When One Piece Said "existing Is Not A Crime" And When It Said "thank You For Loving Me" And When It

when one piece said "existing is not a crime" and when it said "thank you for loving me" and when it said "tell me you want to live" and when it said "being alone is worse than being hurt" and when it said "you're my friend" and when it said "someday you will find kind people" and when it said "there are people out there who will love you" and when it said

😻😻😻

LOUDER!!

I'm so tired of these "sabo x reader rough sex" HE IS NOT ROUGH DURING SEX WHAT KIND OF IDEAS DO YOU HAVE LIKE THAT MAN WOULD BE SO CAREFUL WITH YOU LIKE OMG. WHATEVER MY OPINION THOUGH.

hey babes!!! i just want to say that i love your law fics! and i stumbled across the soulmate law fic and you talked how law is so kaz brekker coded 🥹 glad im not the only one!! i would love to see more law in kaz moments just like the scene when kaz treated inej in the bathroom (im not sure if you've done this trope before but i love the tension between kanej) 🤣

GOD BLESS YOU you know what i'm talking abt they're so similar yet different but OUGH YES i had to find my copy and reread the chapter so i could get a good read again hhhfnd

[Heads up!: some good ol' pining, mention of injuries, pre-dressrosa/post punk hazard]

The door to the bathroom is open, shiny tile and bright lighting ㅡ and you, making neat strips of clean cloth for bandaging. Law doesn't knock to announce his presence, knows he doesn't have to. Though you don't look up, you're aware of him.

"There are two doctors on this ship," he intones, "you could have had one of us patch you up."

Snip. Another strip of bandage. "Both of you are injured. I hardly think it fair to ask you to do more while you heal."

"I think you're still bleeding." Law nods to the bright red that blossoms through the bandage that you have wound around your upper arm, approaching. "I can help."

You secure yourself further against the basin, watching him. In the reflection, he catches a peek of the tattoo stamped over the topmost knot of your spine ㅡ he looks away.

"I'm sorry."

You don't ask him what he's apologizing for ㅡ there are a thousand things he could be apologizing for, a thousand that he should.

Apologies don't come easy for a man like him.

"Were you the one who shot me?" He doesn't like the way you stare at him, Law realizes. Too analytical, too much like you're pulling him apart meticulously, piece by piece. He wonders ㅡ if you reach in far enough to pull the dark, wild thing of his heart out, would you be afraid of him?

"No. Butㅡ"

"Then you have nothing to apologize for." His teeth grit, jaw aching with the force of it. You make it sound as though the world deals in absolutes, measured evenly and doled out in the same way.

It doesn't, he knows that. If the world were fair, he may still not have his family, but he'd still have Cora.

"You shouldn't have come with me." He still hasn't moved towards you, evaluating you like a cornered animal despite the relaxed set of your shoulders, the loose curl of your hands for balance on the basin.

"I pledged my loyalty to you, not to a ship crew without their captain."

Law wonders if you've ever lied in your life. You meet his gaze, and his eyes narrow. He should demand you leave ㅡ find some way to get ahold of Bepo and the others, make you leave.

(He needs you to stay.)

He finally slots himself in the space between your knees, takes hold of your arm with one hand, the scissors you'd been using with the other.

Despite the blood seeping through, the wind of bandage is neat, efficient ㅡ you've watched him do it so many times.

Snip.

Bare skin, marred only for the clean, punched hole that oozes fresh blood. If it hurts, you don't show it.

He holds his hand out without looking at you, soft cloth against his fingers that he dabs your wound with.

"What's your intention in Dressrosa?"

Blood seeps into the cloth. "This should be stitched."

He doesn't need to look up to know you're staring at him. He can feel your gaze, fights the urge to look at you. "It's fine."

He winds white bandage around it, lost in the soft loop around your arm as he finally answers your question. "To bring down Doflamingo."

Scissors gleam in the lighting overhead. Your eyes, dark moon pupils haloed by color ㅡ dismantling him, piece by piece. "What are you really after?"

Snip.

The scissors clatter into the basin as his hands meet the mirror on either side of your head. This close, he could kiss you. Let his hands wander, touch, selfishly covet the way he so badly wants to. But he doesn't.

(His hands are bloodstained, and yours are not.)

His eyes lock with yours, his fingers curling. "The means to an end."