#in a timeline blob

[parachutingkitten]

My guess is that for DR they want to leave lots of things open for the next season upon seasons until they’re told they can’t do anymore. Ninjago is one of Lego’s biggest hits so they probably know they have a good chance of not being left on a cliffhanger show finale. Plus it seems like a majority of the fans are all crazy for DR so they’re drip feeding all the major points to have it feel more like one big thing compared to other seasons of the show which didn’t reference eachother often. Perhaps trying to capture some semblance of the Oni Trilogy but on a larger scale? Or to keep fans majorly hooked maybe

I do get the need to keep the story going, and I'm not going to sit here and pretend that ninjago's more episodic season approach is the only/best way to do that. But at the rate we're actually getting questions answered, I've just never finished an installment and felt satisfied yet. You know? It's always felt like a midpoint climax, and never a cliffhanger finale. More of a "well, i guess we've gotta wait for more episodes" and never a "Wow! That was such a good season! I can't wait to see where they go in the next installment!"

I need that sense of completion man! That sense of closure! I crave the feeling of holding a complete product in my hand- even if it is just the first book of a trilogy you know?

[sweeteastart]

Born to be a gremlin putting red strings between scratchy post it notes about the sillies forced to write academic papers

[mahikamihan]

don't worry, dream has friends to take care of him :)

[timothyslucy]

i've never been pregnant before, so maybe my maternity math isn't mathing, but i feel like penelope should've been at the very tail end of her pregnancy and suddenly popped right there in the featherington drawing room cause i'd kill to get the reactions of every single person in that full house after she suddenly grabs her stomach in pain like, "i think it's time".

[samthecookielord]

I just can't stop putting this guy in assassin au because its hilarious (well first image isnt The assassin au because. *gestures at Done* but yeah silly variant where he does get murdered loll) (and pssst go read Done hehe) (assassin au - @snekatiemainy & @thiaquiche )

[neptuniadoesstuff]

Greenbel & MO

Yay more silly doodles, but this time this doodle board is gonna be MO: Astray related bcs I HAVENT DRAWN MO: ASTRAY CONTENT MUCH EVEN THO IM LITERALLY A FRIKIN FAN OF IT. HELL, MY PFP IS LITERALLY MY VER OF GREENBEL!

Also these post will contain a lil funfact about me when I first discovered this game back in late 2020.

Today's Fact is: I used to draw Greenbel with long hair only, but I kinda don't anymore (Well sorta). The ponytail I gave him is more of a reference to that thing I did back then bcs I didn't know how to draw humans you know... correctly... (anatomy wise-)

And yes this is more of me messing with that new brush. I'll still use the graphite & normal pencil on IbisPaint but this is just for funsies... Anyways... I may or may not draw Canon!Sirius meeting TLB (my ver)!Sirius. (& yeh I kinda decided to use MO's in game/canon colors but added my own details)

Credits

Characters belong to Rayark & Archpray. However these are my versions of said characters.

Art iz mine.

Program: IbisPaint

Bubs' TOS: Plz don't repost/steal, trace, or recolor my art WITHOUT MY PERMISSION! If you do, I'll take yur femur and pelvis.. SO, DON'T THINK ABOUT IT! (The PNS on my blog's pinned post clearly means "Please No Steal" plz follow that rule.) If you do post my art on anything like yur blog or somewhere else (With my permission) PLEASE CREDIT ME!

[askrossiel]

' now, this "speedwagon" foundation y'all were talkin' about sounds mighty interestin' if i do say so myself. ' chin gently resting on the palm of her hand, dolly's fingers curl around the side of her face. she's smiling, of course, though that isn't always a good sign. ( i didn't know which part rossie is from, so i wrote smth v vague 😔 if you wanna give me more info, i'd be happy to write smth else! )

A hand idly brushes the organization's emblem on her uniform-sleeve. "It is a good, stable place to land for those who have found themselves in... delicate situations. When it became difficult for me to make my way solely as a concert harpist, the Foundation was there for me-- I, for one, am proud of the work I have been able to do now as part of the environmental research and conservation branch, and others in the medical side of things have expressed similar sentiments."

She would say nothing, of course, about the special research unit (and would, in fact, pretend it did not exist) until both parties had ceased to dance coyly around the egotistical, undead elephant in the room.

[aideshou]

What an interesting life chopped champ pizza boiii has had. When he was two he fell out of a 2nd story window and a folding lawn chair saved his life, now he brings one everywhere. He also became a chopped champion and somehow ended up on my island as a summer worker.

[augiewrites]

"valley reverie" - sebastian

summary: the timeline of sebastian and the farmer’s relationship based on canon dialogue

pairing: sdv sebastian x farmer

word count: 2.5K

a/n: this may be my magnum opus

The sun was beginning its descent behind the mountains when Sebastian emerged from the house for the first—and only—time that day.

He shot a glance to his mother and Demetrius, who were standing at the edge of their property, looking over the valley bathed in golden light. His mother sent a small smile back, followed by a pointed disappointed look at the carton of cigarettes held loosely in his hand. Demetruis didn’t acknowledge his existence.

Sebastian knew it was a nasty habit, but he spent most of his life with not much thought to the future—he was surprised he made it this far. Maybe his life would have been different if he had planned better; if he had considered for a moment that there was such a thing as life past sixteen, then eighteen, then twenty-one. He supposed he should start to consider a life past twenty-four, but quickly dropped the thought as he placed the cigarette between his lips and continued his stroll to the lake.

He saw it then, as his lighter sparked to life and helped the cigarette take eleven minutes off his.

Someone was sitting in his spot. A humanoid blob of denim focused intently on the bobber floating in the water.

He hesitated, then decided to keep moving—his trajectory now locked in past the stranger and across the rickety planks of wood to the smaller islands in the middle of the lake. His mother had been saying for years that she needed to build something more structurally sound, but had yet to get around to it.

As he got closer, he took in more of the scene. There was a muddy bucket next to the stranger, and he noticed a couple slimy carp flopping around inside. Whoever this was, they clearly didn’t have enough experience to catch the tricker creatures in the lake.

Just as he was about to slip past toward solitude, he locked eyes with the stranger. Their bored expression quickly turned to worry.

“Sorry, am I in your spot? Robin said it was okay for me to fish here.”

Recognition sparked in his brain—his mother had told him about the new resident of Pelican Town. The words she had used to describe them flashed behind his eyes: sweet, a little lost, cute. That last one was sent his way with an exaggerated wink and met with a scoff from him.

“Oh. You just moved in, right? Cool.”

The farmer didn’t respond, just looked on waiting for an answer to their question. Sebastian didn’t gratify them with a response, instead looking across the lake at the tree line and abandoned quarry.

“Out of all the places you could live, you chose Pelican Town?”

The farmer scrunched up their mouth slightly, beginning to reel in their line. There was nothing but a limp worm dangling from the hook. Sebastian took note of the grieving look flashing on their face before it was gone in a blink.

“Better than where I was.”

Sebastian didn’t bother responding as the farmer heaved up the bucket—they were a lot stronger than they looked—and walked away without another word.

Robin smiled at the farmer with a wave and shouted goodnight before sending another disapproving look to her son.

_________________________________________

Sebastian heaved open the door of the house, exhausted from band practice. Sam was his best friend, and he enjoyed spending time with him more than he would admit, but the newest addition to the band was definitely a hindrance.

He didn’t dislike Abigail, and he couldn’t deny that she was a talented drummer, but he had been hoping for years that her little crush on him would fade away. He could only take so much of puppy dog eyes and over exaggerated laughter at his quips that definitely aren’t that funny.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts on how to shake off the purple-haired girl—more importantly, how to shake her off without actual confrontation—that he didn’t notice the farmer leaning against the shop counter until their voice pierced through. His mother was nowhere to be seen, so they had to have been talking to him.

“What? I didn't hear you...I'm busy thinking about something. What do you want?”

The farmer narrowed their eyes at him, leveling him with a glare. “You know, I get that you’d rather be listening to My Chemical Romance and jerking off to Nietzsche than interacting with a human being, but you really need to work on your people skills.”

Well, he hadn’t been expecting that.

He expected avoidance from the farmer, based on their first meeting and subsequent run-ins where they gave him a nod of acknowledgement before going back to acting like he didn’t exist.

He realized that the farmer wasn’t as timid and one-dimensional as he let himself think.

The moment was saved by Robin entering the shop room and dropping a workbench on the floor with a heavy thud. “You’ll make better use of this than I have lately—it’s pretty old,” she looked up from the dusty bench, noticing her son frozen in the doorway, “oh, hi Sebby.”

“Sebby?” the farmer questioned with a smirk.

Sebastian rolled his eyes, brushing past his mother to get to his lair.

“Sorry about him,” he heard his mother as he descended the stairs.

“It’s fine,” the farmer laughed, “he’s cool.”

He couldn’t help the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. _________________________________________

Sebastian looked down at the frozen tear in his hand with a neutral expression on his face, though his heart was quickening its pace.

“Gunther told me it’s fabled to be the frozen tears of a yeti.”

He met the farmer’s grin with one of his own, “I really love this. How did you know?”

They shrugged, “Seemed like some emo shit you’d be into.”

A breathy laugh escaped him before he could stop it. “Well…thanks.”

“No prob. I’ll keep an eye out for more when I’m in the mines.”

“The mines?,” his brow furrowed, “how far down did you go?”

“Not super deep, I think I stopped at sixty since it was getting late.”

Sebastian gaped at the farmer—who he now realized he really misjudged—as they shouldered their backpack and turned toward the door.

“Oh,” they stopped just shy of the threshold, “your code is wrong, by the way. Third line down.”

He looked to the screen, baffled, seeing that there was, in fact, a mistake in his code.

He began to ask the farmer how they knew that, but they were gone. _________________________________________

The sun was setting on the valley, and Sebastian found himself sitting by the lake’s edge with the farmer, who was reeling in sturgeon and bass with ease.

“I’m sure the city’s different for other people, but it was corporate hell for me,” the farmer spoke softly as they baited their hook—it was different than any bait he had ever seen, and the farmer had informed him that the wild man living behind their house had taught them the recipe.

Sebastian hummed, “I guess that makes sense.”

“You guess?” the farmer teased him, flicking water at his face.

He blew a puff of smoke in their face.

The farmer coughed, then began to laugh as they fanned the smoke out of their face, “asshole.”

Sebastian grinned, leaning back on the palms of his hands and gazing across the water.

They sat in comfortable silence as the farmer cast out their line and half-heartedly focused on the bobber—they didn’t really need it anymore, but liked the safety net.

“You and Sam are probably my only friends in this town.” Sebastian broke the silence, but continued looking straight ahead.

“Well I am very likable.”

Sebastian knocked their shoulders together with a scoff.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” _________________________________________

Sebastian was indifferent—and sometimes loathful—toward most events held in their little town, but tonight was an exception. It was hard to not be in awe of the midnight jellies, and he was excited for the farmer to see them for the first time.

They were perched at the edge of the dock, along with Sam and Abigail, their feet dangling inches above the water.

It was a lot colder than expected, and the farmer was bundled in his black jacket. He couldn’t help but feel bad about the sad glances Abigail was sending their way.

The farmer looked content, and Sebastian recalled something they told him at the beginning of the season—the used to be terrified of the ocean before moving to the valley.

He nudged their shoulder with his own. It didn’t take much effort—they were sitting a lot closer than he realized. A light blush dusted his cheekbones.

“I thought I saw something moving in there…” he pointed to the void of the ocean and leaned closer to their ear, whispering, “something big, something dark.”

The farmer’s eyes widened as they looked across the vast darkness before they narrowed and turned to him.

“Just trying to scare you...” Sebastian laughed.

The farmer smiled, knocking their knee against his, muttering an all too familiar “asshole.”

It wasn’t too long before Lewis sent out the first lantern, and the water surrounding the docks was filled with glowing jellyfish.

“It’s beautiful,” the farmer breathed out as their head landed on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” his eyes landed on a glowing green jelly before looking down at the farmer, “it is.” _________________________________________

Sebastian never saw the farm in its full glory—before the farmer’s grandfather grew old and passed away—but he had been there plenty of times when it was overgrown and abandoned.

He had told the farmer this as they sat on the newly installed swinging bench on their porch. They joked that they would be suing him for trespassing, since it was technically their property at the time, even if they hadn’t known it.

It was a chilly fall day, but the farmer had made a pot of coffee to keep them warm.

“I thought this was your busy season,” Sebastian lit up a cigarette and moved the ashtray closer to where he sat. It was a newer addition to the farmer’s decor. He thought about the prideful look on their face as they held it up and told him that Leah let them use her pottery wheel. It was painted with little creatures that looked like the much happier cousins of the slimes living in the caves.

The farmer hummed, holding their mug close to their face, but not taking a sip, “Yeah…a lot busier than I thought it would be, actually.”

He grinned at them, “so, you’re slacking today, huh?”

The farmer laughed.

“I’d rather hang out with your sorry ass than work.” Despite the insult, the farmer’s tone was soft and earnest. Sebastian felt his cheeks heat up.

“Could you picture me living on a farm? It seems ridiculous, but I have been thinking about it lately.”

“If I could do it, then so could you,” the farmer linked their pinky with his, “it’s a lot more freeing than you’d think.” _________________________________________

Boxes filled with Sebastian’s things lined the walls of the farmhouse, but Sebastian and the farmer lay in bed, choosing to ignore them. 

They had all the time in the world.

The farmer was twirling the pendant dangling from Sebastian’s neck, “there’s steam coming out of your ears, Seb,” the farmer giggled and smoothed out the wrinkle between his brows with their finger.

“I’ve just been thinking,” Sebastian turned his attention from the ceiling to the farmer, “The older I get, the less I'm drawn to the city. It had a certain mystique to it, once. But it turns out that was just a romantic fantasy. The city's so busy, so full of people... I don't belong there. I'm a loner.”

A beat.

“Present company excluded, of course.”

The farmer laughed, “Well I would hope so,” they tugged gently on the pendant, pulling him closer, “because you’re stuck with me.” _________________________________________

Sebastian and the farmer had joined his family for dinner, and his mother had shooed them away with one hand as she cooed at the bundle held tightly in her other arm.

The valley was coming to life, but the ghost of a winter chill was in the air. They settled down by the lake despite the cold. It was no longer his spot, but theirs.

The farmer was skipping stones across the lake when he grumbled about how being in that spot made him want a smoke.

“No one’s stopping you,” the farmer laughed.

“I am.”

The farmer still held a loose smile as they raised their eyebrows at him, “oh?”

“I'm trying my best to quit smoking now that we're married…” He avoided their gaze and brushed some mud on the palm of his hand onto his jeans, “I don't wanna die on you. It's a bad habit. I want to have a future together.”

A baby cried in the distance. Sebastian and the farmer smiled at each other. _________________________________________

The farmer was surprised to find Sebastian’s side of the bed empty when they woke up. It wasn’t a rare occasion, as they usually found Sebastian in the kitchen after a restless sleep, but he was nowhere to be found.

They couldn’t help but worry a little bit as they pulled on their boots and opened the screen door. They paused out of instinct to let the dog run out before them only to realize that the dog wasn’t hot on their heels like usual.

They had only gotten two steps onto the porch before a mass of fur and slobber crashed into their legs.

“Oh hello baby,” they cooed down at the dog as it rolled onto its back, breathing heavily out of excitement, “good morning stink.”

“Good morning to you too.”

The farmer was so caught up in giving the dog attention that they hadn’t noticed Sebastian leaning against the porch railing.

They straightened from their crouch, smiling at him as the dog whined from the loss of affection.

“I couldn’t fall back asleep, so I went ahead and fed the animals,” he pushed off the railing and took a few steps forward to fix a rogue piece of the farmer’s hair, “one less thing for you to do.”

“Thanks, Seb,” the farmer said softly, suddenly bashful, “I’m going to check on the pumpkins. Thought I could make some soup tonight if any of them are ripe.”

They took a few steps off the porch, “feel like being a country boy today? Or did you get your fix?”

He smiled, leaning his forearms against the railing, “I'll just watch you from here. I enjoy watching you.” _________________________________________

Sebastian and the farmer found themselves sitting on the porch swing once again. It was a mild summer evening, and he was looking on as a toddler played with the dog in the yard.

He tore his attention away from the rowdy scene in front of him to look at the farmer, who was curled up at his side reading a book. He felt his heart swell.

“This is so different from my old life, but I'm really starting to like it. I feel like I really belong here.”

The farmer looked up from the book in their lap, smiling.

“I don't often show it, but I'm really happy that I'm your husband. Marrying you was the best decision I ever made.”

[amourquinn]

( short fic ) everything

pairing : boyfriend!quinn x fem!reader wc. 1.2k

genre : extreme fluff no warnings

summary : you and quinn spend christmas eve together and it ends with a beautiful surprise

the apartment smelled like sugar and cinnamon, warm and inviting. the faint hum of a christmas playlist played in the background, filling the air with soft jingles and cheerful tunes. it was december 24, and your favorite tradition with quinn hughes was in full swing: decorating cookies.

you sat cross-legged at the kitchen island, armed with piping bags filled with brightly colored icing, sprinkles scattered across the counter. quinn stood across from you, wearing an apron he’d claimed he didn’t need—though his flour-dusted hands and icing-streaked cheek suggested otherwise.

“alright, quinn-casso,” you teased, pointing at the lopsided tree he’d just decorated. the green icing was uneven, and the star looked more like a blob.

he held it up, feigning offense. “what? this is art. you just don’t get it.”

you laughed, snapping a picture with your polaroid camera. the flash caught him mid-eye-roll, flour still smudged on his cheek.

“add it to the collection,” you said, shaking the photo and setting it on the counter to develop.

the collection was an assortment of candid photos you’d been taking all month—quinn tangled in christmas lights, the two of you picking out a tree, him wearing the santa hat you’d forced on him. the pictures were scattered on the fridge, a chaotic but charming timeline of your holiday season together.

“fine,” quinn said, grabbing another cookie. “but if you’re going to document this, i’m going to make the best-looking snowman you’ve ever seen.”

you leaned on your elbow, watching him carefully pipe white icing onto the cookie. his tongue poked out slightly in concentration, a detail that made your heart swell.

“not bad,” you admitted as he added tiny sprinkle buttons.

“‘not bad’? that’s perfection,” he said, placing it on the tray with a satisfied grin.

you shook your head, laughing softly. “i guess i’ll give you that one.”

the two of you worked through the tray of cookies, decorating everything from candy canes to reindeer. you captured moments on your polaroid as you went: quinn sticking sprinkles on his nose to make you laugh, you holding up a cookie shaped like a heart, and the tray of finished cookies, a chaotic mix of skill and whimsy.

when the cookies were done, you both collapsed onto the couch with mugs of hot chocolate. the christmas tree twinkled softly in the corner, the ornaments catching the glow of the lights.

“i think we outdid ourselves this year,” quinn said, holding up a cookie shaped like a stocking.

“speak for yourself,” you teased, holding up one of your own. “mine are way better.”

he rolled his eyes, nudging your shoulder with his. “you’re lucky i love you.”

you smiled, leaning into him. “i know.”

⋆˙⟡

as the night wore on, the stack of polaroids grew. quinn had taken over the camera at some point, snapping pictures of you mid-laugh or caught off guard. one photo in particular made you laugh—a close-up of your face, icing smeared on your cheek.

“quinn! i wasn’t ready for that one!”

“that’s the point,” he said, smirking.

eventually, it was time for the part of the evening you both looked forward to the most: exchanging gifts.

“okay,” you said, hopping off the couch and grabbing a small, neatly wrapped box from under the tree. “you first.”

quinn set his mug down, his eyes lighting up as he took the box. “you know you didn’t have to get me anything, right?”

“yeah, yeah,” you said, waving him off. “just open it.”

he carefully unwrapped the box, lifting the lid to reveal a vintage hockey puck encased in glass. his jaw dropped.

“is this…”

you nodded, grinning. “it’s from your first-ever college game. i found it online, and the guy who had it was willing to sell. i thought you’d want to have it.”

he stared at it for a moment, his fingers brushing the glass. “this is amazing. thank you.”

his voice was soft, and when he looked up at you, his expression was full of gratitude. he set the puck down and leaned over to kiss you, his lips warm and lingering against yours.

“alright,” he said, pulling back. “your turn.”

he stood and grabbed a box from behind the tree. it was big, wrapped in shiny gold paper with a perfectly tied bow.

“wow,” you said, taking it from him. “someone went all out.”

“just open it,” he said, his grin mischievous.

you tore into the paper, lifting the lid to reveal… a polaroid camera. not just any camera, though—it was a custom design, your initials etched into the side, and the strap was embroidered with tiny snowflakes.

“quinn,” you breathed, running your fingers over the details.

“i know how much you love taking pictures,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “so i thought you’d like something a little more special.”

you set the box aside and threw your arms around him, holding him tightly. “it’s perfect. thank you.”

for a moment, the two of you just stood there, wrapped in each other. the night felt perfect, like something out of a storybook.

“actually…” quinn pulled back slightly, a nervous edge to his voice.

“what?” you asked, your brow furrowing.

he reached into his pocket, and he took out a neatly wrapped box. it wasn’t the biggest gift, but there was something about the way he held it, his expression a mix of nerves and excitement, that made your heart race.

“quinn…” you started, but he cut you off with a small smile.

“here.”

you unwrapped the box carefully, lifting the lid to reveal a delicate silver ring. It wasn’t flashy, but it was beautiful, a small diamond set into the band, understated and perfect. your breath caught in your throat.

“it’s not what you think,” quinn said quickly, rubbing his left arm. it’s not… you know, that ring. not yet, anyway.”

you looked up at him, your heart pounding. “so it’s—”

“it’s a promise ring,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “i know we’re not there yet, but i wanted you to know how serious i am about us. that i want this—you—for the long haul. this is my way of saying i’m all in, even if we’re not at the finish line yet.”

tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you stared at him, at the boyish grin on his face and the sincerity in his eyes.

“quinny…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“i love you,” he said, reaching for your hand. “and i just wanted you to know that.”

you nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek as you let him slide the ring onto your finger. “i love you too. so much.”

he let out a breath, relief washing over his face as he pulled you into his arms. for a moment, the world outside disappeared, leaving just the two of you wrapped in each other.

when you finally pulled back, you held up your hand, admiring the ring. “this is perfect. you’re perfect.”

quinn smiled, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “i wouldn’t say perfect. my cookies were… mediocre.”

you laughed, swatting his arm. “hey, don’t ruin the moment.”

the night went on, filled with more moments that you knew you’d treasure forever. and as you sat there, leaning against quinn with the soft glow of the tree around you, you couldn’t help but think that this christmas was everything you’d ever wanted—and more.

© amourquinn

[annievrse]

It Only Feels This Raw Right Now / Act II

Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader  Summary: When your captain, Luffy, tells you to run from Bartholomew Kuma on the Sabaody Archipelago instead of fighting, you end up on a submarine. Takes place during the time skip. W/C: 18.3k C/W: Fic structure: Sabaody Archipelago → Dressrosa spoilers, canon timeline but majority canon-divergent events, she/her pronouns, no use of y/n. Content: descriptions of injuries, blood, passing out, guns + getting shot.

Labyrinth Series Masterlist

— Scene 1 —

In the two months that followed, you learned to draw maps. It wasn’t that you were disappointed; working with Bepo was fun, but when Luffy said Law would be training you, you expected more. 

Luffy had gone through with the plan he vaguely mentioned to you, and seeing him in the newspaper with 3D2Y on his arm made you queasy—he neglected to tell you the part where he went back to Marineford—but you were so insanely proud of him. Since then, you’d heard nothing about him or your crew mates. However, you kept the newspaper folded in your room like your own personal treasure, along with a wanted poster of Law you found in the streets of Sabaody.

After Amazon Lily, the Heart Pirates returned to Sabaody for a few days to prepare for a journey to another island. You refrained from visiting the Sunny—Law warned you that there’d be heavy Marine presence around it, so you kept away from your beloved ship. It wasn’t until you were walking back to the Polar Tang that you saw Law’s poster and thought the photo they used for it was hilarious. It brought back some of the humour you’d been missing from Usopp and Luffy. 

You giggle to yourself. 

“What’s funny?” Bepo asks, his paw paused over the map he is currently working on. “Please don’t tell me you’re laughing at this.” 

“No! No, Bepo,” You laugh. “No, I’m just thinking about something else.” 

“You better be,” He says, dropping the brush on the table. “I’m done.” 

You peer over at the map. A large pawprint smudges the edge of the page, and the handwriting is a little scribbly, but his measurements are accurate, and you nod. “Perfect.” 

Nami’s face flashes through your mind, and instead of feeling upset, like you have been, you smile. “Add the cardinal points to the top corner.”

“Oh!” Bepo blushes, picking up the paintbrush. “Thanks.”

“You done?” 

You turn, seeing Law in the doorway of the boiler room. He raises an eyebrow when neither of you answer. 

“Yep,” Bepo holds up the still-drying map. “Look, captain.” 

“It’s a blob,” Law criticises, squinting at it. 

“It’s Amazon Lily.” 

Law shrugs. “I guess that’s as good as it’ll get, yes?” 

Bepo nods, glancing at you nervously.

“Considering you’re not allowed on the island, I think it's decent,” You say, smiling at Law. 

He doesn’t give you the same reaction. “I need you in the infirmary.” 

You shoot Bepo a glance, and he nods in encouragement. “I’ll be fine.”

Wiping your hands on your pants, you follow him out and up the stairs. The submarine is on its way to a new island in Paradise, and the engine muffles any voices on other floors. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Law doesn’t turn to talk to you. “I want to try something.” 

His words make your stomach drop. Try something? 

You’re almost jogging to keep up with his long strides. “Okay, well, can I know now?”

He sighs, giving you a sidelong glance. You smile widely at him, trying to persuade him, and Law knows he’ll give in. He always does. 

“I want to try your sewing technique on someone.” 

“Like an injury?”

Law nods. “Shachi slipped and split his eyebrow open on the kitchen counter, and I figured it was about time you showed me how you do it. I have yet to see your powers used for that instead of strangling me.”

Your hand brushes your side where your wound was. It took a while, but the gash Kuma gave you has healed nicely. All that’s left is a level scar. 

Scoffing, you bump his bicep with your shoulder. “Dick.”

Law exhales sharply, a humourless laugh that makes you grin with satisfaction. 

“At least I didn’t take your heart. That was fucked up.” 

Law shrugs lazily, taking a sharp left into the infirmary. “I said I was sorry.” 

“You said what?” Shachi exclaims, his eyes wide. There’s a white bandage wrapped around his head, protruding above his left eye where a thicker gauze sits. “I’ve never heard you say sorry, Cap.” 

“First time for everything, Shachi.” Law mumbles, pulling on white latex gloves. He approaches his crew member and removes the bandage. 

You stand to the side, watching with interest as the injury is revealed. It’s a nasty cut, and you cringe when Shachi merely blinks. 

“Not as bad as it looks,” He says when he sees you scrunch your face up. “Doesn’t hurt.” 

You nod, not believing him. 

“She’s going to stitch you up,” Law comments, gesturing to you. “That okay?” 

Shachi tries to raise his other eyebrow, but to no avail. “That’s fine. Just don’t stab my eye out.” 

“I won’t,” You say, walking up to him. Law stands back, eyeing how you position your hands over Shachi’s face. “Ready?”

He nods, wiping his palms on his boiler suit. “Go for it.” 

“Sew.” 

Concentrating, you aim for the first stitch at the end of the cut, your power taking over the rest of the way. It’s easy like this when you have a set path to follow. You glance at Law, who watches you work attentively. His dark eyebrows are furrowed, and you wonder what he’s thinking. 

“I have done this on someone before,” You say. “When Zoro went up against Mihawk, I had to stitch his torso back together.”

“Zoro…” Shachi eyes widen. “As in Roronoa Zoro?”

“Yes, dumbass. How’d that go?”

You shrug. “Procedure was fine.”

Law hums, and you know he knows you’re keeping the aftermath quiet. 

It takes no time for you to finish the stitches, and with a flick of your finger, the open cut has been reduced to a single line, small sutures tied every four millimetres. It’s clean, and you smile at your handiwork.  

“Done,” You exhale, your hands trembling with energy. “Are you okay?”

Shachi beams up at you. “That didn’t hurt one bit. Are you a witch or something?”

You laugh, balling your hands into fists at your sides. Law’s attention has moved to your hands, and you move to hide them. 

“Shachi, get out of here,” Law demands, his gaze focused on you. 

“Yes, captain.” 

You stand idly, anxiety brewing in your stomach as the door clicks shut. 

“You okay?”

You consider him for a moment. His timbre is far more concerned than you expected, and you nod.

He squints at you with suspicion. “You’re not. Your hands are still clenched.” 

You release them immediately, dried blood smeared on your palms. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” He says. “You need to release your power.” 

Shrugging, you sigh and bring your hands up. “I don’t know why it happens.”

Law swallows thickly, studying your palms. “Is that what happened with Zoro?”

You knew he was going to ask. “It was killing me.” 

He nods, mulling something over. “We’re docking at the next island.”

“What? Why?”

“You need to get rid of that energy. Otherwise, it’ll keep building up, and you’ll pass out like you did on Amazon Lily, or worse.” 

You think back—you did use your power to prevent the rocks from falling on both you and Luffy, and there was a copious amount of blood on your hands when you ran back. The blood. When you finished Zoro’s surgery, the blood on your hands was terrifying, yet you hadn’t touched Zoro at all. The blood. 

“You think the blood on my hands comes from me?”

“There’s a possibility,” Law nods. “We’d need to see your power in full force. But I think you’re power is so immense that when you use it in small doses, like stitching someone up, the built-up power that you don’t use has nowhere to go, so it pricks your skin so much that you bleed.”

The words come out of your mouth before you can stop them. “You’re brilliant.” 

Law clears his throat. “I just did more study on Paramica fruits. It’s nothing.” 

You feel your heart skip a beat. “But, you did more study because you noticed the blood on my hands. I would’ve never thought it’d be about the power I don’t use.” 

“It’s my job.”

“You’re stupidly smart, Law,” You laugh, stepping toward the door. “Just take the compliment.” 

Law sighs and turns his back to you. He busies himself with attempting to rearrange the shiny equipment trolley. There’s nothing on it. 

“See you at dinner?” You call from just outside the doorway, a smirk playing on your lips. It’s fun to embarrass him, though he’d never admit it as such. Trafalgar Law doesn’t get embarrassed. 

Law nods before he realises you can’t see him. God, you make him foolish. “Unfortunately.” 

— Scene 2 —

“We’re docking!” 

“Everybody off. This place reeks.” 

The first breath of fresh air after being in the submarine for five days is something you’ll never get used to. You took such a thing for granted on the Sunny, smelling the fresh salty air daily. Now, you treasure it. 

The Heart Pirates file off the sub, passing you as they do. 

“Where are we?” Penguin asks, coming up behind you to stand beside you. 

You shrug. “No idea. I’ve never been in this part of the Grand Line before.” 

As far as you can see, it's barren. There’s a cluster of trees in the distance, all tall and menacing, and you can’t help the sense of dread that creeps in. 

“I have to make a map.” You and Penguin turn to see Bepo holding a scroll of parchment and a pot of black paint. 

“Yeah, have fun with that,” Penguin mumbles, leaving the two of you. 

“You want to come with me?” Bepo asks. 

“She can’t.” 

Bepo visibly deflates. “Captain, you’re gonna make me go on my lonesome? With nobody? What if I fall down a ravine and break my leg?”

“You’ll be fine, Bepo. Now, go.”

“Yes, captain,” He says solemnly, trudging toward the plank. 

“I’m happy to go with him, you know.”

Law clicks his tongue. “You’re coming with me. We need to train.” 

“Train? Where?” You have a feeling you know the answer. 

“There.” He gestures with his chin to the forest. 

You sigh harshly and begin walking. “Come on, then. It’ll take a while to get there.”

Law quirks his eyebrow at you. 

“What?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“This’ll be tough, okay?” He says lowly. “I need to understand why your power makes your hands bleed. Then, we can work from there.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Law continues like he can sense your unease, “But—”

You grimace. “Okay.” 

“Okay?”

You nod and wave him over. “Yes, it’s fine. Now, let’s go, I’ve been waiting to kick your ass all week.” 

“I won’t go easy on you, sweetheart,” Law steps on the plank behind you. 

You hum, jumping onto the grass. “I don’t expect you to. Besides, my bounty isn’t high for no reason.”

Law pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Guess we’ll see, yeah?”

“Lead the way, Captain.”

—

“Is this necessary?” 

Law ignores you and continues using shambles to transport various logs and rocks into the clearing you found. The trees are taller than you thought, and you tilt your head to see the canopy. 

You understand why he’s doing it, moving obstacles into the area, but for your first time sparring with him, you figured it was a little overkill. 

It's silent, except for the leaves rustling in the breeze and insects humming. You've noticed that no birds inhabit the island, making the forest eerie and your hair stand on end. 

You turn, feeling like someone’s watching you, before Law reappears, making a beeline for you. 

He pulls the hat off his head and tosses it to the side. “Ready?” 

You blink, spinning to face him. “Now?” 

You ignored the layout of the obstacles. 

“Your opponent would’ve attacked you already,” Law deadpans, lifting his hand. “Room.” 

You squeak in surprise, leaping back when the blue dome approaches you. “Hey! I have fought before, you know. I know how it works.” 

Collecting your thoughts, you throw your hands up, almost tripping on a stray branch. You watch Law across the area; his gaze burns you, and you shiver. 

“Sew.” 

Threads materialise before you, and you aim for Law’s arms, deflating when he cuts them away easily with his katana. 

“You’re gonna need to do a lot better than that.”

You clench your jaw. Oh, so he’s cocky. “Sew.” 

“Shambles.”

And then he disappears, a branch hanging in the air and dropping to the ground where he once was. With your head on a swivel, you try to place him. Your threads vanish when they have nowhere to go, and you listen for him. 

“Too slow…”

You freeze at the feeling of cool metal across your throat. 

“That’s not fair,” You whisper, inhaling sharply and keeping your chest still. You didn’t even hear him.

“How would you get out of this?” He asks, breath hot on your ear. His forearm is firm around your stomach, and his chest is pressed against your back. 

You roll your eyes as you slowly weave threads around Law’s ankles. He doesn't make it easy for you, especially with his body flush on yours. Sighing, you lean your head back on his shoulder. You don’t realise just how close Law is until you feel his lips brush the shell of your ear. The sensation sends shivers down your spine. 

Law makes a sound of surprise. “What are you doing?”

You use his shock to your advantage, grabbing his right wrist with your left and pulling down. His katana falls forward, and you use needles to pierce his skin with minuscule pricks until he retracts the arm around your torso.

He lets out a grunt of discomfort as you lunge forward, pushing his stomach with your hand. You glance back to see Law fall backwards, the threads around his ankles doing their job. A large needle takes shape in your fist, and you lean over him, the tip against his jugular. Your legs are on either side of his hips, and your free hand is on his chest. 

Law smirks, his breathing ragged and eyes dark as he watches you. “Good.”

You lean back, the needle dissipating. “I—”

And then you’re on the ground, looking up at where you just sat, where Law sits on top of you. 

You feel your face heat up. 

“Never let your guard down,” He says, pinning your arms above your head. “Dead.” 

You wiggle your wrists to avert his attention from your bashful expression. “Get off.” 

His grip only tightens. “Fight.” 

You smirk, noticing his eyes widen when he feels a sharp point at his back. You hold a large needle, the tip scratching his spine. If this were a real-life situation, the needle as thick as a branch would be through his chest. So, you aim your threads at the trees behind Law, tying them to two thick trunks. 

“Well, sweetheart?” His voice is low. “What’re you gonna do besides threaten me with an oversized needle?” 

“Sew.” 

The threads fly toward him, wrap under his armpits and over his shoulders, and pull. Law flies back. Before he hits the tree, he appears next to it, a twig breaking to pieces against the trunk instead. 

“Shambles.” 

Trusting your instincts, you know he will swap you with the rock in front of him. Lifting your fist, your body is doused with tingles, and then you’re throwing your arm, your fist connecting with his jaw. His head snaps to the side. 

“Fuck,” Law spits blood onto the dirt. 

You bounce back on your toes. “Not so tough now, huh, big boy?” 

Law meets your glare with his own, and you feel the tendrils of your power purring against your skin. The sun pours through the canopy, the shadows dancing under your feet. You choose to use them to your advantage.

Threads snake along the forest floor, and you keep your eyes on Law to distract him. He pants, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, and you’re sure you look the same. You stand there, staring at each other, your threads slinking around him. Law’s tongue darts out to catch the blood on his lip before it drips onto his shirt, and he smiles, blood painting his teeth. The sight is unholy, and a shiver goes down your spine. 

“Well?” 

You continue to say nothing, your eyes trailing down his face to his lips and then further. Law stands there as you blatantly check him out. You never quite realised how tall he is; being in a cramped submarine makes everyone look tall, and maybe it's his terrible posture, too, because when you look at him now, he’s menacing. 

You want to climb him like a tree. 

You shake your head, remembering where you are. “Sew.” 

And then your threads wrap around his body, tightening. You approach him slowly, like a predator with its prey. 

“If you wanted to tie me up so bad, you should’ve just asked.” 

His comment has you gaping, and then he’s gone, swapping himself with another rock. You sigh and turn around, ducking before he can knock you over. 

Your palm shoots out, knocking him in the sternum. Law gasps and grabs your wrist, flipping your body so your chest is against a tree trunk. He stands flush against you. You pant with exhaustion, sweat dripping down the side of your face. 

“Go again,” Law growls, stepping back and letting you off the tree. “Room.” 

Your face hardens, and you run to put distance between you. “Needles.” 

Giant metal needles materialise before you, pointing directly at Law. You see his eyes widen slightly at their speed, but once your needles enter his room, he cuts them down like they’re cooked noodles. 

“Again.” 

“Fuck you.” 

Law’s eyebrow quirks up, a cocky smirk making your skin burn. “Again.” 

“Needles.” 

“Room.”

A familiar blue dome approaches, and you throw everything you can at him, but he’s quick. Law dodges and weaves through your attacks, slicing through all threads and slashing all needles you send him. 

You want to scream with frustration. Law retracts his room, opening his mouth to call out something. But blood slides down your forearms, and something snaps inside you. 

You know what’s happening, but you won’t stop it. You won’t use your full potential. Your grip on your ability slips, and your available power runs out, making the needles spin in the air and aim for Law. 

“No,” You whisper, trying to pull the needles away from him with the fumes of power you have left in your reserve, but it’s not enough. 

Law readies his katana, swiping at the needles as they race towards him like missiles. Usually, you’d see objects fly in different directions after being sliced by him. But, like he didn’t even brush them, the needles continue their path toward Law, and he pauses. “Shambles.” 

“Law!” You scream, watching him stumble to the forest floor in a different spot completely. 

Sprinting over to him, you put your hands on his chest. That’s when you notice the blood on your hands, and you run your hands over his torso to check for injuries. 

“Law?” You murmur, seeing his eyes squeezed shut. “Law.”

“You shouldn’t care for your opponent,” He groans and sits up, his hand rubbing his sternum. “But that was strong. Good.” 

Shaking your head, you ignore his stupid comment, your bloody palm over your mouth. “I hurt you.”

“I’m fine.”

“You fell.” 

“That was from shambles. Lost my balance.”

You stand on shaky legs. “What if I hit you?”

“You didn’t,” Law follows you up, noticing the blood on your hands. His breath catches in his throat, and he double-checks his body. He’s uninjured. 

Law is behind you when you turn, circling to stand before you. “Look at me.”

He speaks your name lowly. 

“Look at me,” He repeats, tone coaxing. 

You can’t, eyes focused on the blood dripping from your fingers. His hand brushes your cheek, and then his fingers are on your chin, tilting your face to his. 

“I’m fine, see,” Law pulls away from you, lifting his arms out to the sides. “You didn’t hurt me.” 

“But, the blood,” You say, bringing your hands closer to your face. “There’s so much of it.” 

Law closes his palms around your fingers, the blood smearing. “I’m okay, sweetheart, and so are you. We just need to work on using all of your available power, that’s all.”

You look into his eyes, the steel grey of them comforting. A shadow of a smile finds its way to his cheeks, and you exhale shakily. 

You won’t be using your full power in front of him. 

“You promise?” 

Law nods, squeezing your hands tighter. “Promise.” 

You breathe in and out, focusing on trying to stop the tears from collecting on your waterline.

Law lowers your hands, releasing them before he steps back and clears his throat, his usual hard exterior like a mask. “Do you want to go back to the sub?” 

You shake your head, trying to rub your palms on your pants. “I just want to stay here a bit longer. Don’t want anyone to see me like this.” 

“Like what?”

“Like I’m out of control.” 

Law sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. He’s thinking, you know that much. And the more you look at him, the more injuries you see. There’s a nasty bruise forming on the side of his jaw where you punched him, as well as dried blood on the corner of his lips, and there’s a little rope burn on the side of his neck. You don’t want to know what you look like. 

“C’mon,” Law says, turning and walking away from you. 

“Where’re we going?” 

“I think there’s a creek down here,” He nods in the direction he’s walking. “We’ll get the blood off you.”

You nod but don’t say anything. Law glances over his shoulder. 

“Is that okay?” 

“Oh,” You look up. “Yeah, that’s fine.” 

Law stops to wait for you to catch up. When you do, he leans his head down. “You were holding back.” 

Your shoulders tense. “Why do you say that?”

Law snorts. “Look at how much blood’s on your hands. It’s like a massacre.” 

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” You shrug. “Is that a problem?” 

“I can handle myself.”

You finally hear the creek he was talking about and ignore him. You haven’t heard the running water in a while despite being underwater. There’s something comforting about gurgling water flowing over rocks. 

“Next time we spar,” Law keeps his voice low. “I want to see why your bounty’s so high, okay? Because right now, you’re at 70 million berries.” 

You open your mouth to defend yourself, but he continues.

“There’s clearly more to your power than just throwing around needles and thread. I want to see it.” 

You let out a shaky breath. “My body will need to rest before I can do that.”

Law nods curtly. “And I respect that. Just don’t go easy on me next time.” 

You look at him to see a smirk playing on his lips. Scoffing, you bump him with your shoulder. 

The creek comes into view, and you rush to it, dipping your hands in the freezing water to clean your hands. As you scrub, Law sits beside you. 

The urge to tell him everything eats at you. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t tell him. He’s a rival pirate. But when you give him a sidelong glance and see the content glint in his eye, you break. You hope you don’t regret it. 

“I don’t use my true power,” You mumble, hoping he can’t hear you. 

Law blinks but leans toward you. You kick yourself when you realise he does. “Why?” 

“I’m scared of it.”

He doesn’t say anything, letting you continue. 

“My bounty’s so high and has been for years because of the few times I used it.”

“And you’d never use it again?” 

You ponder his question. “If the situation calls for it, then I would. But with Luffy, I never have to. We always find a way out of things.”

Law tilts his head, and you can tell there’s something he wants to ask. 

“Just say it,” You wave your hand. You’re sure you know what he’s going to ask anyway, so you may as well get it over with. 

“Can you use it on me?” 

You still. That was not what you were expecting.

“The Sew-Sew Fruit,” Law sits up straighter. “If what I’ve gathered from the abilities you’ve shown me and my research, I can guess that your true power is a mindscape where you can cut objects, people, from this world and sew them into your own. A sort of alternate reality.” 

You curse his brilliant mind. “Maybe you’re too smart for your own good.” 

“Am I right?” 

You keep washing your hands to busy yourself. “I don’t take entire people, only their souls. Why would you want me to use it on you?” 

“So I can help you.”

Something tugs on your subconscious, and you try your best to pinpoint it. “Are you crazy?” 

“Maybe.” Law puts his hands on your wrists, stopping your rough scrubbing—your hands are clean. 

His fingers are rough against yours, and you try your best to think of another topic because you sure as hell aren’t thinking about your power right now. 

“What do your tattoos mean?”

Law looks at you surprised. He’s silent momentarily, swallowing thickly before pulling his hands away from yours and running his fingers over his knuckles. You can tell he doesn’t talk about himself much because he mulls over the words he wants to say in his mouth before he does. 

“These remind me of what’s at stake when treating patients. Helps keep me calm.” 

You stare at the letters, reflecting on what Shakuyaku told you when you were on Sabaody. Trafalgar Law, the Surgeon of Death. 

When he doesn’t go on about the others, you don’t ask. 

“Cool,” You say, picking a loose thread on your pants. 

Law hums, watching your fingers fidget. 

You wipe your hands dry on your t-shirt. “Anyway, why do you want me to use Seam on you?” 

“Seam,” Law mutters. “Straw Hat said you need to become stronger. I told him I’d help, so I will with the only way I know how.” 

“Which is?”

“A hands-on approach.”

You scratch your hairline in an attempt to hide from him. It’s true what Luffy told him because he also told you and your crew. Get stronger.

You cough. “What do you get out of this?” 

“Now you’re thinking like a pirate,” Law teases before he shrugs. “Nothing but the satisfaction of helping a friend.” 

Friend. 

Your stomach churns with discomfort, and you’re unsure why the word burns you so much. It sounds foreign on Law’s tongue. But despite his joking manner, the words he spoke when you first met scolds you from the inside out. 

“But I’m just useful to you, right?” You poke your finger into his chest. “What did you call me? Leverage?” 

Law sighs, running his hand through his hair. “That was before. It’s different now.” 

“Before what?” You ask, standing from the bed of the creek. Law follows, and he towers over you. He swallows, and you can tell he’s deciding whether to tell you. His cheeks go ruddy, and you squint at him in confusion. 

“It’s not important.”

“Law.”

It’s hurting him to say it.

“Before—”

“Captain! Quick!” 

Law’s head snaps to the side, concern changing his features. You watch him, mind racing at what he could possibly mean about before. 

“Bepo?” Law yells. “What’s wrong?” 

“We gotta go!” The bear calls from the forest. “The island’s full of giant lizards, and they’re attacking us!” 

Law looks unamused but moves anyway, running in the direction of Bepo’s voice and leaving you next to the water. 

You stare at the place he just was, your chest tight. You wipe your nose and return to the sub, watching for the giant lizards Bepo warned you about.

—

It turns out that giant lizards were the codename for Ikkaku’s return. You haven’t bothered to ask why, but you're more anxious about meeting the woman responsible for the maintenance of the submarine. 

In the distance, Law stands beside the Polar Tang, his hand on his forehead to shade his eyes from the sun's harsh glare. Above him, a large seagull descends, and on the back of it, a woman. 

When you make it to the sub, the bird is gone, and all that remains is Ikkaku. Her dark curly hair is covered with a yellow and orange striped beanie, and she still dons the white Heart Pirates boiler suit. She speaks animately to Penguin as you look around for Law. He must’ve returned to the submarine when you put your head down to watch for sparse rocks. 

Penguin calls your name, and you smile. “Hi!” 

Ikkaku eyes you up and down, her expression sour. “A Straw Hat, huh? I don’t know what you’re still doing here, but Captain is more than capable of handling whatever it is alone.” 

You come up short, watching as she bumps Penguin’s shoulder and walks away. You purse your lips, emotion lodged in your throat. The moment is over before it even begins, and there’s a surge of awkward tension in the air. Penguin clears his throat.

“You didn’t do anything,” He reassures, his hat-shrouded eyes darkening. “Ikkaku doesn't trust you guys. A-And by you guys, I mean the Straw Hats. Her, Uni, and Clione have a thing... I’m sure they'll get over it.” 

You hum and pretend the words don’t hurt you the way they do. Shrugging, you fake a laugh. “It’s fine. I’m used to it. I wouldn't trust me either.” 

He calls your name as you leave, not sparing a glance in the direction of the group that whispers as you pass by.

Bepo stands idly on the deck, twisting the map in his paws. You raise an eyebrow when he gives you a pitiful look.

"I don't need sympathy, Bepo."

He squeaks and almost rips the paper. "No, no sympathy here."

You give him a tight-lipped smile and pat his arm.

"I'm sorry," He murmurs, hanging his head.

"Wanna go inside?"

Bepo nods and turns, shuffling his feet to the door. His movements make a laugh tumble from your lips, and when he hears, Bepo's eyes are full of hope.

You reluctantly smile and shove him, though it does nothing to sway the tall mink.

"At least you've got me," Bepo says. "I know I'm not much, but—"

"Quit the self-deprecating jokes, Bepo," Shachi coughs from behind you. Penguin stands beside him and laughs. You can tell they're trying to lighten your mood.

You won't admit it, but it works.

"Yeah, you're gonna make the Tang flood with your pathetic tears," Penguin quips, brushing past you and down the stairs to the common area.

Bepo's jaw goes slack, and he pauses mid-step. "I'm sorry."

Chatter from the rest of the crew fills the stairwell, and you grab Bepo's paw to drag him down.

"Don't listen to them," You say, side-eyeing Penguin and Shachi when you pass them on the way to the couch. "They're just jealous that I like you more than them."

"Woah! Rude!"

"That's too far and NOT true!"

Bepo sticks out his tongue, and his two best friends pout.

You shake your head at their antics and wonder how you got so lucky to end up with them as your friends—you'd never say it out loud, but they fill the Straw Hat crew-sized void inside you.

— Scene 3 —

He’s watching you. 

If it were anyone else, it’d be unsettling. But Law’s steely grey eyes, usually reserved and cold, turn different when they’re on you. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. 

It’s a night off that hasn’t happened while you’ve been aboard, but Penguin and Shachi tell you they're the best nights of the year, and who are you to be doubtful? 

So, you are sitting on a couch in the common area, half-focused on the poker game before you. You’re not playing; instead, you choose to observe Bepo struggling to keep the cards in his paws and Shachi sneaking peeks at the ones that slip. A glass of who knows what, courtesy of Penguin, sits between your fingers, but you don’t drink any more of it—he’s very heavy-handed. 

Across the room, Law sits on a stray dining chair, his legs spread. He also has a near-full glass, holding it between his open knees as he leans his forearms on his thighs. His hat is lopsided on his head, and his katana is propped against the wall beside him. Jean-Bart talks animately, but you know Law isn’t listening. He’s focused on you, after all. 

He asked if you could use Seam on him a week and a half ago, and since then, he’s kept to himself. It’s annoying you. 

Your eyes flicker to his, and he doesn’t react. You raise an eyebrow at him, to which he mirrors. Law’s expression remains cold, and you tilt your head in a silent question. You hope he understands you. 

Law looks away, and you deflate. 

“You want to take my place?” Shachi asks, throwing his cards on the table as his crewmates laugh. Uni, Clione, and Ikkaku remain silent, and you shake your head, disappointed. 

“I think I’ll go to bed.”

Penguin boos you from the other side of the table, and Bepo pouts. “You can’t!”

“Sorry, boys,” You force a laugh, setting your glass on the side table beside the couch. “Have fun.”

They all groan and make excuses why you can’t leave while you walk from the room. The stairwell is silent, and you take the stairs quickly. You risk a glance over your shoulder as you rush to your room.

The thought of finally having another woman on board used to make you excited; you were so keen to make another friend, but now it makes you bitter. It seems your reputation precedes you and not in the way you wish. From her comment last week, you guess Ikkaku thinks you’re using Law, but she could be further from the truth. You’ve grown fond of the man, and if you’re reading the signals right, he, you. 

An almost inaudible zip and boots clicking behind you make your heart skip; you’re certain Law used Shambles to follow you. 

“Yes?” 

Law doesn’t speak. Instead, there’s another zip right next to you and another, and then you stumble into his office. 

“Why,” You hunch over, panting, “would you do that?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.” 

You sigh. “Give me a minute.” 

Law makes a sound of indignation. “You were fine when we were sparring.”

“I hadn’t been drinking then,” You say, stretching back up. 

He looks at you unimpressed. “Are you done?”

You level him with a glare, and when you don’t respond, Law circles his desk. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Ikkaku doesn’t like me.” 

Law hums and runs his tongue over his teeth. “Yeah, she’s made her dislike known.” 

You put your hands out. “What do I do? I’m not staying here if I drive a wedge between you and your crew…” 

“You’re staying. I want you here. They can deal with it.” 

The underlying desperation in his tone catches you off guard, and you open your mouth to respond when he cuts you off with a different topic entirely. 

“When will you be ready to use Seam?”

“Huh?” You blink. 

“Will you be ready tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow?” You ask, still grasping the fact that he wants you here. “Where’re we going tomorrow?” 

“Bepo said there’s an island ahead,” He says. “I thought it’d be a good opportunity to start your training.” 

“We did start.”

“Not with Seam.” 

You regret telling him its name. “Fine, yeah, I’ll be ready tomorrow.” 

“Repeat it back to me.”

You furrow your brows. “What?”

Law sighs. “Repeat the plan, so I know we’re on the same page.”

“You’ve got issues.” 

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

You gape at him and scoff. You can’t believe him right now, especially after the momentary display of vulnerability. 

Rolling your eyes, you groan. “Fine.”

Law tilts his head. 

“We’ll train at the next island,” You rehash. “And there I’ll use Seam. Okay?”

“Great,” He smiles. 

You narrow your eyes when you see it’s fake. That son of a— “Great.”

“Perfect.”

“Perfect!” 

And then you leave, wanting nothing more than to wipe that pretty, cocky smirk off his face. 

— Scene 4 —

The Polar Tang docked at the island not twelve hours later. 

Your stomach flips with anxiety, your throat thick with nerves. You barely speak, choosing to keep your jaw set to prevent yourself from throwing up. 

You know you can pull out at any time, but the thought of holding yourself back any longer makes you seethe. If Luffy wants you to get stronger, then you will.

“You good?”

You let out a shaky breath, looking to your right. The coast of the island is calm, and the sun barely rocks where you stand on the deck. “Should be. Just gotta get the nerves out.”

Law looks over the uninhabited island. “You can say no.”

“I know.” 

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Law,” You sigh, turning toward him. His eyes are wide with apprehension, but he relaxes when you rest your fingers on his bicep. “I want to. This needs to happen if I’m to survive in the New World.”

Law raises an eyebrow, still unsure, but nods. “Okay.” 

And then he’s gone, appearing 30 feet away on the grass. “Room.”

You jump down from the deck onto the ground, walking into his Room. You’d discussed the entire plan earlier today, hunched over his desk with a pen and paper. You were to summon Seam inside Law’s Room in case the island decides to surprise you with giant lizards (you laughed when Law brought it up) or if something goes wrong. You’re not sure how it would work considering his consciousness inside your mindscape, but if it makes him feel safer, you’re happy to comply. 

Law stands there, waiting for you to approach. “Ready, sweetheart?”

You nod, resting your hand on his arm. You inhale sharply and deeply, closing your eyes and calming the nerves, reaping havoc within your stomach. 

Law watches you, and somehow, that slows your racing heart. You’re sure it’s something he can do inside Room, but you put that thought aside, focusing on honing your power. 

“Seam.”

Law makes a startled sound, and you know he sees the scene before you. Your eyes flicker open, and for the first time in years, you see fragments of the world mending together with your own—the one created by the Sew-Sew Fruit. You’re still in the real world, but you’ve taken Law’s soul in your hands. 

You feel him stiffen as his heart slows and his breathing weakens. You hate having someone’s life in your hands like this—maybe you should get Law’s death tattoos inked on your fingers, too. 

You transport yourself into Seam, seeing Law walking around aimlessly. His eyes widen as he curses silently, watching the ocean hang from the sky, the Polar Tang floating mid-air. 

Seam is a mixture of the current place and all the others you’ve seen. And since becoming a pirate, Seam has grown exponentially. To the right, you see the Going Merry docked in Skypeia, the clouds from the sky island hanging around it. Behind you, there’s a combination of the snowy mountains of Drum Island and the dunes of Alabasta, and to your left sits the Baratie. On the horizon before you, bats fly around, and the mansion on Thriller Bark sits ominously in the distance. 

With the ocean above you, it’s easy to see where things are. And beneath your feet is grass. It’s always been grass. 

It’s a collection of your memories, you realise. And you tear up at the sight of everything around you. It’s been a long time since you’ve been here. 

He whispers your name in disbelief. “This is incredible.”

You shrug one shoulder, not used to Law using such words. 

Law spins around and walks toward you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, are you?” 

“I feel weightless,” Law huffs a laugh. “What’s going on outside?”

“You’re dead.”

Law’s look of incredulity drops. “What?”

“Not really, but it seems like you are. When someone’s inside Seam, their soul transfers over, and their body doesn’t. So we’re still on the island, but your body is frozen in a dreamlike state.” 

“Can you use this to fight? Can you simply touch someone, and their soul comes here? How many souls can transfer?” 

“You’re full of questions today,” You joke, the feeling of being in Seam alleviating the heaviness on your chest. It surprises you. “But to put it simply, yes, yes, and as many as I want, but the more there are, the more it drains me.” 

“Wow,” Law breathes, his face to the sky as he studies his submarine. “You seal souls in here.” 

The initial relief of being here and nothing bad happening dissipates, and you nod solemnly. 

“Yes.”

“You’re incredible.”

You whip your head toward him, the movement quick. “What?”

Law laughs unguarded. It’s a sound you’ve never heard, and you want to bottle it up and keep it forever. “This—you are extraordinary. ”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Your cheeks are hot. 

Who is this man, and what has he done with Law? 

“And you don’t use it? Why?” 

It’s a loaded question, but Law doesn’t seem to notice your wary expression. 

“I—uh, there was an incident.”

Law gives you a quizzical look. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“No,” You nod. “I want to.”

He remains silent, giving you time to collect your thoughts.

“A girl from my island was killed when she was in Seam.” 

Law listens intently, pulling you to the floor. You sit across from him, your legs crossed and your knees touching his. The grass underneath you is plush and never itchy. Your fingertips play with the blades of green, but they never rip. 

“It was years ago, so don’t pity me, okay?” 

He says nothing.

“Pirates attacked my island while I was using Seam on my friend, and because I know what’s going on on the outside, I ran, thinking my friend was following me. I didn’t know that a person’s physical body was unresponsive while they were in there. But because she was basically dead on her feet, and her soul was still in Seam, when the pirate killed her, her soul had nowhere to return to.”

Law’s thinking, you can tell. His eyebrows triangulate, and then realisation overcomes his expression.

“She’s still here.”

You nod and turn, pointing to a small house in the distance. It looks ragged now, but it still fills your heart with grief. It is your old home. “She lives in there. It’s protected against the other souls I bring here, but she remains the age she died.” 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

You shrug. “It is what it is. No use dwelling on the past.”

“Can I use my powers in here?”

“Your Devil Fruit soul is in here, isn’t it?” 

He nods. “So, if I use Room…”

“Its power and effectiveness will be depleted, but it will work.” 

“So you can fight people with Devil Fruits here. Their power is just weak.”

“Yeah…” You trail off. “But I can also move between worlds and kill them outside when their soul’s in here, trapping them forever. It’s the same here. If I kill the soul, the body dies. Either way, it’s like cutting down someone already dead.” 

Law exhales. You know the look in his eye, and your chest tightens.

“You want to use me.”

He sighs. “It’s not like that. I would never force you—I’d need your permission beforehand, of course.”

“What is it?”

Law scratches his forehead. “I’ve had this plan to become a Warlord.”

You freeze with your heart in your throat. A Warlord? “Why?”

“It’s complicated.”

You can tell he’s never told anyone this piece of information before by how he stutters it out—you’ve never seen Law stutter in the few months you’ve lived with his crew.

“If you’re going to use me to get there, I need to know why.”

Law takes your hand. “I’d only bring you with me if you wanted to, okay? There’s no ulterior motive. You’re powerful enough to kill me. This place is proof of that.” 

“Prove it to me,” You chew on your lip. “And then tell me your plan.”

He levels you with a wary look that cracks his face open. You’ve known Law to be emotionally constipated; it's a fact, but the face he wears now is one that makes him look younger, one that he’s never shown anyone in a long time. 

Law carefully brings his hands to his chest. He whispers something, scalpel. The technique is weak here, but you watch as his chest opens and his heart slides from a square slot. You stare at it in awe. 

“I’ve never done this before, given this willingly to someone else, okay?” His voice is wobbly. “Be careful with it.” 

And when he places the blue cube in your hands, your eyes fill with tears. His heart sits in your palms; it throbs softly and is warm. So warm. 

Then you realise your position: A pirate of a rival crew, holding the heart of a captain who’s powerful enough to become a Warlord. You could easily crush it between your hands, and being inside Seam, you could do it without him interfering. You could save yourself the trouble in the future when you’re back with the Straw Hats. It’s so easy. 

You peer up at Law, who remains still, his eyes on yours. You have control of his heart, and he’s staring at you. It’s then you know what this means. What he means to you. You’ve known him for two and a half months, but you would trust him with your life, and it’s obvious he would you, too. 

The throbbing of his heart increases, and you giggle in shock at the phenomenon. 

It's a monumental moment, you know this, though you feel nothing but anticipation in your chest. Anticipation for the sole reason that Law knows you're powerful enough to help him, and that makes him excited, which in turn, makes you excited. 

You love him. 

The realisation hits you all at once, and silent tears slide down your cheeks, and when your eyes focus back on him, everything you’ve ever wanted is sitting right before you. 

The moment is etching itself into your brain as you sit there, arms shaking with anxiety. 

You swallow and exhale deeply. “I trust you.” 

“I want to kill the four emperors.” 

—

So much for training, you think as you get back inside the Polar Tang. 

After you returned Law’s soul to his body, he asked endless questions. And who are you to turn down someone as eager to learn as he is? 

You’ve never seen Law so animated, and judging by the looks on Bepo’s face, neither has he. Law leads you down to his office, the door opposite your bedroom, and clicks it shut behind him. 

You sit on a chair facing his desk, fingernails picking the worn leather. “So, what's the plan?” 

Law pokes around the bookshelf on the room's far wall, picking out different books. He puts the stack on his desk and sits in his chair. Law grabs the first book on the pile. There’s an air about him that makes your heart swell tenfold—he has a child-like wonder etched into his expression and a giddy dance in his fingers as he flips to a predetermined page. 

“I’m going to give the World Government one hundred hearts.” 

You're taken aback, leaning forward in the armchair. The way he says it with such an innocent flicker to his tone makes you question if he really just said what he did. “Whose?” 

“Pirates,” He pours over the page, using his finger to find the line he’s looking for. 

“Isn’t that unethical?” 

Law snorts, glancing up at you. “I’m not killing them.”

You purse your lips with slight amusement. “Okay…” Like that makes it better. 

“The Marines can decide what to do with the hearts.”

“And how are you doing this?”

Law observes you for a second. “Ever heard of Poneglyphs?” 

“Robin told me.” 

“Nico Robin?”

You hum. “What about them?”

“I’ve got intel that there's one on an island called Hachinosu in the New World, and we’re going to infiltrate it.” 

“Okay, I get that, but why steal the hearts?”

“To get the government’s attention.” 

“There’s more to this you’re not telling me,” You say. 

Law nods. “Of course there is. But this is a stepping stone in the grand scheme.” 

“And what’s the grand scheme?”

“I need to kill someone,” Law mutters. That was easy. 

“You don’t mean…”

“Say it.”

“Another Warlord?”

You get your response when he doesn’t answer, and decide to take a different approach. 

“What’s this got to do with the Four Emperors of the Sea?” 

Law exhales deeply. “Kaido wants to monopolise on SMILE to create a pirate crew solely of Devil Fruit users. Donquioxte Doflamingo runs the factory that produces them on Dressrosa, another island in the New World.” 

“Wait,” You close your eyes, mind puzzled. “You’re gonna need to explain the whole thing to me.”

Law turns the book in front of him to show you the page. There’s an illustration of a giant building, in front of it stands a group of people in white coats. 

“Twenty years ago, there were scientists on this island, Punk Hazard, who artificially created ancient giants,” He points to an island on the map on the opposite page. “Kaido purchased these giants for his crew at the time.”

Law looks at you expectantly to make sure you’re following. When you nod, exhaling, he continues. 

“Two years ago, when the island was being used by Vegapunk, the island exploded when one of his scientists threw a fit with his Devil Fruit, rendering it uninhabitable.

“This year, the poison gas that was on the island as a result of that scientist’s rage dispersed. After Marineford, it was the site of Aokiji and Akainu’s battle. But, if I’ve heard correctly, there are plans to restore Vegapunk’s laboratory and start producing a substance called SAD, which can be used to make SMILE or man-made Devil Fruits. Kaido is the mastermind behind this since he took the original giants from the scientists before Vegapunk. Therefore, I need to become a Warlord to have unrestricted access to and destroy the site.” 

He’s got this all figured out. 

“So, who's the Warlord you want to kill?” 

“Donquixote Doflamingo.”

You ponder it. “Why?”

“Revenge.” 

“And what do I get out of this?”  

Law runs his eyes over you. “Think of it as helping a friend. We help each other reach our goals. Me, killing Doflamingo, and you, stronger than you’ve ever been.”

You consider his proposition, pursing your lips when he rehashes what he said on Lizard Island. 

Helping a friend. You wonder if it’s something he says to every pirate he makes an alliance with, but you doubt it. You’ve been on his submarine long enough to know that that word isn’t in this man’s vocabulary—you wonder what it means to him. 

It’s a huge plan, one that could fail at any time, and sure, there are things he’s not telling you—like how the Poneglyphs and Doflamingo are correlated, perhaps they’re not—but you know your answer. You’ve always been a sucker for revenge plans. 

Before you tell him, you ponder how your crew is going, if they’d be scared that you’re even considering helping someone become a Warlord. You think about the ones you’ve defeated or fought before: Crocodile, Blackbeard, Moria, Bartholomew Kuma. But there’s a few that helped you. Boa Hancock is the main woman on your mind, and you smile. You hope Luffy’s okay. 

So, your decision is an easy one. You smile. “When do we start?”  

— Scene 5 —

Bepo knows something’s going on. He sees the silent conversations between you and his captain and the meetings in Law’s office. At first, he thinks nothing of it since Law’s training you, But when he watches you and Law whisper in a crowded room, his poor little heart can’t take it any longer. 

“So, you and Law…”

You don’t look up from the map Bepo has you outlining. “What about me and Law?”

“Are you… you know…”

When you glance at him, the fur on his cheeks is tinted red. “What are you talking about?”

Bepo squeaks. “Is there something going on?” 

Your hand pauses on the page. “Like what?”

“Something… you know,” Bepo whines. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Bepo, I couldn’t make you say anything. I don’t even know what you’re referring to.” 

“Are you kissing?” He slaps his paw over his mouth. 

You gape at him, your face heating up. “What? No!”

“I’m sorry!” Bepo cries.

You sit awkwardly with your face in your hands, having dropped the pencil at his question. 

“Talk to Law if you’re so concerned about it,” You say, dropping your hands to your lap. “But never ask that again.”

Bepo stands from the table, his chair scraping. “I’m sorry!” 

And then he runs from the room. You stare at where he just sat, contemplating if you and Law looked like that from an outsider’s perspective. Surely, you have countless meetings about the mission and training at almost every possible island the submarine encounters, but that’s all business. Your body warms like it's trying to rid itself of a virus. 

You rest your forehead on the table. If the Heart Pirates think something like that is happening, the alliance between you and Law will never work. He can’t have his crew distrusting him. 

There’s a crackling through the speakers. 

“Meeting in the common area in 5. I won’t tell you again.”

When you get there, the crew is packed inside. You spot Bepo near the front of the room and push through pirates to get there; all of them are happy to let you through. You wonder if they think you’re only here for one reason. The thought disgusts you. 

“We have a new objective,” Law announces. “To kill Domflamingo, a Warlord status must be achieved.”

The Heart Pirates gasp and start murmuring. A few pirates, namely Uni, Ikkaku, and Clione, who you’ve yet to have a proper conversation with, eye you with disdain. They clearly have a problem with you, a Straw Hat, being here, but you give them a tight-lipped smile and look back to Law. 

He looks at you and says your name. “We’re forming an alliance. She has Devil Fruit powers that could make the process quicker. Therefore, we’ll be working together for the foreseeable future. We leave for the New World now.”

Your smile is still a thin line, but you know why he had to tell him—they’re his crew, after all. 

“So get your shit together,” He glares at the three pirates who regard you with contempt. “Back to work.” 

A collective yes, captain rumbles through the room before they go back to their tasks. 

“And Bepo,” Law says, his voice low. “Get your head out of the gutter.” 

Bepo whines and then sulks as he leaves, his head down. Penguin and Shachi bump his shoulders, snickering. You shadow them down to the boiler room, your steps light and calculated. 

It was a technique Law taught you, how to keep your steps silent. Your training has been more beneficial than you imagined—Zoro will be so proud of your stealth skills—and you still have much to learn. 

Seam has been easier each time you summon it, and the thought of doing so now brings little to no negative emotions. You’ve learnt to embrace the technique instead of fearing it—as you said, there’s no use dwelling on the past. 

Two weeks isn’t a lot of time, but you reiterate the plan in your mind every available moment Bepo has you watching him work instead of making you outline islands. It’s all you think about before you sleep and when you wake up. That and Law. 

You shake your head. There’s no time to think about him when the most important year of your life is about to begin. 

Your mother always told you that if you risk nothing, you’re risking everything. And if you and Law are to stop Doflamingo and whatever he has over Law’s head, it’s only a matter of time before you must decide what is worth risking for the sake of humanity. 

— Scene 6 —

“Docking!” 

The submarine surfaces at a random island in the New World. You’re the first to emerge from the entrance, and people stare at the submarine with suspicious glares. You pay no mind.

It’s been three months since Law told you his plan and three months since your hands last bled. The Heart Pirates are on their way to Hachinosu Pirate Island, where the Poneglyph is, and Law recommended a trial for the heart-stealing scheme. The victim is some lowly pirate named Seamus Wells. 

Since you’ve entered the New World, you’ve used Seam far more than you ever thought you would, no longer holding back your true power. The mere thought of showing your crew what you’ve become fills you with such anticipation that you can barely contain it nowadays. 

Bepo runs past you, the plank of wood in his paws. He slams it down on the concrete, causing a few civilians to flee in terror. “Oops.”

“Seamus Wells should be staying on the island's east side,” Law announces as his crew files onto the deck. “Keep away from there, understand?” 

Yes, captain. 

“We’ve got five hours to kill before we need to be there,” He says, adjusting the katana on his shoulder. “Do whatever you want.” 

You raise your eyebrows. “You’re not coming?”

“I’d rather stay here than be recognised and jeopardise our plan. Here,” He fishes a baby transponder snail from his coat. “Take this. I’ll let you know if the plan changes.” 

You take it from him, noticing the patterned hat on its head, which is similar to the one that sits on Law’s. “That’s so cute.”

“Shut it,” Law snaps, his cold exterior never wavering. “Bepo, accompany her.”

“Doubt she needs an escort, but okay,” Bepo jokes, pulling you with him off the sub. 

Law turns, pausing to scan the rear of the submarine with his sharp eyes before he goes inside.

Guess he’s all business today. 

“Come on, are you hungry?” 

You smile at the polar bear, dragging your gaze away from Law’s retreating figure. “I could eat.”

Penguin cuts in, his steps aligning with yours. “I’m starving.”

“Me, too,” Shachi groans. 

Bepo shakes his head. “Why’re you two here?”

“Captain told you to accompany her, and we’re accompanying you.” 

Bepo opens to mouth to reply, most likely a complaint, but you point to a restaurant in the distance and a line of people outside. “Let's go there.”

Penguin and Shachi’s steps increase, and then they are running toward the building. There are a few stray screams, but most people disappear when you join the end of the line. 

“What’s their problem?” Bepo stills beside you, and you look up at him. “What?”

“Look.”

Your face and Law’s hang on the wall of the restaurant entrance, and an obscene number of berries are listed below your names. Wanted posters. 

“They know you’re working together.”

“I got that,” You snap, the mere presence of the posters souring your mood. Cursing under your breath, you feel your chest tighten. “But the Straw Hats are meant to be dead.” 

“We should go back to the sub,” Penguin mumbles, his eyes darting in every direction. When you turn to see where he’s looking, you glare at the civilians approaching slowly with firearms. There aren’t many; you count fifteen minimum, but the fact that you’ve been here less than twenty minutes has irritation morphing your features. 

“They’re not meant to know I’m alive.” 

Bepo whines beside you. “We gotta go.”

“Okay, in a second.” You take a second to inspect yours. 400 million berries. 

You pout in confusion. When did that increase? 

And then you slide your eyes to Law’s. 450 million berries. 

You smirk before you notice the whispering occurring around you. Perhaps if you saw them in your own time and not in front of a large group of civilians, you’d taken them down and show Law. There is only a 50 million berry difference. 

The others are already down the road when you decide to leave the line, your nerves simmering. 

If the world knows a Straw Hat is alive, you may as well embrace it. 

“Hurry up!”

You twist your lips, stopping in the middle of the street to observe the civilians. 

“Get outta here, pirate!” “Yeah! Unless you want your head on a stick.” 

You feel a pang of regret in your chest at the fear on their faces but continue toward the Polar Tang. 

There are quick, heavy footfalls behind you. In the distance, you see Law standing on the deck, watching you. His face remains emotionless, but you see a familiar glint in his eye. 

When the person swings their weapon, you dodge swiftly, moving your head slightly to the left. You have yet to face them, but you can imagine the gobsmacked look on their face. 

You refuse to fight a civilian, instead choosing to break out into a sprint toward the submarine. 

“Took you a while,” Law teases. “I was starting to get worried.”

You stick your tongue out, crossing the wood plank to jump onto the deck. “Awww, you care about me?”

“Tsk,” Law turns around, cheeks warming. “We’re going to dock elsewhere.”

You hop down the stairs, preparing yourself for the jolt of the entrance closing. The sub immediately submerges, and Law touches your shoulder to keep you steady. 

“Guess what I saw,” You bite back your smile. 

“Enlighten me.” 

“My bounty’s gone up.”

Law smirks, glancing at the barely contained smile on your face. “Oh, yeah?”

“400 million.”

He whistles lowly. “Soon, you’ll be in the big league, sweetheart.”

You knock his bicep with your shoulder. “Okay, Mr 450 million.” 

“Captain! The east side of the island is approaching.” 

“Surface there,” Law replies without taking his eyes off you. 

His voice lowers. “We’re moving the mission forward. The island’s already aware of our presence. May as well get it over with now.” 

“Docking!”

“Let’s go.”

—

Seamus Wells works in a fish factory. The sun sets behind you as you step through discarded fish guts and bones, the floor slathered with sticky blood. You hold your hand over your nose and mouth, the smell enough to make you gag. 

Law strides ahead of you, the scabbard that holds his katana reflecting the deep gold of the sun. How he’s walking through here fine is unknown to you, but you try to catch up with him, the soles of your boots slipping slightly. 

“You’d think they’d have a better way of managing this,” You murmur. “Poor fish.” 

“Quiet.” 

You frown, mocking him. A crack from the floor above makes your face drop. 

Law stops ahead of you, his hand out, his index finger pointed. You know the gesture. Shut the fuck up, and don’t move. 

His head turns slowly until you see his sidelong glance on you. There are no further sounds, and you hold your breath. 

You realise the sun goes down fairly quickly on San Faldo, and the night air wafts over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. It’s suddenly dark, and the waves against the wharf outside have settled. 

Unease stews in your stomach, and you resist the urge to run. You don’t dare look behind you in fear of what you may see, focusing your eyes on the staircase in the corner. Across from you, Law senses your discomfort, and his steps are light and calculated as he makes his way over to you. 

You grasp his hand, chills going down your spine as the wind whistles through a crack in the broken window on the far wall. The scene reminds you of Thriller Bark, and you set your jaw in an attempt to stop shivering. 

Law’s hand is big and warm in yours, his skin calloused. His head is on a swivel, monitoring for any danger. You grip harder, moving your other hand to the crook of his elbow. 

And despite the terror coursing through your veins, you can’t help but take note of the hard muscle. It’s a good distraction but not important right now, and you almost laugh at your ridiculousness. Law looks down at you, a quizzical twinkle in his eye, but he doesn’t move an inch. 

You shake against him, the breeze finding its way under your clothes, and notice that you can see it when you breathe. When did the temperature drop so drastically? 

Law points upstairs, to which you do nothing. If he was expecting a response, he didn’t get one. Then, he raises his hand. 

“Shambles,” He whispers, and you almost lose your balance as you land at the foot of the stairs. 

“Don’t make any unnecessary noise,” Law leans to whisper in your ear, and you shiver. 

You silently salute, choosing to lighten the mood with a silly gesture that he blinks at. Law makes to go up the stairs, ignoring your gesture. Panic takes hold of your chest, and you tug him back into you. 

“What’re you doing?”

Law scrunches his face. “Me? What’re you doing?” 

You squeak when there’s a scuffle. Clearly, over it, Law sighs and takes the stairs two at a time. And since he knows you won’t stay downstairs alone, he isn’t surprised when you chase after him, your hand returning to his forearm. 

What you see is nothing short of disgusting. 

“What the fuck.”

The man, who you know is Seamus, sits on a wooden chair, fish blood soaking his clothes. 

“Keep away from me!” 

“Seriously?” Law utters, unimpressed. 

“Stay back!”

You scowl. “And to think I was scared shitless.” 

Law steps away from you. “Room.” 

A familiar blue dome covers you. Law draws his katana from its scabbard, its sleek design glinting in the moonlight. He slices the air, and Seamus is dismembered, his head floating a few feet above his body. 

Seamus screams, noticing his body sitting in the chair headless. “Don’t kill me!”

Law makes quick work of the fish blood, using his power to remove it from Seamus’ clothes. You watch in awe as the white of the t-shirt turns pristine.

You’ve told Law of your admiration for his Devil Fruit powers. He usually waves it off with pink-tinted cheeks and an unamused expression. But watching something like this in action, you want to know just how deep his power goes. 

“Please! I’ll do anything,” Seamus sobs, tears and snot coating his face. “Please don’t kill me.” 

“As you’ve said, asshole,” Law steps back and retracts room. “Your turn.”

You feel your icy cheeks defrost at the realisation of his actions. You give him a smile of appreciation and approach Seamus. 

But when he looks at you, his crying ceases. “What’re you gonna do, huh? Slap me with those little hands? You should let your boyfriend do the work.” 

Law grunts behind you, but you cock your head, pointedly ignoring the boyfriend call. 

Seamus chokes out a laugh between his hiccups. “You don’t scare me.” 

You shrug and place your hand on his greasy hair. “Seam.” 

He goes limp in the chair, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. 

“Can I have fun with him while you’re in there?”

“Go ahead,” You joke before transporting into Seam. 

Seamus’ wails echo through your mindscape when you get there. It’s changed, and you give the scene a look of disgust. Thanks to Seamus, the walls of Seam are painted red, fish blood dripping from the Sunny, coagulating on the sands of Alabasta, and staining the seas of the East Blue. You curse him for tainting your memories. 

He’s running toward the house, and you claw your hand. “Sew.”

He’s yanked back, a thick thread wrapped around his neck. He struggles against it as you pull him toward you, and when he gets a glimpse of you, he screams. 

Needles materialise in your hands, and you slam one of them down just in front of his crotch, to which his eyes bulge out of his head.

“You were talking such a tough game out there, Seamus. What happened?” You'd surely crack a few teeth if you clenched your jaw any harder. “You even said I wasn’t scary, yet you screamed when you saw me.”

He says nothing, but his throat is starting to become raw. 

“You’ve ruined Seam with your stupid, fishy blood tactic,” You complain, sinking the second needle into the grass beside his foot, just knicking the edge of his shoe. “Now, it's all I’m gonna see for the next few weeks.” 

Sighing, you consider him again, groaning when you see that the front of his pants is darker than the rest. 

“Ergh,” You scrunch your nose. “I’m gonna leave now. My job’s done.”

“Don’t kill me!”

When you transport out of Seam, you see Law position his hand for scalpel, and you immediately remove your fingers from the strands of hair.

“Oh,” You roll your lips between your teeth when you circle the chair. You told Law to make a masterpiece, and he did, albeit a little psychotically. 

Law has a callous smile playing on his lips, and the sight is utterly intoxicating. The first time you saw the expression and vacant silver gaze, you understood why they call him the Surgeon of Death—the man is simply brutal. When you first met him, you thought his blood ran cold, but you hadn’t met the man Shakky spoke of until he took the first heart of one hundred. Initially, he scared you, but now, you’re terribly and irrevocably fascinated by him. If only those people knew the side of him that you did. 

“Have fun in there?”

“Looks like your fun puts mine to shame.”

Seamus’s chest is raw, his skin in strips. That’s all you see before you look away. 

“Do it,” You say. “And make it painful.”

Law coughs a laugh. “Feeling a little sadistic, are we?”

You arch an eyebrow. “People like him deserve it.” 

He hums and turns his attention back to Seamus, and you watch as a cube emerges from his chest. It floats into Law’s palm, and he gives it a little squeeze. He observes the body before him writhe in pain, but no noise escapes—Seamus’ soul is still in Seam after all. 

Law hums. “Not as satisfying.”

Clicking your tongue, you remove Seamus from your mindscape, and the room fills with shrieks. You wince, your shoulders raising to your ears. 

“Okay, we’re done,” You say, spinning and making a beeline for the stairs. “C’mon, Hachinosu is waiting for us.” 

Law shoves the heart into his coat and pries his eyes from his victim. 

— Scene 7 —

Your eye twitches as you watch a pirate sock Bepo in the face. You’ve been put on rest before the mission in Hachinosu. Law told you to save energy for it, so you follow his professional instructions. 

On the way to the drop-off point, a ship started bombing the submarine, hence why you’re cringing as Bepo takes another hit.

You stand on the deck of the Polar Tang while the Heart Pirates fight. They looked to be rookies when they attacked the Polar Tang, but you know not to underestimate rookies, especially since you’re a Straw Hat, so when Penguin joked that it was going to be an easy battle, you arched an eyebrow and shook your head. Oh, how wrong he was. 

Now, Penguin lays on the ground holding his arm. You’re sure it's broken. 

“Get up, Penguin!” You yell. “Thought this was gonna be easy! We’re in the New World!”

He whines, rolling on the dirt. “Shut up!”

An explosion rocks the submarine, and you teeter, making a sound of surprise. Your feet slide on the salty deck, waves from the impact crashing over the left side. Another cannonball lands not 20 feet away, and you start to panic. “Guys!” 

Law gave you strict orders to not use your power—ever the responsible doctor. But with how things are going, you’ll be breaking his rules. 

“Fire!” The voice is muffled by the waves, but you hear it. 

“Sew.”

Threads weave together before you until they form a giant sheet, into which the airborne cannonball falls. Using one of Luffy’s offensive techniques, you fling the bomb back toward the ship it came from. Cries and screams echo before it turns the deck to splinters. 

“Hey!” Law calls, his voice gruff. “I thought I told you not to use that.”

You turn to see him on the ground beneath the sub. “Sorry, my life was in danger.” 

“You’re never in danger,” Law quips. “Not with me around. Now, go inside.”

“Inside?” Your heart skips a beat. Not with me around.  

“You’re less likely to use your power,” He dodges an attack, his katana in his hands as he swipes at them. “Please, go.” 

Sighing, you follow his orders—but only because he said please. 

It’s not long before the rest of the crew piles inside. But you see Law holding something white and mangled instead of his proud smirk. You tug your eyebrows together and draw closer to him. 

“What’s that?” You ask warily, having a feeling you know. Considering his head is bare, his black tendrils standing on end, your heart drops. “Oh, Law.”

He sniffs. “Nothing to worry about. Just a hat.” 

You know he’s lying, but nod anyway and leave him. 

Bepo’s solemn face haunts you. He follows you around, not knowing what to do when his captain is heartbroken. 

“How’s your jaw?” You ask, remembering the punch. 

“Oh, I'm fine. Nothing I can’t handle.” 

You look over at Ikkaku, who still holds a grudge against you, but her gaze is softer than usual this time. 

You give her a smile—an olive branch, despite not doing anything to offend her other than being on the submarine, and bearing the values of your crew. She gives you one back, and you take it as an appreciation for using your power to save the Polar Tang from the cannonballs. Uni and Clione sit beside her with the same reluctant gratitude. You take it as a win. 

The more you think about it, the more the whole ship seems on edge. The crew’s footsteps are light, and the common area is not nearly as rowdy as usual. One wrong move and Law will crack. 

So, you take it upon yourself to be the first one to disturb him in his office. He’s been locked in there for hours, and since your bedroom is directly opposite, it only makes sense—at least that’s what you're telling yourself. 

You rap your knuckles on the door three times, slowly opening it after. “Law.”

The room is dark, and you hold your tongue when a joke surfaces in your mind. 

“I don’t want to talk right now.”

You step further in. “Are you okay?”

Law makes no sound. 

“If this is about your hat—”

“Leave me alone.” His voice is so broken that it hurts your chest. 

“I could fix it.”

He says your name softly. “Please, leave.” 

You swallow and nod once. “Of course… sorry for bothering you.” 

On your way out, you spot the cause of his distress sitting on the table. You clench your fists to resist the urge to take it, but the voice in your mind wins, and you snatch it. 

You rush from the room, and if Law sees you, he says nothing. 

When you get to your room, you lock the door behind you. The fur hat in your hands is covered in dirt and specks of blood, and it's utterly ruined. You curse at the state of it. 

You lay the pieces on your bed, figuring out how to piece them back together. It takes a few tries, but once you’ve got a design that works, you put your hand over the material. 

Immediately, the sections come together, forming a brim at the front instead of around the bottom like the original hat. It’s different, but you work with what you’ve got. 

You hold it in your hands once it’s formed and smile. Deep in your stomach, there’s an inkling of doubt that Law won’t accept it, but you hope he can appreciate the effort. 

—

You keep the hat to yourself for the night, not wanting to impose Law anymore. When the first sounds of the crew rising from their slumber wakes you, you’re quick to dash to the infirmary. Law’s in here every morning, and when you open the door, you’re not shocked to see him. What is jarring is the lack of his signature hat in the room—the one you’ve got under your arm. 

“Morning,” You greet, hiding the garment from his view. Law grunts, not bothering to look up from the paper he scribbles on. “I’ve got something for you.”

“If it’s one of Shachi’s new breakfast foods, I don’t want it.” 

You roll your eyes. “I’d never subject you to that.”

Law exhales a laugh. 

“This is far more important than that, anyway,” You walk up behind him. “Turn around.” 

He shakes his head. “I’ve got a lot of work to do, sweetheart. Can it wait?”

“Nope,” Smiling, you put your hand on his shoulder. Law sighs and glances at you. 

The look on his face is one you’ll never forget. 

“Wha–”

You suppress a giggle and shove the hat in his face. “I fixed it for you.” 

Law turns, his eyes wide. He takes the hat from your hands, the soft material delicate in his grip. He’s speechless. 

“I took it from your office last night, and I know I shouldn’t have, but you were so upset.” 

He shakes his head in disbelief. 

This lack of speech makes you nervous. “I know it’s not the same as it was before. There was no way I could salvage enough of it to do that, so now you have a brim. I think it looks cute, but—”

“Shut up.” 

You come up short, immediately closing your mouth. The infirmary falls silent, with you no longer rambling and Law standing there in shock, hearts in his eyes. 

“Law—”

“Thank you.”

His words have an underlying connotation; you just know it, and how he looks at you confirms it. 

You make a sound of surprise, your body freezing. You swear he can hear your heartbeat from how loud it is in your ears. “What?”

His gaze of adoration quickly fades when he sees your shock. He drops the hat on the trolley and turns back to his desk. “Are you hungry? I’m sure breakfast is ready.” 

You don’t know what he’s saying. You’re not listening. I love you, I love you. 

The tension between you is suffocating, weighing heavily on your chest. “Law.”

He lets out an awkward laugh, unsure what to say. 

“Look at me, Law.”

“I can’t,” He whispers. 

You tilt your head. “Why?”

“Because you don’t need to see me like this.”

“Like what?” Your tone grows hard. “Like you have feelings?”

He glares you. 

“You have a heart, Law. I see it every day,” You say. “So don’t pretend like you’re some cold, heartless man because you’re not.” 

When he doesn’t answer, you go on. “Do you need proof? I used to think you only picked me up in Sabaody because I was useful to you—”

“—you were—”

“—you wanted to help me, and you did. Because you’re kind, Law. You want to help people; otherwise, you wouldn’t try to kill the four emperors.” 

“And if I said it was purely selfish?” 

“I’d say you’re lying. Because despite this revenge plan you have for Doflamingo, you don’t want him hurting anyone else. You care for people.”

“Of course, I care for people,” Law snaps. “I wouldn’t be a doctor if I didn’t want to help others.” 

You shrug. “Need I say anymore?” 

“I’ve work to do.” Law murmurs, his eyes downcast and tongue in his cheek. 

You know when you’re being dismissed, so you hum and turn to leave, but not without noticing the tight grip he has on the fur hat. 

— Scene 8 —

Hijacking a ship is out of your expertise, especially a smuggling vessel. 

When you and Bepo spot the ship in the distance from the deck of the Polar Tang, its lights bright in the darkness, you immediately notify Law. 

“Are you sure it's the one?”

“Yes,” You groan. “Who else is out this far? Besides, there are no other ships around.”

Then, Hakugan directs the submarine toward the ship. 

Law shambles you and Bepo onto the vessel, where the pair of you are to distract someone and take control. It takes a while for you to remember what Law said as you and Bepo wander the ship. Somehow, you find yourself in the same place you started. The deck is empty, though there are lights on inside. 

“Where and to whom are we meant to do this again?”

Bepo shrugs. “I was too scared to listen.”

“Oh my g—”

“This way, Sir.”

You jump behind a pillar, pulling Bepo with you, though you doubt he's hidden. 

Behind you, several more footsteps approach, but this time, it's Shachi and Penguin with Uni, Clione, and Hakugan. 

“Captain and Hakugan have seized the control room,” Penguin says. “No thanks to you two.”

You gape. “Not my fault his instructions were shit.”

“This way, we have to protect Captain.” 

This way. You look back in the direction of the man who passed you before. Why would you call someone Sir on a smuggling vessel?

You keep your mouth shut for the moment, following Penguin to the control room. When you get there, there’s an unconscious man on the floor, and when you look at Law, he’s pressing buttons, ignoring the looks from Hakugan, who steers the ship. 

“Are we on course?”

Law side-eyes you as Hakugan answers. “Yes.” 

“I, uh,” You start, averting your eyes. “Had a question.”

“Out with it,” Law mumbles. 

The pirates around you listen in, curious. 

“Are there meant to be this many people on a smuggling vessel? Especially noble-like people?” 

Law’s head spins around, his eyes dark. “What?”

“This guy was leading another guy somewhere, and he called him Sir,” You bite your lip. “I was just wondering if that’s normal for a —”

“Fuck,” Law curses loudly. “You imbeciles, this is a passenger ship.” 

Bepo gasps, looking faint. “Oh, we really messed up.” 

Your jaw falls open, and Bepo grabs you, wrapping his arms around you. “Take me to your dreamland. I can’t be here.” 

“Where did you see these people?” 

“Umm, back down on the main deck.”

Law grits his teeth. “You said this was the ship.”

“To be fair, it’s dark, and this ship was far—”

He pushes past you and out the door. The control room is quiet, save for Bepo’s whimpers. The familiar zip of shambles sounds outside before Law reenters. 

“We’re heading for Hachinosu already.” 

“That’s good, right?” 

“Yes, Bepo,” Law mumbles, leaning over the control panel. “We’ll be there much earlier than expected.” 

“Why don’t you sound happy about that?” You are hesitant to ask. 

“Because,” He turns to look at you directly. “The king and nobles of Hachinosu are on this ship.” 

Bepo almost drops to the ground, Penguin shoving himself under the mink’s arm. “You’re kidding me.” 

“We’ll have to lay low,” Law addresses his crew. “Draw no attention to yourself, and don’t tell anyone who you are. Understood?” 

Yes, captain. 

Law rubs his forehead, mumbling curse words to himself. 

He says your name. “I know this is a big favour to ask, but is there any way you could create casual clothes for the crew? I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t absolutely necessary, but knowing this crew…”

“How long until we reach the island?” 

“One day.” 

You purse your lips. “Give me two hours.”

—

Two hours is enough time for you but too much for the rest of the crew. As you finish the last garment, Penguin’s pants, there’s a sudden scream from below the main deck. 

Law inhales sharply, his jaw set. “If that’s—”

“Shachi, this is your fault,” You hear Penguin through the door of the control room. You glance at Law, whose eyes narrow. “Fuck, run.”  

Hakugan, Uni, and Clione burst through the door, Penguin, Jean-Bart, and Shachi close behind them. Law holds his tongue, anger simmering in his gaze. 

The door slams shut, and the rumbling of voices outside increases. 

“Don’t tell me you did what I told you not to do.”

Shachi grimaces. “We didn’t do it on purpose, Captain…”

“Morons, the lot of you,” Law snaps. “If the King of Hachinosu knows we’re here, he knows why we’re here, and he won’t stop until all of us are dead, got it?” 

Penguin gulps. “What do we do?” 

“Pirates!” 

Law groans with frustration. “Room and Shambles.” 

You hit the deck, literally. You’re outside, and the chaos of the passengers is on the other side of the ship. Bepo moans in pain beside you, and Law stands in the middle of his crew. 

“Stay here, and don’t make a sound.” He flicks his fingers again, and then he’s gone. 

Penguin sighs, rubbing his head. “He made that hurt on purpose.” 

Shachi hums in agreement, and you roll your eyes. 

“Maybe if you two weren’t so loud, we wouldn’t be in this mess,” Bepo mumbles, glaring at his best friends.

“Says you! We can’t go a day without hearing you whine,” Shachi quips.

Bepo makes a sound of indignation. “That really hurts me, you know that?” 

“Yeah, well—”

“Stop,” You whisper, noticing a presence nearby. The crew freezes, and Bepo turns to you, terror morphing his features. 

“Sew.” 

“Argh!”

You push yourself up, walking directly to where your threads caught someone. A man in his late 30s resists Sew's hold on him. 

“You dirty pirate! Get this off me!”

You stare at him. He’s dressed fairly well, with a white suit and gold accents. A noble. 

“Hey! I see you! Get away from me!” 

Pursing your lips, you decide what to do. In his hand, obscured by the long train of his jacket tail, is a handgun. 

“Hey—” You throw your hand up, wrapping threads around his mouth in case he draws attention. 

He screams against the cotton, his finger squeezing the trigger of his gun. You duck, and the bullet flies off the metal railing. Still, you remain silent. 

You hear Bepo call your name and wince. Now, this guy knows who you are. 

The man’s eyes widen, and he starts tugging his arms, his gun tumbling to the deck in his struggle. He cries out when he sees it close to your feet. 

You tilt your head, considering him and your plan of action. He did just try to shoot you. 

He knows your name, who you are, and what you’re doing on the ship (if he knows about the Poneglyph on Hachinosu). 

You toss up your options. On one hand, he is a civilian. On the other, he knows that it were you on the ship tonight, subduing him. Who knows what the newspaper will write about you if that gets out. You hurt innocent civilians? 

Nothing about this man is innocent, that’s a fact, but standing here, staring at him, you don’t know what to do. 

It isn’t until you hear Law ask where you are back with the crew that you release a breath. Law comes over, his eyebrows tugged together. 

“What’s up with this guy?” 

“I don’t know what to do with him.” 

The man cries, tears running down his cheeks and over the threads covering his mouth. Law frowns. 

“Why don’t I just take his heart and be done with it? He’s a pirate himself.” 

You give the man a once over, still processing what just happened. “He shot at me.” 

Law eyes go cold as he cocks his head, regarding the noble with indifference. “This will only hurt a little.” 

You watch as he uses Scalpel, the man’s heart sliding from his chest. He passes out. 

Law turns back to you, shoving the heart into his coat. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine,” You nod. “Just didn’t know what to do.” 

“That’s okay. You did good nonetheless.” And then he wraps his fingers around your hand to whisk you away. 

“Wait,” You exhale, looking back at the man’s unconscious body. “There.” 

A piece of paper sticks out of his pants pocket. It’s small, only half the size of a normal map, but you rush over to it. Unfolding it, you recognise the style. 

“Law.”

As he approaches, his boots click on the deck, peering over your shoulder. “What is that?”

“A map,” You whisper, turning it around to get a better angle of the island it represents. “If this is Hachinosu…” 

“It could be where the Poneglyph is,” Law mumbles, pointing to the skull in the middle of the paper. “But why would a noble have access to this?” 

You shrug. “Maybe it’s a part of their plan. I mean, he did come out here alone…” 

Law hums with consideration, his gaze flickering to yours. There’s a glimmer of something behind his usual icy front, and you’re lucky you’re close enough to see it.

“You’re right. We’ll take it anyway, but be careful tomorrow. Who knows what they’ve got planned for when we arrive.” 

— Scene 9 —

The crick in your back flares, as you hurry off the ship—sleeping upright in the control room is taking its toll on you. After Law took the noble’s heart, you and the crew were sent to the control room to sleep. Law said he took care of the remainder of the passengers… whatever that meant. 

Law isn’t far behind you, but the rest of the crew is already on the island, fighting off pirates. 

Now, you’re to find the site of the rumoured Poneglyph in the middle of the island. You take a different route to everyone else in case anyone is seized. With the map from the noble clutched in your fist, you run. 

“Go left! I’ll take the right.”

Nodding, you veer toward the large building on the port, hand out to summon threads to restrain the men running at you. Their swords slash at the strings, but you’re gone before they free themselves. 

An explosion makes you stumble as you enter a warehouse, men with guns pointed at you the moment you step inside. “Seam.”

The eyes of the gunmen immediately go dazed, and they lower their guns involuntarily—you can feel the addition of them to your mindscape. Fifteen. You gasp at the fact that it actually works. 

Seam has evolved. You’ve only used it once, summoned the ability without physically touching someone, and it was shoddy at best. What you did now was a shot in the dark. There’s no way you knew it would work. 

But you don’t dwell on it when you run through the building and out the other side into an alleyway. Someone screams at the sight of you before gunshots ring through the street. 

You duck, taking a sharp right into another warehouse, this one empty. The outside sounds: bombs ticking and exploding, cannonballs, yells and cries, and swords on swords are muffled inside here. You tiptoe through, checking behind doors and peering around corners before advancing. 

There’s no missing the giant pirate skull in the island's centre, your target when you emerge. The map in your hand becomes useless when you notice the behemoth landmark. Who needs a map when you can see the thing everywhere in the city? 

Stepping out of the warehouse, the area before you is full of Heart Pirates on resident pirates, fighting mercilessly with swords, fists, and guns. Swallowing your nervous pants, you aim a thread around a pirate sneaking up behind Clione, who’s already engaged in a fight. The man gags as you pull him backward, your face becoming a scowl when you look at him. 

“Going for a man’s back is cowardly,” You say, ignoring how the man spits at you. 

“You stupid bitch, get off me.” 

Clenching your jaw, you throw him against the wall and string him up. His knife clatters to the cobblestones, and you leave him there—Law’s crew is important to him, like hell you’re going to let someone hurt them. 

You turn, dodging a fist flying at your face. Making a sound of surprise, you sweep your leg out, catching the man off guard. He goes down, groaning in pain. 

“Marines!”

You feel your heart drop into your stomach. Whipping around, you don’t see the familiar white and blue uniform, and you’re not going to. You run away from the port, many resident pirates scattering into the side streets and yelling the same warning. 

Why are the Marines here? And how’d they get here so quickly?

You hear your name being called, the sound echoing. Bepo stands there, his arms full of beige woven bags—the stolen hearts. Your eyes widen at the number he carries already. 

“Go right! There’s a road that leads straight there.”

Smiling, you thank Bepo and follow his directions. Your eyebrows tug together when you recall the hearts. There had to be at least thirty, and who knows how many trips Bepo has already made to the passenger vessel. 

Shaking your head, you direct your brain to your target—the Poneglyph. You can’t read them; only one person can, and you miss her like crazy. She’d be able to understand it and relay the knowledge to you because there’s no way she’d tell Law about it at this point in time. 

You wish Robin could hear you now, wherever she is. 

Your path to the middle is easy after transporting twenty-eight more pirate souls into Seam. You manage to dodge all but one nasty punch to the cheek but get shot in the shoulder after purposefully instigating a pirate (not your best idea, but he was insulting the very existence of Luffy, something you’d never stand for). 

You know Law will give you an earful when he sees you next. 

The lead bullet is lodged in your muscle, and the bleeding is staunched thanks to the ripped hem of your t-shirt. You could have made a bandage using Sew, but your Devil Fruit powers dwindle with every passing second—if a pirate were to attack you now, you couldn’t fight them off.

The dizziness and ringing in your ears are almost unbearable, though you’re unsure if the ringing is from the punch or the way you hit your head when you fell from the impact of the bullet—you’re positive Law won’t care where it came from, just the fact that both of those things happened to you. 

You blink away the stars in your vision and cough. The wound is itchy, and you resist the urge to dig your fingers into the hole and rip the bullet out yourself. The injury, paired with the pirate souls in Seam, is taking a toll on you. 

“Fuck,” You pant, pausing to lean against a palm tree. Peering down at your shoulder, you almost faint at the amount of blood that has soaked through your makeshift bandage. When you inhale, your head gets lighter, so you choose to keep your breaths short. 

You can feel your head drooping, but push off the tree to continue. Gone are the cobblestones, and in their place is dirt. Pressing your palm on your wound, you wince and think against doing it again. You remember Law telling you to put pressure on injuries like this, but you don’t think you can—you’re going to pass out from the pain. 

Blood drips onto the sandy dirt beneath your feet, and the scorching sun strengthens the metallic scent. Your skin burns under the same heat, and you fear you won’t make it to the Poneglyph at this rate. 

Up ahead, you hear the clang of swords. You whine, knowing that you won’t be able to fight someone with a weapon in this condition. So, you hurry down a barren alleyway, the cool air of the shadows allowing you some relief. You stumble but catch yourself on the wall. 

Sure, you’ve had bullet wounds in the past, namely in Alabasta, but it felt nothing like this. With a few deep breaths, you feel no different. If only Chopper were here, with his panicked assessments and swift procedures, you would be scolded but fixed up quickly. Usopp’s chaotic, anxiety-ridden laughter echoes in your ears, and you shake your head to rid your mind of memories. 

Another person’s presence, one not far away, weighs heavily on you. 

“Law…” There’s no use calling for him. He’s on the other side of the island. You know this, yet do it again. You wish you had the baby transponder snail he gave you on that island, the one with the fur hat like Law’s. An involuntary giggle escapes your lips. 

You can die without telling him— The souls in Seam wage war inside your mind, and all the yelling and screaming causes a sharp pain to throb behind your eye. “Shut up.” 

Going into your mindscape now would be foolish. You’d waste your available energy and pass out right here without fulfilling Law’s request—check the giant skull for the Poneglyph. It would kill you to disappoint him. 

You stagger out of the street; the sound of metal clanging and scraping is gone. Panting, you walk up the main road, the denser trees making it difficult to locate the entrance of the skull. 

With bloody hands, you push back stray hairs that stick to your forehead with sweat. The world around you gets fuzzy, but Law’s averted eyes and fake smile force you to go on. You knew the plan going into this, and if you were to disappoint him—you’ve already thought about this. 

You rub your eyes with your knuckles, squeezing your cheeks after to feel something in your face. When did your face start getting numb?

Faces pop into your head: Luffy, Zoro, Usopp, Sanji, Nami, Chopper, Robin, Franky, Brook… and you cry at the thought that you could leave them wondering what happened to you. Your stomach churns at the mere inkling that, at a time like this, a time when death rears his ugly head inside you, you have failed your family. You failed to stay alive. 

“I’m sorry,” You slur, your face sticky with tears and blood. “I love you.”

An explosion rattles the ground, and your mind is back on the situation. Your tongue moves around your mouth hopelessly, trying to form the one name you need, the one that will help you without a second thought, the one you—

Slurring Law’s name, you no longer feel your feet beneath you, but instead the ground on your cheek. You didn’t feel the impact. Dirt clumps with sticky blood, and you feel your body relax. It’s nice to finally lie down. 

You’ll wait here for Law. He’ll come and find you. He has to. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, but you wear a smile. Law, Law, Law. 

— Scene 10 —

You wake, though you don’t open your eyes. 

Law knows you’re awake, and you know he knows this, yet neither of you says a word. 

There’s no pain in your shoulder when you shift, finding yourself on your back, and you could cry at the mere thought that he found you. 

It isn’t until a tear drips from the corner of your eye into your ear that Law speaks up. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” His voice is soft, but you sense the malice in this timbre. 

One drips into your other ear. It’s a steady stream of salty water that soon turns into sobs, ones that rack your shoulders and burn your chest. A sensation you haven’t felt since you found Luffy in the forest on Amazon Lily. 

“I’m sorry,” You whisper, your voice breaking. Law makes no sound. “I’m sorry.”

“You have no sense of self-preservation.” 

He’s mad. 

“Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if I hadn’t found you? If I hadn’t returned to the ship and realised you were taking much longer than planned? Fuck, you were minutes away from death.”

You sniffle, hiccuping. “I’m sorry.”

Law sighs hashly. “I know you are. Stop saying it.” 

Opening your eyes, you’re met with the ceiling. The same ceiling you woke up to on your first time here, and the one that keeps seeing you fall apart. 

“Law…” You peer over at him, your tears increasing when you see him sitting so close to the bed. You’re so happy to see him. “I was so scared.” 

You can hear him swallow from where you lay, his jaw set and gaze averted. You smile when you see his expression—you called it. 

“I knew you’d look like this.” The laugh you let out is rough, your throat raw. “You were the last thing I thought of.”

Law shakes his head and stands, giving you his back. “Don’t say shit like that.”

“I kept thinking about how disappointed you’d be that I didn’t get to the skull, that I didn’t find the Poneglyph—”

“I don’t care about the Poneglyph!” He spins around so quickly you barely see it. “I care about you!” 

Your bottom lip quivers and more tears roll down your cheeks. You wait for him to continue, too shocked to speak. 

“Do you know how close I was to losing it when I had to take that bullet out of you?” He yells. “When I found out it was poisoned? When I had to extract the poison from your body?” 

“I didn’t know it was poisoned.”

“Of course you didn't,” He laughs bitterly. “You were too busy dying to know.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I’m sorry.” 

“You’ve been in that bed, unconscious for eight days,” Law says your name with such pain that when your eyes focus on his face again, you see his glassy eyes. “You had ninety-four souls in Seam. How did you do that?”

Ninety-four… 

“What?” You ask before realising what he’s saying, not even comprehending the fact you were unconscious for eight days. “How can you see inside Seam?”

“That’s not important—”

“It is! Tell me.”

Law sighs. “I can move incorporeal things, like souls; it’s how I switch people between bodies,” He explains. You store that little morsel of information for later, but now, you’re more fascinated with the fact that he can see your mindscape. “You had a lot of souls inside you. I can’t see into Seam, just the presence of these souls. But are you crazy? Ninety-four? That wouldn’t have helped with your injury. I’m surprised you didn’t pass out before you got shot.”

Law’s rambling and you fear he may start to spiral if he hasn’t already. 

You let out a weak sound. “Law…”

“Fuck,” He curses. “I’ve never prayed to a god until I saw you on the ground, bleeding out. You terrified me.” 

You’re going to be sick. You forget about Seam and try to push yourself up but quickly collapse when you lean on the wrong arm because what does he mean by that?

He’s at war with himself as runs his hands through his hair. “Why would you not come back to the ship when you got shot?” 

“Because I had to get to the Poneglyph for you.” 

Law scoffs, though the sound is not nearly as daunting as it normally is; instead, it’s sad. “Don’t you dare put your life in danger for me.” 

It’s your turn to scoff, and you finally get the strength to sit up. “Don’t tell me what to do.” 

“When it’s for my sake, then yes, I can. I’m not worth your pain or your death.” 

You swing your legs out of the bed, standing on shaky knees. 

Law’s eyes widen slightly. “Lay back down; you’re going to fall.”

“No,” You say, pointing your finger into his chest. “Don’t tell me what to do. Listen to me.” 

Law purses his lips, his eyes flickering down to where you jab him with your index finger. 

“You’re my crew, okay?” You know it sounds pathetic, but Law makes no move to ridicule you. “And I’d do anything for the people I love, even if that requires me to put my life in danger. So don’t stand there and tell me you’re not worth it when you mean more to me than you can imagine.” 

“That’s foolish,” Law whispers. Your thumping heart stops, and when you look up at him, a single tear runs down his cheek. You reach up to wipe it away, your thumb soft on his skin. You keep your hand on his cheek. 

“I’d do it a hundred times if it would help you reach your goal.”

Law swallows thickly. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t found you one time, let alone a hundred times.” 

“You would’ve gone on with your crew and defeated all four Emperors and Doflamingo. I’m just someone you picked up on a whim.”

You know it’s a lie. 

Law chokes on a laugh, though there’s no humour. 

“You know that’s not true,” He spits. “I can’t do this without you knowing I know what it feels like with you. I hope you know that.” 

“Law…”

“I care for you,” Law mumbles, his tone harsh while he presses your palm to his cheek. “I can’t lose you, too, which is why you can’t keep putting yourself in these positions.”

There’s far more to this than you know, and it breaks your heart to find out he’s been through this before. 

“You’ve made this hell worth it. Everything I’ve done until now has brought me to you, and I’ll be damned if I let you hurt yourself to keep me happy, okay?”

You curse yourself when you start crying again. You can’t pinpoint when the ringing in your ears started, but it makes the world tilt. Laughter spills out of you unwillingly.

Law scowls, his vulnerable expression turning cold. He’s about to push you away. “I’m not talking to you if you’re going to mock me. I know I’m a heartless bastard, but I’m not joking.” 

You pull him back to you with your good arm. “Why would I mock you? Come here, you idiot.”

He stares at you a little longer, his hand resting on your cheek. Law’s gorgeous; you’ve known this since you first laid eyes on him. But seeing him so vulnerable flips a switch inside you. It’s gentle, the kiss you press to his cheek, and it’s pink, the blush high on his cheekbones. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” You say. “I’ll remain with you until you want me gone.”

“I’ll never want you gone,” He whispers, and your heart breaks. You smile, tears rolling into your mouth.

“Kiss me,” You say, reaching for him. Law meets you halfway, his other hand on your cheek as he brings his lips to yours. 

The first peck is cautious, and Law runs his tongue along his bottom lip while you wrap your hands around his neck, pulling his chest flush against yours. Your shoulder is numb, and it’s probably for the best that Law forgets about your injury when, with red cheeks and a hell of a lot more confidence, he kisses you again. 

“You know what this means?” Law whispers against your mouth, your salty tears mixing together. 

You exhale through your nose, your fingers playing with the hair on the nape of his neck before they slide higher, your hands gripping larger chunks. “What?”

He leans in for another kiss, this one lasting longer than the previous, and when you pull away, he chases after you. Law looks at you, his eyes smiling and half-lidded with desire. 

He brings you closer to him, his fingers brushing stray hairs away from your face. You giggle, pressing your lips to his cheeks and chin as he admires you. 

“It means,” Another peck. “That you’re my crew, too.”

“Shut up.” You exhale a laugh and shake your head.

Your lips glide over his, and both of your lips slightly chapped. You smile with giddiness, your teeth lightly knocking Law’s. 

“Quit smiling so much,” He mumbles, kissing the corner of your mouth. 

You don’t apologise. “I’m so happy.” 

Law drops his head to lean his forehead against yours. “Yeah, me too.” 

“I’m sorry about what I did,” You say, pushing the hair on his forehead back. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry for making you worry.” 

“I’ll always worry about you,” Law presses his mouth to your forehead before moving his hands down to the sides of your neck. “No use telling me not to.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry.”

You catch yourself before you do it again. 

Law wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. You close your eyes, tightening your hold. His heart pounds underneath your ear, and he trembles softly. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

Taglist:

@fandomhoe101 / @valen-yamyam16 / @chibinasuu / @xsuvs / @curiositycoven64 / @chillerkiller / @loserbee14 / @theloserqueen / @meritxellao / @mirtiell / @dreamistsblog

I think this is everyone! If I missed you, and/or you want to be notified when Act III is posted, please comment below or send me an ask!!

[yorsgirl]

In His Arms

Levi Ackerman x Reader

Synopsis: Why should you look for another place to die when you have his arms around you?

Tropes: Angst, major character death

Warnings: Canon Timeline, gn!reader, angst, unhappy ending, non-explicit violence.

Word count: 2.03k

You never liked the sun all that much.

It was always too bright, too warm…always just too much. Even then, the scorching heat did nothing but increase your irritation as you laid sprawled out on the open grass field. Your body felt abnormally paralyzed, heart beating right in your ear; drowning out all the noises of the disaster happening around you.

You don’t remember how you got there.

Honestly, you couldn’t remember anything that happened in the past hour. But you laid there - on the lush green field while the sun burnt your skin, lungs constricting with every breath you took.

You were tired. Exhausted even. Wishing nothing but to fall into a deep slumber. But you can’t. Not in this filthy field (what if some insect crawls up your ear), not when the sun burns so hot (ugh, so annoying), not when your thumping, loud heartbeat almost scared you.

The wish was thrown out of the window when you felt something trickle down the side of your eye. Warm. Assuming it's sweat, you groggily moved your hand to wipe it away. Your eyes drift off to your palm – thick, warm liquid stained it red.

Blood.

For a second, you gazed at it with curiosity.

The next, everything hits you like a bullet to the gut.

The expedition, the unfruitful sighting of two abnormals near your flank, comrades that were trampled or ripped apart by the titans and at last…when it held you in its grasp; ready to chew onto your flesh.

You still didn’t remember, what happened to the accused titan that dared to make you its snack. You groaned but it came out as blood spitting coughs, as you tried to roll over – failed. Everything was still a blur.

Your solitude was cut short when you heard a thud. A figure dropped beside you.

Tufts of Jet black hair and a pair of steel blue eyes hovered through your hazy vision.

“Levi...” Voice strained yet you were able to say his name, without coughing up blood.

The said man kneeled, picking you up in his arms, your head laid on the crook of his elbow and forearm. He gently wiped away the blood aside your eyes and forehead, his touch – like a petal falling on water; almost soothing your aching body.

“I am here,” He assured you, his eyes focused on your face. He didn’t dare look down your body. The sight, even too terrifying for him.

Your right leg was missing from the knee down, the gash running through your abdomen – too deep. The blood loss was significant; staining the grass around red.

In any normal circumstance, he could carry you effortlessly. But this very day, his arms felt weak while supporting just your upper body weight, fingers trembling as he brushed off your hair.

It was minutes ago when Levi reached near the vicinity of your flank (or what once was) after being informed by a fellow soldiers that two aberrants were sighted there. He remembered the moment, the titan’s hand wrapped around your abdomen, as it held one of your limbs in its mouth, the shrieks of horror combined with pain that escaped your lips; enough to break the barriers of his rage.

For a moment, he was pushed back into the utter depths of his memory. A similar expedition, like this one… with a similar scenario where an aberrant took away the lives of his then, only family.

It couldn’t happen again. He couldn’t lose you too…

He just couldn’t.

Seconds, in literal seconds did he disintegrate those titans, their remains were nothing but blobs of flesh accompanied by the blood. The titan- or rather titans, which dared to grasp you; their corpses no- more like what was left of their corpses were left around the bloodied field, steaming into air.

It was painful.

For both of you.

He couldn’t conjure the courage to look down on your injured body, the realization that you wouldn’t make it – too difficult to be accepted. Instead he just stayed silent, as you tried to breathe, all while your chest burned.

“Levi… wh-” You were caught in a coughing fit, spitting blood out of your mouth.

“Easy, don’t talk.” His voice reaches your ears, he gingerly wipes away the blood from your chin. “I am here…” He repeats. You are going to be okay, he wants to tell you that you’d be alright. But he knows the inevitable and he knows you do too.

So the words died down.

Weakly raising your hand to cup his cheek, feeling his skin on yours; one last time. As your trembling fingertips trailed over his cheekbone, his rough hand held yours atop, running the pad of his thumb across the creases of your palm.

Oh… how much you wished for time to stop now.

To let you be like this. In his arms. Just where you were meant to be.

“I am going to die, aren’t I?”

The cursed words lolls off your lips so easily. And Levi just wishes, why does he have to bear this torment?

It’s a question you’ve asked him previously too. A lot of times to say the least. It was annoying, he had thought those times. Shushing you down with the usual - you still have time.

That time is up.

“I told you to not speak.” He rebuked harshly.

But why does this harsh attitude seems to arise from a place of tenderness?

“No,” You state with conviction even though your tone quivered. “You know it too.” You noticed the tighter grip on your hand as well as the stiffening of his body. You were right, he knows it too.

Levi knows he’s in amidst titan territory, he knows letting down his guard is the worst option but… he can’t leave you there. The regret of not staying with you now, would be greater than any regret that he might feel later.

So, he sat down properly, cradling your head on his lap. He stared right into your eyes, memorizing the colour and how the sunlight reflects on them. He gazed down at your lips, memorizing the way it curled as you speak.

 The fluttering of your eyelids does not go unnoticed. He tracd his finger down to the pulse point on your wrist. The rhythm eerily slow.

You held his gaze, focusing on his features through the blur. And even if you don’t like the sun, you can’t help but love how the periphery of his face glowed under its light. You etched the feeling of his touch to your mind.

There are so many words you wanted to say to him, so many sentiments whirling inside you which you wished to let him know.

But you don’t. The declarations too long and time too short.

Even then, in that moment you know he has his tongue tied too. The words left on the tip of his lips, never voiced out.

A silence befell you both, as if pushing you into a trance of your own. A place where these titans don’t exist, the complexities of this ongoing war vanished. Leaving you both at each other’s mercy.

The pain that surged through both of you, for a second stops. Converting into something warm…

You lived in that intimate moment with him. When words fell short, but the thread tying his soul to yours remained strong.

After a short while, a noise erupted from you. Instead of cries of pain or anguish, you let out a chuckle. Causing Levi to give you a look, questioning himself if you had gone insane.

“Ah- looks like I will be leaving before y-you,” You chuckled again, as it was followed by a painful cough.

His eyes narrowed, lips twisting into a frown, “And you are laughing?”

“Would be able to re-rest finally.” Your lips stretch in a grin. “It’s tiring to tr-train under you… every day.”

There’s a reason he found you annoying.

The corners of his lip twitched as he wondered would it be the right time to smack your head and talk some sense into you. But he refrained, just glaring at you. The glare isn’t filled with rage, rather undertones of despair.

“It’s tiring… to train under me?”

“uh huh,” You would have nodded but movement seemed challenging too. He almost wants to flick your forehead for making a joke out of this situation. But that’s just who you were. One of the many reasons he fell for you.

He understood your playfulness. A way to divert his mind. He had sworn to not regret anything but there are times. Times when he can’t help but do so. It were one of the rare times. And you just happened to be the antidote in this predicament.

Humorous, it was. You were standing on the edge of life, still it were you comforting him.

He pondered on what he did to deserve you.

The grin stayed on your lips quickly followed by another coughing fit.

Levi gently rubbed your back and shoulders – his touch again easing the pain that coursing through your ripped abdomen.

“Levi…” You call his name again, the word falling off your lips so sweetly.

Oh, how much, he wished that he’d get to hear it again and again.

His eyes flicker to your face again, even though that blood dripped down the side of your face and your eyes half-lidded; he can’t help but still find you beautiful.

As beautiful as always.

“I’m listening.”

You smile, breathing heavily, eyelids drooping down as you force them to stay open. “O-oh nothing... just wanted to say your name.”

He gulps down the lump forming in his throat, wondering how easily you had always understood him. Through the silent nights you spent on the rooftops or when he completed his paperworks as you prepared him tea.

“But if I had to ask for something… hey… Levi,” You whined with a frown. You assumed he wasn’t listening. But he was listening.

Always listening.

“What?” The heaviness in his voice was evident, he was holding back from crumbling down. His eyes drooped down, the grimace on his lips; an expression you knew all too well.

You breathed in sharply as the smile remained, “Watch it… till the end, for me.”

His eyes flickered with something for a second, before he blinked. Once. Twice. The pad of his thumb running circles on your cheek.

With the tightness in his chest, he nodded, “I will.” The same grin from earlier gets plastered on your face again. That assurance was enough for you.

For, if you can’t see the outside world, to taste freedom in its true form. You at least want him to watch it for you, to live in it for you.

Your chest burned again, the blood loss taking a toll on you as your head felt awfully light. Levi noticed it too along with the coldness of your body, as the pulse rate has almost diminished.

“I am sleepy,” Your voice being a mere whisper.

He knew and you did too.

The time has come.

“Sleep,” He replied, “You’ve fought for long, rest easy now. I’ll be here.”

He gingerly caressed your face once again, his steel grey eyes fixated on yours as if there’s no tomorrow, thumb tracing the outline of your lips.

“And when you wake up…” He gazed at you with so much longing and affection. “I will find you again.”

Your lips cracked into one of the most beautiful smiles he had ever seen. A smile he locked into his memory. With a slight nod of your head, your eyelids closed.

You breathed out once. Then never.

Levi stayed there, holding you tight for as long as he could remember.

As the despicable sun shone on the unlucky lovers, a little too brightly and the noises from the catastrophe elsewhere started to sync in. The grassfield was still as bloody and filthy.

You passed away, in the place you loathed. But didn’t, in your last moments.

Through unsaid words and silent promises, you took your last breath. But it was alright. Cause you were where you were meant to be.

You were in his arms.

[artbyblastweave]

The great thing about billionaires wanting to pursue transhuman life extension technologies is that I do want those things developed to a robust state and then released for use by the general public but if it turns out that we're living in the heavy-handed moralist-deathist timeline where trying to live past your allotted lifespan through the power of SCIENCE arbitrarily turns you into a cronenburg blob or an insane cannibal or some such shit (so that the writers don't have to wrangle with the practical ethics of a deathless society, you see) our canaries in the coal mine for that will be some of the most systematically unsympathetic individuals on gods green earth

[inkspiredwriting]

Made with Clay, Painted with Love

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Summary: Y/n loves making things out of clay, and Five loves keeping every little thing his wife makes.

A/N: This was a request, And I really hope the person likes it. I tried to write a little faster this time, but I don't know if I'll be able to do that in the future, but I'll try.

Warnings: none

Before time travel, before the Commission, before the apocalypse and the weight of the world fell squarely on their shoulders, Y/n liked making things with her hands.

Clay, mostly. Mugs. Trinkets. Tiny animals with lopsided smiles. Little bowls that wobbled slightly on their base. It started as a way to keep busy during long summers and slowly became a quiet language. Something about shaping something from nothing — turning a lump of wet earth into something warm and useful — made her feel grounded. Made her feel real.

And then she joined the Commission.

And she met Five.

Y/n was throwing a small clay cup across her desk in frustration when Five first walked into her life.

She was new to the temporal crime division. He was… not. The rumors about him came first — the genius with a thousand-yard stare, the man who could gut someone with a letter opener and still make it to his next mission briefing without blinking.

She expected ice. What she got was… sarcasm, coffee breath, and a surprising appreciation for quiet moments.

They worked together. They argued a lot. They flirted more. He once found a tiny clay figurine shaped like a grenade on his desk and raised a brow at her across the room. She just smirked and went back to her paperwork.

He never threw it away.

Somehow — and neither of them really knew how — they’d ended up together by the time everything hit the fan. The apocalypse came. Five tried to fix it. Y/n helped. There was blood, heartbreak, too many timelines to count. But in the end, they saved the world.

And they walked away from it together.

After everything, Y/n didn’t return to the Commission. Neither did Five.

They bought a house with a crooked fence and a sunroom that leaked when it rained. Five claimed he didn’t care for domesticity, but he always fixed the leak before Y/n could ask.

One afternoon, while unpacking a dusty box marked “Misc.” from her childhood, Y/n found a bundle of old tools. Wire cutters, wooden sticks, a sponge hardened with time. Her hands ached, just a little, with the memory of motion.

She ordered clay that evening. Set up shop in the sunroom. By the time Five wandered in, mug in hand, she had a blob of brown clay spinning on a wheel and a determined look on her face.

He watched her for a long moment.

“I’m not cleaning up anything that explodes.”

“It’s clay, not uranium,” she said without looking up.

“You say that now…”

The first mug was awful. Uneven, slightly lumpy, and the handle was attached crookedly. But Y/n painted it with dark green glaze and added a tiny umbrella decal.

She left it next to the coffee machine.

Five found it the next morning, paused with his hand halfway to the pot. He stared at the mug. He turned it over.

On the bottom: “Drink like you just survived the end of the world – Y”

He used that mug every morning after. Still did, even when Y/n made better ones. “The First Mug,” he called it, like it was a historic artifact.

It became a thing.

A small cat figurine appeared in his desk drawer — modeled after a stray that sometimes slept on their porch.

A bowl with uneven edges appeared on his bedside table, perfect for holding coins, keys, and the emergency knife Five insisted on keeping nearby.

A tiny clay cube sat on the dashboard of his car. It was painted navy blue and had different expressions on each side — a grumpy face, a winking one, one that looked vaguely murderous. “Your mood cube,” Y/n explained when he stared at it. “For when I’m not around to calm you down.”

“You’re insane,” he said — but he didn’t remove it.

One week, during a particularly bad string of insomnia, Five was irritable and sharp-tongued. He barked at the coffee machine. He snapped at a confused grocery clerk. He growled at a delivery guy for leaving a package too close to the door.

And then, in the middle of a particularly dark morning, he reached for the small umbrella-shaped trinket Y/n always left near his coat — and it wasn’t there.

He stood still. Cold panic settled in his gut.

He found her in the sunroom, curled up on the floor, fast asleep beside the kiln.

She had clay in her hair and dried streaks of paint on her cheeks.

Next to her, on a little tray, were five tiny figurines — each one modeled after him. Different poses. One had his hands on his hips. One had a tiny briefcase. One was scowling. One was asleep with a coffee mug. One had a tiny “I love Y/n” T-shirt.

He stared at them for a long time, then carefully pulled a blanket over her shoulders.

They never made a big deal about it. Y/n never asked if he liked the things she made.

Five never threw any of them away.

Sometimes, when she was busy glazing a new batch, he’d lean against the doorframe and mutter, “You missed a spot.”

She’d flick clay water at him.

Sometimes, he left her notes inside her drying bowls. “Not structurally sound, but cute.” Or, “This looks like something that would haunt my dreams. I love it.”

She kept them all.

Years later, when guests came over and asked about the strange, imperfect little sculptures all around the house — on windowsills, bookshelves, tucked between potted plants — Five would shrug and say:

“My wife leaves things behind. I just make sure they stay found.”

And Y/n, from wherever she was, would smile quietly… and shape something new.

[st4r-th0ughts]

Lord, give me one more chance.

I wonder, if this will be the last?

masterlist

Mk1 characters x Liu Kang’s child! Reader

4:00A.M. (Taeko Onuki) ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:47

ׂ╰┈➤

tw/cw: reader is very much feeling guilt for shedding so much blood, this is a nightmare so dw our pookies ain’t dead, reader remembers very very vague stuff from mk11 timeline (aftermath and being Shinnok’s spawn carries onto the next timeline), it’s like not making sense? Ig cause it’s a nightmare lmfao, gorey scenes and descriptors, body horror, light religious? themes, drowning, neck snap, shits painful in general bruv, third person pov (you/yours), dw shits dark but it’s a bit happy at the end. Mostly.

notes: first time writing a fic that delves into gory descriptors and I’m doing research in how to write nightmares lol so forgive me if it’s unrealistic, corny or smth

summary: A nightmare that comes back every time you fall into dream land.

characters in focus: Liu Kang mainly (father figure), Earthrealm champions, Shirai Ryu duo, Edenian sisters, and Syzoth x Ashrah and the rest are just rlly implied but they still are nightmarish in descriptions lol

ׂ╰┈➤

Heavy breathing. You heave as your feet connect with the cold, stone slate as opposed to the smooth, soundless wood of your bedroom floors. It’s the same. The same. The same nightmare tormenting you for weeks.

Everything around you is hazy. Blurred lines of dull clouds gloss over the supposedly clear night skies, the stars whispering words of goodbye as they disappeared from your sight. You blindly reach for them, stumbling forward as your feet loose its footing despite there being solid ground in front of you.

A scream escaped you as darkness swallowed you whole, your yells echoing against the stone around you, your hands mindlessly scraping the walls that seem to grow further from you, your fingers scraping them desperately, the pain searing as you feel your nails peel and scrape away.

You prided yourself for being the level headed one, the one who didn’t scream while everyone else was panicking, a trait your dear father… your father. He was in the distance. No wait, no, you’re falling. You’re supposed to be falling.

A gasp. Your standing in front a temple. Deep in the forest, in front a worn down temple, the walls crumbling ever so slowly as you step forward. You don’t feel good. You don’t feel like yourself. Your legs are stumbling forward onto the stairs.

The incense burner is abandoned. Everytime you came here, to watch the mortals worship the God of Fire, people pile up in lines to pay their dues. The ash is pale and white as you pick it up and let it crumble in your hands.

The temple is too silent. You stumble through empty halls of prayer halls, staring straight ahead. There are eyes in the shadows. They follow you. Judge you. Whisper about you. It makes you feel nothing.

There’s a small pond in the temple. You remember. Orange… blobs… float around. There’s no lily pads. There’s a statue of him in the temple. A dragon accompanies him. His marble eyes make contact with yours, half of his face having crumbling into fine dust.

You feel parched. You grasp your throat with bloody fingers, the nailless fingers clawing the skin so hard you think you’ll tear out your trachea. Your legs stumble mindlessly to the pond, and you can feel the marble statue crumble and his eyes following you.

Your knees slam into the pond’s edge as you feel them crack and snap as you cup algae infested water into your mouth, the liquid tasteless and stale as the familiar man’s marble feet crumble as it fell forward. The crash is loud. Your ears ring and there’s warm liquid leaking out of your eardrums.

Your head turns, and you come face to face with those familiar glowing eyes, blood seeping and dripping where his jaw should be. His teeth are bloody, his tongue moves in a weak attempt to speak, and his eyes are glassy and bloodshot.

A empty wail escapes his mouth, and you scream in pure terror as he reaches out for you with cold, bandaged hands, scrambling back as you crawl and scrape the floor, gagging as you feel bile rise up in your throat, a sob of sorrow for this familiar man and fear as your vision blurs.

You can’t run. Faces stare back at you. Their faces. Their names. Their voice. It’s a blur. There’s so much blood. Too much blood. The blindfolded man’s throat is torn out. There’s blood flowing and dripping in front of your feet like a river. If you could hear past the heavy ringing, you’d guess he’d be straining whatever words he can make out.

There’s black shards in the American man’s face, his face looking like it was torn apart by a serated knife you stare blankly into his lifeless eyes as a duo step out from behind him, one decapitated as it stumbled forward, blood spurting out of his neck, and the other was split in two, crawling towards you as he cried out in agony.

Your knees are broken. The bones are jutting out of your flesh as you writhe away from the familiar, mangled states of people you’re begging forgiveness from. Why are you begging forgiveness? You don’t know. The words are tumbling out of your mouth, you know they are despite the ringing.

Unbeknownst to you, your frantic movements edging you closer to the pond’s edge as flashes of bodies, bloodshed, and carnage as you shake your head in despair. Why do these memories torment you? Is the Elder Gods punishing you?

You feel your body being shocked as freezing temperatures drag you down. The water is disturbed as your legs scrape the floor, trying to surface to scream and breathe the stale, dusty air. Your legs cramp, and with that, the icy water swallows you whole.

You struggle. There’s an invisible force dragging you down, you thrash and writhe in its grip, your eyes forced open as your faced with bodies floating around you, bubbles escaping your mouth as your hands weakly struggle to locate them, or locate anything alive at all.

Your lungs are burning. Your legs are useless, limp and floating along with the force as your hands slowly cease your struggling, the overwhelming feeling of helplessness as your dragged deeper as the surface is further and further out of your grasp.

You turn your head as you come face to face to a bloodied face. Two of them, lifeless and floating limply in the dark depths of the water. A scarred right eye housing empty eye sockets and missing limbs, and another man with bloodied gray hair had his mask floating not far from his mouth. Or whatever it was supposed to be considering his entire lower face was torn off, the loose flesh making you almost vomit.

There’s too many faces around you. Mangled, bloodied, grotesque. They are familiar. Some… some you know well. Friendly. Some are those you can feel are enemies. People you’ve battled against before. People whose blood you’ve splattered before, and people who’ve sunk their weapons into you as well.

You feel your neck strain as your slammed against the stone hard floor, gasping weakly as bubbles escape your mouth, your eyes darting around to search for a futile escape. You see two ladies. One dressed in blue, one dressed in pink. They look similar. Their faces are intact, leaving your to stare at their beheaded forms as the sharp teethed lady’s face passes too close to your face.

You gag, your vision blurring as you gain a burst of adrenaline, your hands scraping hard against the stone and dirt of the water, trying to move against the force pushing your neck harder and harder against the floor.

There’s bodies beside you, their necks wrangled as you see a green cloaked man with tattoos lie beside with a black eyed lady as the force on your neck becomes unbearable, your vision blurring as you feel the last of your life leave you.

There’s a crack, and everything goes silent.

You jolt awake, a strangled gasp escaping you as your hands grip the covers, your nails intact and neatly cut, your knees are still in place, and you’re not being drowned and chased by abominations of the dream.

Your father is beside you, worriedly feeling your forehead as he wipes the cold sweat with a comfortingly warm cloth, a shiver running down your back as you remember the harsh, bitter coldness of the pond’s water drowning you.

“Are you feeling alright?”

Liu Kang’s voice rings out gently as he pats your back, coaxing the fear out of you with ease as he brought you into his arms, kissing your forehead.

You nod barely as you hug him back, flashes of that statue of him staring at you, his jawless form trying to embrace you into his cold hugs. This is warm. And it feels like home.

Blood is not uncommon in your life. Your father has always trained you to be one of the consistent Earthrealm defenders. You just hope your battles don’t end up shedding blood of people you cared about.

fin.

© st4r-th0ughts 2025, I don’t allow reposts, reuploads, translations, or copies.

a/n: would love to hear your opinions and what I can improve on when writing stuff like these next time!

[pixiatn]

Returning to my old roots of being the CEO of Duke/Danny

Honestly surprised there's not much fics pulling from the Ultimate Enemy Timeline, and I'm talking Abt post semi redeemed Dan, or Danny's friends and fam die but he doesn't go evil just traumatically runs away, id like to see an in the middle concept. Like post him becoming full ghost but pre him becoming Dan.

Now being a full ghost and a powerful one at that, Danny's chaotic destructive ass makes a beeline straight for Gotham due to its raw supernatural energy that he's heard rumors about from peeps in the Ghost zone. And his ass goes there to chomp on weaker/blob ghosts (idk if it was said how Dan got powerful like that so I'm making shit up)

Like usually some people who see him do this are like "omgee, new hero/protector!!" And he just hisses and vanishes, bro has reached cryptid poltergeist status. he doesn't care about saving people cause that's LAME, and he DOESN'T DO THAT ANYMORE, cause it's LAME, but he doesn't admit that deep, deep, DEEP down, there's a flicker of humanity that buzzes with warmth at being recognized as a protector again

Batfam is obviously suspicious of this deeply suspicious and mistrusting ghost guy but Duke has a bit more of an open minded thinking bro is going through a metahuman crisis and wants to help because there's not a lot of open metahumans in Gotham (that aren't evil) and wants to offer some sort of guidance before the intricate web of evil catches him.

So Duke is investigating Danny on his own, trying to learn more about ghosty dude and how he can find him or help him, eventually learning about the GIW and their attempt to enact anti-ecto laws which by association would allow them to experiment ghost/specter powered metahumans. As well as wanting to take them down, he also wants to find out if they have anything about the Ghost boy he's investigating.

While casually breaking into one of their facilities in Gotham, he finds a group of scientists in the middle of beginning some type of ghost dissection on Danny while hes still awake and thrashing, so as one does, Duke proceeds to jump everyone. In the scuffle, Danny gets freed and is about to escape but actually sticks around to start beating everyone's ass with Duke.

Duke guides Danny out of the building and before he can even say anything, Danny hisses and vanishes. Duke sighs at the loss of his investigations victim but finds himself being almost stalked by the ghost. Dried ectoplasm smeared above doorways which only he can see because of his perception of light, electronics being finicky around him, being surrounded by a cold air, and a whole bunch of semi threatening gestures

Unknown to Duke, this is Danny trying to befriend him aggressively due to kinda forgetting how to do it normally