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jesterwriting · 7 months

Text

reacting to you getting kidnapped and being grievously injured. both recovery and death routes

pairing: trafalgar law x reader, crocodile x reader, doflamingo x reader (separate)

contents: kidnapping, blood, death, grief, general angst, and a little but of toxicity from doffy because let's be real here.

word count: 1.9k words

The stench of iron clouded your senses. Despite the heat, you shook uncontrollably, barely able to curl in on yourself. Numbness spread from your chest outward until the pain you had once been so intimately acquainted with felt like nothing more than a distant memory. You could barely hear over the blood rushing in your ears. There were voices above you, but they were far too muffled for you to make out anything aside from sharp, jeering laughter. A kick to your ribs made pain bloom from your abdomen before it tapered off into nothingness. It was supposed to hurt. Why weren’t you hurting anymore?

It had been a long time since you had been so afraid. She was an old friend, one you hadn’t been visited by ever since you met your partner. You were a weak little thing, especially in comparison to them. It had never been more obvious than now, left more of a pile of meat and bone rather than a person on the rickety floor of the old shack you’d been dragged into.

All it took was a distraction. Today was your birthday, and you were so focused on thinking about your special day, that you were taken by surprise. A sob rattled from your chest as your terror faded away, slipping from your grasp, just as your blood spilled from the wound on your belly. As if to catch the fleeing emotion, you clenched your fist tight enough for your fingertips to bury themselves into the meat of your palm. All you felt was a dull pressure.

I think I’m dying.

Whether you wanted to or not didn’t matter anymore. Another weak sob shook your body. Looking down, you acknowledged that you could reach out and touch your insides. All it would take was an exploratory hand and an insatiable curiosity, neither of which you thought you were capable of at the moment. It wasn’t until you looked up did you realize one of your eyes was swollen shut. Or missing, you thought tiredly. It wasn’t like it would matter anymore. There was no surviving this.

Acceptance did not come easy. You wanted to fight, you wanted to scream, beg, cry, anything, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. As one last act of defiance, you flexed your toes in your boots. Even that minute task felt monumental, like you were at the last stretch of a marathon.

“I don’… Wanna-” You didn’t want to die.

There was someone waiting for you. Someone strong, someone who protected you, who loved you. Someone whose notoriety got you in this position in the first place. If you were a lesser person, you would blame them for what happened to you.

Where were they when you needed them most? You did nothing to deserve this. It wasn’t fair. You inhaled a sharp breath as tears poured down your face, mixing with your blood to create a pinkish puddle on the floor. The fact of the matter was: it wasn’t their fault, and as easy as it was to blame yourself, you knew it wasn’t yours either. Those who were at fault were above you, drinking and laughing over your battered body like they weren’t soon to follow. Your lips twitched upward at the thought. At least you would be avenged. It was a small mercy, but one you indulged greedily.

You didn’t hear the door open, nor did you see who entered, but judging by the horrified faces of your assailants, you could wager a guess. Your body moved as if on autopilot, unbroken arm sliding across the floor towards your lover, smearing gore across the wood as you reached for them. It was a shame that this was it. You only hoped they would move on without you.

If only you got to say goodbye. If only you were able to tell them not to hide from your bones, but build something new with them. As if they could bury your spine in the ground and you would sprout anew, whole and intact again.

As your vision faded to black, you caught your lover's expression. It was…

Trafalgar Law

Fear. It was only there for a second before blue light filled the enclosed space and the men who surrounded you were diced into tiny little pieces. Law would not allow his emotions get the better of him, not when you were in critical condition. Your heart was still beating. That meant he had time, he wasn’t too late. Steady hands — but, oh, how they shook when he was done with you — stitched you back together, piece by agonizing piece. Even when he was done, Law wouldn’t rest. He would spend his days watching you, counting your breaths with the rise and fall of your chest.

Recovery would be slow, made even slower by his insistence to treat you as if you were made of glass. He would be more irritable than usual, especially if you went against his orders as your doctor. If he had to strap you down to keep you from moving and reopening your wounds, so be it. As long as you were alive by the end of it to scold him for it, he didn’t care. Law could not fathom how close he was to losing you, and it will take a while to process. He might come off as wishy-washy, some nights holding you as tight as your injuries would allow, breathing in your scent as if it was the last time he would see you. Other’s, Law would throw himself into his work, so as not to allow himself to think, avoiding you when he wasn’t treating you.

If Law lost you, he would close himself off entirely. Whatever walls you had managed to tear down would return stronger than ever. He wouldn’t allow himself to mourn properly, rather, he would throw himself back into his plans full force. Barely eating, barely sleeping, barely living. The crew can tell he’s not handling your loss well, though whoever attempts to bring it up is subjected to a brutal verbal lashing from their captain. It isn’t until night comes and Law finds himself in a cold, empty bed would he allow himself to cry.

Sir Crocodile

Disbelief. Whatever Crocodile expected, it was not this. While he certainly did not expect you to single handedly beat your attackers into submission, he certainly didn’t expect to find anyone stupid enough to so brutally harm someone that belonged to him. Crocodile did not trust easily. Many said that he did not trust at all. The fact that the one person that he allowed in was inches from death was enough to make his stomach churn. He would waste no time with the fools who attacked you, dispatching them swiftly before he contacted the best doctors at his disposal to treat you. As much as he would love to whisk you away into his arms, Crocodile knew moving you while you were so injured was not a good idea. Instead, he would crouch next to you and keep you awake until the doctors arrived. As if you would break, he would hold your smaller hand in his, gently brushing your blood-smeared hair from your forehead with his hook.

Recovery would be spent in the lap of luxury, showered with not only gifts, but more of your lover’s attention than ever before. That wasn’t to say Crocodile usually neglected you, it was the fact that he was a very busy man. Normally, he would be in meeting after meeting. Now, with you laid upon silk sheets and covered in bandages, Crocodile was by your side twenty-four/seven. He would spend his days relaxed in a plush chair by your side, either reading the newspaper or filling out paperwork. The doctors who treat you would never be alone with you, always under Crocodile’s threatening stare, as if daring them to slip up in some way.

If Crocodile lost you, he would be numb. He would attempt to go back to his life before you. While he knew it wouldn’t be easy, he didn’t realize how your ghost would haunt him. Your pillow still carried the scent of your shampoo, the sweets you kept hidden in his desk would crop up from time to time, and the indent on the cushion of your favorite chair would not fade no matter how many times he flipped the cushion. On busy days, Crocodile found himself looking for you in his office, always ready with a silly quip or observation he would huff at, only to be met with hollow disappointment when he found nobody there. He goes full scorched earth, ridding himself of all your possessions, attempting to cut you from his life entirely. Even then, he still dreams of you.

Donquixote Doflamingo

Rage. You were his. The threat of his wrath should be enough to guarantee your safety. But it didn’t, and here you were, barely breathing at the feet of scum that were worth less than the mud on his shoes. Doflamingo kills them swiftly — it was a shame he couldn’t take his time punishing them, you, however, took precedence — before he finds himself by your side. He prods you, as gentle as he is capable of, with the tip of his shoe. When you squirm, he releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. A good partner was hard to come across, and while Doflamingo was not picky with his flings, he did prefer someone with a little more substance to rule beside him. You would be hard to replace. Doflamingo calls for the best doctors in Dressrosa to attend to you. While he waits, he allows you to dirty his pink jacket with your blood, draping it on top of you so he doesn't have to look at your battered form for longer than he has to. While he would never admit it, not to himself and never aloud, seeing you so broken left a pit in his stomach.

Recovery would be tedious. Without you around to terrorize tease, Doflamingo finds himself bored with his daily comings and goings. More often than not, he’s beside your bed, frowning down at your sleeping form, waiting to get your reaction to some ridiculous, teasing notion he had in store. He hates seeing you so unresponsive. Doflamingo is used to your laughter, your stuttered words, your shy expressions, not whatever this is. It isn’t until now that he realizes just how attached to you he has gotten. For the hundredth time since Doflamingo found you, he regrets not torturing the scum who hurt you more. Once you awake, you will be confined to the palace until further notice. You will only be safe if you are within his grasp, and he knows now more than ever, that he will never let you go.

If Doflamingo loses you, he will be furious. The doctors who were supposed to save you are unceremoniously killed in his rage. And so is anyone unlucky enough to cross his path for the next few days. It isn’t long before Doflamingo is looking for your replacement. The palace is empty without your presence, and there is a you-shaped hole he intends to fill before he can think too hard as to why he misses you so much. No one is good enough for him. No matter how many applicants he gets, no matter how many new playthings color his life, none of them will ever be you. Doflamingo finds himself discarding people from his life quicker than usual, especially if they did something you would never do.

#one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #sir crocodile x reader #doflamingo x reader #crocodile x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #doflamingo x y/n #sir crocodile x yn #trafalgar law x you #doflamingo x you #sir crocodile x you #shout out to the spine song by cake bake betty for inspiring this #.jesterwrites

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