Love Languages

monito d. luffy <3

Writers on a random Tuesday: Sits down, locks in, giggles, writes 10k, does not sleep

Also writers on a random Tuesday: writes one sentence and then stares into the abyss for five fours

As The Day Slips By

|Master-list|

Ace x Reader, angst, mentions of depression, suicidal thoughts, soley for comforting purposes, platonic love with the White-beard Pirates.

Summary: Things get rough, and hit by hit you’re just tired of it all.

A/N: To anyone who needs this, I hope it helps. You’re a lot stronger than you think >:) @uramakimochi

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It started small.

From a simple mistake, to the tragedies of your life to the very questioning of your future. You were scared. Of living, no, correction—surviving, to just existing to fail.

The lingering question consumed you:

Would it even be worth it?

With all the trouble you’ve gone through now?

The expectations, the asks, the responsibilities—would you ever meet them?

Would you ever accomplish them?

The wind replied, brushing past as you stood on the Moby Dick, stationed near the stern. The sun was setting, and the decks were quiet. The aftermath of dinner flew by, and the crew headed to bed, while others slipped to night-watch.

Crying, you lowered yourself to the rail. resting your head against your arms. An unbearable feeling took over, and it made your chest tight. Numbing, and lost, you now experienced while in the inevitable of your depression.

You knew it wouldn’t be long till someone found you, but you needed to let it out, to breathe. Especially after hours of avoiding a hot-headed pirate.

Ace’s and your relationship had been on a rocky stand-hold. You weren’t opening up, and you were avoiding the topic of obvious like the plague, even if offered help. Anxiety prevented you from speaking out, while the simmering stubbornness left you lost.

You hadn’t realized it, but he’d been watching from afar; lingering as you made yourself small and hidden, left achingly worried.

Ace took a step, but hesitated. He was scared if he made the wrong move, he might just break you.

You’d already drifted so far, to the point Ace, the crew—everyone saw it. The heaviness that surrounded you, a silent weight that held you back, and a mindless stare the left them nervous.

It wasn’t impossible to reach you, the crew understood that, and Ace knew it better than anyone; he just needed to find the right words.

He needed to find the right time, and that was now.

Ace’s steps were quiet, just like the way you cried. He didn’t want to startle you—that was the last thing he wanted, and it was the last thing you needed.

Carefully, he came to your side, just barely brushing your shoulder. Inviting, but not pressuring.

Watching the waves, a moment passed before he spoke.

“You weren’t at dinner.”

You sniffled, wiping your tears to turn away. “I was busy…with something.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “I figured.”

Silence shrouded, and you couldn’t find the courage to speak. You felt weak, vulnerable—incompetent.

Though, Ace never pushed.

Not really, anyway.

“Have you. . .” Another painful moment.

“. . . been thinking about it again?” he asked, leaning against the rail. His tone was soft, not accusing, just questioning… and sad.

Ace wasn’t judging, he’d never, but his comment laced your throat. You were left speechless, drowning in your own shame and his truth, by his blunt words.

You managed a shaky breath, subtly squeezing the rail. You felt frozen.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said, placing his hand by yours. “I get it, I really do.”

His pinky inched forward, wrapping around your own. To anyone, it’d feel small, but to you—in a moment like this?

It meant a lot.

“You don’t even need to give me a reason.”

Wind rustled by, combing your hair and smearing your tears.

“I’m just tired, Ace,” you whispered, turning to him. “I’m so tired of this.” your voice cracked, and he held your gaze.

His expression turned, and he tensed.

Ace’s eyes glossed with tears, and he stepped forward—almost fiercely. But not pushing.

His arms extended, and softly, he whispered your name. “Come here.”

You took a weak step forward, and in an instant he hugged you. “It’s okay,” he muttered, grabbing the back of your head. “It’s gonna be okay. You hear me?”

You collapsed against him, clutching his shirt— as if it was the only thing keeping you there.

Because truthfully, it was.

“Its just so hard.” you choked.

“I know.” he held you, holding you to the point you couldn’t breath. But you couldn’t care, you needed this more than anything.

“I know it is.”

The sky welled blue, stirring in with darker colors and gray clouds. Seagulls flew over-head, nesting in the ship brackets and windows to hide for a storm.

Just like you were in Ace’s arms, sheltered from your mind. Safe.

“I got you,” Ace’s voice wavered, but it was grounding. With pouring emotion he kissed your temple. “I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not letting go, you’re stuck with me.”

“You got that?”

You managed a nod, and he held you closer.

“You don’t have to be strong for me,” he whispered, “you never do, not even for the crew. You just have to stay. That’s it, just stay.”

You cried, tilting your head and he cupped the back of it. “What am I gonna do?” You voiced, looking up to him. “I-I dont, I don’t know anymore.”

“You’ll figure it out.” Ace said firmly, brushing your tears. “You always do, it just takes time. Just a little more time, just me and you, it’ll be okay.”

“What if it isn’t—what if I screw everything up?”

“You won’t ____. You never do. Nothing is perfect, you can’t always expect that of yourself.”

Ace’s finger poked your forehead, making you wince. “Don’t listen to that, whatever it’s telling you—ignore it. It’s just being a pain in the ass, and you don’t deserve it.”

A softer moment passed, border-lining vulnerable. “You hear me?”

“Yeah…” you whispered, wiping your tears.

“Good. You got it, maybe not now, but you will. I know you will.” Ace kissed the corner of your eye, bringing his head forehead to yours. His nose grazed the tip of yours, and his voice sounded below a whisper.

“I love you,” he murmured. “No matter what happens, that’ll never change, okay?”

“Okay.”

For the first time in weeks, maybe even months— you could breathe. Finally breathe. Under the light drizzle of rain, his reassurance, and love, broke through the numb that swallowed you whole.

The wind brisked cold, and you shivered stepping closer.

“Shh,” he hushed, heating his body to warm you. “It’s okay, I got you.”

Like a blanket out of the dryer, the fire of his body heat surrounded you, following to your heart. Completed in his presence, Ace was by your side, and he made it clear he wasn’t letting you go.

Not for a long time.

✤ Request Rules ✤

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Ok, due to the fact that I'm a new writer, and recovering from a concussion I'll be taking limited requests and extending them as I'm comfortable.

I tend to be a perfectionist who procrastinates, so it takes a few days for me to follow through... though if you do request something just know I'm trying my absolute best to get it done.

And it helps if you're a little descriptive with your request, like little key points, or maybe a certain scenario? Or a starter if you want!

Fandoms:

• One piece

Topics:

I do not do heavy NSFW (As I'm learning.)

SFW is fine

No Incest or god awful weird shit pls, like horrific Ao3 tags, I'll forever be traumatized by those.

I'm great with angst and comfort

Loveeee fluff

Can be descriptive or blunt, whatever you'd prefer

Lowkey this blog is more abt comfort and just feel good stuff—so mental health, or other related things are always welcome!

Stuff I am not comfortable with writing I will let you know, I won't just not reply.

I do Romantic AND Platonic, because I feel as if we don't have enough of those

To be cringe is to be free, so don't be afraid if your request isn't seemingly perfect, because I know damn well my fics are a mess

Characters I'm preferably best at:

Zoro/Sanji/Usopp (My baes)

Characters I'll write for (For Now):

All of the Straw hats (I will NOT do anything romantic for Chopper. He's a child)

Heart-pirates (Same goes for Bepo)

Things I'll Do:

Head-cannons

One-shots

Short Stories

・。・。・。・。・。・。・。・。

I hate when the low moods and insecurity hits out of nowhere. Nothing major happened exactly I just woke up feeling so awful about little things and things I have no control over hitting me all at once. I know it'll pass but t's just exhausting.

If anyone else is going through similar feelings like this, just know I'm there with you. Be kind to yourselves, there's never anything wrong with resting, making yourself a priority and doing something for you 💕

Sick Day

Summary: You're sick but you don't want to disturb your busy captain and the crew.

Song: Coming Down by The Weeknd

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

The salt spray stung your face as you clung to the railing of the submarine, Polar Tang. The familiar rocking of the vessel usually soothed you, but today, it churned your stomach with a vengeance. Each swell sent a wave of nausea crashing over you, and the lump in your throat threatened to betray the secret you’d been desperately trying to keep.

“Another beautiful day at sea, eh, Y/N?” Shachi called out, his ever-present grin plastered on his face. He approached, a length of rope slung over his shoulder, and threw an arm around your shoulders.

His touch, normally comforting, felt like a brand on your feverish skin.

“Gorgeous,” you managed, forcing a smile and leaning away slightly. “Just taking in the fresh air.”

Shachi, bless his oblivious heart, seemed to buy it. “That’s the spirit! Captain’s in the library, buried in some ancient medical text again. Probably trying to find a cure for boredom.” He chuckled. “Don’t think he’s slept in days. You should see the bags under his eyes.”

Your heart clenched. That was precisely the reason you were out here, battling the waves and the growing weakness in your limbs. Trafalgar Law, your…everything, was already overworked.

He dedicated his life to the well-being of his crew, pushing himself relentlessly. The last thing he needed was you adding to his burden with a simple cold.

“Maybe I will,” you said, your voice a little too high-pitched. “Catch up on some reading myself.” You detached yourself from Shachi’s grip and hurried below deck, hoping he didn’t notice the tremor in your hands.

The air inside the submarine was thick and humid, doing little to alleviate the chill that had settled deep in your bones. You bypassed the library – Law’s sanctuary – and stumbled toward your shared cabin.

Collapsing onto the bunk, you pulled the threadbare blanket over yourself, trying to ignore the throbbing in your head and the scratchiness in your throat.

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

Bepo’s anxious voice cut through the fog in your brain. You peeked out from under the blanket to see the massive polar bear crouched in the doorway, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Fine, Bepo, fine,” you mumbled, pulling the blanket higher. “Just a little tired.”

Bepo wasn’t stupid. He knew you better than anyone, barring Law himself. He padded closer, his large paws silent on the metal floor.

“Your face is flushed,” he said, his voice laced with worry. “And you’re shivering. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Just a little seasick,” you insisted, turning your face to the wall. “It’ll pass.”

Bepo hesitated, his ears twitching. “Maybe…maybe I should tell Captain.”

Panic flared in your chest. “No! Bepo, please don’t. He’s so busy. It’s nothing, I promise. Just let me rest.”

You knew you were being unreasonable, but desperation lent your voice a sharp edge. Bepo, always sensitive to your feelings, retreated slightly.

“Okay, Y/N,” he said softly. “But…but if you need anything, anything, you promise you’ll tell me?”

“I promise,” you whispered, closing your eyes.

Days blurred into a miserable cycle of stolen naps, forced smiles, and growing weakness. You avoided Law as much as possible, knowing he’d see through your charade in an instant.

You choked down your meals, forcing yourself to socialize with the crew, all the while battling a fever that threatened to consume you.

The hardest part was keeping your distance from Law. You craved his touch, his presence, his unwavering gaze. He was your anchor, your safe harbor in a turbulent world.

But you couldn't risk him seeing you like this, a pathetic, sniffling mess. You’d rather suffer in silence than burden him with your trivial illness.

One evening, as you were attempting to sneak a cup of herbal tea – Penguin’s well-intentioned remedy, despite your protests – Law’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Y/N.”

You froze, your back to him. The sound of his voice sent a shiver down your spine, a different kind of shiver than the one that racked your body with fever.

“Captain,” you said, turning around slowly. You tried to appear nonchalant, leaning against the counter as if you weren’t desperately trying to keep from collapsing.

He stood in the doorway to the galley, his dark eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. He was even more tired than Shachi had described, the lines around his mouth etched deeper, the shadows under his eyes more pronounced.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he stated, his voice flat.

You forced a laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous, Captain. I’ve just been…busy.”

He raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge. “Busy doing what, exactly? Trying to master the art of disappearing?”

You swallowed, your throat burning. “I…I just wanted to give you space. You’ve been working so hard.”

He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “And you think hiding from me is helping?” He reached out, his fingers brushing against your forehead. You flinched, but he didn’t pull away.

“You’re burning up,” he said, his voice laced with concern. “How long have you been sick?”

The fight drained out of you. There was no point in denying it any longer. He knew. He always knew.

“A few days,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet.

His grip on your forehead tightened slightly. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

You looked up at him, your eyes pleading. “I didn’t want to bother you. You have so much to worry about.”

He sighed, a sound of weary exasperation. “Y/N…" He took your hand in his, his thumb stroking the back of your palm. "You are never a bother. Ever. Do you understand?”

Tears welled up in your eyes. “But…”

“No buts,” he interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. “Come with me.”

He led you back to your cabin, carefully helping you onto the bunk. He didn’t say anything as he peeled off your clammy clothes and wrapped you in a fresh blanket. He worked with a practiced efficiency, his movements precise and gentle.

He summoned Bepo, who scurried off to fetch a basin of cool water and some clean cloths. Law sat beside you, dipping the cloth in the water and gently dabbing your forehead.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked again, his voice softer this time.

Your voice was hoarse. “I was scared.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and something else, something that made your heart flutter despite the throbbing in your head.

“Scared of what?”

“That you’d be angry,” you whispered. “That I’d be a burden.”

He shook his head, his dark hair falling across his forehead. “You could never be a burden, Y/N. And I could never be angry at you for being sick.”

He continued to bathe your forehead in silence, his touch soothing and comforting. You closed your eyes, letting the cool water and his presence wash over you.

“From now on,” he said softly, after a long silence, “no more secrets. Not from me. Understand?”

You opened your eyes and looked at him, your heart overflowing with love and gratitude.

“I understand,” you whispered.

The next few days were a blur of fever dreams and Law’s unwavering care. He made you herbal teas, insisted on you resting, and even managed to coax a few bites of bland food past your protesting stomach.

The crew tiptoed around the cabin, whispering their well wishes and leaving small gifts – a rare orange, a hand-knitted scarf, a crudely drawn get-well card from Bepo.

Slowly, the fever began to break. The throbbing in your head subsided, and the nausea faded. You started to feel like yourself again, a little weak perhaps, but alive.

One evening, as you sat propped up in bed, reading a worn paperback, Law entered the cabin. He carried a tray with a steaming mug and a plate of crackers.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"Much better, thank you," you replied, offering a tentative smile. "I'm almost back to normal."

He placed the tray on the small table beside your bed. "Good. I was starting to miss your sharp wit and irritating questions."

You chuckled, a genuine sound this time. "Irritating questions? You're just jealous of my superior intellect."

He smirked, a rare and precious sight. "Of course. That must be it." He leaned back against the wall, watching you as you sipped your tea. The silence that followed was comfortable, a familiar rhythm between you.

"Law," you began hesitantly, "I wanted to thank you. For everything."

He raised an eyebrow. "There's no need. I just did what anyone would have done."

You shook your head. "No, you went above and beyond. You could have left it to the others, but you didn't. You took care of me. And I... I really appreciate it."

He pushed himself off the wall and took a step closer. "Y/N," he said, his voice low and serious, "you're important to me."

Your heart leaped in your chest. "I –"

He cut you off, continuing before you could overthink and ruin the moment. "You're smart, resourceful, and you have this infuriating way of always knowing exactly what to say to piss me off, but also... to make me laugh. You bring a unique perspective to the crew. You challenge me."

He paused, his eyes searching yours. "And," he swallowed hard, "you're… kind of… essential to me."

You stared at him, speechless. Essential? Was he… could he possibly…

He seemed to realize what he had said, the implications of his words hitting him like a tidal wave. His cheeks flushed a faint pink, and he looked away, running a hand through his hair.

"I… I didn’t mean to say that," he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

"You didn't?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

He looked back at you, his gaze intense. "Well, I mean… I did. But… I didn't mean to say it like that. It just sort of… came out." He was a mess, a far cry from the stoic, collected captain you knew him to be.

You couldn't help but laugh, a nervous, shaky sound. "So, you're saying you didn't intend to accidentally confess your… whatever this is, to me, while I'm still recovering from a fever?"

He groaned, burying his face in his hands. "This is a disaster."

You reached out and took his hand, your fingers intertwining with his. "Hey," you said softly, "it's okay. It's more than okay."

He looked up, his eyes filled with doubt and a glimmer of hope. "It is?"

You squeezed his hand. "Yes, Law. It is. Because… I feel the same way."

His eyes widened. "You… you do?"

You nodded, your heart soaring. "I do. I have for a long time."

A slow smile spread across his face, transforming his features. It was the most genuine, unguarded smile you had ever seen. He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear.

"Then maybe," he whispered, "this accidental confession wasn't such a disaster after all."

He leaned in closer, and you closed your eyes, anticipation flooding your senses. His lips brushed against yours, a tentative, feather-light touch. It was a promise, a beginning.

The door to the cabin slid open with a bang, and Penguin's head popped in. "Captain! We've spotted–" He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening in surprise as he took in the scene. "Oh. Sorry. Am I interrupting something?"

Law pulled away, his cheeks flushing again. "Yes, Penguin. You are."

Penguin backed out of the cabin, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and amusement. "Right. Carry on, then. I'll just… tell the others to steer clear." He disappeared, leaving you and Law alone once more.

You both burst out laughing, the tension finally dissipating. The world outside your tiny cabin seemed to fade away, leaving only you and Law, the quiet hum of the Polar Tang, and the undeniable spark of something new, something real, igniting between you.

The fever might have been a curse, but it had inadvertently led to a cure for a different kind of ailment, one you had both been suffering from in silence for far too long.

And maybe, just maybe, accidental confessions were the best kind. . . .

HELP WHY DID I MAKE THIS

I DONT WANT A LOT FOR CHRISTMAS THERE IS JUST ONE THING I NEED AND IIIIII DONT CARE ABOUT THE PRESENTS UNDERNEATH THE CHRISTMAS TREE, I JUST WANT YOU FOR MY OWN MORE THAN YOU COULD EVERRR KNOWWW

MAKE MY WISH COME TRUEUEUEEE

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMASSSS ISSS YOUUU