Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I'll be ordering them as I complete them.

1. Tied Down : Shanks/Mihawk : I

2. Nothing Hurts Like a Heart : Nami/ Vivi

3. Candle in the Wind : Marco/Ace

4. Someone You Loved : Law/Luffy

In Progress: 

• Dolflamingo/Crocodile
• Sabo/Koala
• Franky/Robin
• Usopp/Kaya
• Ace/Marco - Angst

Feel free to comment on this chapter other pairings you'd like to see set in this universe. Mind you this is technically a stand alone piece set in the world of "Your Pain is My Pain" 

Chapter Text

Tied Down

It happened slowly, the realization not a magnetic almost electrified thing that the novels make it out to be. 

No . 

It was slow.

It was both beautiful and painful to realize that your soulmate is one reckless bastard. 

The novels all are of harrowing tales of knights swooping in and rescuing damsels in distress. Shanks never intended to be a knight, he traded the average dream for the open seas. The salt-misted air, the roaring of the waves, the piercing cry of gulls and endless blue stretching off as far as the eye could see, melting into the horizons. He had no interest in his soulmate, not until he lived his life. He knew that the person on the other side had been quite long enough to make him doubt their actual existence. He wanted a life of adventure.

That’s what he’d thought. He hadn’t really made any concentrated efforts to keep his own pain in check. Whoever was his soulmate needed to be able to keep up with him, they needed to be able to accept his way of life and not tie him down. 

But whoever this person was, it seemed they’d just taken up a new hobby.

Shanks felt the air rush from his lungs as he leaned against the railing of the ship’s deck. The crew were all milling about. He knew that he and the other one, that clown, likely had no true place here on the ship, but he knew he’d have to carve one for himself. He knew his destiny was in his own hands, and if the world would just give him that freedom. 

But the universe always seemed to have other plans, it dealt him a card he never wanted. 

Shanks grit his teeth, trying to ignore the feeling of his arm being bisected but a sharp object, the pain went deep. That one would probably scar. 

“That soulmate of yours giving you trouble again?” Buggy asked, not bothering to look up from the treasure map he’d stolen. 

Shanks grunted in reply. 

He wanted nothing more than to just rid himself of the feeling. He didn't want to be tied down.

“Some of the legends say that you feel the pain more the closer you get,” Buggy supplied, rather unhelpfully. 

Shanks bit back a witty retort as another wave of white hot pain lit his nerves on fire. 

Seriously , what kind of life was this person leading? 

“Other legends say that the strength of the pain shows what kind of relationship it’ll be, the more pain you feel the more carnal or romantic the relat-” Shanks flung his arm out and feigned ignorance. 

“Oh sorry, it was a natural reaction to this pain,” 

Shanks saw a muscle feather in Buggy’s jaw, as he rubbed at his nose. 

He was saved from an angry tirade, as chaos erupted across the deck.

There was an island within sight. They’d used up most of their supplies after being out in the open ocean as long as they had. Shanks forgot how long it had been since they were last on an island, it didn’t help that the log pose seemed to be indecisive on which Island was to be their next target. 

But, they’d found an island, and that's all that mattered. 

“Get him!” the burly me roared, weapons raised in a manner that said they were more for show and less for actually knowing how to use them. 

Mihawk bit back a grin, it was his lucky day. He lives for the day he wouldn’t have to steal to get by. He wanted to be the best. His determination was what kept him going through the worst of it. The details of his past were murky at best, and he didn’t let himself linger in the past. He lived for the now, he lived for the future, he lived for his dream. He wanted to be the greatest swordsman. He wanted all the people who mocked his dream, all the people that mocked him to cower in fear, to realize that the runt they’d written off in a time of need would become an untouchable figure in the future. That was his dream, so he trained. 

He could tell that whoever his soulmate was they too were pursuing a dream. He could feel the bumps and scrapes, the stray shrapnel and the searing heat of a bullet skim him every now and again. But at night, sometimes he let himself get lost in a world he’d never seen, a world of blue skies, and sapphire oceans. The freedom that came with that image. 

They weren’t his dreams but that ambition shone through the bond. He hadn’t ever thought about the true implications of a soul bond. He wanted to be selfish a while longer. He wanted to achieve his dream, to live it before he let his mind wander to that aspect of his future. For now his focus was on his dream. 

It wasn’t until a couple years later that Shanks truly understood the soulmate pain bond. 

The crew had docked on an island, it seemed to be a strong people that inhabited the island, though the scenery was much too gloomy for the rambunctious crew. It was all cobwebs and rotting wood. It was obsidian and blood red rubies not an ounce of other color to be seen in the decor. The only color came from the people scattered about. The island seemed to be inhabited by normal humans as well as a few other indiscernible humanoid races. Shanks had seen the fishmen and mermaids and some of the individuals they passed on their way into town looked more serpentine than fish. The way their pupils would narrow to slits and the frequent flick of a tongue by some were definitely in the snack court.. 

Next to him Buggy shivered. “What’s with these people,” he hissed, rubbing at his arms as he stared them down.

Shanks knew what he meant, it wasn’t so much the appearances of the people but the way they were being watched. Nothing seemed to escape their permeating gazes. It was like they were searching their souls. 

The pair followed the crew into what looked to be a bar, the walls were a dark wood, the floorboards creaking under their weight. Much like the rest of the island the bar was made of glittering black stone, the mirror behind the bar glowing a faint green as if some inner power illuminated it. Everything inside was dark, most of the patrons decked in black cloaks to hide their faces, so only the unnatural rainbow glow of their eyes could be seen. 

Roger seemed to have no qualms about settling down at the bar. The bartender, another one of the snake-like humanoids narrowed their eyes at him before turning to the wall of alcohol. Shanks begrudgingly took a seat at one of the tables near the bar. He was much too close to the other patrons for his liking but at least there were other crew members at the table. 

Roger leaned back petulantly mouthing to Rayleigh about the bartender not taking his order. Rayleigh just let out a long sigh and pat him on the back. Then the female turned around and deposited a glass of bright green liquid in front of the captain. It looked almost like sea glass but smelt very different, it was a sickeningly sweet smelling, floral and minty all at once. Rayleigh eyed the glass warily. 

“What is that?” he asked hand swooping in to keep Roger from drinking it. 

“It is to see if you are welcome on this island. Only the strong survive here. If he wishes for you all to be safe and to remain here he must drink. If not you will be joining your predecessors,” The female tilted her chin up eyes lingering on the sheer darkness of the rafters above them. 

The crew let their eyes trace upwards. 

Buggy reared back in his seat, jolting as if he was electrocuted. 

Shanks felt his stomach churning. There were faces twisted in screams and encased in stone littering the rafters some looked ready to fight, others looked to be petrified… 

Petrified. 

Those people were petrified and turned to stone. 

Rayleigh and the others turned back to the captain, ready to protest only to see him tossing the liquid back. 

The female behind the bar grinned at him. Her smile so wide it showed off the deadly curves of venomous fangs, glinting green in the low light. 

“Enjoy your trip,” She purred. “If you survive, that is.” Her laugh echoed throughout the bar as a black cloudy mist rolled in. 

And then everything seemed to happen at once. 

It was like you read in the books, that the flow of time seems to stretch into eternity and it passes slowly, allowing you to see everything happening in slow motion. 

That’s how he knew what was coming. He could feel the thundering heart beat of another, a hint of emotions streaking behind it like a comet's tail. 

Roger’s eyes turned, the whites of them stained black, the rings of his irises glowing a sickly green. There was nothing human in his face as he turned to his crew, weapons poised to strike. The crew sprung into action, forcing their way through the dark mist surrounding them. 

The patrons seemed to slink back to the edge of the room, melting into the walls as if waiting for the impending blood bath. 

Shank’s attention snagged on the door, he could feel a burning urgency in his muscles that he knew didn’t belong to him but another. 

There was suddenly another person there. Clad in a dark cloak the man was a whirlwind of steel as he tore through Shank’s crewmates. 

Shanks steadied his resolve, the anger boiling in his veins as steady as a boulder in the raging rapids. 

He drew his sword readying to parry with the dark force of nature plowing through the crew. He was fast, the blade he was using as dark and cursed as the whole god forsaken island. 

His opponent was fast, but he could exploit that to his advantage. He felt the faint sting of blades across his skin, pain he knew wasn’t his. But then it all happened too fast. 

He plunged his blade down, he avoided anything vital but he drove his sword through the man, pinning him to the floor beneath, ignoring the spurt of blood as it sprayed over him. 

He could tell some of the crew were recovering, someone had managed to contain Roger, the effects of whatever he drank thankfully not too long in effect. But Shank’s felt it. He knew before the sword felt like it cleaved him in two. 

As one, he and the man he drove his sword through, coughed up blood, the spray of it mingling on the dark floor ahead of them. 

The red head felt himself drop to his knees, one hand still holding the sword in place the other clutching the twin wound to the male on the ground. 

He could feel the darkness tunneling his vision, his breath feeling like daggers of ice twisting in his lungs with each shaky inhale, and the burn of hot coals with each exhale. The sensations too raw, too overwhelming to truly process. Shank’s made himself look into the burning gold eyes of the man below him. 

Pure ire was raging behind them. Too many emotions burning in that gold fire to pinpoint. 

The feedback loop between the two too strong to ignore and tune out. It was consuming. 

Shanks could faintly hear the crew yelling to him but he couldn’t take his eyes off the man. The pull between them was too strong. Two paths converge into one.

He didn’t remember leaving the bar. Only that he’d passed out after he stabbed the darked haired, golden-eyed man. The one currently glaring at him from the other side of the cell they were trapped in. Shanks jolted, making to get up before the shooting pain returned. 

He let his head thump back against the cell before forcing the bile back down and forcing himself forward. 

The latticework of bars were made of varying degrees of bones. Each tied together with something that looks suspiciously like rotting innards. Shanks tried to mask his disgust. 

He could sense the male across from him, studying him. 

“What is this place,” 

“A cage,” The male replied, his voice deep and even. 

“I see that, but why?”

“Because the islanders have been looking for a soul bonded couple to sacrifice to their dark gods,” 

“Huh?” Shanks’ voice totally didn’t crack. 

“Tag, we’re it,” 

“I’m too young to die,” Shanks whined. 

The other man let out a grunt. 

“Is there any way to stop this?” 

“Not that I know of,”

“Okay but what does the ritual entail?”

“Not entirely sure, there's chanting, ridiculous clothes, and probably blood and fire.”

“Can we like... “ Shnaks was at a loss of words. This was a lot to take in at once. 

“I’m trying to think of what they might have mentioned about it. It only happens every five years. But they do that dumb test, because the liquid enhances the soulbonds of everyone in the vicinity and thats how they try to weed them out,” 

“Oh,” Shanks replied numbly. He traced his fingers along the bone cage, grimacing. 

“Don’t do that,” the man said flatly. 

“You’re not the boss of me, I’ll do what I want,” He declared. To make his point he placed the whole of his hand against the bones, then pressed his body to it, testing for weak joints. 

He could hear rustling in the background, before the pain settled in. 

Shanks’ body began convulsing, the man waiting for the hard floor to meet him, but insead he found himself embraced by strong arms. He was gently lowered to the ground, the male, watching over him as the fit continued. 

Body officially feeling like jelly, Shanks tried to turn to look at the man. 

He knew he must have felt that but…

“I tried the same thing before you woke up.” He said softly. 

“Thank you,” Shanks managed. He saw the man’s eyes widen a fraction at the words. Strange emotions filtering through his mind. 

“You’re welcome,” That soft tone still present. 

“Well, I guess now's as good a time as any to get to know you,” 

He heard a huff of a laugh.

“I’m Shanks, what’s your name?”

“Dracule Mihawk,” 

“Did you want a soulmate,” 

“Would you be offended if I said I never really thought about it?”

“Not at all,” Shanks replied, relieved. “I’m the same.” 

“That’s a relief. I was hoping you wouldn't be overprotective and clingy,” 

“You just said you didn’t think about it,” 

“You’re annoying,” 

“Awww, that's the nicest thing I've been called,” Shanks cooed at him. 

There was a faint stretch of silence. All the questions Shanks had actually though to ask his soulmate if he ever met them disappearing into faint air the more he looked at the man across from him. He didn't know where to begin. He wanted to know everything. Mihawk saved him. 

“Do you have a dream,” Mihawk asked. 

“I do, I want to explore the ocean, I want to be strong. What about you?”

“I want to be the greatest Swordsman,” He declared. He was waiting for the laugh that usually follows that statement, but Shanks just sat up. He was a fraction taller than him, that was annoying. 

“That’s awesome, you already seem like you’re a good way there. I have a lot of powerful crewmates and you were on par with them,” 

“You’re not going to laugh at me for it?”

“Who am I to laugh at a man’s dream?”

Mihawk blinked another flurry of emotion flickering by. And that's when Shanks could feel the man’s heart rate going up again. 

Mihawk did one of the most reckless things he’s ever done before. He lifted his hand to cup the side of Shank’s face. His fingers slightly tangling in Shank's scarlet red hair, his thumb brushing over his cheek bone, before he slid his hand down a fraction, thumb tracing his lower lip. Shank’s eyes were comically wide, but he didn’t reach out to stop Mihawk, not as he leaned forward, not as he pressed his lips to Shanks’. 

Shanks shut down his inner monologue and leaned into the touch, he moved his lips against Mihawks, smiling when the man reciprocated. Shanks let his hands trace up Mihawk’s body, opening his mouth to the other, as he finally let his arms wrap around his neck. 

The slick glide of their tongues felt right. It was exhilarating. The bond between them blinding. 

They broke apart when guards came in to retrieve them. 

Shanks’ eyes felt heavy, his tongue tracing his lips  as his eyes lingered on the thread of saliva connecting their mouths. Mihawk's face was slightly flushed his eyes burning brighter. 

“I have an idea,” Shanks whispered.

As much as Mihawk wanted to rage and call Shanks an idiot the plan was working so far. 

They were going to go through with most of the ritual, they were going to make it seem like they were actually brainwashed and compliant, then when they least expected it they were going to raise hell for them. 

He let himself be led down hall after hall, he’d been marking his steps since they retrieved him and threw a blindfold over his eyes. He could hear Shanks fighting against it. They had to keep up appearances. 

They’d stopped before a pool of silver liquid. A purification pool he’d been told. It didn’t make the next part any more comfortable. 

The guards stripped him of his clothes and pinned him under the surface. His body felt like it was tingling. They held him under long enough to be uncomfortable and cruel but not enough to actually drown him, but when he resurfaced it was like his skin was glowing. Like some sort of power within was being allowed to shine through. 

He let the guards pour oil over his skin, adding whirls of paint to his chest and shoulders, the brushes dipping to the “V” of his hips before pausing and continuing down the sides of his legs. 

They forced him into a pair of gauzy pants, the fabric thing and light, it cinched at the hips, but the outer seams were left unfinished. There were slits in the legs, showing off the dark patterns painted onto his legs, the fabric connected around the ankles. His hands were tied in front of him with a metallic braided rope, the binding didn’t give. 

He saw Shanks emerge down the hall, dressed and painted in much the same way. Both wore the white loose fitting pants. The pair were led to the altar of the stone cavern. He tried not to look at his soulmate, everything starting to catch up in his mind. He knew he had to trust the man. 

He accepted his dream, he accepted him. Sure they’d likely be talking muhc later down the line but even this small time with his soulmate, he cherished. 

They were in a cave of some sort. The stones are no longer the jet black of the town but more of a deep red, mahogany color. There were intricate carvings set within the walls of the space. From the way even the high priest at the altar dipped her head before them, he knew they must be the ritual gods. 

They had their backs to the masses of people gathered behind them, but he could hear Shank’s crew calling out for him, he could hear them straining against their holds. 

The ritual had begun, if the chanting and drums were anything to go by. Mihawk could feel the searing heat of the fires that cleaved the cave in two rising. He could hear the screams of a victim that had been lowered into the fires. But it wasn’t their time, not yet. 

He could feel Shanks growing restless. The man clenching his jaw hard enough to hurt. 

Almost but not yet. 

The priestess held up two knives, each of pure silver nestled into a dark velvet cushion. He vaguely caught that they were supposed to draw blood from one another. 

He let himself be led through the motions, kept his face blank as he took the knife and rose to his feet. He and Shanks turned to one another, the answers shone in his eyes. 

Mihawk sucked in a breath and they both lunged. The blood was spilt, as the blades remained embedded in their skin. They knew they’d die if they pulled them out. The pain was an afterthought as they whirled on the guards, disarming them and tossing them towards the raging fires.

They were unstoppable, they were leaving and they were leaving together. 

The high priest turned to them, and a heated pike raised. 

Shanks lunged at her, but not quick enough to avoid the strike to his eye. He hadn’t seen each of the prongs open into another set of three smaller prongs. He stumbled back with a shout, hand shooting to his eye. Mihawk could feel the intensity of the pain, but he used that opportunity to run the priestess through with the guard's lance. She went down far too quickly for Mihawk's liking. Immediately he was at Shanks' side. He was surprisingly resilient despite the face his eye was branded but and he'd likely lose it.  

They did it. 

Mihawk ran down hallway after hallway, the labyrinth of walkways carved into the caves beginning to blend together.

He would do it.

He’d save them both.

Shanks awoke in the ship's infirmary. Another presence at his side as he tried to look to his left. He felt the sharp pain shoot through his skull. His eye throbbed. 

“Shhh, relax,” 

Mihawk's voice. 

Shanks squirmed blinking his right eye because his left felt too tender to attempt that with. He was met with gray. His eyelashes caught as he tried to look around. 

He felt a hand squeeze his, before Mihawk spoke again. 

“Relax, it’s just gauze. You can still see. Your medic is incredibly skilled. You can thank them for your sight. They saved your left eye. It’s a cool looking scar though. He laughed a little. 

Shank’s went to raise his other hand but found it heavy as lead, the tubing and needles making it hard to move. 

“I’m not supposed to do this because it straines your other eye, but” Mihawk drawled. 

Shanks blinked against the light as the gauze over his right eye was pushed up a fraction. Mihawk was leaning over him, thankfully blocking much of the light. 

Shanks didn’t let himself reconsider, he just flung his right arm out, slid his fingers into the back of Mihawk’s hair, yanking him down so he could crash his lips against him.

Everything would work itself out. 

On the other side of the bond was home. He finally understood the true meaning of a soulmate, it’s someone who keeps you safe, and accountable. It’s someone who’s always there for you. Someone to motivate you to be better. 

Your better half.

Chapter Text

Nothing Breaks Like a Heart

Nami hadn’t thought about soulmates in years. No it was too hard. It hurt too much. It didn’t help that the Arlong Pirates had taken root on their island to begin their reign of terror. 

No Nami knew soulmates as something happy. She could recall how Bell-mère would take them out into the grove and regale them with stories of being a marine and her own soulmate. Nami and Nojiko would hang onto every word she said, about the tall blonde stanger who fell into her life. They always begged to meet the man. The man whose life was tied to hers. But she’d just smiled, a sad, but fond smile, and said he was on a very dangerous assignment. 

Nami has the barest hint of a memory where a stranger who closely fit that description visited. It wasn’t a long stay but there was something deeply intimate about the interaction. Nami knew that it must have been Bell-mère’s prince charming. 

But things changed, and Bell-mère left them too soon. Nami despite her young age was terrified, and alone. Not fully alone but isolated. She turned to a life of crime. She needed to buy her freedom, her island’s freedom from Arlong. From the maniac who murdered her mother. 

There were a lot of things she’d had to learn on her own. Like how she’d sometimes have unexplainable bumps and bruises. Like how she’d feel like heat was melting her skin when it was snowing. 

Little things she’d learned from bits and pieces of conversations she’d overheard, of doing some unsavory things to get her hands on treasure. 

It was the side of soulmates her mother had yet to teach them. Nami knew deep down that there was someone connected to her. She could feel it, like a thread woven around her heart. But Bell-mère had always promised to tell them when they were older. She’d never know that the pain between soulmates was connected. 

She’d never given much thought to those phantom feelings the pain that originated from another. She’d never been so horrified in her life. 

She didn’t feel much pain from her counterpart. She realized whoever it was must have lived a life that was different from hers. Nami’s chest tightened at the thought of another experiencing Arlong beatings. Sometimes he’d make sure to do more damage to delay Nami in her quest for freedom. He liked to make things hurt. A reminder he called. 

And so, Nami dealt with it. Learning that no one cared, that it was up to her to get stronger and win her freedom.

Vivi, for as long as she could remember, had always had phantom pains, she never spoke of them, that wasn’t her job. Her father had enough to worry about. She couldn’t bear to add to his burdens. 

So she passed off the bumps and scrapes, she hid her injuries behind her gowns. She brushed off Koza's questions. It didn’t matter, maybe she was just clumsy when no one was watching. She’d been able to play it off, but not forever. 

She knew this temporary peace was just a facade.

It was a normal day in Alabasta, she was sitting in the shade in the middle of a conversation with Chaka when it happened. It felt like someone knocked the breath from her lungs, like someone tore her heart out of her chest and shoved it in a blender.

She felt tears burning and stinging her eyes. The pain felt like it was cleaving her world in two. Her mind a violent dust storm.  

The shock, she later found out, had set in quickly, paralzying her. The sheer panic of not understanding what was happening, sent the kingdom into  lockdown until they could figure out what happened to her. Until they could prove that it wasn’t a devil fruit user looking to take out the next of kin.

She remembers sobbing uncontrollably, remembers new injuries she couldn’t hide from prying eyes. She remembers the choking sensation she got from crying too hard, the air that she couldn’t take in.

That was when Vivi learned of soulmates. Of how some people are so kind and gentle, and others are not. She learned of how different people were, of how many paths life could take. 

People were born kind, she still believed that. People became victims of their circumstances. She could only hope that the powers that be keep an eye on her soul mate, whoever they may be.

Learning that your life is bound to another, and what is done to them is echoed to you, it changes things. While adults in her life had always warned her to take care and that it’s important to be aware of your surroundings, because as a royal you’re born with a target on your back, no one ever prepared her for how she’d feel experiencing another’s pain. Whatever had caused that outburst from her soulmate must have been traumatic. It echoed and resonated to her very core.

That heartache became a furnace of sorts, a motivation to do better, to be stronger, to protect things most dear. 

Vivi allowed herself to share from that pit of despair, trying her hardest to make sure it never went dark, that it always found a reason to keep going. 

But as romantic as soulmates are, the issue with her lineage comes into play. She was a princess and normally custom dictated that another noble would have to wed her. There were rare exceptions made for soulmates but only under the most dire of circumstances. She knew as a noble, it was unlikely she’d marry for love. She’d need economic and political security. It was her duty to her people. To keep them safe and cared for.

Her heart was torn because it bleeds for all. It bleeds for her family and her friends. It bleeds for her country and people. It bleeds for her soulmate, and that tiny last drop, that bleeds for her. 

Nami blinked as she took in the pair in front of her. The guy, he was kind of creepy, he had 9’s painted into his skin, and one of the gaudiest costumes she’d seen since entering the grandline. 

Sure as Luffy and Usopp liked to point out the sea was full of mysterious and curious things. Nami felt her face pull back in disgust when the pair began spewing all sorts of BS. 

She knew a thing or two about lies, and the blue-haired woman was doing nothing but. Nami was sure that if she asked their sniper about lies he’d agree, the best lie is one you believe yourself, and this girl. 

Nami scoffed. 

It would be a long trip indeed. 

Vivi cringed.

The way the red-haired woman stared at her was as piercing as it was disarming. It was like she was looking into her soul. Like the cat with the canary. 

Vivi felt her mind pull on an old poem Igaram used to read to her. 

She felt her frown pull deeper. 

Her people were suffering, losing faith in her family and their legacy everyday. She didn’t have time for whatever this was turning out to be. She’d already successfully infiltrated the enemy’s operation, she just needed a little more time.

She felt like she was stretched too thin. Everything she ever held dear hanging on to the smallest glimmer of hope. She looked to that small fire, bound by souls, and let herself dip into that rage, the determination. 

She would save her people or die trying. 

Vivi could have sworn she’d seen a flicker of pain lingering in those warm eyes. 

It was nighttime, and Vivi had been staying with them for awhile now, Chopper had finally begun to settle in with the crew. She and Nami were staying in the “girls” quarters, which she supposed that if it were a normal ship it would have been the Captain’s quarters. 

She knew everyone on this ship was powered by some sort of inner flame. They each had hopes and dreams. Their goals and aspirations pushing them to defy all odds. 

She thought it was funny that she felt so at home with them, loving, no thriving, off the good-natured and positive energy. She knew that if she were to see her country freed of it’s chains she’d need all the positive energy she could get. 

She laughed quietly to herself. 

Nami paused walking across the carpet from where she’d been finishing getting ready to call it a night. 

“What’s got you in such high spirits,” though it sounded amused. 

“Nothing, it just…” Vivi paused, blinking up at Nami from her place on the floor. “You have such an amazing crew, and… as short of a time I’ve been with you all, you’ve done nothing but welcome me with open arms and treat me like I’m one of you,” 

Nami huffed a laugh, nudging Vivi’s pillow with her foot, “We’re something, but you are one of us, on this ship your past, your future, all that really matters is the present, taking it one day at a time. Being yourself,” Nami said, before taking a seat next to her. 

She waved the brush over Vivi’s face to catch her attention. It had become a nightly ritual. Nami had confided that when she was little her sister and her would take turns brushing ear others hair after a bath. It was one of the few comforts that remained despite Arlongs looming shadow. 

Vivi was also told that her hair color itself looked similar to Nojiko’s. Vivi propped herself up sitting with her back to Nami, sighing lightly when she felt the fingers in her hair, lightly massaging her scalp.

“How do you all do it? Not give up when things get hard,” 

Nami’s hands stilled. 

“Because for a long time we didn’t have a choice.” She said softly. 

Vivi began to turn but Nami shook her head, continuing to detangle her hair. 

“I know not everyone has shared their pasts, but mine isn’t really a secret here. When…” She paused looking for the words. 

“I was adopted by one of the bravest and strongest women I know. She taught me so much about what's good and right in the world. I was an absolute brat and I have days where I wish I could go back in time and change things. But that's life you have to learn to stand on your own two feet. The day she died,” Nami sucked in a deep breath. 

“I had never felt anything so painful. It was like I could feel my heart splintering and falling to a million pieces beneath my ribs. I remember that it felt like I couldn’t breathe, like everything had gone numb. It was the darkest day of my life. No one had prepared me for what life would be like on my own, about the pain that accompanies loss, how no child should ever have to lose a parent, especially not that way.” 

Vivi turned, and took the brush from her hands, gently placing it on the floor beside them. She gathered Nami in her arms, because her heart felt like it was breaking, like that day so many years ago. With trembling fingers, Vivi brushed the tears from Nami’s face, searching that place inside her. It couldn’t be-

“But,” Nami leaned back looking her in the eyes, “I learned from my loss and experiences. I learned to move forward to follow my dream. To take things in stride.”

Vivi opened her mouth to say something, anything but words escaped her. Her entire being focused on one point. She reached over and grabbed one of the hair pins that Nami had set aside for later, and without much of a thought she stabbed her palm, eyes never leaving her friend’s. 

Nami’s outstretched hand froze. 

She stared at her palm in mute fascination. 

Vivi’s hand twitched where she held the pin in place, but she watched Nami, watched as the navigator flit through emotion after emotion, eyes distant and hazy before turning glassy. 

“I’m sorry,” Nami choked out, remembering all the pain she suffered, the guilt she’d been trying to bury for years rearing its ugly head. The things Vivi had experienced by extension, she-

“Don’t apologize-”

“I’m sorry,” Nami half sobbed her fingers digging into her own arms, like if she could wrap her arms tight enough around herself she might be able to prevent the feeling from-

“Nami, really, please don’t ever apologize for being who you are. You’re perfect, and” Vivi relaxed, tension visibly leaving her frame. 

“I’m just so glad you’re okay. It hasn’t been that long since there was-” 

Vivi toppled to the floor when Nami crashed into her. 

Nami just buried her head into Vivi’s neck, ignoring the way the blue strands of her hair stuck to her face. She felt the Princess’ hand begin to trace soothing circles into her back, the circles growing lazy and turning to shapes and symbols she didn’t know. 

Peeking her head up, and blinking through her drying tears she let herself commit the moment to memory. 

The shy smile, the bright kind eyes, the smattering of freckles on her sun kissed skin. 

Nami loosed a laugh, the sound breathy and inflated before she dropped back down on Vivi shaking with the force of her giggling. 

Vivi’s own laugh echoed throughout the room, mixing in with Nami’s. 

She felt her own expression melt into something soft. Fondness? Longing? 

Nami chewed her bottom lip, watching as Vivi’s eyes seemed to dance. 

“Can I?” She asked, gaze lowering to the Princess’s full lips. 

Vivi laughed, pulling Nami down again and softly pressing their lips together. 

It was like someone lit fireworks behind their eyes, like every place they touched was a light with electricity, a fizzling fuzzy feeling. 

Vivi let her hand rest on Nami’s jaw. 

One of the Navigator’s hands rested gently on the column of her throat the other tangled in her hair. 

Vivi responded when Nami worked their lips together, enjoying the softness of the other’s mouth. Brushing her mouth over Nami’s. Once. Twice. Before she shifted and littered her soulmate’s face in kisses. Nami swatted her away, laughing twice as hard as before.

“You’re really real,” Nami breathed in disbelief, sitting back and helping Vivi up. 

“You are too.” 

“Hold off on telling the boys?”

“Agreed, I’d like to keep this between us for a while, but,” Vivi held up the hand with the hair pin in it. 

“Oh my god-” Nami screeched, before scrambling off her soulmate. Huh… soulmate, before hollering for Chopper. 

Chapter Text

Candle in the Wind

Ace glared at the flickering light of the candle Dadan left for him. Luffy’s quiet snoring from the other side of the room was interrupted almost like clockwork by Sabo’s restless shuffling in his sleep. He didn’t dare wake the others as they slept. Luffy would probably never understand his inner turmoil. He honestly didn’t understand how Luffy’s brain worked at times. Sabo would possibly understand. He wondered how the noble-born felt about the issue he was currently internalizing. 

He’d been aware of pain that wasn’t his for as long as he could remember. It wasn’t that the person was irresponsible and downright insensitive with their injuries. They seemed to do a great deal of fighting if the locations of Ace’s mirror injuries were anything to go by. 

A god that granted you your other half, but also the burden of each other's pain. Maybe it was a romantic in a sense. The ability to persevere even despite all the odds stacked against you, or maybe the ability to empathize. 

None of that mattered as Ace grit his teeth, arms hugging his stomach as the phantom pain blossomed. 

That felt like one of Garp’s “Fists of Love” to the gut. 

Ace forced a breath through his clenched teeth, eyes squeezed shut, as he bore the pain. 

It was probably pay back. He and his brothers weren’t exactly saints when it came to mindfulness in regards to other people. 

Another burst of pain spread like wildfire over the previous hit. 

Ace grunted, waving off a bleary-eyed Sabo, before extinguishing the flame and ripping his stolen blanket back from Luffy. 

The pain would get better, it always did. 

Marco frowned at the pulsing headache he had. 

He didn’t really start to notice any phantom pain until he was in his teens. It started off as a blow to the head, far too hard to be a soft smack upside the head. He liked to theorize it was someone learning how to sail, someone who misjudged the distance between themselves and the boom. 

That's what he hoped at least. His heart belonged to the ocean, it always had, especially after making himself an integral part of Pop’s crew. The adventures he’s been on, the things he’s seen, the things he’s done. He could only hope his soulmate’s heart was burning with the same desire to explore the open ocean, that they’d support his dream to make Pop’s a King among Pirates, like the late Roger. 

He had learned of how a person’s soul is tied to another, how when one of the soul-bonded pair is hurt, the other feels the phantom pain. He knew if the injury was serious enough and if it scarred then they would have the matching scar. The scenario he didn’t like to think of is what happened if your soul-bonded died. He’d heard three possibilities. The first is that you die with them. The second is if they die before you are born there is a mark left on you, usually right over your heart. The third and final seems cruel in a way. It matches two souls who have lost their soulmate together, but those matches aren’t perfect. A soulmate tempers and balances. They’re like the push and pull of the waves. 

Marco grins out at the setting sun, it’s warm orange glow reflecting on the ocean, the watchers finally calm. 

The headache would go away, they always did. He knew that his soulmate would make it. They always did. 

It was some years later that Marco finally met the reckless flame that was his soul-bonded. He was trying with all his might not to collapse on the sand where the crew watched as the reckless pirate captain fought Jinbe. Marco tried to hide a wheeze as Ace’s rib snapped. Lucky, he was so lucky it didn’t puncture his lung. But this was reckless, even by pirate standards. 

Ace stood his ground deflecting as much as he was attacking. Marco tried not to grunt at the phantom pain. He refused to let the injuries show, but schooling his features into attentive disinterest was hard when he could literally feel bones bruising. 

Above the roaring of the two fighting, Marco noted the way his father kept casting him weary sideways glances. The kind that said he’d figured something out, that he would put a stop to this because he hated to see his children hurt. The man glancing between Ace and him, eyes sparking in recognition. Marco frowned, shaking his head in a silent plea for his Father’s silence. Ace wasn’t ready. Correction. Marco wasn’t ready to let his heart be vulnerable yet. He knew what letting Ace into his life, into his heart would mean. 

Ace was like a candle in the wind. His intentions were misguided, he was lost, the wind blowing that ember all over. He was a boy searching for his place in the world. His dark eyes hid his secrets, hid them behind a veil of sadness that never truly seemed to brighten. 

Ace ended up sailing with the crew on the Moby Dick. Granted, it was a rocky start. He nearly bit Marco’s head off when he was trying to look him over for injuries. Marco tried to be polite about letting Ace pick and choose which injuries he’d report. Marco tried not to let it slip that he knew Ace was a cunning liar, that he was pretending some of his serious injuries were nothing to worry about. 

Was it unethical to knock your soulmate unconscious maybe… probably, but it was for his own good. Marco didn’t want to see Ace in pain, it helps that he didn’t want to feel the searing phantom pain as Ace grit through it. He treated the injuries Ace refused to admit were serious while he was unconscious. He was doing them both a favor he rationalized. 

Ace wasn’t a fan after that. He resigned himself to silence and isolation. He’d stay far away from everyone on deck, avoid them like the plague as he watched them, his eyes dark and burning. 

Marco couldn’t pinpoint the exact emotion but he could tell it was intense. 

Marco watched over him week's after Ace set sail with them. Not after he’d lectured him about his recklessness and about how his soulmate might feel in regards to the pain. Marco had known then that he’d crossed some sort of line. The man's eyes turned dark and cold, he’d all but snarled that he didn’t care about his soulmate. 

Something in Marco’s chest cracked at the words. A flame guttered out. He moved like a wraith throughout the weeks following. He tried to keep up appearances but anyone who knew him, i.e. almost everyone on board, especially the other commanders, they knew something was wrong. He could see some of his brothers and sisters trying to reach out, trying to find a way to help him without asking what was wrong. 

Soulmate rejection was more common than people though, but it was a slow and painful death for the other half. It does reflect some on the rejecting party, to let them feel the emotional and psychological pain they inflict upon their soulmate, but even still he couldn’t leave it alone. Marco was drawn to Ace, much like a moth to a flame. Even if it was the last thing he wanted to do, it was the only thing he needed . The proximity to his flame eased the discomfort. 

It seemed that the longer Ace was aboard the Moby Dick, the more he let down his walls. After having his ass handed to him repeatedly by their captain Ace was finally coming to terms with his current reality. He was finally starting to accept the family for who they were. Which brought them to the present. 

It was at one of their celebrations, one where they were celebrating a battle hard won, cheers to joyous life and all that, that Marco approached Ace. Holding his hand out. Marco had been trying to talk to Ace for weeks. Whether or not Ace had meant to reject his soulmate the way he did, Marco couldn't live without Ace even if he wanted to. It seemed that too many people had given up on him, had let him sink beneath the surface. It wasn’t much but he saw him for what he was.

Ace was lost, and needed that push. 

Ace blinked at the hand, the sun gleaming making him squint. His freckled nose scrunched as he turned his attention to Marco, before letting his eyes dip back to his hand. 

Ace just buried his face deeper into his arms, mumbling something. 

“Huh?” Marco asked, though he kept his hand outstretched. 

Ace couldn’t for the life of him figure out why the first division commander hadn’t given up on him. He knew that he shouldn’t be alive, that because he was Roger’s son he was akin to the spawn of satan. He knew he was unwanted, deemed a monster, fanatics claimed that if Roger had a kid he should be taken out. He should be six feet under and under no circumstance should Roger’s blood be allowed to persevere in the world. He wanted to be no one, to be nothing. But he also yeared to be a pirate who beat others and made a name for himself. He was on the path to do just that. 

He glanced at the man in front of him. 

“Why do you keep trying?”

The first commander blinked, the only sign of his shock, his hand still outstretched towards Ace. 

“Because we’re family,”

Ace felt the tears welling in his eyes. 

Family, he had two brothers, one of whom is still here and he vowed to protect him and return the favor to all the people that had helped make him who he was, especially Red Haired Shanks.

Something flickered inside Ace, a feeling he’d been experiencing more and more since joining the crew. It was something so foreign and delicate that it could only belong to his soulmate. His instincts told him it was relating to his soulmate. Almost like kintsugi, like his soulmate without even knowing him was working to mend his shattered heart. 

Ace knew he struggled to let people in, to be vulnerable, but that's because almost everyone he’s ever been close to has disappeared from his life for some time or another. But his soulmate, his beautiful soulmate was working to help him embrace who he was. 

Becoming a pirate and sailing the seas is a surefire way to increase your chances of meeting your soulmate. Something about his experiences since entering the Grandline seems to be pulling him. He let that feeling guide him like a compass. It led him here to the deck of the Moby Dick, as a child of Whitebeard’s, of a friend and brother to a crew who’ve been nothing but patient as he sorts himself out. 

Ace stared at Marco’s hand, before reaching out towards it. He knew it was the first time he’s accepted any kind of gesture like that from anyone aboard. 

Ace stood, slightly shorter than the first division commander, the pair locking eyes, caught in a moment where time seemed to stretch and slow. 

Marco feigned a cough, breaking them out of the moment, cheeks dusted the faintest of pinks, and Ace let himself laugh. The first real laugh he’d had in a long time. 

Maybe being part of this family wouldn’t be so bad. 

Ace trailed after Marco letting himself be led to the festivities. He didn’t miss the approving gaze of their father. The only father that mattered to him. 

The metallic tang still hung in the air, the groaning of injured still heard about the hushed whispers of the crew. Marco felt the tension in his head mounting. It was an unexpected assault, and whoever had been behind it obviously had information from an inside source. Marco knew that the commanders would be starting that lengthy process of figuring out who leaked vital information come the morning, but for now he let his head hang off the back of his chair. 

He’d done his best healing the worst of the injuries, thankfully no fatalities, some miracle that was. His division had taken over, forcing him out of the medbay because they didn’t need him to collapse and give them more work to do. It was as much gratitude as it was a threat. 

He let himself trace patterns in the wood grain of the ceiling, the soft glow of the lamp burning calming his frayed nerves and attention. His leg was still burning. The pirates that had attacked them had taken precautions, coming armed with sea-stone bullets and cuffs. He took one of the bullets to the shin, while in partial phoenix form. 

He was in the middle of musing whether or not the wound would heal on its own if he shifted into his phoenix form when he heard the door creak open. 

It was too much effort to lift his head, he honestly didn’t think he had any energy left to move it anyway, so he settled on sliding his eyes to the side. A familiar head of raven hair stepped in, feet silent as he walked to the first division commander’s desk. 

Marco blinked languidly at Ace, the flickering of his lamps flame made Ace look ethereal, like he was a living flame. Marco couldn’t help but snort when he corrected himself, Ace was a living flame. 

“Did you hit you head too hard today?” The second division commander asked, teasing, though his voice betrayed his worry. 

“Don’t think so,” Marco said, voice hoarse. 

“Are you sure?” Ace bit his lip like he could feel the skull-splitting migraine that had settled over Marco. 

“Mn,” Marco said slowly blinking at Ace. 

The younger man looked insecure, innocent as he worked through his own thoughts. 

“You’re gonna be cranky as hell if you pass out at your desk.” Ace said, pushing off the desk, failing to suppress the wince. 

Marco knew it was from an injury to the side from one of those sea-stone bullets.

Ace manhandled him into a standing position, gritting his teeth around the pain. Marco knew his migraine must be miserable for Ace, but he’s trying to work through it for Marco’s sake. 

Ace takes his time, mindful of Marco’s leg and his nausea as they cross the room to the bed Marco has tucked into the corner.

Marco just lets himself flop onto the bed, groaning at the stabbing pain behind his eyes as he hits the comforter. 

There was a startled yelp, Ace, Marco’s hazy brain half registered before his eyes drifted closed. 

Ace stared at the first division commander. He knew that there were very few people who had seen him like this, this unguarded. As the man drifted off to sleep Ace noticed the pressure in his head decreasing a fraction. 

He had discovered the bond when Thatch had pulled a prank that was supposed to catch Haruta but had snared the first division commander instead. Ace remembers time seeming to slow as the bond seemed to snap into place. 

It explained so much, but Ace knew he wasn’t ready to address it at the time. But the problem with trying to find the right moment for something is that there’s never really a perfect moment.

At first he was afraid to open his heart up to another like that. He eventually reached the point where it was just trying to figure out how to mention it to the first division commander. He’d told his father, and Whitebeard had been thrilled, giddy even, enough that it left Ace dumbstruck. 

It was then that Ace learned that Marco has known this entire time. 

You should have seen him while you were fighting Jinbe. 

His father’s words echoed throughout his head. Marco has known since they met, has known that Ace was his reckless soulmate. It explained the exasperated sighs and warnings to not rush into things without thinking them through. Actions have consequences, you’re not just hurting yourself. Ace thought he’d have to spend the rest of his life making those up. But Marco was different; he never told Ace not to be himself, to not act on his instincts. He encouraged Ace to find himself, only to remember that there was more than one body feeling his pain. He didn’t resent Marco for not saying anything. Ace knew he wasn’t ready, knew Marco wouldn’t force him into anything he didn’t want. He wanted things to go at Ace’s pace. 

Ace felt his gaze go soft as he looked over his soulmate. Marco was doing an impressive interpretation of a starfish atop his comforter, his feet dangling off the edge of the bed, his face smushed into the sheets, he was a whole head off from having his head on the pillow. 

Ace chuckled softly before slipping Marco’s sandals off. He slipped the shirt off his shoulders before rolling him over enough that he could stuff him into the covers, tucking him in. 

Ace left, brushing a kiss to his brow. He was turning to leave when a hand curled around the hem of his shirt. 

Marco could barely open his eyes, voice strained, but Ace knew. Ace sighed, kicking off his boots, depositing his weapons alongside Marco’s, extinguishing the lamp before settling into the covers alongside Marco. 

“Thank you,” Marco mumbled before settling against Ace’s side. 

“You’d do the same for any of us,” Ace said quietly. 

They laid together in silence, Ace noticing when Marco’s breathing turned deep and even with sleep. He let his fingers run through the mess of blond hair, he found himself rambling about all the things he could never find the voice to tell Marco when he was awake. 

He wasn’t sure how long he spent pouring his heart out, but when Marco spoke up Ace’s heart leapt to his throat. 

 Marco had kept himself still listening to Ace’s long winded confession, detailing exactly how his emotions had changed throughout his journey as a whitebeard pirate, about how he was thankful that Marco extended at hand that day, that he never gave up on him, that he let Ace work at his own pace. 

Marco felt his heart soaring, that feeling of flying for the first time with his devil fruit the same exhiliarion, but this time it’s from his soulmate. From his soulmate who wants to be his. 

“You- How- How much?” Ace stammered face near glowing in his embarrassment. 

“Enough,” Marco smiled leaning into Ace’s space, pausing a hair's breadth away from Ace, so close that their lips brushed when they spoke. Ace was trembling, overcome by too many emotions before his gaze flickered to Marco’s mouth then back to meeting his shining eyes. 

Ace crashed his lips to Marco's, the force sending them tumbling into the wall, Marco laughed, thankful for the rest that minimized his migraine enough to let him enjoy this. 

Ace kissed him like wildfire, untamed and passionate. 

They broke apart, breathing heavily before they burst out laughing. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Ace confessed. 

“Probably not as long as I have,” Marco admitted. 

Ace stuck his tongue out at Marco, then dissolved into another fit of laughter as Marco peppered his face with kisses. 

They both froze when Ace accidentally kicked Marco’s still healing leg, Ace immediately tried to turn to apologize but pulled the wound in his side. 

“New rule,” Ace rasped the pain loop much worse now, whether it was proximity or exhaustion he didn’t know. “Save this for when we’re both in better shape.”

“Agreed,” Marco nodded, pulling Ace back into the comfort of his bed. 

“We can talk about it in the morning,” Marco says.

(Bonus Ending)

Ace peeked an eye open to the commotion gathered in the doorway of the first division commander. Their fellow commanders stood armed with cameras and confetti. Ace blinked, turning to the cool-warmth to his side. At some point in the night Marco had shifted to his phoenix form and Ace had apparently curled up around him. It was obvious that the onlookers had photographic evidence of it from their smiles. 

“Good luck,” was all Ace said before Marco awoke, having a front row seat to the emotions that flitted over his face was peak comedy, even better when Ace realized Marco hadn’t even shifted back yet. 

“You’re dead,” Marco growled taking flight after the fleeing commanders. 

Ace snorted nuzzling back into the comforter. 

He could get used to mornings like these.

Chapter Text

Someone you Loved

As a child Luffy had always wondered why adults seemed so fixated on love and soulmates. The used stories shared in passing, the profound declarations people made, he’d never understood.

His grandfather never spoke of his grandmother, or of Luffy’s father. Luffy was looked after by a lot of people when he was younger. Whoopslap and Makino doted on him when his grandfather was away. They always shared soft quiet stories of their own experiences in their search for their soulmates. Garp never talked about that kind of thing. Luffy knew that he loved him, but love wasn’t something easy for Garp to speak of. 

But then Shanks came along. He was everything Luffy aspired to be. He could roam the open seas, he could have all the freedom in the world if he wanted. His lifestyle, the carefree code of rugged individualism. The freedom of the sea sang to Luffy. 

Yes, a pirate he would be. 

He wanted to grow up big and strong, to set sail under the never ending sky, the scar under his eye said as much. 

He knew in his early years he had been inexplicably ill. He’d watched through tired eyes as everyone tried to make him comfortable. How they’d bundle him in long clothes that did little to hide the patches of bone white skin. He never knew what the issue had been. The marks had been there one day, then there was a soul crushing pain that stole the breath from his lungs. He doesn’t remember passing out but he does remember waking up a part of him hollow. Much to the relief of his caretakers his patches had disappeared. 

Luffy knew something had changed then. That the part of his heart that was tied to someone else was hurting. Was feeling a pain that was inconsolable. 

He’d tried to make up for it, living freely and happily, not knowing if such emotions transferred. 

There were days where he couldn’t get out of bed from the sheer amount of pain he was in. 

He noted the looks Ace and Sabo had given him, their pity and sympathy. They’d always trained easier on those days or chose to forego it completely. Sometimes they’d share stories of their own pains, of what they thought their soulmates were doing. The romanticized ideas, usually in hushed words when they thought Luffy was asleep. 

To this day Luffy could only wonder if the same soul crushing agony he’d experienced all those years ago had stemmed from loss. Staring out over the grassy hill as Ace made his promises, ones Luffy realized he’d never fully be able to keep, no one would live forever, if his soulmate was experiencing something similar. 

Law grit his teeth around the phantom pain. He knew that everyone in his crew experienced phantom pains occasionally, but this last one felt like someone had dropped a boulder on him. Over and over and over again. 

His body ached something fierce and he panted through the pain and exhaustion. 

He didn’t meet the worried gazes of his crew, not sure if he’d be able to keep standing if he did. 

“Captain,” Bepo had asked, cautiously. 

“I’m fine,” He grunted. 

What the hell was his soulmate doing. He’d grown accustomed to the phantom pain that felt like sparring, it had quieted down a bit in the past couple of years, nothing more than lingering muscle fatigue or the occasional silly injury. A stubbed toe, a splinter, the usual. 

But recently it’s become unbearable. 

His soulmate had to be a psycho. He knew he was no saint, he got into fights too, but that came with being a pirate. 

He could only guess that his soulmate had taken a similar path in life if the frequency of these new injuries were anything to go by.

A sharp stabbing pain had law cursing and dropping his mug of coffee to the ground. 

If he ever met his soulmate he was gonna kill them. 

Everything had gone to shit. He had a sinking suspicion when they hauled ass off Sabaody Archipelago but he couldn't prepare himself for the full weight of the realization. 

He’d ordered his crew towards Marineford because he could feel it, the knell of the clock counting down to the inevitable. The burn of something like icy fire spreading through his body days ago. He'd been knocked unconscious at one point. He didn’t know what he was going to do, he only knew that he was needed. 

They were getting close when he felt it. 

The searing heat, the blinding agony. 

He collapsed to the ground, the pain deafening, vision whiting out. Senses narrowing to that bliding, white-hot pain. 

He made a sound, agonized, heart thundering against his ribs, pain burning through his chest, his eyes watering. 

He felt arms under him. He was losing consciousness. He was too close. He had to be. He’d learning in his medical training the farther from the soulmate one was the more of a buffer there was for pain. They had to be close for him to feel this much, this clearly. 

He was gasping, voice barely a croak when he called orders. 

This was going to be one of the most critical and risky operations he was going to perform. 

He forced himself up, vision swimming as he headed to the operating room to prepare. 

The medical books had only ever mentioned operations on soulmates a handful of times, most of the surgeries from the perspective of the surgeon, while monitoring the patient and their respective soulmate. He couldn’t recall ever reading stories of a soulmate operating on their other half. 

Despite the pain medication flushing through his system, the IV attached to the pole bolted into the floor behind him. The needle mildly uncomfortable but distracting him from the worst of the pain. 

His body ached with the force of staying upright, the sub making it's quick getaway. 

He could feel the blood pulsing out of Luffy, the boy prone on the table, looking far too pale in the harsh lights. 

Law could feel it, like the sands in an hourglass running out. If he didn't finish this soon they were both done for. 

He forced himself to focus, retreating into the surgeon part of his brain letting his medical knowledge drown out the pain and panic of seeing his soulmate like this. 

Soulmate. 

Never in a million years could he have anticipated finding out like this. 

Every slice of the scalpel, every tug of the stitches, every harsh breath forced through the machine, Law could feel them like he was experiencing it himself. The pain. It was consuming. 

It was grounding. 

He could feel himself teetering. 

Almost.

Law had passed out after the procedure wish wasn’t surprising but the pain blossomed throughout his body, spreading like wildfire pulling him back to consciousness. His hand scraped at his chest, as he felt the hole growing. 

Luffy. 

The Straw Hat Captain must be awake if the shouting of the crew was anything to go by. 

The pain burned. It burned and burned.

Still, he forced one foot in front of the other, staggering out to the trees, watching as Jinbei finally got Luffy to calm down. 

Some bitter part of him twinged with envy. He should be the one consoling Luffy.

The pain subsided, it was still awful but it wasn’t that same festering agony. 

As he turned on his heel Rayleigh had caught his eye. Glancing between Luffy and Law, mouth popping open in understanding. 

Law had no idea when the Dark King had gotten there, but he felt the pull of haki, urging him to follow. 

He stumbled into the mossy clearing the former Pirate King’s first mate had decided on. 

“How long have you known?”

Law struggled to swallow, the pain rippling throughout his body, ebbing and flowing like the tide. “I had guessed but didn’t know for sure until Fire-Fist.”

“I see.” Rayleigh scrubbed at his chin. 

Law sat in uncomfortable silence. 

“I plan to train him, he’s not ready for the New World yet,” 

Law kept quiet, gnawing at the inside of his cheek to stay quiet. 

“It won’t be easy for you,”

“I’ve gotten used to it,” Law grunts. 

He sees Rayleigh smile, all teeth and all knowing. 

“I suppose you have,”

“Train him if he wishes, I think if I can make it through this I can survive whatever the future holds.”

“You should talk to him,”

“I’m not sure he’d listen," Law muttered. "Not yet anyway,” 

“Try,” Rayleigh had urged with such conviction that it gave Law pause. 

“I have seen a great number of things in my time. I have seen soulmates meet in the strangest of ways and part in the worst of them. Savor whatever time you have together.”

Before it's too late. Went unsaid, but Law nodded in acquiescence. 

Luffy sat half collapsed against the tree, he’d gone off after eating, his conversation with Jinbei playing on loop in his head. 

He was so lost in his own thoughts he didn’t notice anyone settling next to him until they spoke. 

“Strawhat-ya,” The voice began, it sent a shiver along his spine and something finally- finally- settled into place in his heart. 

“I’m not sure if I can do it,” He whispered, not entirely sure who the comment was directed at. HIs mind took itself to dark and treacherous places.

He could feel the other Captain’s steely gaze boring into the side of his head. 

The clack of a sword alerted him that the other had shifted. 

Luffy hissed in pain as Law’s hand grasped his chin, jerking his face to meet his eyes.

“Don’t you ever think like that!”

Luffy was too empty to care. 

“Don’t you ever think that life's not worth living. You have your crew don’t you,” 

Luffy felt rage bubbling under his skin. He wasn’t sure if it was entirely his but he exploded. 

He shoved Law off of him, snarling as he pinned the other to the ground. 

“You don’t have a clue-”

“Don’t I?” Law sneered.

Luffy faltered, there's no way not unless-

“Do you have any idea how hard this has been? To sit here and pretend everything is fine? You think I can’t feel it? You think I can’t hear it? That I can’t understand it?” Law seethed, shoving Luffy back, the younger boy stumbling.

Luffy stared at Law like he was a puzzle he couldn’t figure out. 

“Do you have any idea what this feels like to me?” Law shouted, not caring if they had an audience. 

“Oh,” was all Luffy could say, he was feeling too much too fast. He knew there was some sort of feedback loop or something with Law, but the emotions were flashing too fast to process. He himself felt lost, unmoored, being tossed around in the storm. 

“So don’t you dare think like that,” Law finished, chest heaving. “We’re in this together, whether we wanted it or not.”

“Did you want it?” Luffy asked before he could stop himself. 

“I don’t know.” Law answered honestly, voice going quiet despite the anger overriding his system. He was surprised by the question. “I never intended to make it this far.” 

Luffy sucked in a shaky inhale. “I know I’m not the best at understanding other people or thinking about the consequences of my actions, but I’m willing to try.”

“That’s all I can ask for,” Law hummed.

So unassuming Law thought. He knew those depthless chocolate brown eyes held secrets no one had ever bothered to learn. He knew some fundamental part of him could feel it, that warm spark. Something settling into itself. That last final piece of himself coming home.

Soulmates were supposed to be equals. They were supposed to understand and compliment their other half. Law studied the boy in front of him, no not boy. The rubber captain certainly had a child-like aura surrounding him but those eyes, you could get lost in those eyes, drown in them if you dared to. The faint scars littering his skin were a testament to Luffy's strength and resilience. If this was supposed to be his other half... 

Law let out a soft chuckle. What a strange world indeed.

“I guess we’ll have an issue when we both try to go for one piece,” Law mused watching the realization in Luffy’s eyes.

“Join my crew,” Luffy shouted an instant later.

Law laughed, sides burning. 

“We could do it. Together I mean,” Luffy hesitates. “Lets show the world. We could bring it to its knees.” Luffy declared like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like it was a completely rational idea. 

Law couldn’t help but see Cora-san in that wild spirit. 

“We’ll see.”

Luffy never half-assed anything, so Law really shouldn’t have been surprised. Not by a long shot. 

Close. 

They were so close. Law could feel their breath twining together. The hairs breadth between them charged like lightning. Beautiful, dangerous. 

He didn’t care who moved when, all he knew was they melted together. The feeling oh so right. 

Law smiled into the kiss, his mouth moving in time to Luffy’s overzealous pace. The strawhat captain beamed into the embrace. HIs lips softer than they looked. 

He pulled away chest heaving, breathless. 

Law felt his face flush. 

Luffy laughed, pitching forward, resting his forehead against Law’s collarbone. The surgeon’s hands not loosening their protective hold on the other. His hands smoothed circles into the younger’s back. Luffy grinned, stretching before going boneless in Law’s arms. He could feel the bone deep exhaustion, but they’d done it. 

There’d be words later. He knew it. It would only be fair, the encounter after war flashing before his eyes. Their roles had been reversed then, so he could understand the bitter frustration Luffy showed against Doflamingo. There was much to talk about, but for now, in the post-battle haze, he let himself relax. 

They were just Law and Luffy, and they’d won. 

He settled himself down, noting the even rise and fall of the other's chest, asleep. 

Law hummed, shifting their positions so Luffy was tucked against his chest. He wrapped his arm around his soulmate and let out a hoarse laugh, tears beading in his eyes. 

They did it. 

Together. 

Luffy’s hand curled in the fabric of Law’s jacket, and he blinked blearily up at Law. 

“I told you,” He whispered.

“I know,” Law husked. 

“Stay?” Luffy asked doe-eyed.

How could Law ever say no to that face.  

He just held Luffy tighter hoping he understood.