attempt to escape. The blow you dealt the marine captain with your elbow, running towards the enormous doors. All resulting in your hands being handcuffed and your imminent confinement in a room adjacent to the king's.
If you could make one wish in your life...
If only you could...
No matter how much you imagined it, the door connecting the two rooms from the inside would never disappear.
The trauma that began when you were ten and lasted until you were thirteen would never go away. If you closed your eyes, you could still hear that door slowly opening. The shuffling footsteps on the wooden floor making their way towards your bed, the king's ragged breathing and his presence standing next to your face.
If you closed your eyes, you relived the sensation of his seed staining your face, leaving you a nervous, sobbing wreck in that dark room when the door closed again.
You had tried everything in your power to escape. You jumped out of your window on the second floor, stifling your screams when you landed badly and broke your ankle. You forced yourself to heal yourself through tears, a botched job on the bathroom floor. You could never perform surgery on yourself, and you would never let anyone see you like that. If you weren't perfect, they would kill you. And yet, despite everything, you wanted to live. Something told you that you had to. And that something was a white hat with black spots that came back to your mind whenever you had to treat yourself in solitude.
You limped whenever you were alone. You held back your grimaces when you were in front of the king or when you passed by the servants or guards, walking as best you could.
You dug a hole in the garden bushes, which was always covered up by the gardeners. You dissolved sleeping pills in his wine when no one else was looking, but the guards surrounded the garden and the entrances every night. The dream of escape grew more distant with each passing day.
Sometimes you lamented. You believed your fate was cursed. That not even a miracle could save you from this hell.
Your first period came when you were fourteen. You were late for breakfast, and one of the maids was sent to get you ready. Everyone was waiting expectantly. You were entering three crucial years.
And when the king saw your bloodstained sheets, he was excited.
If you talked to someone about your nightmares, you wouldn't know whether to talk about the ones that tortured you in your dreams or the ones that tortured you in all your senses.
At some point, you stopped crying.
You could only wait in your bed, staring at the ceiling with a blank expression. Always naked. You would be punished if you made him wait or if you refused. You felt his hands on your body, every inch of it. His lips in places he shouldn't touch. His fingers inside an area that should be off-limits.
You could only wait in your bed with your eyes closed throughout the encounter, praying for it to end soon.
And when he did, leaving your room muttering curses at you because you no longer satisfied him as before, because you were already too "used", you would run to the bathroom to get into the bath. An hour. Two hours. Until the water cooled down and the sensation of his release inside you faded away.
You were eighteen when the visits to use your body became less frequent. The king had found a new girl. A twelve year old who shared your fate.
You couldn't say you were grateful. You couldn't say you felt at peace now that it wasn't your turn. Not when you hugged that little girl after finding her crying every night in the garden.
But even though your body was no longer his favourite, he found another use for it.
He wanted riches.
He craved more power.
He wished to have the favour of the celestial dragons.
This way, your body became the ideal object for experimentation in your twenties.
One of the five elders requested a report once a month. Your body's responses to the injections. The reaction to the first stimuli. Any anomalies observed. All in exchange for being affiliated with the world government.
Your first symptoms never appeared. The king took it as a good sign. Whatever they were asking him to inject you with, it was making you look more beautiful than ever. It was almost as if you were once again that girl he once had in front of him, radiant and innocent. His desire for you returned and with it, the visits every night.
Three years later, between injections and occasional nightly visits (because you were too old for his taste), the first symptom appeared. But it wasn't from the disease that one of the five elders was developing in his laboratory in Mary Geoise. It was a symptom of pregnancy. Your period hadn't come that month, and the nausea from the medication was unbearable.
When the confirmation of your two-week pregnancy reached your ears, you cried inconsolably in your room.
What else could happen to you? What else did life want from you? What else did they want to take away from you? Your body, your freedom, your happiness, everything had been stolen from you.
You were not allowed to have an abortion. Surveillance was extreme. The maids accompanied you to the bathroom, counting the minutes you spent inside, forcing you to keep the door open. Your meals were served especially by the chef in front of you. Four guards followed you to the garden if you wanted a single moment of peace.
But it never crossed the king's mind that what he should control most were those injections.
The black eruptions that appeared on your skin overnight disturbed the entire personnel. Suddenly, no one wanted to touch you. No one was interested in the six-month pregnant woman.
They shouted that it was contagious. That you shouldn't come near. The king spat at you, keeping his distance, claiming that both you and the baby were sick.
San Saturn's exact words upon receiving the report were "discard her, she's no longer of use."
Sometimes you lamented. You believed your fate was cursed. That not even a miracle could save you from this hell.
But the miracle was within you. In that disease. In your womb.
The miracle was happening right before your eyes when they threw you out onto the street. At twenty three years old, with a huge belly, an incurable disease and a lame foot, you allowed yourself to take a deep breath.
You walked carefully, one hand caressing your belly and the other holding a bag with some stolen berries and a few dresses. The fresh air filled your nostrils as you admired the landscape far from the palace that had tormented you for so many years.
Seeing the villagers looking at you with uncertainty because of the marks on your skin didn't hurt you as much as you thought it would. You didn't know the name of your illness or how much longer your body could endure it. But if this was the price you had to pay for your freedom, to free yourself from all your traumas, then you would take it.
In your seventh month of pregnancy, you had arrived at a new island in the North Blue. Sailing had become your escape from your memories. You believed that the further away you got, the more peace you would find within yourself. You didn't stay long on any island, just two or three days, and then you gave yourself over to the sea, excited about tomorrow.
You fought against the thoughts that sought to undermine your morale. So close to giving birth, you couldn't help thinking that the baby you carried in your womb was the fruit of a man you hated deeply. But it wasn't the child's fault for the father it had been given. It wasn't its fault for having a sick mother, from whom it would inherit an incurable disease.
The time you had left was beyond your control. You had surrendered yourself to death. It could take you whenever it wanted.
But if you could make one wish… It would be for your baby to be born. And for you to find someone who could take care of the child before you had to abandon it.
You walked through the winter village, hiding your body under a cape. The black spots spreading across your arms and legs required attention more than once. After five days, they grew in size, creating blisters that, if they burst, bled. Tolerating the burning sensation and seeing how the strange disease made your open wounds look dead upset you.
You entered a coffee shop ready to order some tea. You sat down at a table to wait, observing the cosy interior. On one of the walls there were lots of bounty posters. The woman who appeared to be the owner of the shop came in with a newspaper in her hand. She stretched out her other hand to pin a new poster on the wall.
"Trafalgar Law? Who is this kid?" murmured a man at the table next to you. "Now everyone thinks they can be pirates."
You opened your eyes in confusion. You groaned at the pain of turning your head so quickly, but you couldn't help standing up, running towards the wall with one hand on your belly.
Your eyes stung.
"Hey, Law, stop studying already, you promised we'd play after school!"
"I study after school. You're irresponsible."
"I'm not!"
"If you deny it, it's even more true."
The man on the bounty poster was not the kid you had in your mind, in your sweet memories. His features had become refined. There were dark circles under his eyes. He had two gold earrings in each ear. A well-groomed beard. And that hat. That white hat with black spots for which he had hit you on the head more than once for taking it from him.
Law was alive.
Law was an adult.
Law was a pirate.
You left your tea behind, stole the bounty poster from the wall, and hurried to the dock.
If Law was a pirate, what were his goals? Did he want the famous One Piece? How did he end up becoming a pirate? Would he still remember you? You laughed as you looked at his photo. Your friend was alive! Despite running, with a lame foot and pregnant, you were going very slowly. You could see a woman with long, brown, curly hair loading barrels and bags onto a small ship. It looked like she would be setting sail soon, so you quickened your pace.
Her face filled with surprise when she saw a girl clutching the edge of her ship, breathing heavily.
You held your hand out in front of her, silently asking for a minute.
"Please, tell me where you're going."
"What the hell?"
"I just want to know where you're going."
The brown-haired woman clicked her tongue as she hoisted another barrel onto her ship.
"Get lost. I'm not taking anyone with me."
"Please..."
She looked at you for a second and then ignored you again.
"I want to go to Grand Line!" you shouted, drawing the attention of more than one person on the dock.
"To Grand Line? Have you lost your mind? No one survives there. And you least of all," she muttered the last part, looking down at your belly.
Your cape had opened, revealing your seven-month pregnancy. You covered yourself again, muttering under your breath.
"I want to find someone," you insisted.
"So do I. All the pirates I can find, to get the bounty on their heads," growled the woman, hoisting a fifth barrel onto her ship.
"It will only be for a while. I won't stay long. Just until the first island in Grand Line."
"I'm not taking a pregnant woman with me. What's wrong with you? Just look at yourself! If you set foot on an island there, that baby will come out of your belly with a pop! As if it had been waiting too long to come out."
You pressed your lips together, amused.
"Just to the first island, and then I'll leave you alone to continue on your way."
The woman adjusted her orange hat, letting out a huge sigh.
"Fine. But if you're willing to go to such a dangerous place to look for that baby's father, I swear..."
"He's a childhood friend. He's not the father." You quickly corrected her.
She nodded and then reached out her hand to you, helping you up.
"My name is Ikkaku, by the way."
"I am Y/N."
Sailing with Ikkaku was like a caress to your wounded soul.
She didn’t turn away when you showed her what the disease was doing to your body. Her compassionate eyes were soothed by her delicate touch as she tended to your attempts at healing. She washed each wound with warm water, disinfected it with alcohol, and sterilised a knife with fire to remove the dead skin. She caught your attention with all the ointments she kept in a box, from medicinal mud and herbal oils to antibiotics.
Her knowledge of medicine was more advanced than yours.
She listened to your story during your eighth month, crying her eyes out trying to hug you, but you kept laughing and then letting yourself be. Opening up to her, vocalising your traumas, letting go of everything you had held back for years in broken sobs, held in warm arms, was unknowingly what you needed most.
From time to time, you could see the frustration in her furrowed brow, her foot moving anxiously as she drew lines in a notebook. She would look at you for long minutes and draw you without saying anything about it. If you asked, she would only say that it was scientific research.
She couldn't prevent the spread or stop the advance. She could only control the infections, prevent you from having fever and pain, change your bandages daily, and every few hours let the wounds heal in the open air. But healing often did not occur. This disease, which she had never seen before, behaved strangely. Despite all her efforts, Ikkaku noticed a new level of depth in the wounds every day.
As if a worm were eating your skin down to the bone.
"So? Who are you looking for?" she asked one day, sitting down next to you on the deck floor.
She had forced you to rest, even though you hated staying still in one place. She took a bite of a peach and gave one to you. You accepted it with a smile.
"His name is Trafalgar Law."
Ikkaku looked at you, swallowing her peach with force.
"You're joking. That pirate from this sea who got a huge reward?" You nodded, biting into your fruit. "That's the friend you're risking your life for!?"
"He's a good guy."
"He's a pirate. No pirate is good," she hissed in frustration.
"Ikkaku, I think you noticed it too." She frowned. "I don't have much time left."
"Don't say that. I'll find a way..."
You interrupted her.
"With luck, I'll be able to live through the first few months of my baby's life. But when I'm gone, I want Law to have it."
"A pirate raising a baby in Grand Line? It's dangerous. Y/N, reconsider. I can stay on the first island and raise it myself, with you. Don't take any more risks."
You shook your head. Ikkaku had a goal. A dream. You couldn't ask her to give that up to look after a baby for you when you were dead. Asking Law was just as bad. You'd be getting in his way, imposing something that had nothing to do with him. But he was the only one you could leave it with without feeling guilty about abandoning it.
"Law will understand."
"A baby shouldn't live at sea. A sick woman shouldn't be making this journey... And you can't make him shoulder such a responsibility. It's selfish. It's..." She looked down. "I'm sorry."
You patted her shoulder.
"I understand what you're getting at, but he's the only person from Flevance who's still alive." You rested your head against the railing. "He's my best friend. If he raises this baby, I can leave this world in peace. It doesn't matter if it's at sea."
Ikkaku bit her lip, unsure.
"We have to hurry, then."
If someone had told Ikkaku in the past that her entry into the Grand Line would lose all meaning, that her life as a bounty hunter would be left behind and she would instead be helping a pregnant woman give birth just as they crossed the reverse mountain, she would surely have laughed.
But that day, she didn't laugh at all. Her hand was on the rudder as she watched you lying next to her, breathing deeply through the contractions. The continuous movement of the ship made you dizzy, and she could see how the black spots were ravaging your belly. At some point during the descent, as you were about to reach Twin Cape, Ikkaku let go of the rudder, praying that everything would turn out all right as she crouched down beside you.
She had been referring to your illness as living putrefaction for two months without you knowing. Your arms and legs were about to show bone in different areas, so she covered them with bandages so you wouldn't see. You could no longer feel anything; the nerves in those areas had died. And when the smell of rotten flesh was noticeable, Ikkaku pretended not to notice. That it was nothing bad.
You didn't notice the tears welling up in her eyes as she watched the inevitable happen.
You reached Twin Cape safely. It was as if something stronger was watching over you. Neither of you got off the boat to ask for information at the lighthouse. The man who guarded the entrance to Paradise sat frowning, looking at the ship without understanding.
No ship ever arrived alone.
Crocus jumped onto the deck of the small ship. He walked towards the door and, as he opened it, he got a surprise.
Two women were on the floor, crying, while the one who appeared to be the mother held a baby in her arms and the other sobbed happily.
For a few hours, he heard the other girl, Ikkaku, crying and repeating over and over that it was a miracle. Crocus checked the vital signs of the mother and child. A girl had been born in such a violent and unique sea. Both were fine. But the rare disease in the mother's body was now ravaging her womb.
The miracle Ikkaku was referring to was now understandable to the old man. With the bone exposed in her arms, it was a blessing that the girl had been born before the disease touched her. And she did not seem to have contracted it.
The three stayed for a few days at Twin Cape, Crocus helping to build a cradle for the girl. He gave them a log pose and invited them to eat.
"Why are you in Grand Line?" asked the old man, discreetly observing the sick woman.
"We're looking for a man," said Ikkaku, biting into her fish.
"The girl's father?"
"I wish," mumbled Ikkaku under her breath, and you kicked her foot with yours.
Whenever she could, she repeated that your childhood sweetheart must be the girl's father, not that monster. She consoled herself with the thought that, at least, he would raise her. But she wasn't sure she could abandon that baby.
In recent months, she had made an incredible friend who looked at her with sparkling eyes and admired everything she could do. Your compliments and sweet comments every time she sailed or healed you brought a thousand smiles to her face. You were a good woman. Crossed by evil beings.
"We're looking for my best friend, Trafalgar Law," you said with a smile.
"Trafalgar Law? I think I've heard that name..." Crocus put a finger to his chin thoughtfully. "Ah! The rookie with the Ope Ope no Mi. I remember now. He was here two months ago."
"He was here?" you asked excitedly.
"Ope Ope no Mi?" Ikkaku continued.
When Ikkaku heard Crocus, she was quick to get you and the baby onto the ship. The man said goodbye to the three of you, wishing you luck in finding the man quickly.
Your friend was excited. It was crazy that a Devil Fruit of that magnitude existed. If you were lucky and found it, then you could live. It could heal you. You could watch your daughter grow up.
Sailing those waters was torture. Ikkaku kept you inside the small room with the baby. Complete rest for you and protection for both of you from the high temperatures and sudden storms. The information she got on the first island about Trafalgar Law was useless. He hadn't visited it. He had taken another direction.
Ikkaku climbed onto the boat in a huff, sitting down next to you on the deck as she opened the bag of food. Buying two meals hadn't cost that many berries, and she was grateful for that. She had spent the rest on nappies, clothes for the three of you, all sorts of things the baby might need, and baby formula.
The two of you sat down to eat while the baby slept in the cradle in front of you.
"She looks just like you. A carbon copy."
You choked on your noodles.
"Do you think so?"
"She has your hair, your eyes, your nose, and she'll have your smile. It makes me happy to see her," Ikkaku stated, laughing.
You ate happily, without taking your eyes off your daughter. She looked like a healthy baby. There were no marks like yours on her tiny body. And she was cheerful. Ikkaku always made her smile, even without teeth. You didn't have to do much to make the baby smile.
"What will you call her?"
"I haven't the faintest idea."
"I bought a book of names too," said Ikkaku, opening another bag.
You giggled as you read the book beside her. There were so many, and you didn't like any of them. You looked up to observe the child and discarded names from A to C when you didn't think they suited her.
"Look at this one!" Ikkaku shouted. "Cora."
"Cora?"
"It means love, affection, and sensitivity." You were about to dismiss it, but Ikkaku put a hand in front of you. "But also rebirth, cycles of life and death, and transformations."
Your heart tightened as you watched the baby in the cradle open her eyes, closing them in annoyance at the sun.
Over the next two months, you watched her grow a little more. You fed her a bottle, bathed her, and dressed her in pretty outfits. Ikkaku had decided to take you to see the islands. She didn't want you to spend your last days, with your illness so advanced and your bones showing through your skin, locked up between four walls.
The two of you visited many places, towns, and customs in Paradise. Together, you chose clothes for Cora, who had taken on that name. There was no name more perfect for her. Rebirth and transformation. You wanted your daughter to have a free life and grow up as she pleased, without anyone taking anything away from her. You wanted her to have a life different from yours.
Finding Law was difficult. It was as if he had vanished into thin air. You asked around in every seedy bar. You saw how his bounty gradually increased, and you kept all his wanted posters.
It was in his fifth month on the Grand Line that Law received information from the underworld.
The young captain held the paper in his hand, sitting in his office. It was nothing. It just said that a woman had been looking for him for three months. And many people were looking for him to take revenge. There was no guarantee that that woman was you.
He glanced at the clock on the wall. Shachi and Penguin should have already obtained the supplies for the Polar Tang, but like Bepo, they were probably wandering around the island. They would set sail in an hour. Rushing to get ready for it irritated him.
Bepo was walking around the new island eating from a bag of crisps. What should he buy? What would his captain like? Maybe a new pen? He pretended not to, but he knew he kept glitter pens in his drawer. He never used them, but he didn't throw away his gifts either.
In his moment of distraction, he bumped into a woman.
Bepo blushed and tried to apologise quickly, but he stammered when he saw her. She had curly hair and wore a cute orange hat. Her face was covered in tears, she tried to speak, but her lip trembled violently and a sob escaped her throat. He looked down at her hands. She was carrying a basket.
He had to look twice to discover that there was a baby inside.
The woman fell to her knees, devastated, and Bepo knelt in front of her, nervous and not knowing what to do.
"Is Trafalgar Law with you?" she managed to whisper to the polar bear.
Bepo's expression shifted from surprise to confusion to uncertainty in a matter of seconds. What could a woman and a child want from their captain?
"Depends who's asking."
"Y/N."
The polar bear gasped as he looked at the woman and the baby, but she looked nothing like the girl in the photo Law had hanging in his room. The girl he had only mentioned twice. The woman standing in front of him couldn't be Law's best friend.
"She passed away," whispered Ikkaku.
Bepo carried the basket with the baby and dragged the woman, who couldn't stop sobbing, with him. On the way, he ran into Penguin and Shachi, who stopped joking around with the bear and quickly followed the three of them, worried. No one understood what was going on.
No one understood why their captain had been locked in his office with a woman and a baby for fifteen minutes. If the mink knew anything, he wasn't saying.
Ikkaku wiped away her tears and told him everything. How she met you. Why you looked for her. How you became friends. Your pregnancy. What had happened in your life. Your illness. Nothing was withheld from the golden-eyed man who listened attentively without taking his eyes off the baby.
Cora-san had told him not to lose faith.
One of his many missions as a pirate was to find you. To reconnect with his past through you, to remember how good life was when childhood innocence had not been taken away.
He waited for a miracle that would bring you before him, only to be struck by your past, as painful as his own. Only to hear how this woman, Ikkaku, had witnessed your last wish a week ago. Law couldn't hear, his ears were ringing, he had lost you.
Now, as they spoke, that ship in which you had searched for him for months was carrying your body, adrift, among flowers and a blanket that belonged to your daughter.
Law squeezed the edge of the examination table where the baby was sleeping, letting out a couple of tears.
"Did you say a disease?" he murmured.
Ikkaku handed him a notebook. When he opened it, he found several drawings. They were good, even detailed.
"I called it living putrefaction. It was the result of an experiment. The spots were like... Like a worm was eating her skin, digging and digging until there was nothing left," she whispered.
Law looked at the child.
"She was in the bones when she forced me to take the baby."
"Did she force you to leave her alone?" Law growled.
"Her daughter was important to her."
"So was she. I could have done something. My fruit... I could have..." The frustration in his voice was not lost on Ikkaku.
"Cora needs a good father," she said. "Those were her last words."
Law's heart skipped a beat. The girl's name was Cora? Cora, like...
"Cora?"
"Isn't it a pretty name? Y/N chose it." Ikkaku smiled.
Law swallowed a sob. Of all the names, you chose that one. Somehow, everyone in his past was connected. The baby babbled something, catching Law's attention. He let her take his tattooed finger in her hands and smiled painfully.
"And by the way, I'm joining your crew."
"Excuse me?"
"You may be Cora's father, but I'm her favourite aunt. I'm not leaving her side." Her authoritative tone wiped the smile off Law's face.
Life on the Polar Tang became chaotic.
Cora crawled from one corridor to another. If she wasn't in his room or his office, she was in the control room staring at the screens in amazement. The good thing about travelling in a submarine was how much it could entertain a little girl. She would often sit on the floor of the control room, surrounded by cushions with her little legs stretched out, putting things in her mouth. Her hand, her bottle, her dummy, Penguin's hat, whatever was within reach. And it was also common for Hakugan or Shachi to juggle to avoid stepping on her when they stood up from their posts distracted and didn't see her.
The addition of a baby girl to the crew was not taken badly. Bepo was delighted with the child. He said there was no safer place in the world than their submarine. Shachi and Penguin took her on trips to all the islands to find women, saying something about how women liked men who were affectionate with children. In the end, they would return disappointed, without even having received a kiss themselves, but with Cora's cheeks covered in lipstick.
They would get scolded by Law, who would wash her hands and cheeks whenever they brought her back from their walks, muttering something about germs.
Hakugan loved showing her the different fish through the screens in the control room or through the few windows there were. They would get scared if a very large one appeared. When Cora cried, Law would snatch her from his arms, taking the girl with him while he calmed her down.
No one but Law could calm her down when she cried.
Ikkaku wanted to take care of buying her clothes, especially for her first birthday, but Law wouldn't let her. He was a devoted father. And he had a soft spot for those chubby cheeks and cute animal outfits for babies. He would never admit how much he loved cute things.
"Cora-chan, happy birthday!" Penguin shouted, holding up a cake. The single candle on the cake was a sad sight.
"Couldn't you buy a candle with the number on it and some other decorations?" Law grumbled.
"Captain, you're offending me. I did everything I could," he complained, leaving the cake on the kitchen table.
"That's a lie, he spent the berries on clothes for a girl who ended up giving him nothing but a smile as thanks," Bepo said.
"Bepo!? You promised not to tell!"
The polar bear shrugged, smiling at little Cora, who was wearing a cute polar bear costume.
By the time Cora was two years old, she could already say "daddy" and a few other words. Her favourite was "boring".
Law smiled at her, showing her a frog. The girl looked at what was in front of her on the desk with disgust. Why was her father showing her something so ugly?
"So, you use the scalpel and make a clean cut in the centre," he murmured as he made the cut.
Cora leaned back in his chair, frowning.
"Frogs are an incredible subject of study. When you grow up and become a doctor like me, I'm sure you'll understand when..."
"Daddy, boring," she complains, jumping out of his chair.
The last thing Law saw was her running towards the door, asking Bepo to go and play on the deck. The polar bear happily carried her. And Law lowered his arms in defeat.
Cora was restless. She enjoyed playing all the time, which resulted in the occasional scrape. The number of times he disinfected her knees and elbows was countless. The older she got, the more he realised how much she resembled you. It wasn't just physically. Cora's personality was lively, similar to yours.
The little girl was three years old when Law decided to teach her to read.
He wanted her to have an advantage over others. There was nothing better for a child than to be educated, cultured, and remain free from illiteracy. An educated person was the key to the future. So, every Tuesday and Thursday, he would sit the girl in the kitchen while Bepo and Ikkaku prepared onigiri for her.
The tattooed man was thrilled when his daughter told him it was her favourite food. His chest swelled with pride at the thought that his daughter thought he was cool. With cool tastes.
He opened a page of the book that showed the entire alphabet. Cora bit into her onigiri without looking at the page. Law tapped his finger twice to get her attention.
When Cora didn't look at him, Shachi and Penguin covered their mouths to hide their laughter. But everyone could hear soft "pfft" sounds.
"Hey, Shachi, do you think child prodigies are born or made?"
"I don't know, Penguin, but I think someone at that table is dumb."
"My daughter isn't dumb!"
"Dad isn't dumb!"
Father and daughter stared at each other. Penguin and Shachi filled the air with their laughter, making Cora blush.
"Penguin and Shachi look dumb in their uniforms."
The two stopped laughing and turned to look at the kid, hands on their hearts. Law blushed too.
He had chosen the crew's uniforms.
"Are you calling your father dumb?" Penguin hinted.
"Calling parents dumb is disrespectful, Cora-chan," Shachi said, shaking his head.
"Dad doesn't look dumb! He has that cool hat."
That single sentence sealed Cora's fate. Or so everyone in the crew told their captain. For her fourth birthday, Law gave her a hat just like his, made to measure. They walked everywhere together wearing the same clothes. If Law wore a yellow shirt and his spotted jeans, Cora wore a yellow shirt and a spotted skirt. If Law bought a blue feather coat, Cora wanted the same one in black.
She was a mini Law with your face.
What surprised Penguin and Shachi the most was how easily the girl learned to read. Law had told them that his mother was a restless child who refused to study, but Cora had picked up all her father's habits. Ikkaku, Bepo, and Law (in denial) were dying of love when they saw the girl sitting on the deck railing every morning with a book in her hands. Her favourite subject to research was birds. There was one in particular she wanted to find in Grand Line. A phoenix.
It didn't take her long to learn from her father that there was a Phoenix Devil Fruit. And Cora wanted it. She wanted to fly, to see the world from above. She was disappointed when they explained that Marco, Whitebeard's right-hand man, already had it.
That same year, the girl ran up to him. As a father, he was concerned and thought she had scraped herself again. Ikkaku gasped when she saw the black spot on her arm. It was the same disease her mother had had.
But this time, the curly-haired woman was able to witness what could have happened to her friend.
Law worked diligently. He asked his daughter to remain calm as he extended his hand and a blue dome, as thin as a curtain, enveloped her. Within his power, Law could perform miracles. This was the greatest one he could perform. To save your daughter and allow her to live peacefully, just as you wished. He separated the little girl's body into many small pieces until he found the source of the disease, and removed it.
Ikkaku prayed that, wherever you were, you could rest in peace, without stopping laughing when Law returned the little girl to normal and she jumped into his arms, shouting that it was fun to see her limbs floating. As if that were normal.
The girl was five years old when a scream caught the attention of the entire crew. They had gone to a small restaurant to celebrate Bepo's birthday. They rarely indulged in going out to celebrate. They usually did so in the kitchen of the Polar Tang, but if they could, they appreciated food prepared by someone else.
The Heart Pirates ran after Cora's voice. Law found it suspicious that Penguin and Shachi were not at the table when the scream was heard.
When they found them, Cora's white shirt was covered in blood and she was holding her mouth.
Penguin and Shachi stood next to a closed door, the first one pulling a thread towards him. They high-fived each other while looking at the tooth.
Understanding the situation, Law's eye twitched. He stretched his hand out in front of him without taking his eyes off his friends.
you die in battle.
⚠️ tags: headcanons. angst, reader dying. tw: death, war, mentions of religion for law, blood, guns, violence and trauma.
guilt. his stomach drops, like his own life force has been kicked out of him. he carries you on his arms, scowling, his mind echoing a chorus of i knew it. i knew it. i knew it. back there, law had shielded your body with his, telling you to just stay behind him at all times. whispering into your ear like a vow: “if they want you, they’ll have to go through me.”
of course, he’d forgotten something important: pirates shouldn’t make any promises.
“no- no, no, no…”
“law,” you breathe out, your hand weakly resting on his. “i hope you’ll forgive me one day.”
“fuck, no!” he refuses. “i won’t! so don’t you dare fall asleep on me!”
once it’s all set and done, you don’t really… rest. you’re kept in the deepest corner of his lab, clean and heavenly, miles beneath the sea in his sub.
he doesn’t move on.
with you, law finally found a reason to stay alive, and now he has a secret only he knows; he’ll walk to your room to pray to you religiously, every single night, devoted for the rest of his life.
anger. zoro promised himself the very same day he tasted defeat at mihawk’s sword, that he would never lose again.
except he just did.
he didn’t listen to you at first. when you noticed things took a wrong turn and you weakly pushed him away from the situation, zoro grabbed onto you, stating with a straight face, “it’s gonna take a lot more than that to stop me from keeping you safe.” he thinks now, in the midst of the consequences; if, when you urged him to go help his captain instead, if he had insisted on taking you along with him, would things have turned out differently? would you be okay?
“you knew it, didn’t you?” zoro grits his teeth, his vision blurry. “huh?! that your time was over?!”
no one dares come close to touch your body, now succumbed to war. they don’t help him get up from the gnarly ground and lay you to rest. the crew stays quiet for however long he needs, even if the air surrounding him grows heavier and heavier each passing hour, even if he remains in the same position for days... eventually, zoro buries your body somewhere far away, where he knows no one would dare touch it.
his swords gleam ominously as he places a curse on your grave: anyone who approaches with ill intentions won’t live to see another day.
grief. immediately, luffy knows your time’s up. desperation takes over his body as he screams in agony, tears running down his cheeks. still, he’s making one last attempt, carrying your almost lifeless body and the weight of the world on his shoulders, each step growing heavier than the last. thump, thump, thump. trying to find chopper amidst the fog, dust, and rubble; through the smoke of gun barrels and the different corpses lying around.
“luffy…”
“i got you. i got you, okay?”
his words settle heavily on your heart as he runs, runs, runs, yelling for someone– anyone to help.
“no more crying, luffy, hey–” you cough, blood spattering onto the gritty nape of his neck.
you slowly continue, as coherent as you can. “no matter what path awaits you,” in a future without me, “you can’t give up. promise?”
you just don’t understand that luffy needs you to live- strung up to a million machines, it doesn’t matter. he was selfish. he’s been selfish enough to keep you alive next to him all this time. yet, now you’re... not.
when the crew tries to pry him away from you, he yells at them to fucking stop, his voice foreign to his own ears. thing is, luffy knows, deep down. he’s been through this once before, after all.
now, he’ll have to carry you with him in his heart forever.
One moment, you're fighting against formidable pirates, next you're getting chewed out by your captain.
"You reckless idiot! You could've gotten yourself killed!" shouted Law. There was a visible vein popping in his temple from frustration and you couldn't help but feel...scared.
You held your ground despite the state you're in, "It wasn't reckless, I was only trying to protect the crew! I didn't know that pirate had hidden explosives!" you rubbed your side where shrapnels had pierced you. Law only scowls in anger and the infirmary room seems to shrink.
"Of course you didn't know. You never know anything! Like knowing how to stick to the plan!" He spoke harshly and it struck you uncomfortably.
You couldn't understand why he was so pent up. You're pirates, after all; danger is a given, so this anger seemed unprovoked. Words of reasoning flew over Law's head as he spewed more insults. Tears began to well and sting your eyes.
"Tch...if I had known you were this clueless and weak...I wouldn't have dragged you onto this crew." The words escaped before he could stop them. He felt the regret before seeing your reaction...
....And it hit him like a train. Lips wobbly, hands trembling, shoulders tense and seemingly curling in on themselves; as if you were trying to make yourself seem small.
The words pierced you like a frozen knife, making your blood run cold. You've always had doubts about your place in the Heart Pirates. Many like Bepo would reassure you, Law would tell you to not be stupid in an affectionate manner, but it felt like their efforts were dumped into the ocean thanks to his words.
Before he could speak up, you bowed your head, squeaking out a small, "sorry" and rushing out the infirmary and into your quarters.
The soft shut of the door stung more than it should have. Law stood there frozen, left with the words echoing in his ears.
"Damn it..." He whispers.
If only you knew that this anger was a mask for his fear, stemming from the loss of loved ones in his past.
✦ paths diverged, hearts united ♡
✦ in the shadow ♡
✦ ghosts of us ☆♡
✦ a new perspective ♡
✦ time travel ☆♡
✦ threaded ♡
✦ (accidental) pda ♡
✦ jealousy in the switch ♡
✦ 1st anniversary ♡
✦ trapped in his cage ☆
✦ sugar & scalpel ⟡
✦ unintentional couple behaviour ♡
✦ undercover affection ♡
✦ surgeon’s soft spot ♡
✦ breaking down his walls ♡
✦ if only she knew ☆
✦ please kiss back! ♡
✦ shambles of the heart ☆♡
✦ fake proposal ♡
✦ fool ☆♡
✦ run wild and free (feat. luffy and kid) ♡?
✦ terminal: part 1 - part 2 ☆♡
✦ the hero beneath the waves ♡
✦ tolerate it ☆♡
✦ poison queen ♡
✦ shadows of the dragon ♡
✦ echoes in silence ♡
✦ bite-sized affection ♡
✦ overboard ♡
✦ three boats, one heart (poly!) ♡
✦ tell me no lies ⟡♡
✦ busted! (secret relationship) ♡
✦ tides of fate ☆♡
✦ I hate goodbyes part 1 - part 2 ☆♡
✦ captain loser ♡
✦ without the hat ♡
✦ between the devil and the deep blue sea (feat. kid) ♡
✦ captain ♡
✦ clingy combat cuddles ♡
✦ I'm your husband ♡
✦ under the surface ♡⟡
✦ uniform trouble ⟡
✦ you around kids ♡
✦ found family (reader with a kid) ♡
✦ her (feat. sanji) ☆♡
✦ ink & memories ⟡
✦ bound by pain ♡
✦ soulmate tattoos ♡
✦ promise coin ♡
✦ conqueror's haki ☆♡
✦ storm in disguise ☆♡
✦ after the flames ☆
✦ think quick! I'm a random girl ♡
✦ buried legacy ♡
✦ threads of love ☆♡
✦ between law and zoro (poly) ♡
✦ things you didn't say ☆♡
✦ stay with me ♡
✦ pregnant 🫵 ♡
✦ flirting with danger ♡
✦ a date to ruin ♡
✦ belly dancing ♡
✦ one bed ♡
✦ hands that matter ♡
✦ love test ♡
✦ tiny pirates ♡
•:°.★ Series:
✦ traitor : part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - end ☆♡
✦ heartstrings : part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - end ♡
✦ borrowed hearts : part 1 - part 2 - part 3 (end) ☆♡
Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader
Genre: Smut
Warnings: This content is for a mature audience
Synopsis: Sometimes pain can be a good thing.
Author's notes: Since my other fic is taking way longer than I expected, here´s this. Would you fuck Law as a tattoo artist? Thank you, @sister-lucifer, for the gorgeous dividers.
Masterlist
If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee ☕
It took you ages to decide on a tattoo. It wasn’t about design, placement, or commitment; you dreaded the pain. Would you cry? Pass out? Leave it unfinished? You’re known as a crybaby—your friends know it, you’re fine with it—but moments like this make you wish you were tougher.
Bright blue neon lights blinded you as you entered. Corazón Ink: the shop you’d researched for weeks. Good reviews, hygienic, licensed, and professional. Everyone loves their work, and they have a spot for you (with experience handling scared clients).
“Come on, girl. Don’t a little bitch, it barely hurts.” Nami pushed you to go in. You’d brought her along since she’s patient enough not to yell at you, but also won’t coddle you if you start backing out.
The walls are painted black, and the place is covered with framed designs in black ink. It smells clinically clean and sterile, with metal music playing in the background. The reception area includes a black wood desk, a computer, a skull, and a bunch of little bottles behind glass. Sitting behind it is the most adorable being you’ve ever seen, besides Chopper, of course, a polar bear. Who’s completely invested in drawing a heart on a piece of paper, so he doesn’t even notice you two.
“Uhm...” Nami clears her throat. The poor creature gets so startled that he panics, and all things on the desk go flying to the ground.
“Tcha!” He picks them up quickly, trying to tidy up the place, “I’m so sorry, I got distracted.”
“No worries.” You say as you pick up some business cards that fell off the desk.
“Okay, I think that’s everything,” he looks around making sure everything’s back on its place, “Yeah, all good. Hi, do you have an appointment, or would you like to make one?”
You are not even inside, and the nerves are already eating you alive. Your hands tremble and your throat closes, making you unable to respond.
“She’s got an appointment.” Nami is always to the rescue. She tells him your name, and he looks for you in the books. He makes sure you fill and sign a bunch of forms first, letting them of any STDs, allergies, illnesses, the usual.
“Yeah, your appointment will be with Law. Follow me, please.” He’s taller than he appears and seems so huggable. His cute orange jumper is covered in skulls and pen ink. You try to think of anything and everything to distract yourself.
Nami walks in front of you. She insists on checking the place herself since she has experience and wants you to feel safe. She asks the bear a bunch of questions that you can’t catch since you are too busy trying to control your breathing. He knocks on a door and lets the person behind it know his next appointment is here.
The next seconds are some of the longest of your life. What’s, or more like who’s, behind that door completely knocks the air out of you.
Tall, tanned skin, slim yet muscular. Tattoos covering his arms, hands, and, from what you can see, part of his chest. Raven haired, dark circles, facial hair, and golden earrings. A black long slip top with rolled sleeves, blue jeans, and boots. An annoyed look on his face and a deep voice that makes you want to get on your knees.
“This is Law, he’ll be your tattoo artist.” Your brain isn’t doing its job right now; it’s simply focused on the dark lord in front of you, and you can’t blame it.
Nothing comes out of your mouth.
Nami’s standing next to you and can practically see the hearts coming out of your eyes, “I’m sorry, she’s kinda nervous.”
“No worries.” He says before going back into the room to begin setting everything up.
The room has an ample tattoo bed in the middle, a bright lamp on top, a sink, black steel cabinets, framed pieces on the walls, and a bunch of stuff you ignore to focus on the man in front of you. Thank gods Nami is being the responsible one.
He’s got a tablet in his hands where your design is. You see him adjust and move some things before showing it to you. “Are you okay with it? Is the size okay?” Nami and you look at it carefully, making sure every line and part is done correctly. When you give him approval, he turns around, prints and cuts the design. “Where will it go?”
You show him where you want it, and in a second, his fingers are on your skin. They are cold, their touch is firm yet careful. He disinfects the area, then presses the paper against you and positions it where you agreed. You can feel the blood going up to your cheeks and a pool forming in your panties. “Is this okay?” He mumbles as he’s done.
You look at yourself in the mirror and simply nod, still not brave enough to let out your voice.
“Okay. From here, I’m gonna have to ask you to go into the waiting area.” He turns to Nami, who frowns.
“We were told she could have a friend in the room.”
“That’s my rule. Whenever people bring company, they feel they need to act out and exaggerate, and it always makes my job harder.” He goes up to the sink and begins washing his hands thoroughly.
“But...” You cut her off.
“It’s okay, Nami. I’m going to be okay.” You give her a small smile. Yeah, you are still scared, but rules are rules, right?
She stares at you for a couple of seconds, “Scream if you need me, okay?” She squeezes your hand and leaves the room.
You lie down on the bed and stare at the bright light as you wait for him. You take deep and shaky breaths and count from one to ten again and again, trying to calm yourself. You pretend not to hear him when he covers the surfaces with plastic and prepares the ink and disposable cups, but when he comes up to you and shows you the needle, immediately you feel your head getting lighter and your vision going darker. The last thing your eyes can see is the worried look on his gorgeous face.
Fingers moving around your neck is the first thing you can feel as your brain begins to gain consciousness. You can vaguely hear a voice, and you aren’t quite sure where you are.
It takes you a couple of seconds, but your vision begins clearing up. Law is looking directly at you, and you can see his mouth moving, but no clue what he says.
“Are you feeling okay?” He keeps repeating while checking your vitals.
Your lips are dry, and your throat is closed; you nod.
He shakes his head, “No, I need you to tell me you are okay.”
“Yes.” It barely escaped your lips.
He waits a couple of seconds for you to get settled.
“Did you eat anything before coming here?”
You can’t remember. Did you? You are still dizzy. “I don’t know.”
“Any illness, condition, or anything that you didn’t disclose that makes you faint specifically?” He continues.
“Not that I know of.”
“Here.” He gives you a bottle of water. “Drink it.”
You hesitate for a couple of seconds, but he won’t budge; he makes sure you drink every bit of it. Then, he offers you a small cookie in a package. “Eat it.”
You fulfill his request. Is it bad that you think it's hot how he orders you around? Oh well, you are sure he’s kicking you out the second you are able to walk.
“I should’ve been checking you for any syncope signs, but this is the first time someone has passed out on me before I even got to tattooing them.” He teases you.
“That needle is huge.” You don’t even want to look at it.
“It’s the smallest size there is.” He laughs.
“Yeah, well, I thought it would pierce through my entire arm.”
“I didn’t even open it.” He looks at it, still in its package. “You’ve got a bunch of ear piercings; this can’t be the first time you’ve seen a needle.”
“Those were with that little piercing gun at a fair stand.” You recall being drunk on cheap booze and being dared by Usopp to do it. They hurt so bad the next day.
“Never get them done with the gun. You want one, you come to me next time, okay?” His fingers wrap around your chin, making sure you look him in the eyes. They are golden. You didn’t notice that when you came in. They are gorgeous, just like the rest of him. His grip is firm, and his thumb runs up and down your skin.
Oh.
You nod, too mesmerized.
Seconds stretch out far longer while you look at each other. You don’t ever want it to stop, but he’s the one to pull away first.
“I have to make sure you are completely conscious before I can let you go or continue, so I’m going to ask a bunch of questions, ‘k?”
You nodded.
“Your name is?”
You answered.
“Where are you?”
“Corazón Ink.”
“What day is today?”
You answered with hesitation, but he lets it slide.
“Has this happened before?”
“No.”
“Did you ever feel dizzy while getting your piercings done?”
“I’m gonna be honest, I was kinda drunk then.” You laughed nervously.
“So, you got them at a sketchy place while being under the influence?”
“I’m sorry, dad.” You rolled your eyes playfully.
“Are you usually that reckless?”
If I say I am, would you do me right here, oh so handsome stranger?
With each question, he would get closer, giving you looks, and you could swear he was smiling.
“Next question?”
“Are you taking any medications?”
“Just birth control.”
He stared at you for a couple of seconds, his eyes traveling up and down your body, before continuing, “any allergies?”
“I thought the guy at the door already gave you all this info.”
“This is just routine; I want to make sure you are okay and conscious.”
“Okay.” You smiled at him.
“Are you on your period?”
You blushed, not expecting that, “Nope.”
“Do you feel nauseous? Dizzy or disoriented?”
“No, no, and no. I also don’t have a boyfriend, if it’s part of the quiz.”
He stared at you; you couldn’t decipher what he was thinking. Oh gods, have you gone too far? Did you make him uncomfortable? So much for shooting your shot. “I’m glad to hear that.”
Oh.
You could feel yourself warming up. Flush covering your cheeks and chest.
“What’s got you so scared about the tattoo?” He pushed his chair closer, almost in between your legs.
“I don’t know how to feel about the pain.”
“It’s not that bad. Besides, pain can be a good thing.”
“Can it? Why do you say so?” You tilted your head.
“Some people like it.”
“Do you like pain?” You pushed your tits forward. Now you were getting somewhere.
“Sometimes, it can feel good.” His eyes are right where you want them.
“Would you show me?” You clicked your tongue.
“Are you usually this forward?”
“No, you are just that hot.” It’s like the spirit of someone with actual balls possessed you. Nami would be so proud.
Tension fills the entire room. You can see him swallow and his tongue with his lips before his teeth bite them. He’s thinking about his next move. You might not know this, but Law is far from a flirt, yet he can’t help himself. The attraction was mutual from the second you crossed paths, even if he didn’t show it.
“Are you gonna do something about it, Law?” You dared.
His eyes went to the door. The rational part of him knew it wouldn’t be his brightest idea, but the tent forming in his pants said otherwise. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”
You look him in the eyes, and bite your lips, “You sure?”
It was then and there that all professionalism flew out the window. His mouth claimed yours in a desperate manner. His hands were gripping every inch of your body while his tongue explored your mouth. And you responded in the same way, your hands flew to his neck, exploring every inch of his skin. Close isn’t close enough.
His fingers intrude under the fabric of your clothes, exploring the length and softness of your legs, inching dangerously to where you need him the most. No hesitation in his actions, his tongue dances with yours, dominating it; his lips eat at yours as if their life depends on it; you need to breathe, but don’t give in, desperate for more of him.
You had never done something like this, always hesitant, shy, and getting too much into your head, but this you couldn’t pass on. No. A man like him is someone you can’t simply forget and move on; you must have him, even if it’s just for now, or just a taste, you’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t.
His teeth travel down the delicate skin of your neck, leaving his own personal mark, and you let him, you want to be able to remember his touch once you leave this place. You gasp as he pushes his leg in between your legs, pressing it against your core. Your body moves against his, chasing pleasure, moisture slipping out of your underwear and ending up on his jeans.
“Fuck.” He pushes himself away from you for a second. His chest heaving, desperate to catch his breath, your lungs mirror his, “Listen, umm, I don’t do this often.”
You nod, “Okay.”
All the confidence in his kisses and touches slowly melts, showing a very nervous and blushing Law. You find him adorable, and it only makes you crave him even more.
“So, I need to know...”
You get up and press yourself against him, taking his hesitant hands and pressing them against your ass, making him shut up right away. “Just fuck me, Law.” You kissed him.
Slowly, he pushes you to lie down on the bed, then gets on top of you. In between all the haze and daze, you can appreciate how precise his fingers are; they travel your skin knowing exactly where they are going and what they are doing. They push down the straps of your dress and his lips are quick to suck on your breasts; his tongue wraps up around your areolas while one of his hands toys with the other nipple. You throw your head back and bite your lip, trying to conceal your moans. He whines against your skin, and it makes your eyes roll at the back of your head just from hearing him.
He continues making his way down your body, and for a second you protest, your tits missing him already, but it only takes him a moment for his tongue to be exploring your cunt.
“Oh my gods, Law.” You whispered. Your fingers tug on his hair, pushing him closer to your core.
He tongues your clit and sucks it, alternating before finally sucking on it. His fingers tease your entrance, rubbing around it but not going in. The letters A and T slowly disappear inside of you, and you swear you’ll cry. His rhythm is sloppy and quick, but it’s so good you can barely notice.
He’s good at reading your body; he notices the spots that make you push harder against his hand, that get you crosseyed and thrashing against the furniture. He presses his fingers against different spots until he finds it. The spot. And he knows right away because your hands fly right into your mouth to stop you from screaming.
“There, there, oh my gods, there.” You’ve gone dumb and he hasn’t even made you cum.
“Come on, baby. Give me one and I’ll fuck you however you want.” He says against your clit, before taking it in his mouth.
It doesn’t take him much, just a couple of sucks, thrusts, and he’s got you right where he wants you. Your nails dig into the leather of the bed and the skin next to your mouth.
“That’s it, good girl, you are such a good girl.” His fingers flick your clit, prolonging your bliss.
You can barely breathe, eyes closed, and mind filled with cotton. You don’t even notice him pushing his pants down and putting you against the bed. You just notice when he slaps his cock against your ass. You need to see it.
He’s long, thick, rock hard, angry red, and dripping. A pair of small, silver balls on the underside. Holy shit.
“Are you ready?” He presses the head against the entrance.
You can’t help yourself, “Is that a piercing?”
“Yeah.” He smirks. “Wanna feel it?”
Raw. No mercy. His tattooed fingers fucked your mouth to keep you silent. His thrusts are unrelentless, pelvis slapping against your ass and his balls on your clit. He whispers sins against your ear; it only makes you clench harder. His cock throbs inside you, desperate to fill you with his seed.
Your front pressed against the bed. Your hands are barely able to keep you in balance and if it wasn’t for his other hand, your legs would have given up a long time ago. Back arching, your ears ringing, your mouth drooling, and tears running down your thighs and ending up on the floor.
“Are you going to let me cum inside, beautiful?” His cock bullies your cervix, curling your toes, “are you going to be a good little whore? My good little whore.”
No words come out of your mouth, you only nod, but that isn’t enough for him.
“I asked you a question.” He thrusts harder, “Use your big girl words.”
You let a moan escape, and it must have been loud because he’s quick to cover your mouth, “Shh, baby, shh. You don’t want us getting caught, right?”
Tears now stream down your face.
“Or do you? Want everyone to know how good you are getting fucked, huh? Want your friend to know how much of a slut you are? Getting your guts rearranged in a place like this?” His words are cruel, his thrusting even more.
You are trembling, you can feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter and warmer by the second.
“Answer me.” He slaps your clit.
“Shit, Law.”
Another slap, “I can feel you getting tighter, are you close?”
You moan, drool spilling out of your mouth.
Another slap. It hurts so good.
His rhythm becomes quicker and harsher. He’s now pressed against your back, his fingers circling your clit, and his hand covering your mouth. He now knows you might be a screamer, and while he’d love to hear it, this isn’t the time or place.
“Come on, baby, give it to me.”
You are right around the corner; desperate for it. Then, he bites your neck, and that’s it. The pain turned to pleasure throws you over the edge. Your entire body trembles, and you scream in his hand, eyes at the back of your head, hips pushing against his cock, completely impaling you in it; your walls choke him, milking him.
“Holy shit, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He isn’t far behind.
His hips become even more erratic, and small moans escape his mouth.
“Oh, gods. Can I cum inside?”
You nod softly; no energy left for anything else.
His seed fills you up, a warmth covers your insides and begins dripping down your legs, joining your own release. He stays inside you.
It takes you a couple of minutes for the two of you to recover, his chest against your back, your breathing in sync, heavy and exhausted. You can feel his sweat dripping down on you and his hair tickling you, his lips pressed on your back. He’s the first to pull away.
“Are you okay?” His breathing is still shaky, but a small smile forms on his lips.
You turn to him and smile, nodding.
“Are you okay?” Nami stands up as soon as she sees you. “Did it hurt?”
“Not really.” You are completely dazed, not fully understanding what she’s saying.
“Told you.” She looks around, confused, “Wait, where’s your tattoo?”
“We might need another session or two.” Law answers, then winks at you before going back inside.
Nami looks at you for a couple of seconds before realisation comes in, “Oh my gods, you didn’t get tattooed, you just got dicked down!”
You blushed and an impossibly shade of red and grabbed her by the hand, pulling her out of the shop, “Let’s go.”
☆ summary: being stuck in an on again off again (very indulgent) relationship with either the surgeon of death or captain eustass kidd requires a great deal of patience
☆ a/n: hellooo i am finally settled at my uni and hoping to begin writing regularly again and start going through my requests (thank you for all of them by the way).. please enjoy me writing about my top two op crushes rnn <3
law:
#i’d forgive him so fast oops | 3.3k words
With Law, all of your meetings are at midnight or after, he’s painfully careful to ensure that no one has even the slightest clue of what your relationship has begun to blossom into– He’s scared of course. Anything could go wrong; his rationality is placed at risk every time you walk past him and he allows himself to indulge (even if for just a second) in the smell of your perfume– strong and floral. It lingers even after you’ve walked past him, ignoring him just like he asked you to do during the working hours on board the Polar Tang. Law does what he can to suppress the sting he feels when you, oh so obediently, listen to him. You do your job too well, he thinks, not even sparing him a glance if you’re not being directly addressed. ‘This is your own fault’, he has to remind himself. It pains him when the crew stays up late playing poker and cards and drinking alcohol, talking about all your hopes and dreams, when you entertain your crewmates with stories and he hears about how you’re there for them all in times of difficulty, a listening ear, a supporting friend, an emotional anchor to the crew.
Maybe, he thinks, I should end it. He knows that that’s the right answer, if you’re just friends he might allow himself to be welcomed into the radiance and warmth around you that he denies himself and has instructed you to deny to him. He’s too scared to lose you now.
On late nights, Law lays in bed, his room hazy from the cigarette he lets burn in an ashtray you gifted him and he thinks about the few direct conversations you’ve had about your… situation. That’s what you had called it, “Law,” you had said, “We have to talk about…”
“About what?” He still beats himself up over how he delivered that question, biting and poisonous. He can’t shake the memory of the frown it elicited on your face.
“Y/n, we don’t have to talk. Please, let’s not talk. Talking means we have to confront the reality of the situation.”
That was what he should’ve said. Instead his tongue betrayed him, acting faster than he could register. About what? Idiot, he thought.
You took a deep breath before answering him, “About us, Law. Our… situation.”
He had scoffed at you. Let out an indifferent huff, as though the matter was beneath him. His chest aches when he thinks about it now. The hurt on your face was so obvious.
“So talk.”
It was dark that night. He can’t remember if tears pooled on your lower lashes, or if it was a trick of the slight bit of light pouring into the dark room. He chooses to believe the latter option.
“What are we doing? I can’t… I don’t want to continue like this. Secret and hidden– I want to, I want to be able to talk to you during the day. To tell you about how I am and ask you about yourself I want to help you and be there for you. To kiss you whenever and hold your hand–”
“So do I,” he should have said, “I want that too.”
“You are there for me,” was his reply, instead, “As my trusted crewmate. And I never said you couldn’t talk to me, but I maintain my position. We can’t be discovered, the risks are-”
“Oh!” you exclaimed, sighing, “The risks? Our entire life is a risk. You think the crew would care? And what does it matter what you’ve said– it’s how you act. I’ve tried talking to you and you treat me with such an awful indifference Law. I respect your intelligence and leadership so please don’t act stupid.
What am I to you?”
He paused. Wrong move.
Your bottom lip trembled as you closed your eyes and inhaled. His memory doesn’t serve him very well but if you did cry that night it was now that the tears flowed.
“Okay,” you said, your voice incredibly soft. You had accepted defeat. He wanted to tear his skin off. This was agony. Why couldn’t he just say what he felt?
“I want you,” he says to himself now, picking the cigarette back up, placing it between his lips, “I love you.”
Three weeks too late, he thinks. The cigarette burns in the back of his throat, his chest filling with an uncomfortable warmth.
The last few weeks had been uncomfortable to say the least. You refused to talk to him, and he didn’t blame you. He barely saw you, the last time he’d gotten a proper look at your face was six days ago now. You looked beautiful, maybe he should have said something.
He lost track of time. An hour has passed now since he laid down to smoke, or has it been two? His head is spinning, never has regret gripped his heart so aggressively.
The aching in his chest tugs him out of bed and into the hallway. He finds himself walking toward the library where he knows you’ll be.
Where less than a month ago you were sat on his lap, soft arms gently wrapped around his shoulders as he kissed up and down your arms, buried inside you.
He missed your warmth, the way just being in your presence felt like sitting next to a fireplace, drinking a cup of tea. Your touch soft and reassuring, Fuck, he thinks, fuck.
The coolness of the metal floor jolts him out of his daze, he’s moving with a purpose now.
It’s not too late, he reassures himself.
The library door is closed, a warm light pours out into the cool, blue hallway from underneath the door. His hand hovers over the door knob for a moment, listening. Silence.
Law gently opens the door, and is welcomed by the sight of you fast asleep on Shachi’s shoulder, your crewmate’s arm wrapped around you.
Law pauses, Shachi looks up. He subdues the jealousy that quickly spreads throughout his body.
Shachi shoots him a look, as if to say, “I’m doing my best.”
Law’s throat hurts, speaking is too risky. He sends back a puzzled look.
Shachi beckons him over, placing his free hand up to his lips, “Shh.”
Law’s head feels like it’s about to explode. He can’t do this right now. His stomach twists at the sight of his crewmate’s arm around you. He was always so mesmerized by how you slept– envious, even, at how gently your eyes closed, how your soft lips parted once you were out, how deeply you slept.
His mind slips from him, replaying memories of how you’d cling to him when spending the night in his room, your arms securely around his neck, your face tucked into him. The sound of you giggling in the morning when he’d wake you up with kisses peppered all over your face and neck, trailing down and down your body. He inhales, trying to recollect himself– The memory of your body is overpowering. His hands clench into fists at his sides.
“She’s been asleep for about two hours,” Shachi started. Law’s chest tightened, two hours?
“I didn’t know what to say to her. She’s so… sad. Some guy, I think, broke her heart. Or, is currently breaking it. I don’t want to pry. Maybe you should talk to her?”
Law concentrated all of his efforts on answering his subordinate to avoid collapsing to the floor and begging you for forgiveness right then and there, Shachi be damned. His worst crime, in all of his life, he thought, is to have done this to you.
The thought of being ‘some guy’ that broke your heart nauseates him, he has to fix this.
“Captain?” Shachi seemed to have picked up on Law’s distress.
“Shachi,” Law started, his eyes fixed on you– his expression must have been something pained, or regretful, “Leave her here. Go to bed.”
Shachi’s brows furrowed. Law tore his eyes away from you to look at him, “I’ll take care of her.”
The redhead quickly picked up on the subtext and inhaled, about to say something but bit his tongue. Shachi gently removed his arm from around your shoulders, propping your head up on the sofa behind you and stood quietly, making room for Law.
“Captain,” he started, shooting him a look that wasn’t quite placeable. Disappointment? Anger? It wasn’t either, perhaps something in between, he decided you were capable enough to handle this yourself, “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Law sat down next to you. He wanted to laugh. You had a way about you, even in such a moment of difficulty for Law, that made him want to give into you completely. God knows he had spent every second he’d known you fighting that urge. You slept on, completely undisturbed by any of the commotion around you. A strand of hair fell across your face, an obstruction to an otherwise perfect view. He brought a hand up to it, gently pushing it to the side, tucking it behind your ear. You stir, slightly.
He hates himself, he thinks as he brings a firm hand to your arm, and gently shakes you to a conscious state.
You wake with droopy eyelids, sleep still generously distributed throughout your body. It pains him to wake you, he knows you need the rest. He watches your lashes touch your rosy cheeks as you blink your eyes open, gathering your surroundings. You yawn, stretching your hands above your head, your shirt rising just enough to show off your lower tummy. Law curses whatever devil placed you in his life.
“Mmm.. What time ‘s it, Chi?” you ask. Jealousy rears its ugly head in Law’s chest at the use of a nickname for Shachi.
Law clears his throat, “One twenty three in the morning.”
You jolt, straightening your posture, upon recognizing your captain’s unmistakably deep, tired voice.
“Law,” you say, looking at him, “I was just leaving, actually. Shachi was supposed to wake me up an hour ago..” You adjust the hem of your shirt and push your hair out of your face. An awkward silence filled the room– an awful reminder of how fucked up your… situation had become.
You can’t bear it, Law can tell, any more than he can. Your discomfort is obvious and he hates to be the root of it.
“Well, goodnight,” you say standing. Your voice wavers.
“Y/n,” Law says, “Sit. Please.”
You wanted nothing more than to tell him to fuck off. You’d even rehearsed it with Ikkaku.
“Fuck you Law,” you’d practiced, “Fuck you and never speak to me again I never want to be around you. You’re so…”
That was usually where Ikkaku would have some suggestions:
“Immature? Selfish? Mean? Evil? Misogynistic? Fuck that guy.”
“Yeah,” you’d agree, “But I don’t think I can say that to him directly, he is the Captain after all.”
“He’s also a doctor,” she’d observed, “But you don’t seem very healed to me.”
These conversations replayed in your head as you sat down, following his orders.
You kept your gaze focused downward, your bare feet shuffled awkwardly against the carpet.
“We should vacuum this,” you said, “Feels kinda dusty.”
Silence settled between the two of you. It was unbearable.
You continued, “I’ll mention it to Penguin, um, I know he likes stuff cleaned a certain way. And, oh, right, I meant to tell you about the books we’re picking up at the next port. They ran out of the edition of the Watson book you ordered–”
“Y/n.”
You shut up. You could feel the tears start to well in your eyes. No, goddamnit, you thought, Don’t give him the satisfaction.
“I’m… sorry.”
You looked up at him, a puzzled expression on your face.
“No, you’re not,” you said. If there were any other noise coming from anywhere on the ship he would not have heard you, you spoke so quietly.
“No, you’re not,” you repeated.
Law inhaled, guilt had never had such a physically debilitating effect on his body.
“Y/n, listen. I am. I can’t sleep, or eat, or think, I can’t–”
“Neither can I, so, thanks for that. It’s been a great few weeks for me.”
He swallowed.
“Please look at me.”
You look up, your cheeks coated in two parallel streaks of tears. His eyes are red, the bags under them a deep shade of gray. He really hasn’t slept. You curse yourself as you reach a hand up to his face, and scoot yourself into his lap.
His strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into him, chest to chest, and he places his forehead against yours.
You feel a small string of tears fall into your lap. He’s crying, you realize.
“I fucked up,” he says, “I’m sorry.”
He runs a hand up and down your back, it’s unfortunately soothing. You want so badly to push him off of you- deny his touch and affection, but as his hand slows and his grip on you tightens, as he pulls you into him even further and allows himself to indulge in the feeling of your body against his you know that you’ve once again fallen into his trap.
“I can’t keep doing this, Captain.”
There was a time when hearing his title come from your lips elicited an unspeakably sinful desire within him. Hearing it from your mouth was such a delicious indulgence. Now he knows you use it to distance yourself from him- to avoid using his name.
“I know, baby,” he says, “I know.”
You sit up in his lap, wiping your tears.
“I can fix this,” he reassures you, “I promise.”
“How? What is there to fix?”
He’s silent.
“I thought about what you said, that night,” you continue.
‘That night,’ he wants to blow his brains out. That terrible night when he started this, when he couldn’t answer a simple question, when he started the downward spiral of the past three weeks, the tension between the two of you getting worse with each passing day.
“You’re right, Law,” you went on, “To not have answered my question. We aren’t anything. You’re my captain and I’m your crewmate– nothing more, nothing less.”
You both knew that was a lie. Here you were in the dim candlelight on the library couch, the navy blue ocean stirring just outside the glass window behind you, sitting on his lap letting him hold you. He pulled you into his chest, laying your head down onto his shoulder. You let him. It was a delicate thing, to play such a game of cat and mouse, your roles always shifting back and forth. You let yourself be pulled into him, sinking into his touch, arching your back into his chest doing whatever possible to be closer to him for even just a moment.
He brought a hand up to run through your hair, and rested his cheek on the side of your head.
The silence was less bitter this time. You both sit in it for several minutes, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck.
You try to resist the urge for a split second, and then, as usual, cave into his touch. You place a soft kiss on his neck (a spot of complete and absolute weakness for Law). He responds with a kiss on your head.
He inhales, and you brace yourself.
“Y/n.”
You don’t respond.
“I love you.”
Your cheeks immediately are covered by an onslaught of tears you hadn’t even felt forming. You sniffle, wrapping your arms around him tighter. He squeezes you harder, before making you sit up and look at him, face to face.
He’s given up. He’s never been more fucked than he is now. He watches you, your expression, for a moment. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, he thinks, cheeks pink from his body heat, lashes damp from the tears.
“Y/n, I am sorry,” he wipes away your tears with one hand, the other tangling itself into your hair. You sniffle, a frown settling on your face.
“I want you,” he confesses, “Always. I think about you always and I can’t sleep and I’ve been telling myself that it’s because of work but it’s you. I can’t sleep without you. I can’t think without you. Everything reminds me of you, my pillow still smells like you, your clothes show up in my laundry, you have jewelry on my desk I can’t escape you. I don’t want to.”
You softened at this admission, but with Law there was always a catch.
“But?” you ask.
He sighs, “If anything were to happen to you I’d be responsible. It felt better, safer to end, or deny things and keep you safe than keep going and risk your safety.”
“I’m a pirate, Law, I’m at risk anyway. Don’t lie to me, that’s not the only reason.”
He kisses your forehead, “I know, I know. I am worried about the risks of another crew finding out or, god forbid, the navy. But I can’t… be without you. I haven’t slept or eaten or… worked, really. I’m scared you don’t feel the same.”
You don’t what overcomes you in that moment, but the next thing you know your lips are attached to his, his hand pulling you into him by your neck.
You whine when he pulls back, ignoring the tears flowing down your cheeks.
He kisses your nose, your forehead, your cheeks as he wipes your tears whispering, “It’s okay, it’s okay… I’m sorry.”
His lips find yours again, and he kisses you more aggressively this time– it’s carnivorous and hungry, his grip on your waist tightens enough to bruise and you wince.
“L-Law, be gentle,” you whimper.
His grip softens slightly and he pulls away from your mouth to start planting sloppy, wet kisses on your neck.
You mewl, arching your back into him completely melting at his touch. Soft moans escape you as you tug at the hem of his shirt, helping him pull it off.
You run a hand over his abs, savoring the view as he helps you take your own shirt off.
“Wait, Y/n, wait,” Law manages to get out, his breath heavy and fast, “What are we?”
You laugh, kissing him, slipping your tongue between his lips. He moans and you ignore his question. You pull away a sticky string of saliva connecting your puffy pink lips to his. You can feel how hard he is beneath you, and grind down on it ever so slightly.
Law bites back a moan, throwing his head back on the couch leaving his neck wide open for you. You gently bite down on his neck, kissing it after.
You missed him so badly, no one had ever brought out in you what Law did. His confession immediately healed all the previous wounds he’d inflicted on your heart, wounds that only he would have been able to heal anyway.
“Law, I need you,” you cry.
“I’m here, baby, I’m right here,” he coos, holding you.
“I need you, always. Not conditionally. Not after midnight. Always.”
He sighs, a silent acknowledgement of his wrongs.
“I’m sorry, Y/n. I’ve never… felt like this. I didn’t want to mess up, I suppose. Or ruin things between us. I’d rather stop this and still be able to see you every day than have you be mine and lose you for it.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Law. I promise.”
He places another kiss on your forehead, sleep begins to take over in Law.
“Law,” you pout, sitting up, “It’s cold.”
He blinks, taking a moment to process your words, savoring the way you say his name, “Okay, baby, let’s go to my room. Stay the night? Please?”
You think about it for a second, “Okay.”
“I love you,” he says.
You pause. His chest tightens.
“I love you, too.”
Law picks you up, letting you rest your head on his shoulder as he walks back through the Polar Tang, toward his room.
He smiles, you’re going to be upset about the smell of smoke.
“Baby,” he says.
“Hm.”
“Let’s tell everyone at breakfast, tomorrow.”
You perk up, “Tell them what?”
He laughs, and kisses the top of your head, “That you’re mine.”
kidd:
my fav scottish #pussypounder | 3.9k words
Your vision begins to blur at the edges, as Kidd’s grip on your neck tightens ever so slightly. You’d complain if you were able to form any thoughts other than enjoying the rhythmic slap of his hips against your ass, your mind numb as you begin to drool from the feeling of his heavy balls slapping against your clit. You yelp at the sudden sharp pain of Kidd’s metal hand slapping your ass, it energizes you to match his thrusts halfway. Kidd loves watching you fuck yourself on his big, fat dick in doggy-style, his chest swells with pride at his ability to reduce you to such a pathetic, whiny personal slut for him. The sound of sloppy, wet slaps fills the room, a consistent tempo of plap, plap, plap.
“Feel good, lassie?” Kidd laughs, his pace never faltering.
“Mmmff, fuckkk Kidd, please don’t stop!”
“I‘m getting close, love,” his voice now slightly strained, “Where should I finish, hm?”
“Inside,” you beg, “Please, inside!”
You yelp as his metal hand once again makes harsh contact with the fat of your ass, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you let bliss take over, now approaching your own end.
“Kidd,” you whine, “Gonna… cum!”
“That’s right, lassie, cream all over me,” Kidd growls.
His thick accent makes your clit throb, and he can feel you tightening around him.
“Ya like when I talk to ya like that?” his hand moved from your neck to the base of your scalp where he roughly grabbed a generous handful of hair, yanking your head back as he bent over to kiss you.
“Mhmmm,” you moan, your mind completely hazy from the feeling of him sliding in and out of you, “Mmf mmm-”
Kidd pulls away, a deep laugh filling the room, “What’s that, love?”
“Gonna.. cum, daddy!”
Your captain’s pace slows ever so slightly, he savors every inch of pleasure he can draw from your drooling pussy– you know he’s close.
“Cum with me, sweetheart,” he commands.
It only takes a few more strokes before you oblige, sinking further into the mattress as you release your orgasm and feel Kidd finishing inside you. He indulges you in a few more strokes; he loves watching the creamy, wet mixture the two of you produce whenever he cums inside of you.
“Good girl,” he says as he slowly pulls out, before collapsing on the bed next to you.
“C’mere,” he beckons you toward him, patting his chest for you to lay on. You obey. He brings a hand to your neck, and kisses the top of your head before closing his eyes. He starts snoring a few minutes later.
To say sex with Kidd was amazing would be the understatement of the year, it was heavenly, divine, rough, passionate, wonderful. He knew your body better than his own, being with him was indescribably delicious. The sex you had filled your mind for days and days after, so much so that Kidd had begun to recognize it on your face when you were thinking about your latest encounter. A dazed, hazy look would cloud your eyes during meetings, dinner, days out in the towns you stopped at. It drove Kidd insane, knowing you were thinking about him that much– and, for the most part, he was always happy to indulge.
Pulling you (and your panties) to the side whenever he had time, Kidd was a very generous man when it came to you, always happy to give you exactly what you needed. After all, he’d tell himself, he needed you functioning at full capacity and if this was how he needed to remind you of that, who was he to complain?
He was just as entranced by you, though he’d never admit it out loud. More than once he caught himself seeking you out just to talk, to spend time in your presence. He’d come up with poorly thought out, half-assed excuses to be near you.
“Y/n,” he’d say, “Come help me in the workshop lass, you have small enough hands to fix this screw.”
Or, “Come hold this light while I work, love.”
“Come read with me, sweetheart, I need your opinion on the best kind of metal to use.”
“Grab me an apple from the kitchen, will ya, lassie?”
It was obvious to you, of course, given that it was a fault you yourself echoed through your own actions.
“Kidd, can you zip up my dress for me?”
“Kidd, could you fasten my necklace for me?”
“Kidd, taste this, tell me if it’s good.”
“Kidd, Kidd, Kidd…”
Everyone else on the crew found it endearing, you brought out something mature in their Captain– which they greatly appreciated.
“Looks like he just needed to be having sex regularly,” Wire joked.
You couldn’t disagree.
You and Kidd worked so well together, you’d found yourselves fighting back to back a handful of times now moving in sync with one another, not having to communicate, simply understanding how the other thinks, moves, works.
You lost count of how many nights you’d spent in his room, and vice versa. It was terrible to admit but you were attached. You slept better with his chest against your back, strong arm wrapped around you. Your day was better when you woke up to his snoring and got to kiss him awake.
You laid now on his chest, sweat drying on your forehead and back, wincing internally.
This wasn’t great.
Yes, you worked well together and the sex was amazing– but you hadn’t quite worked your way up to admitting that maybe there was a deeper attachment brewing, and you knew your Captain was definitely not thinking that way at all.
Besides, there was something freeing about the casualty of it all. Kidd was there when you were unbearably horny (which had been often, as of late) and you were there when he was (which, again, had been quite often as of late).
No strings attached! That was a good thing… Right? You were free to do as you wished, see other people, reconnect with old flames you crossed paths with on the open ocean, and there were no worries about childish feelings or getting hurt.
Right?
Kidd had fallen asleep, you could hear his soft snores and his hand that had been rubbing your back had fallen limp by his side.
Fuck, you thought. This wouldn’t do. You liked Kidd, but he was the last person on Earth you needed to fall in love with.
You slowly sat up, inching your way to the edge of the bed. You went to stand, when you were jerked back by a metal finger pulling you by the hem of your panties.
“Where’re ya goin’?” He asked, voice deep and raspy with sleep.
You ignored the heat between your legs.
“To bed, Kidd. Goodnight.”
He laughed, “Come lay down then.”
You were silent. Why shouldn’t you? You’d slept with him hundreds of times before.
No attachments.
“I… sleep better in my bed,” you said. Awful excuse, you noted.
“Alright then,” he sat up, yawning, “Let’s go to your room, then.”
“Kidd…” you started. You didn’t know what to say. What were you feeling? Attachment? Love? Had you ever really been in love before? What did that even feel like?
The nature of your relationship was unspoken but mutually understood. This, whatever this was, was casual, no strings attached, sexual, non-exclusive.
He sat up, making his way to the edge of the bed to sit next to you, “Somethin’ wrong?”
This wasn’t supposed to be hard. It was supposed to be fun, easy, a stress reliever.
“Um, yeah, I just– I started my period so I have to go wash up and stuff. I’ll see you in the morning,” you lied.
Something’s wrong, Kidd thought. Say something, he urged himself.
“Let me take care of you, lassie,” he said, gently placing an arm around your waist, “Think a bit of blood bothers Captain Eustass Kidd?”
You let out an unconvincing laugh, “It’s alright Kidd, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
You stood, making your way to the door.
“Alright,” he sighed, lying back down on his bed, sure now that something was wrong with you, “But give me a kiss before ya go.”
You paused at the door, back to your Captain.
A moment passed.
Another moment.
“Goodnight then, Y/n.”
You walked out, closing the door behind you, cursing yourself.
Kidd lied back down, fully awake now. His stomach turned, something resembling nausea settled in his abdomen. Was he too forward? It hardly seemed likely that asking you to stay the night was out of bounds, especially when he had just been buried nine inches deep, emptying a load in you. He sighed, and rolled over onto his stomach as his mind sought a possible explanation.
You weren’t on your period, that much was certain. Not that he was tracking your cycle, of course. He definitely didn’t go to significant lengths to make sure his schedule was freed up when you ovulated.
Maybe, he thought, the feeling of nausea increasing, There’s someone else.
He dismissed the thought quickly, but it ate at him. You leaving so suddenly, not even offering him a kiss goodbye… You didn’t even look at him.
Kidd, despite the recent calmness he had, was still Kidd and the more he ruminated on the sickening possibility the more real it became.
That must be it, he convinced himself, What obligation does she have to me anyway? We’re not… together.
His chest ached, it infuriated him. He spent the better part of the night tossing and turning, contemplating whether he had any right to kick down your door and demand you give him the name of your lover or if he should simply never speak to you again. Should he ask the other members of the crew? He didn’t want to involve them; it was his problem, he decided.
When inspiration did finally strike around five in the morning, just before the sun had started to rise, he ignored the gut feeling that had begun to indicate that it wasn’t the best idea.
Tomorrow, he decided, when we stop for supplies I’ll find and flirt with a pretty girl. Give her a taste of her own medicine. With this resolution (that he had absolutely convinced himself was the best approach to the situation) he fell asleep, hard.
It was too cold, you thought as you lounged in the library of the Victoria Punk, cuddled up by the fire you’d had Heat set for you before he left. You had opted out of going into town, and since you weren’t able to cite lovesickness as a reason you stuck with the period excuse. You didn’t miss how Kidd rolled his eyes at you when you offered the excuse again to him.
The windows were icy, the temperature continuing to drop as it got later and later. It had quickly heated up in the library, you fanned yourself with an old copy of your favorite book. You passed multiple hours on your reading chair, in a hoodie Kidd had let you borrow months ago. Too bad he’s not here, you thought. You faded in and out of sleep, drowsy from the hot fire and the poor quality of sleep from last night. The sun was set when the peace and quiet was disturbed by the sound of a woman’s light and airy laughter. It carried through the ship, leading you to sit up and turn to look for the source of the sound.
Your chest tightened at the sight that greeted you, and you were never more desperate for something that could hide the expression of disgust and hurt you felt forming on your face.
Kidd sauntered on board with his hand around the waist of a woman you’d never seen before. She was wearing a dress notably similar to one you owned that he had complimented multiple times. The longer you looked (though you tried to keep it short) the more you noted similarities between you and her. Similar height, hair color, facial features, bodily assets. The moment you felt your bottom lip tremble you turned back in your chair, standing quickly and gathering your things, making a beeline to your room.
Kidd made eye contact with you on your way out, eyes slightly widening upon seeing your sweater.
Heat and Wire walked up on board the ship a few minutes later, and shot you a sympathetic look. It was no surprise to them that Kidd was being immature over a simple misunderstanding (he disclosed last night’s events to them in more detail than was necessary) and despite their advice to not follow through with his idiotic plan, he did anyway.
Kidd immediately knew he had fucked up, bad. The look on your face was enough to tell him that he had crossed a line and clearly had suffered a severe lapse in judgment. He immediately dismissed the woman, leaving Heat and Wire in the extremely awkward position of having to walk her off the ship– they made a mental note to make sure Kidd was on bathroom duty for the next month. He ran after you, but the door to your room was already shut and, he wiggled the handle for a few seconds, locked too.
He knocked every few minutes, growingly increasingly agitated at your refusal to talk to him.
Knock, knock.
“Y/n, c’mon lass, you misunderstood– I don’t even know her!”
“I was just… I was– ugh, I don’t know what I was thinking!”
“I wanted to make you jealous, lass, just open the door so I can explain.”
After the third hour of knocking to no avail Kidd resolved that he would simply wait you out, you had to come out eventually.
It was another three hours, nearly midnight, by the time you opened your door. Kidd was half asleep when you opened the door, and snapped back to full consciousness when he saw you.
Your brows were furrowed and you looked at him with more disgust and contempt than usual. He crossed his arms and blocked your path.
“Get out of my way.”
“Talk to me,” he responded.
“About?”
He laughed, your blood boiled, “So you’re not upset? About… anything at all?”
“No, dearest Captain, why on Earth would I be upset?”
“Just tell me what’s wrong.”
You scoffed, “Really, Eustass I didn’t take you for such an idiot. Get out of my way.”
He sighs, a smirk still settled onto his face, and moves to the side, gesturing for you to go ahead.
You walk past him, making your way toward the kitchen. You don’t fail to notice how he tags along beside you.
“Ugh, Kidd! What? What do you want from me?”
“Tell me why you’re upset.”
“You know why I’m upset, moron.”
“Tsk, tsk, that’s no way to talk to your Captain.”
You bite your lip, “I’m sure she’d talk to you exactly how you want. Stop following me.” You go to take another step, but he grabs your arm pushing you toward the wall of the hallway. He pressed his chest into your back, pinning you against the wall as he bent down bringing his lips to your ear and teasing you with a few kitten licks.
He grabbed your wrists, holding them against your lower back with an uncharacteristically gentle grip. Like he was daring you to fight back. You relax into his grip, arching your back to rub your ass against his bulge.
You hate how weak he makes you.
A deep breath escapes Kidd, sending a jolt of electricity down your spine. Your thighs are starting to get sticky. A soft moan escapes your lips as he presses his hard cock into the curve of your ass.
“Mhm,” Kidd teases, “Somethin’ else ya want to tell me, lassie? Go on, use your words.”
“I don’t have anything to say to you, asshole,” you snap back, trying to suppress the urge to give him the attention he so desperately needs.
“But how often do you keep yourself busy with other women?”
You break. His grip slightly tightens, his confidence faltering for a split second.
“Ohh,” he remarks, an infuriating smile settling onto his face, “You’re jealous.”
“No, I’m just bored.”
He moves your wrists into his left hand, his right wrapping around to the front of your hips and under your skirt. He runs his thumb along your slit, your panties dripping with arousal.
“Doesn’t feel like you’re bored, love,” he says, pressing harder against you, “Please, darling, tell me what’s wrong. I already miss you.”
You scoff and roll your eyes, “Right. And you really think I’m stupid enough to believe that? I’ve already told you what’s wrong.”
“I do miss you,” he laughs, “And, no you haven’t. You’re too smart to be truly bothered by my little stunt earlier. Somethin’ else is bothering ya– and don’t say it’s your period I know that’s not true.”
You pouted, refusing to answer the question.
He ran a thumb over your lips, bending slightly to be able to gently kiss you. You don’t fight back.
He lets go of your wrists and you turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders bringing him in for another kiss.
He picks you up and you wrap your legs around him, he presses you into the wall, slipping his tongue past your lips.
This is hell, you think, Just tell him you’re done.
But, then again, you weren’t. That was the issue.
Your chest was tight and your brain foggy as you pulled away from the kiss.
Kidd’s chest heaved with heavy, deep breaths as he began the process of regaining his composure. He slowly lowered you down the wall until your feet touched the floor. He leaned against the wall, his metal arm resting above your head, caging you in. He placed a kiss on your forehead, and cupped your face with his right hand, bringing it up to his own. You stood on the tips of your toes and he bent lower to more easily pepper your face in kisses.
“‘m sorry lassie,” he said, between kisses, “I’m an arse.”
A huge one, you thought.
You kissed him back, his lips salty with the taste of sweat.
“Forgive me? Please? I… You mean a lot to me. Don’t be upset, I can't take it.”
A smile crept onto your face. You placed a hand on his chest, it felt like touching marble. He was so difficult to resist– but your mind flashed you the image of his arm around another woman and you steeled yourself. You pushed him back, slipping out from beneath his grasp walking out of the hallway back toward your own room.
He followed after you like a dog on a leash.
“Y/n, bonnie lass, hear me out, baby” he pleaded; You walked just fast enough to stay out of his reach, “I am sorry, love.”
You kept walking, your poor Captain trailing behind you uttering pleas, “Y/n, slow down lass, let me explain. She doesn’t mean anything to me, I just wanted to make you jealous.”
You stopped, finally having arrived at your destination.
“Make me jealous?” you repeated, turning to look at him, an expression of disgust settling on your face, “By bringing her on to OUR ship, hm? That was your genius idea, Captain? How did that work out for you?”
He sheepishly looked down at the floor, bringing a hand up to run through his hair. His cheeks were pink with embarrassment.
“Why on Earth would you ever pull some bullshit like that with me? I’d have never done that to you.”
This did get a rise out of him, “Oh, you’d never? So leaving me last night the way you did– with no explanation and a half-assed excuse is any better? You couldn’t even look at me, you refused to kiss me! Kiss me. It only makes sense you have another man on your mind.”
Your expression slightly relaxed, “Another man– that’s what you really think? That’s what this is all about?”
Kidd was silent, his stubbornness had gotten the better of him.
You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to offer him an explanation.
“Last night,” you started, “I got scared–”
“Scared? Of me?”
“Kidd!”
“Right, sorry, go on then.”
“I realized…” you paused, it was harder to say to his face than you expected, “I like you.”
Kidd’s countenance softened, “Well, lass, I’d hope you like me by now.”
“No, Kidd, I like you– I love–,” you bit your bottom lip, cutting yourself off.
Your captain’s eyes widened, before a sly smile began to spread on his face.
You ignored it, “I get that you don’t feel the same, I know this isn’t anything… serious, but–”
His arm shot out to wrap around you and pull you into him, you brought your own hands in front of yourself to push against his chest, maintaining the distance between the two of you.
“C’mere, lassie,” he laughed, easily overpowering you and hugging you into him, “You’re a stubborn little thing, ya know?”
You huffed, tears pooling on your lower lash line, this was all so frustrating.
“Look at me,” he said, lifting your gaze with a finger under your chin, “I love you, Y/n.”
You looked up at him and the sight of your pink, pouting lips and watery eyes made him dizzy.
He kissed you, squeezing your cheeks with his warm hand and squeezing your waist with the metal one. You deepened the kiss, slipping your tongue past his lips, reaching behind you to open the door to his bedroom.
Kidd understood your request plainly, picking you up and walking to his bed with you. The door shut with a harsh bang, drawing you both out of your momentary reverie.
Your captain gently placed you on the bed, pulling back to admire you.
“You’re the most beautiful woman on the ocean, you know?”
You smiled, blowing him a kiss. Kidd turned to lock the door and started undressing, giving you a moment to catch your breath. Your anxieties had completely evaporated since his lips touched yours, you took a deep breath to process your confessions to each other.
A smile made its way onto your features and your cheeks darkened.
Kidd made his way back onto the bed, and pulled you into him, where you laid on top of him resting your chin on his chest.
“I do love ya, lassie, I wasn’t joking,” he said.
“I know, Captain,” you said, visibly reassuring him.
“Shall I help you get these off, sweetness?” he asked, tugging at the hem of your shorts.
You nod but hold up a finger, you weren’t quite done reprimanding him.
“Captain,” you said, batting your eyelashes at him.
“Yes, lovely?”
“If you ever pull some shit like that again, I’ll kill you.”
His smile dropped for a split second before he started laughing, and rolled over to pin you against the mattress.
He bent down to kiss and suck at your neck.
“Eustass,” you said, voice flat, “I’m serious.”
“Mmm,” he left one more kiss before answering, “I know you are, trust me.
You’re part of the Straw Hat crew and met Trafalgar Law at Punk Hazard. As time passes, you develop a crush on him, but after Dressrosa, a failed attempt to comfort him causes you both to drift apart. Law starts noticing the distance between you.
Words Count: ~4,500 words
tags: angst and fluff, hurt/comfort, slow burn, healing, punk hazard, post-dressrosa
my masterlist here ♡
—
You first spoke to Law at Punk Hazard because he was standing alone—and something about the way he kept his arms folded, chin slightly dipped, gaze sharp—made you want to get under his skin. Not in a mean way. Just… curious.
“Do you always look like you’re calculating someone’s lifespan?”
You didn’t expect him to answer, really. But he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye and said, “Depends who’s asking.”
That was it. The moment it started. You laughed, loud enough to earn a glance from Luffy. Law didn’t laugh with you, of course. But his gaze didn’t leave yours.
After that, you made it a habit. Small comments. Light teasing. You’d drift toward him during meals or meetings, always with a grin, always testing the line.
And Law—well, he let you. He’d give curt replies, the occasional sigh, a subtle look of tolerance. But he never told you to stop.
You noticed the little things. Like how he didn’t step away when you stood close, or how his eyes would flick to you when you entered a room, just briefly, before shifting back like it hadn’t happened. Like it meant nothing.
Still, he was quiet. Hard to read. You never expected him to feel anything back.
But it didn’t stop the flutter in your chest every time he acknowledged you.
The ship was docked in a small, uncharted port for a quick break before setting sail for their next adventure. As usual, the crew was scattered around, either exploring or relaxing. You found yourself walking through the galley, where Chopper was sitting at the table, looking up at Law, who was reading a book, as usual, with his usual nonchalance.
“Law!” Chopper’s voice echoed. “Can you carry me? My legs are so tired from running around all day.”
You chuckled softly, watching the interaction. Law didn’t respond immediately, his eyes flicking over the top of his book. “I don’t have time for that,” he muttered.
“Please?” Chopper pleaded, his big eyes practically sparkling with hope.
Law let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “You’re a raccoon. You can walk just fine,” he replied, still not looking up.
“I’m a reindeer!!” Chopper whined, flailing his arms. “And I’m small! It’s hard to walk! And my hooves are getting sore…”
Law remained silent, and for a moment, you thought he might just ignore him. But then, without another word, Law stood up and walked over to Chopper, effortlessly scooping him up into his arms. Chopper let out a delighted giggle, and you could see the rare, soft expression on Law’s face.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Law muttered, not looking at you, but you saw the faintest smirk on his lips.
You couldn’t help but tease, “You look like you’re enjoying this more than you’re letting on.”
“I’m not,” Law replied, trying to keep his face neutral, but the slight pink tint to his cheeks gave him away. “He’s heavy.”
“Uh-huh,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “That’s why you’re carrying him like that?”
“I’m just saving my energy for more important things,” Law replied, his voice deadpan as he turned away, but you could tell he was trying to hide the smile that threatened to break through.
—
The kitchen was quiet except for the soft clinking of utensils and the rustling of bags as you decided to take over Sanji in preparing your snack. You were focused on making a quick sandwich when you noticed Law entering, his usual frown in place.
“Making food?” he asked, eyeing the bread you were preparing.
“Yep, just a snack,” you replied cheerfully. “Would you like some?”
Law didn’t even flinch. “Bread again?” he asked, the disapproval clear in his voice. “I told you I don’t like bread.”
You giggled, turning to face him. “You know, just because you’ve been to a few islands doesn’t mean all bread is the same.”
“I’m not hungry for bread,” he said, a slight growl to his tone, but he made no attempt to move.
“Fine, but you’ll be missing out,” you said teasingly. You reached for the bread and began spreading some jam on it, completely ignoring his objections.
“Can’t you make something else?” Law asked, clearly trying to avoid the topic of bread altogether.
“I’m busy. Ask Sanji.” you replied nonchalantly, continuing to spread the jam. “Besides, I’m not sure what else to make for you. You’re surprisingly picky!”
He crossed his arms and gave you a side-eye. “Are you making fun of me?”
“No, not at all,” you said with a playful grin. “Maybe if you stop being so picky, I’d cook you something better.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re impossible.”
“Well, it’s not my fault that you’re difficult to please.” You handed him the sandwich you had made, the smile on your face never fading. “But hey, you can at least try it. Who knows? You might end up liking it.”
He hesitated for a moment, but you caught the faintest glance of curiosity in his eyes. He took the sandwich from your hand and, with an exaggerated sigh, bit into it.
The look on his face was priceless. It was clear that he wasn’t particularly thrilled with the bread, but he was doing his best to hide it.
“Well?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s fine,” he said after a long pause, but the look in his eyes said otherwise.
“You’re not fooling anyone,” you said with a wink, knowing full well he was trying to be polite, but you could tell he wasn’t enjoying it.
Law’s lips twitched upward slightly, a rare, almost imperceptible smile. “You’re annoying,” he muttered, but there was no bite behind his words.
—
The days after Dressrosa had been heavy and tense. You noticed how the atmosphere had shifted. Law was quieter, withdrawn. It wasn’t just the injuries or the exhaustion—it was something deeper. Something that made him retreat even further into himself. The memories of Corazon.
You, too, felt the shift. Not only had you seen what the war with Doflamingo had done to him, but you’d also been silently nursing your growing feelings for him.
You tried to get his attention. Small touches, little words of encouragement, waiting for any sign that he might let his guard down. But no matter how close you tried to get, he kept his distance, his eyes always focused on something beyond you, something that you could never touch.
The pain of seeing him like this was almost unbearable. You had always admired him from afar, but after Dressrosa, something in you couldn’t just sit back and let him suffer.
So you did what you thought was best—you tried to comfort him.
It was late in the evening when you approached him again. The crew was scattered about the ship, and you found him standing at the stern, looking out at the fading light of the sunset. His posture was rigid, tense. You hesitated, unsure whether to approach, but your heart urged you forward. You had to at least try.
You stepped up quietly, your voice soft. “Law… I know you’re not feeling great, and I know you don’t want to talk about it, but you don’t have to go through this alone.”
His eyes flickered over to you, but he didn’t say anything at first. You weren’t sure whether he was listening or if he was lost in his thoughts, so you pressed on.
“I know you’re angry, and I know that the battle took a lot out of you. But I just… I just want to be here for you. I don’t want you to carry this alone.” You bit your lip, hoping he would hear the sincerity in your words.
There was a long pause before he finally spoke, his voice low and strained. “I don’t need anyone’s pity, Y/N.”
Your heart sank. You were so close, and yet the words you didn’t want to hear were coming out of his mouth. You weren’t pitying him—just offering comfort—but it wasn’t what he wanted. It wasn’t what he needed. And as much as it hurt, you knew it was no use.
“I’m not pitying you, Law,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the disappointment settling in your chest. “I just care about you. I hate seeing you like this.”
Another long pause, and this time you could feel the weight of his silence. His back was turned to you, his hands resting on the rail, eyes focused far off in the distance. He wasn’t facing you, but you could sense the tension in him growing, like he was fighting against something inside himself.
Finally, he spoke, his words cold. “Why are you always all over me? You’re damn annoying. I don’t need anyone right now. Not you. Not anyone.” His voice was quieter this time, like he was trying to convince himself of something, but the bitterness in his tone was still there.
You couldn’t help it—the words stung more than you expected. You had hoped that maybe, just maybe, he’d let you in. But that wasn’t going to happen now.
You turned away, feeling the crushing weight of his rejection in the pit of your stomach. You wanted to say more, to convince him to let you help, but the moment was gone. You took a deep breath, the sadness overwhelming you. “I’m sorry, Law,” you whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear. Then you walked away, your footsteps heavy as you retreated back to your quarters.
—
For the next few days, everything between you and Law changed. You had taken Law’s words to heart and began to withdraw from him. Your attempts to get close, to show him you cared, faded into nothing more than professional exchanges. You only spoke to him when necessary, keeping things strictly business. Your usual playful teasing, your attempts at being near him, stopped. It felt like a huge part of you was missing, but you couldn’t keep pushing him when he clearly didn’t want it.
And yet, Law noticed.
Law noticed the shift. He wasn’t blind, after all. He wasn’t sure when it had started, but the space between the two of you had grown too wide. The more you pulled away, the more it seemed to weigh on him, but he didn’t know how to fix it. He wasn’t used to being vulnerable, to having someone care for him the way you did.
He had pushed you away when you had tried to offer comfort, and now, in the silence that followed, he began to realize just how much he missed your presence.
He tried to reach out, but it was subtle. A glance here, a pause in his steps when he saw you, his voice softer when he spoke to you—but it wasn’t enough. It never felt like enough. He could see the way you’d avert your eyes when you talked to him now, how you only addressed him when necessary. He hated the distance between you. It was like a silent ache that wouldn’t go away.
The air between you and Law was thick with unspoken words. Every interaction felt like walking on eggshells.
You could feel his eyes on you sometimes, but you refused to acknowledge it. It was as though you were both trapped in a dance, stepping around each other but never quite meeting. And for a while, you didn’t know how to break it.
The quiet tension between you two didn’t escape the others. Even the crew began to notice. Zoro made a comment one day about how much the two of you had stopped talking. “You’ve been awfully distant lately,” he had said to you with a raised eyebrow. “What happened between you and the doc?”
You couldn’t even bring yourself to answer. You just shrugged, offering a quiet “Nothing,” as if that would explain everything. But deep down, you knew it was something more than that.
—
One afternoon, as the crew gathered on deck to relax, you sat near the railing, staring out at the sea. The sun was setting, painting the sky in soft hues of pink and orange, but you weren’t truly looking at it. Your mind kept drifting back to Law, and how you felt so much like a stranger to him now. His earlier words—telling you to leave him alone—echoed in your head. You had tried to give him space, to respect his wishes, but that didn’t mean you didn’t miss the connection you had once shared.
The sound of footsteps approached, and though you didn’t turn around, you knew it was him. Law stood just behind you, quietly observing. You could feel the weight of his gaze, but you didn’t react. Instead, you kept your eyes fixed on the horizon, pretending not to notice.
“You’ve been distant,” Law said, his voice soft but cutting through the silence like a knife.
You didn’t reply at first. Instead, you took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, your fingers curling tighter around the railing. “I’m just giving you what you wanted,” you said finally, your tone colder than you intended.
There was a brief pause. You could hear Law shift, but he didn’t speak again. The silence grew heavier between the two of you, and you felt the tension rise. Law took a small step closer, but still, he didn’t say anything more.
It wasn’t like him to back down. You expected more from him—some kind of argument or insistence—but instead, he fell silent. It left you feeling even more uncertain.
—
The next day, Law tried again, though this time, his approach was even more subtle. As you were organizing supplies in the galley, you caught him watching you out of the corner of your eye. When you looked up, he quickly turned away, pretending to inspect something on the opposite side of the room.
But you could see the way his gaze flicked back to you when he thought you weren’t looking. And though he said nothing, you could sense a flicker of unease in his posture, something he hadn’t shown before.
Later that afternoon, you walked into the library, the creaky wooden floorboards beneath your feet echoing in the stillness. You had intended to grab a book, but as you turned a corner, you almost collided with Law, who had clearly been heading the same way. You both froze for a second, neither of you quite knowing how to react.
“I didn’t mean to get in your way,” he said after a long beat, his voice softer than usual.
You couldn’t help but notice how he avoided looking directly at you. His eyes drifted to the side, and his shoulders were tense as if he was bracing for something.
“It’s fine,” you muttered, stepping around him.
Before you could continue, he reached out, lightly grazing your arm. His touch was brief—barely noticeable—but it made your heart skip a beat. You glanced at him, and for the briefest moment, you saw something flicker in his eyes.
“Y/N,” Law said quietly, as if testing the waters. “Are we okay?”
The question took you off guard. His tone was so sincere that it almost caught you off balance. But you quickly shut it down, not letting your feelings show.
“We’re fine,” you answered quickly, turning away.
⸻
The following days passed in a haze of missed opportunities and strained exchanges. Law’s attempts continued, each one more subtle than the last, but they were there. He’d offer a slight, almost imperceptible smile when you crossed paths, or occasionally make small talk, his words carefully chosen, though his usual confident demeanor had been replaced with something more uncertain.
It wasn’t until the night before you docked at the next island that you realized just how much the distance between you had grown. You were alone on the deck, gazing at the stars, when you heard a familiar voice behind you.
“Y/N.”
You turned around, not surprised to see Law standing there, his arms crossed as he leaned casually against the railing. His face was neutral, but there was a nervousness in his posture that you hadn’t seen before.
“Law,” you said, trying to sound indifferent, but the way his name slipped from your lips made it clear you weren’t as unaffected as you pretended.
He hesitated before speaking, his gaze falling to the ground. “I’ve been trying,” he said quietly. “I don’t know how else to fix this… but I’m trying.”
The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache. You’d spent so much time avoiding him, burying the hurt, but hearing him like this… it was too much to ignore.
“You don’t just get to say you’re trying,” you said, your voice tinged with frustration. “I’m not your… your backup plan, Law. I can’t just forget what you said.”
He winced at the sting in your words, but he didn’t look away. “I didn’t mean it,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was angry. And I didn’t want to drag you down with me. But that was wrong. I shouldn’t have shut you out.”
There was a long pause between you, neither of you speaking. The night was still, the only sounds being the faint lapping of waves against the ship. Slowly, you took a step toward him, your eyes meeting his for the first time in days. The distance between you felt smaller now, though the weight of everything still hung heavy.
“I don’t know how to make this right,” he admitted. “But I don’t want to lose you.”
His words hit you like a wave, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to feel something other than frustration. You took a breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked up at him.
“I don’t want to lose you either,” you said, your voice steady despite the emotion threatening to rise.
Law’s eyes softened, and for a moment, it felt like everything else faded away.
And then, before you could stop yourself, you reached up, your hand brushing his cheek. It was a simple gesture, but it felt like the world had shifted in that one moment.
Law closed his eyes briefly, his breath hitching at the contact. When he opened them again, there was an intensity in his gaze that made your heart race.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
You didn’t say anything in response, not immediately. Instead, you leaned in, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was gentle at first, as if testing the waters.
For a split second, Law didn’t respond. His lips stayed still under yours, as though waiting for you to lead. And then, as if giving in to the quiet desperation you both had been hiding, his lips moved against yours. The kiss deepened, tentative at first, then more confident, a mix of relief and pent-up emotion that neither of you had allowed to surface before.
But it was his body that betrayed him first. You could feel the heat rising in his skin, the subtle flush spreading across his cheeks and neck, and his fingers, which had been holding onto the railing, suddenly loosened their grip. His breathing quickened, and for a moment, you could feel his chest rise and fall in a way that matched the unspoken vulnerability in the kiss. He was blushing—a rare and almost imperceptible flush that painted his usually stoic face with a soft warmth.
When the kiss broke, you stayed close, the air thick with the emotions neither of you had fully expressed. Law’s breath was shallow, and his eyes were still closed, his forehead resting against yours as if trying to collect himself.
“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. He didn’t move away, his hand slowly coming up to cup the back of your neck, keeping you there just a little longer.
You didn’t say anything right away, content to stay in the moment. But then, you spoke softly, your lips brushing against his when you did. “We’ll figure this out,” you said, your words steady despite the storm inside you.
Law’s eyes opened then, the usual guarded expression now replaced with something raw and genuine.
He smiled, a small, genuine smile that reached his eyes for the first time in days. “Yeah. We will.”
-
a/n: and that’s it for my first ever fic! what do you think? :)
