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louebel · 6 months

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Hi! Can I request fluff Law x fem!reader where reader is feels sick but tries to ignore it/do things on her own (she’s not used to ask for help) but as a doctor law easily can tell by the signs and it happens during their sea journey on the polar tang? Hope I’m not asking too much love ya 🥺

Feel free to add angst or anything else to your writing ^•^

this is super old and the only request i'll ever do (atm) since i had a wip— ANON SORRY IT TOOK FOREVER <\3 reader is gn since i used the second person and no description.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: trafalgar law × gn!reader 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 6,124 wc. a bit angsty, ends with fluff, emotional reader for the sickness, law is bad at emotions. this turned longer than expected, i hope it's decent xdd hit me up if there's any mistakes lol. supposed to be called windows of the soul,, divider by @ benkeibear my lord and saviour. 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: sickness overtook your body and worsened your already pitiful situation. law has been ignoring you and you have no idea why... but with how you felt, there was no way you could confront him at the moment.

scrub, scrub, scrub...

"... phew ..."

scrub... poof!

"Oh! — damnit — aargh..."

Cleaning today has been a nightmare. Never been so tedious.

Like, it was already uninteresting compared to all the other things you could do, but today it was ten times worse. You could bear it, seeking to make dusting shelves fun by humming some random tune to yourself. It was okay, something you had to do every once in a while. You could do it.

If only you weren't sick.

"Achoo! Achoo! — urgh... Achooo..! Damn."

You began feeling like this some days ago, or so you told yourself as you delicately hunched down to the floor, hoping to grasp the yellow sponge soaked in foam and water without experiencing excruciating pain. However, your hopes soon shattered as your back screamed in agony and your legs trembled with soreness, almost giving up on you.

Just the flu, you insisted, it would go away. A couple of sneezes mean nothing. You would feel better and all would go back to the ordinary.

... Oh, how wrong you were! And how stupid for not getting a day off.

You were capable, though! You counted on your immune system (it sounded heroic the first time you thought of that). One night is all you needed.

Or not.

"Ow, ow..."

You should've told your captain. Sure, it would cost your courage, pride, and dignity, but at least you'd be cured. You'd rather die than tell him you got sick because of the one herb he instructed everybody to avoid.

What's worse is that he's been rather distant, and he's unquestionably avoiding you. The way he shoots daggers — no, whole machetes in your direction every time you do anything, smart or not, is so clear even the crew can see it. And the worst part? You do not know why.

It had been like this for a while now, and you detested this whole plight with passion. Everything was okay between the two of you, you were sure of it! What did you do that spurred such a reaction? From one so dear to you?

Those sweet memories...

From new findings you excitedly presented him, to revealing himself, his past and adventures to you after almost a year of sailing. You knew everything about him. He knew everything about you.

So why? Why stop so abruptly? You didn't mind when he digressed about his newfound coins. When he murmured under his breath while he pored over medical books or mulled about a particular topic. When he stressed over labor and called for a brief break, where you or the crew would attend to him by delivering him a meal or helping when he wasn’t looking. He's so stubborn.

"Uurgh..."

From captain, to Law, to captain again. Not to mention how he deftly stopped you from hanging out with him. You thought he needed space at first. Maybe he was tired and had to rest for the next few days. That’s alright. However, your thoughts deteriorated as the days passed. But well, right now it's better if he doesn't see you at all. Nor the crew‌ — oh, the damn crew. Those two.

The "two" being the pair of nitwits that constantly stand by law's side and grin at you. Seriously...

You do not understand what Penguin and Shachi find so amusing about your situation with him. It's a tragedy, not a comedy. You love them both, truly, the minute you stepped into the polar tang they were the first ones to get you to open up and all, but goodness, you wish you could beat them for sitting there, cackling and clapping their hands while confiding some mysterious comments to each other when la — the captain, showed up in the area and walked past you with an unreadable gaze. He'd constantly salute you and the others with a bow of his head or more, depending on his mood.

Now? If he saw one inch of your form?

Sigh. His face always went red.

Why can't those two just tell you? Even Ikkaku seemed to know something you didn't. She was more subtle about it, though. Jean Bart wasn't slick either. You could see him smile from a mile away. Hakugan and Clione? Shachi and Penguin 2.0, except they hid behind Jean Bart. The rest pitied you instead, sometimes patting your back — sometimes shaking their head almost in disbelief. Oh, and Bepo gave you suspicious smiles! Every time he tried to say something to you, those two animal hat-wearing goblins silenced him. Did they just want you to suffer?

And if they did want that then their curses were working because even after grabbing the sponge (almost losing your temper as it slipped through your gloved palm twice) and straightening back to an erect pose, your head was still banging with fervor, muscles barely reacting.

If only you could snuggle with the fluffy, warm mink right now. A bitter sigh rushed past your lips at the thought.

Those two were just so mean. But Law was much meaner — the captain, the captain... Yes, the captain. That... That dummy.

You groaned and shook your head while forcing your wobbly arms to scrub the table, exhausted mentally with this never-ending train of thoughts and these fanciful fists leaving invisible bruises all over your poor body. Not to point out those hands pinching your brain like dough...

Just — you... Goodness, what was it he suddenly despised so much? The submarine felt like home. It was home, especially when he joined you. Now when he does, he — the aura he emanates is intimidating, yet everyone is either unaware of it or not affected by it.

What made him so resentful? You can barely say anything when he strides into the place, too panicked to learn how he would perceive you or talk to you if you go on. It's like you're back on step one, isolated, too scared to be yourself with your family. Because of one man who's supposed to be the head of it.

Being you felt like a sin when close to him, as if he preferred the private variant of who you are, and shunned your curious and spirited self. You could understand since he’s rather closed off and well, in a certain aspect you are too, but — did he not like you at all? Was it all an act to not offend you? He didn't seem to dislike your vivid reactions initially, or your foolish gestures when nearing a fresh island. You were often silent, smiling and listening to others converse, but when around your companions, you easily liked to open up since it was the only time you could do so. And they were more than just that. You entrusted all the members of the heart pirates. They meant everything to you. Even him, who stopped including you.

Ugh...

You wished it could all go back to normal.

This disease enjoyed fumbling with your previously scrambled sentiments. Law did mention it brought a high fever and emotional susceptibility. You didn't consider it'd be this severe.

"... Okay, I'm done."

You certainly weren't, with your bed unmade and furniture still dusty; floor imploring for a good wash. However, with the croaky voice you had paired with your runny nose, you doubted you could do more. Even if you did, it'd be better not to.

You peered down at the bucket full of water that probably smelled better than you at the moment, ignoring the small puddle beside it made by your poor handling sponges skills. Grimacing, you decided to leave it where it was in case carrying it back turns out to be a challenge. Hopefully, Ikkaku can provide you help later.

Looking around, your droopy eyelids dimmed your perspective and further provoked you as both exasperation and exhaustion mixed and boiled in your gut, room so messy it mirrored your current state. You didn't know what was irritating you more: the light of the lamp or the disarray you resided in.

Howling dejectedly, you turned and plodded to your bed, opening your arms, ready to throw yourself on the mattress. The more you sleep, the sooner you'll get better. Yeah, you're so brilliant. You closed your eyes and —

knock knock.

— reopened them a second after, remaining immobile for an extra few before glowering at your door, contemplating whether to go open it or linger to determine if they'd leave. Hmm.

You waited.

... knock knock.

Fantastic.

You gritted your teeth, drawing a profound breath to settle your nerves, haywire thanks to the hellish illness. They didn’t deserve to withstand your rage, but who knows, maybe by seeing your shape, they'll show sympathy and tell you. That could work.

Okay.

You sluggishly trudged to the door, not bothering to adjust your unbuttoned pajamas and faking a cheerful facade. You hoped your face didn't look too awful, but you couldn't care less right now.

Gripping and twisting the knob, you pushed it open, greeting them with the feeblest voice you've ever had, your sore nose making it unthinkable to inhale air. You rubbed the back of your head while doing so, eyelids closed to evade any light.

"Yo, Penguin, Shachi, how can I—" the words automatically came out of your coarse and blazing throat, opening your eyes a bit to look at... them...

Then you saw a tattoo. And more tattoos. No white, poofy boiler suits in sight.

By barely seeing light before, you tried giving yourself mercy, but now you were only slaughtering yourself to make sure the person in front of you was, well. Him.

Your jaw fell while your brows lifted in consternation, but shortly returned down thanks to your declining headache. Your pupils then scaled the mountain of mass before you and arrived at the peak. Another pair of eyes.

Cool, gray eyes. The ones that just a week ago welcomed you with compassion and comfort. Now they drive you to wither away from this world. Even if you look up to them. (Hehe, get it? man, you're so silly, wow.)

"—help … Captain. Uh, hello." and there goes your comfort zone.

You tried swallowing down air but got pounds of mucus down your stomach instead, curved posture closing up even more in his presence, ashamed to be seen in such a weak state, instantly regretting not managing your appearance as his gaze scrutinized you from top to bottom, probably displeased with how you presented yourself..

You looked everywhere but at him. He only looked at you.

Envy spurted from the plant’s toxins. How could he focus on one thing and have so much confidence to stare at someone without breaking eye contact at all? If you do the same for longer than two seconds, it feels like whoever looked at you has seen your entire personality, life, darkest secrets that you didn't really have, closest people to you — everything in poor words. The windows of your soul, perpetually agape.

How does he keep them closed? Why can't you seal them at all? Why?—

"—so care to explain the meaning of this?"

"Huh?"

You stupidly stared at him, blinking and glancing at his shoulders, then back at him to break whatever spell he put on you, not able to concentrate at all.

Barely could you see the annoyed expression on his face. You hoped he wasn't dealing with excessive stress. Making him feel worse was not your intention.

"I said, care to explain what this is? You look... terrible—" you cringed at that, "—and you haven't come out of your room since this morning. Do you have any idea what time it is?" His scrutinizing tone made you want to crawl under your blankets and stay there forever, but his patronizing gaze didn't let you.

You could merely fidget with your fingers and glance back at the floor to relieve your worries, which mixed with pain, fatigue, and dirtiness. You called for sleep so badly.

"I'm—I'm sorry, Captain. I, uh, I didn't—" sniff, "—mean to skip my duties. Sorry."

His brow creased in suspicion at your raspy voice and poor shape.

"Is that so? Look at me while you say it." if his words weren't menacing enough, his tone was too. He knew you couldn't do that. Especially now.

"Uh..." you unconvincingly whispered, continuing to play with your fists, until rubbing your nape once more, shuddering at how chilled your hands were compared to it.

Your actions were, again, spotted by him, and if one more thing occurred, then he'll be correct.

"Well? I'm waiting."

"..."

Sighing exasperated, you raised your head to look into his pupils once again.

Unbeknownst to you, he already confirmed another of his impressions while taking a further view of your sullen visage.

"I, uhm, overslept, Captain. That — that happens sometimes, yeah? Sorry about that. I'll—I'll..." stopping for a moment, you squinted your eyes and scrunched your nose while the man before you attentively fixated his stare on your frame and—

"Achooo!" —covered half of your face whilst he recoiled back at the loud sneeze you let out, not expecting it at all. He blinked, then you sneezed again, and again. Streak of three.

If your voice and glossy eyes already told everything to the doctor, the continuous sneezes only reinforced his thesis.

You exhaled haplessly as he sternly said your name.

"You're sick." his firm and coherent words could not be fooled. Your fate was sealed.

"...Yeah." at this point, you didn't care. He was gonna scold you, nothing you could do about it. You could only hope he'll do that after you're cured because right now, you could barely stand still without shivering. You were sure if he wanted to do something he would have already, so he definitely will have a talk with you after you're healthy.

"Why?" you've been proven wrong so many times this morning — afternoon. Evening? That you don't know what's gonna happen next.

You stared at him numbly, almost done with everything.

"What do you mean 'why'? I don't, I don't know. Probably our... Ugh, our last stop, isn't that obvious—"

"Not that. Why didn't you say anything? To the others? To me?"

If it wasn't for your head beating incessantly and the aching of your tendons ruining everything, you would think this was a dream.

You kept gawking at him like a goldfish. His timbre wasn't as stern as it regularly was. It was a bit, just a tad bit lower. Like, barely. His eyes were softer, and if you met the man yesterday, you wouldn't be capable of identifying his mood. It's because you knew him for so long that you could distinguish it.

"I..." you mumbled talks under your breath, awfully feeble to maintain the discussion, barring your eyes and hitching away when Law planted his freezing hand on your forehead. You fussed in protest, although it didn't last long.

"You're cold... Off."

"My hands are perfectly fine. You're burning," he interrupted you, stating the obvious. But you were far too deep to listen, fatigued.

"Yeah... M'sorry." you nodded while deliberately looking down in shame, almost dropping to the ground out of fatigue. Everything seems hazy, the pressure in your skull fading, while the breaths you took were meager.

Something skimmed over your shoulder and nape — ah, his fingertips — palm carefully tilting your head back up. Your mouth hung open, and you attempted to focus on your captain's facial features and the iconic hat to not fall asleep.

"It's fine." But his gentle approach and mellow maneuvers set you in a soothing trance, where you couldn't do anything other than auscultate him.

It’d be an exceptional moment to speak up about these last days, his odd actions.

"It... It is? You, ah... You're not..." but you struggled to do so, chest too heavy to speak. He narrowed his eyes, striving to make out what you were saying, but it was all incomprehensible to him.

"I'm not?" he urged you to proceed, getting closer — he felt warm. Wasn't he cold some seconds ago? Ah, he’s draping his coat over your shoulders, so, so cozy, — and holding you as if you were glass. Why was he holding you? It felt nice, undoubtedly nice. Oh, you were going to fall, you think.

“Hey—hey. It’s okay. I got you. I got you.”

Cradling you in his arms, Law cursed and crouched down, snaking an arm under your knees and sweeping you up, a short "there" slipping from his tongue, keeping you close to his breast. Naturally, you snuggled close to the source of heat, losing consciousness, unaware of your surroundings, his distress, and jogging to the infirmary.

“Hey. Keep your eyes open. No, no, open—yes, yes, like that. Good job. A bit more, then you can go to sleep, alright?"

While nodding lazily when he said your name again, you curled up for more warmth, and he mellowly followed your movement, hefting you up and pressing his lips upon your forehead, his frown deepening at how high the temperature was. He needed to administer medicine quickly.

"Law …'m sorry if I smell."

He scoffed. Thinking of such idiotic things was exactly like you, sputtering them out so bluntly. Rolling his eyes was natural at this point.

"That's my last concern. We'll think of your scent and hygiene later. Don't speak. Shh."

So stupid, so stupid. He should've confronted you ever since you left the island. He should've. It's been a recurring pattern these days. He couldn't see you because of his work but spoke with the others at breakfast, lunch, dinner... They all grew concerned about your distance. Uni shared that it began right after the departing... He knew something wasn't right with you, he could feel it.

Back in that inhabited location, he quickly took note of your drooping posture and fatigued breathing. He wanted to ask about it, but the following days, you acted normal, and Law thought you were queasy because of the heat.

Then he got busy checking on the crew's documents, medicine supply, the damn broken scope Hakugan sadly reported, bounties, news — and something else. He managed to give a check-up to everyone but you. It was mandatory after leaving an island.

With you evading him and him doing the same, this happened. Great. He could only hope it wasn't contagious.

... Wait.

He gritted his teeth in sour realization — Not once has he seen you in the halls or dining hall. No one mentioned you, either. Have you eaten anything at all? Oh, you imbecile.

He palmed your skin through your suit, easing your laments and whimpers, walking through the hallways of the Polar Tang and reaching the infirmary. Kicking the door open while lulling you a bit, shushing and fluttering his eyelids at your sick and quaking form.

"There we go. Shh, I know, I know, it's awful."

Uplifting the blankets, he quickly covered you and began searching for his equipment, rustling and metal clicks tangling with your whines.

"U- uuh... W- where..?"

"I'll be there in a second. I'm here."

As he said that, he quickly came back to you, already stirring medicine in a cup. He had to give to you before you blacked out or fell asleep. Sliding a hand under your back, he carefully pushed you up, gaining a groan from you; you sounded so tired. Tipping your head forward, he brought the rim of the cup to your lips. You were delirious, could barely see or feel, but managed to follow his direct instruction to "open". The first glass was tasteless, fresh... water.

The second tasted awful.

"E—eugh..."

"A couple more sips and we're done. Come on, you're doing good."

Once you drank it all, with a small praise from Law, he gently laid you back down, about to check your vitals. He knew you were in no condition to do as he instructed, it would be all him. Idiot, idiot...

Just looking at you made him guilty. He never saw you this awful. However, what truly pushed him were your next phrases.

“Do you feel better now..?”

Low and dry, they all were. He halted his movements, his hands in the bag, shifting his attention to you.

Your question puzzled him.

Feel better? Him? He was fine. Perhaps you thought the disease was contagious? No; you would've phrased that diversely. His forehead creased, slightly tilted to the side.

"What?"

“I … I missed you."

And as clear drops cascaded down your cheeks, his limbs froze, a bittersweet ache striking his chest.

"I—I thought I did something wrong … I’m sorry … Should've told you. 'M sorry ... really...”

Shit.

“No, no, don’t be. It’s alright, don't—don't speak. You did nothing. Shh...”

And if you stayed conscious for some more seconds, you could've seen those severe pupils mitigate. The windows of his soul open up; the "stern" gaze he preserved for you withering in an instant at your vulnerability.

All he wanted to do was clear that up. When, now..?

“I—I’m the one that should’ve apologized, damn it…”

"Aargh..."

Warm.

"Mmh..."

It was very warm. Pleasant.

"Hn..."

The boilersuit felt different. Heavier, and not … poofy. Hm.

The pillow was so nice, though...

You sought a better position under the comforting and amiable regime of your blanket, squinting your glistening eyes as if sand had struck them; eyebrows knitting in distaste and discomfort, choler cramming up your insides — but not for long, extremely achy and sleepy to lament.

Shouldn't it be easier to relax now that you are tired? Shifting left and right left your muscles throbbing. The peace you could achieve in your dreams was all you begged for. But no, you just had to rise two more times in the span of minutes or hours.

When you woke up the third time, someone surprised you. He was perching on a chair near the infirmary's bed, head, presumably about to doze off. An encyclopedia of vegetation and exotic environs sat in his palms and dotted jeans, the cover made of green-coloured leather, firm to the touch.

He looked peaceful.

"... Law?"

Your lashes fluttered at the fierce shudder that rocked his frame, the textbook about to fall, his eyes snapping open and rapidly darting up to you.

"Oh. You woke up. Good. Good evening."

You were mad at him. You were mad at him.

His lips were indubitably moving. Whatever he was saying, you were not listening. Something about being out for hours, but you were too out of it to pay attention.

And looking down at your body, your eyeballs almost popped out of your sockets at the sight of... Not your boilersuit.

"I'm in my pajamas?"

"And — hm? Oh. I changed you." Pause. "With my devil fruit, of course. Obviously. You were way too hot in it."

"..."

Pause number two.

"I'm hot?" You bluntly said,

"Not in that way." And he quickly retorted, bashful. You immediately got gloomy.

"Oh..." You and Bepo were alike. He couldn’t help but sweatdrop.

"No, no, no, don't — you look fine. That's not what I meant."

A hoarse chuckle ripped from your sensible larynx, a noise that he hadn't heard in a while. His back loosened at your jovial note, the pressure applied on the envelope of the manual lessening.

There was a superb illustration of the flora you accidentally whiffed.

"You inhaled it, didn't you?"

... Silence followed. Then a sigh.

"A simple allergy with a sore throat and emotional instability in the first phase caused by the pollen, weakened muscles and headache in the second, and heightened senses, nausea, and worsening of the body in the last one. You felt them all."

Quick and precise, each symptom he mentioned appeared throughout the weeks you boarded on the Polar Tang. He hit the mark. Glancing at him from the corner of your eyes, you nodded sheepishly, feeling hot in your cheeks.

"Y—Yeah."

"I thought I mentioned dodging those peculiar red flowers. I don't expect you to recall the name, but to avoid it. Thankfully, you only inhaled its pollen, or else you would've been in this bed the moment we departed."

"O—oh... That bad?"

"No, not really. The symptoms would've developed quicker, but nothing dangerous. Perhaps you would have slept over two days, as all cases do when encountering this allergy," He narrows his eyes at you, shutting the book and crossing his long legs, his foot jouncing. "Not at all fatal, only worrying when the patient in question mentions nothing about the symptoms and overworks themselves.”

“Hey—”

“You're fine."

A small huff left your lips, nodding lazily. Nothing was uttered after from both sides. Occasional groans from yours. Only then he spoke.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"..." The answer was simple. He immediately found the illness yet couldn't pinpoint the cause of this? It was almost ironic. Your quietude wasn't taken well.

"Well?"

"... You ignored me. You made it clear."

And he was faking ignorance. That glance, his attitude. You knew him too well, but had no energy to call him out.

"I—I didn't."

"Don't play coy, Law. Did I do something? Even the others know. Penguin and Shachi told me. I—"

You paused when he raised his hand, glancing at it in confusion, then back at him, twice or more. He sighed and dropped it back on his thigh again, using his other one to rub his temple in distress.

"You did nothing. I don't know what... Shachi and Penguin said," You tilted your head at his peculiar manner of quoting them. "But I've got nothing against you."

He stopped rubbing and lifted his head to check on you again and you were unsure of what to say. His brows wrinkled the tender skin of his forehead, severity, and minor unease painting every fiber of his appearance.

You just... didn't know.

"Really? Then why those weird stares? Why leave the room the moment I come in? I mean." you flailed your hands around, looking everywhere as if you could find an explanation. "You never behaved this way, Law, not with anyone. I... It was fine before, right? Let me ask again, did I do something wrong?"

"Of course not!"

At his hasty exclamation, you blinked, uncertain why he became as rigid as stone. Palms back on the blanket, you awaited an elaboration of his thoughts, observing his adumbral face to detect any key to figure out what caused him to alter his ways with you. However, his hat, which you've always appreciated for its fluffiness, turned out to be an issue. Those eyes you've grown so fond of refused to meet yours.

You just couldn't get it. The surrounding air grew an intoxicating no romance book would mention, one that did the contrary of setting your heart aflame, that poor muscle of yours.

If he explained, it would've been easier.

"Okay, 'of course not' ... Sure—"

"We are not having this conversation. You need rest."

He briskly cut you off, and your heart felt constricted. The words felt bitter upon both of your tongues, so bitter and revolting, they made his jaw clench and your eyes water. You weren't having it. Absolutely not.

"I feel better now, thank you, and I say we're having this right here." You pushed, ignoring how he clenched his tattooed fist.

"No—"

"Yes, Law! I don't know what I did, but if it bothers you, shouldn’t you tell me? There are things we can all miss."

The pang in your brain was still active, and you had no patience nor strength to argue. Either he spoke up or you'd go straight to sleep.

"I... You did nothing that bothers me."

His speech was almost a whisper, a low rumble, and were you in your regular state, you'd feel sad to see him like this. Law had no trouble speaking up— perhaps with apologies, or admitting to be wrong when in the midst of a conversation. Maybe something genuinely bothered him. But he'd tell you, wouldn't he? He had to.

But you weren't the only one who had to consider the consequences. He also had to do his part.

"... And?" you encouraged him, to gain something, something that would lead you both to that damned thing you were both chasing, that ounce of understanding.

“And—and what?" alas, it served another wave of blistering dissatisfaction down upon the membranes of your boiling stomach.

He couldn't be serious.

"... Whatever. I'm going to sleep."

"What?"

You detested how you were feeling, a volcano of passions, the pounding in your skull, and the heat, and the ludicrous, nagging insecurity, all these wretched, gristly sensations shoved in your mouth and scraping your gullet, such a relucting and squalid dish, contaminating your palate and inflaming the gums of your teeth.

But all Law could see was how your eyes moistened and reddened, the crinkles at the corners of your mouth, the contracted tissues above your nose.

You couldn't feel how his heart plummeted, either. Again, he caused you to cry.

"Hey... I—"

"No, Law, no! I said leave! You ignored me for almost two weeks and now—now you're just..!"

Perhaps you were being a bit too "dramatic" for something you could solve with a modest exchange, something that, compared to all the obstacles you and Law went through, was a sheer grain of dust in your shoes. Yet you erupted for the frustration, the plant's effects and that nameless thing you'll bring in your grave, for if he knew, he'd probably pity you.

Maybe, just maybe, he should've kept ignoring you. If solely to dim that warmth. The glow in your eyes that only sparked with him.

"I don't mind if you need time. I don't mind if you're busy or whatever, that's obviously fine! But can't you tell me? Is it that hard? Instead of treating me like a stranger? Just—just, just leave..."

Your snotty voice seemed ridiculous, resounding through the infirmary alongside your sobs and sniffles. Vision tarnished by your tears, staring at the ceiling with resignation. It alarmed Law, whose emotions were already scattered; unnerved, anxious.

He couldn't take seeing you like this. He couldn't.

"That’s not it! I... I just — I..!" His broken explanations fell as your cries didn't stop; spasms traveling through your frazzled nerves. He swore under his breath, getting up and coming to you, standing close but so, so distant. His fingers jerked, impatient to wipe your tears, to calm you down, to assure you everything was alright, and this was all on him.

"What..?" you meekly whimpered, gazing at him as he appeared in your sight.

"I, I..!" if only he could express himself. You'd figure out. If only he could, without buckling and tearing apart at the weight of his own feelings.

"... You what, Law?"

It was tough to see with all those tears coating your scleras, but... His lips quivered. His jaw tensed.

His hands craved yours.

"I like—I like you!"

... You wondered if illusions were part of the symptoms. Your eyelids were all but relaxed. Popeyed.

"There. I said it. I mean it. Seriously. I—I think I love you."

You could feel his frantic grip, slightly pulling the blankets in his direction, tense as him. You've never seen Law so … jittery with you. Perhaps when he slowly spoke of his past, or when his plan failed.

"I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I... I was confused. I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't... No, okay. I, I love you, but you don't have to reciprocate, really. ‌I just wanted to clarify that I wasn't—"

This was different, however. Not the same vulnerability, nor agitation. That teetering edge coating his sayings, not at all close to those instances.

"... Law."

"—ignoring you, I mean, I was, but I just couldn't face you, you know? I didn't know how to act—"

That glow, those feelings. The twinkle in his eyes Bepo mentioned when you spoke of something that fascinated you, that rare grin on his lips, and that sweetness, the swelling in his chest, and the red, and the breath of fresh air, and the intoxicating romance books loved to talk about...

Those tints blooming in his cheeks. The faint relaxation of his defined brows. How he covered his pretty, vulnerable self.

He's no different from you. Oh, oho ho, no, he wasn’t. Only now did you realize.

"Law."

"—but I missed you so much, I missed your presence, being with you, I—"

Your heartbeats matched.

"Law!"

You understand now. The definitive yell induced him to quit his blabbering, and eventually, he found your gaze. Those windows were not locked at all. Not marginally, not halfway. They were fully open. You could see him.

"It's... the same."

It was all you could utter. His jaw loosened, and you could recognize his wide, stormy irises.

"Huh? Wh — what?"

"I feel the same way, Law. I—I love you too."

Yours were open, too. They always were- yet he never acknowledged what dwelled inside. Two fools you both were.

"... Oh..." and a breathless whisper was all he could offer.

The silence dissipated. A delightful warmth occupied your rib cage. The pressure was gone.

All is back to normal.

"If... If you weren't sick. I'd kiss you." He mumbled, and his lips looked more luscious than ever. He shouldn't have said that. Now it was even harder.

"P—pfft... Of course, of course. Can you come closer, at least?" you pouted, giving him the best puppy eyes you could muster. ��Pretty please?”

"... Fine. It's — not contagious, anyway," he huffed, his cheeks a light pink, and he sat on the margin of the infirmary's bed, hustling just a tad bit closer...

Closer...

"Closer?"

"Alright."

His ears grew pink at your giggles. Your fingers graced each other, "DEATH" entwined with you. His hands were lukewarm. Long, slim, calloused in some places, but also tender to the contact. His metacarpals were partially discernible, defining the shadows. He took care of his nails, ensuring they were cut short, although they appeared slightly, just somewhat lengthier than usual. Not considerably, however; they were still short.

How you missed holding it.

"Sorry, by the way. About everything." Squeezing his hand, you attempted to show him what it meant to you. He squeezed it back, brushing the top of your hand with his thumb, a pensive and solemn look on his face.

"No- I should apologize for not saying anything sooner. I neglected and avoided you. I … I don’t know what to do. You know I’m not the type for relationships.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, but weren't as worried as Law. You'll wait. Nothing would change.

“Mmm. I can wait for you, Law.” Saying it seemed to take him off guard, as if he hadn't thought about it. Or, rather, didn't expect you to propose it. In his head, it seemed silly because it's him. If you were to ask in his place, he'd also wait.

He felt lighter.

“… Truly?”

“Yeah. We can figure it out together. Like we always did. I’ve loved you for years." He inhaled deeply, your words buttery and sweet. "I’m fine with waiting longer.”

Thinking you wouldn't accept, if he asked, was stupid of him too. Of course you would. Of course. With another squeeze, he nodded, and turned his head away from you a bit.

His eyes glistened.

“I’d like that. Thank you.”

You smiled, too, saying nothing in return.

He can take all the time he needs.

After some days, everything went back to the typical routine. The first thing you did was knock Shachi and Penguin's heads, (supported by Ikkaku) and since Hakugan and Clione were on duty, you couldn't do the same for them.

You puffed your cheeks and enjoyed chewing the well-earned treat you snagged from the kitchen, reorganizing boxes since this morning.

"Tired?"

Peeking at the door, a smile adorned your mouth at the sight of your captain leaning on it.

"Mm, there were a lot of them."

"You could've asked for help. You know I don't want any of you to strain yourselves with tasks."

"I had it. Don't worry. Although..." another bite. "I miss it."

"Hm?" he crooned, tipping his head forward. "Miss what?"

You gazed into his eyes, "Miss getting pampered by you when I was sick." lovingly observing how they enlarged a bit before returning to the stoic stare he always wore, swaying his head to dismiss your remarks. The chambré tint on his cheeks was as clear as day, like his light smile. Not that you'd tell him, he'd immediately disregard it.

"... Meet me at my office once you're done."

As he turned his back to you, his boots making clicky rumors with each step, your smirk amplified... After all, who could wait to get coddled by none other than their favorite captain?

#law x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece imagine #trafalgar law #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d law x you

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junichan · 10 months

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Dirty Monkey (Platonic SWK x Reader)

Summery: A regrettable insult leads Reader to give the Monkey King a bath and a little TLC.

The Wukong in this story is based on Monkey King Reborn, and heavily inspired by @celestialkiri’s and @sixteenthchapel’s monkey boys. (I love their art and AUs so much, omg!) I also think calling the self-insert character ‘Reader’ is terribly clever, so I used that here.

Warnings / Triggers: None, a brief mention of naked monkey butt.

Reader overhears Wukong and Bajie bickering and throwing insults at each other as per usual. It’s a normal occurrence early in the journey. Most of the time these barbs roll off their backs and the only ones really bothered by their antagonism is Tang Sanzang, who just wants his disciples to get along. But this time Bajie goes a little too far.

“Dirty monkey,” Bajie sneers.

There’s an instant of silence, as if everyone knows he’s crossed a line, even Bajie. He starts to open his mouth to backtrack, even as Wukong’s expression goes frighteningly cold. The monkey’s muscles tense, his lips pulling back from his teeth. He’s ready to maul his fellow disciple.

“THAT’S ENOUGH.” Reader’s voice is rarely so loud. It crashes over them, crushing the tension with the force of a shockwave. There’s even a growl to her voice. The surprise is enough to break Wukong’s momentum; he’s never heard that tone of voice from Reader before.

Wukong will never admit it out loud but he loves these little hints of the steel in Reader’s spine.

“Both of you need to cool it,” Reader continues, fixing Bajie with a glare that makes him shuffle self-consciously before turning it on Wukong. The monkey huffs, refusing to feel reproached. But at least he decides to walk away, rather than continuing to fight or argue.

A few days later the travelers stop for a rest. Wukong has been even more abrasive and distant to the others than usual. While the rest of the little group is making camp, Reader finds the monkey some distance away, glaring at the horizon with his back hunched and the fur on the back of his neck bristled. Wuknong refuses to admit it but clearly Bajie’s crack about his hygiene hurt his pride.

That’s when Reader grabs his arm and pulls him off. Wukong of course tries to shrug her off, snapping at her to leave him alone. (He’s a king after all, he’s not about to be dragged around by his elbow like a child.) But Reader insists that he must come with her somewhere and her persistence gets him curious enough to relent.

She takes him to a secluded natural pool, and that’s when Wukong notices the little wooden bucket Reader brought along. She intends to make him bathe. He clues in really quick and can’t help feeling a little dejected.

“So you think I’m dirty too.”

He’s about to call her an idiot and go back to brooding on his own somewhere when she stops him.

“No. You just stink. You’re covered in dried blood and who knows what else from the last ten demons you fought.”

She’s got a point, as much as he hates to admit it. He tries grabbing the bucket from her, insisting that he wash without her supervision, but she keeps it out of his reach. Once again curiosity - and the not-so-secret fact that Wukong’s going a little soft on Reader - gets the better of him. Even so he grumbles as he allows himself to be ushered into the cool, clear water.

Wukong thinks shucking his clothes will scare the human woman off, and it does embarrass her enough to politely look the other way, but she doesn’t leave. (Don’t worry, Reader doesn’t see anything besides his bare backside for a few seconds. This is a SFW story. Also, LOL, monkey butt.)

To his surprise, Reader wades in after him. He tries not to look too interested in what she’s doing. He even tries objecting again when she takes some soap out of the bucket. But as soon as her gentle hands start working the sweet-smelling soap into his fur the demon monkey practically melts.

Neither of them say anything as Reader slowly and carefully washes Wukong’s back. It reminds him very much of when he was home on Flower Fruit Mountain. All the monkeys in the troop would groom each other, for both hygiene and socialization, and as the highest-ranking monkey of them all he was always given the most attention. There was a reason he was called ‘Handsome Monkey King’ after all. Back home he had been almost meticulous about taking care of his appearance, but since being on the road it had seemed less important.

So Wukong kneels in the water, while Reader stands behind him. The feeling of the human’s fingers gently working the blood and dust off his fur feels really, really good. The cool water is refreshing, and the soap smells a little like jasmine and sandlewood. Having someone groom him makes him feel like a real king again. And more than that it makes him feel a little homesick.

After a while, he can’t help but wonder out loud, “Why are you doing this?”

Reader pauses for a moment. She’s behind him so Wukong can’t see her smile, but he can hear it in her voice as she explains, “A dirty monkey is a monkey that’s unwanted and unloved. You are neither of those things, and I don’t want you to forget that.” Her arms encircle him from behind, and he feels her cheek press against the top of his head while she hugs him.

Wukong can’t remember the last time he was told he was loved and wanted so directly. Or the last time someone dared to embrace him! Certainly, it was long before he was imprisoned under a mountain for 500 years. For a moment he’s stunned into uncharacteristic speechlessness. Then he scoffs to cover the awkward moment of sentimentality. “Tch. Don’t be stupid. I know what I am.” The usual edge to Wukong’s voice isn’t as sharp, and the hand that he places over Reader’s gives the smallest, softest squeeze. Quietly he admits, “…It’s nice to be reminded though.”

The Monkey King won’t say the words, but Reader knows that he means ‘thank you’. And she’s glad to have lifted Wukong’s spirit a little.

Before the moment can get any more awkward, Reader steps back and grabs the bucket to rinse Wukong off - by dumping the bucket of water over his head!

“Hey!!” The demon sputters, shaking water from his eyes as he turns to glare at Reader. But she’s laughing so much it’s hard to stay angry and he starts chuckling too. He gets her back as they’re moving toward the shore by shaking the water off his fur and soaking her in the process.

They stay by the pool for the rest of the afternoon. While they dry off Reader washes Wukong’s clothes too. (And discovers the Monkey King never bothered to learn how to wash them himself. ‘That was what servants are for.’ No wonder they were so gross!) By the time they rejoin the others, Sun Wukong looks like a brand new demon.

Bajie immediately protests that it isn’t fair that Brother Monkey got a glow up, which strokes Wukong’s ego even more. The whole ‘dirty monkey’ slight is well behind him now.

After that, the Monkey King became a lot more mindful about the state of his fur and clothes while on the road. Every so often Wukong would plop himself down in front of Reader with his back to her. He wouldn’t say anything, but they both knew it was a silent request / demand for some grooming. Sometimes Reader found it a little annoying, especially if she was in the middle of something, but she always indulged him, combing her fingers through his fur until it was silky soft.

He never forgot what Reader said. He would make sure that no one ever had the chance to imply he was dirty. Sun Wukong was loved and wanted, and everyone should know it just by looking at him.

#sun wukong x reader #jttw sun wukong #journey to the west #monkey king #monkey king reborn #sfw drabble #jttw #sun wukong

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onepiece-fics · 1 month

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Law x simp!reader headcanons (+ short scenario)

Summary: Law x simpy/affectionate reader.

Warnings: Fluff. Reader is gender-neutral. Reader is incredibly confident lol. Brief mention of Law's past and struggles with feelings/emotions.

Word count: 1043

Law is the definition of tsundere.

He will NOT admit anything publicly, all of his affection is strictly for your private life.

It’ll take him so long to accept the fact that you two have feelings for each other. He spends literally forever pretending like nothing, despite how open you are about it.

Literally he is just in denial for SO long.

After you flirting with him openly for a few months you have a party where you end up drunkenly properly confessing your feelings for him.

Law being the only sober person that night cannot let go of what you said and confronts you about it the next day.

Although he can’t convey his feelings, your confidence and affection are enough for the two of you.

As you two start dating he starts to get more and more confident in your relationship, and eventually, he starts showing you affection back, but only in private of course.

He’ll start playing with your hair or drawing patterns on your skin eventually. Perhaps he would even cuddle into you if you're both sitting next to each other on a couch.

It takes him damn near a year until he stops getting flustered when you compliment him.

He knows that regardless of how embarrassing it is for him though, you won’t even judge him for anything, because if anything you’re 10,000 x more affectionate than he is.

All your crewmates will tease him for aaaages, even when he does get used to it. More than anything though, they’re all surprised he lets you do it in front of all the others.

In reality, Law knows he can’t stop you from showing your affection, and frankly he doesn’t want you to stop either.

Anytime you come running at him and give him a big hug or a kiss on the cheek he just gives the rest of your crewmates a glare (but that does NOT stop them from snickering).

The sun was setting into beautiful colours of pink and orange where you stood on top of the Polar Tang. Your captain had asked to get some fresh air, and for you to come with him. So there you stood, leaning against the railing next to Law. You glance to your right to see his hair lightly blowing in the wind, without the usual hat sitting on his head. He notices your glance and raises an eyebrow at you and you smile back at him.

“Was there anything in particular you wanted, Captain?” You ask him sweetly as you pick up a stray hair strand laying on his yellow shirt. His body stiffens slightly and he lets out a sigh.

“Y/N-yah… You’re gonna make me go crazy…” He mutters, barely audible. “I wanted to talk to you… about…” He lets out another sigh, this one heavier than the first one. “I wanted to talk to you about what you said yesterday.” He says and moves to corner you against the railing of the ship. You smile at him as you gently put your hands on the forearms on either side of you. You don’t notice it but his hands are gripping to the railing for dear life.

“Oh that? I meant every word I said, you know?” You respond, unashamed. Why would you be ashamed of your feelings after all? He’s Trafalgar Law. He has a mildly shocked expression on his face, and combined with his flushed cheeks he looks adorable. He should be used to this by now, you think, with how much you’ve flirted with him since you joined the crew it’s shocking he even reacts to it anymore.

“E-everything?” He asks and you hum and nod your head. Law looks down to his feet, his arms still surrounding you. “Y/N-yah, I’m… I’m not sure I deserve that…. I don’t think this is good for either of us… I’ll only get you hurt. Or worse.” He whispers. Your brows furry and you shake your head.

“Law. That’s nonsense and you know it. As if both of us aren’t constantly living in danger all day every day… You know damn well I don’t care about that. I love you. So much. And you deserve so much more than you get. I know that you have your… issues. But I need you to know that I’ll always be here for you regardless of that, okay? I don’t care if I’m only your friend, I’ll always be here to help you. I’ll always be by your side.” Law’s expression turns into one of awe, his eyes wide and mouth agape. His right hand moves from the railing to cup your cheek.

“Y/N… I… I don’t know what to say…” His sentence trails off and a blush creeps up on his face again. “You know my past, and you know I’ve been hurt. I struggle with my feelings, and you know this… But… If I get to be selfish I want to, uhm,” He looks away from your face, “I’d like to take you up on the offer you made last night…” He whispers and his hand falls back down to the railing.

The smile on your face turns to a grin as you take in what he’s said. “My offer? You mean when I told you I’d really like to show you my love? When I told you that you should trust the feelings of your heart and trust me? Because I still stand by that.” He groans as his face turns even redder. You shake your head and giggle at him before standing on your toes to give him a light kiss on the cheek. He turns to look at you again with wide eyes.

“Law. I already told you I love you, right? There’s no need to be ashamed.” You smile at him before leaning in to hug him and bury your face in his neck.

“God, you really are gonna be the death of me, aren’t you?” he whispers as he embraces you back and holds you tight against him. He presses a kiss to the top of your head before burying his nose in your hair. “Thank you Y/N-yah. Thank you for understanding the words I can’t convey…”

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kaizokuniichan · 4 months

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Attention Part 4 - Beef

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Afab Reader (referred to as she/her) x Trafalgar Law

Summary: Law and Zoro finally face off in a slightly heated discussion about you

CW: Brief mentions of slavery and violence, slightly toxic male “Bro” like behavior. You are the prize after all.

Previous Chapters: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Next Chapter: Part 5

Word Count: 2.2k

MDNI. Even though this chapter does not contain any explicit content, the rest of the story does. Please respect this disclaimer.

I was originally going to present this chapter as a two-parter because I didn’t want to leave it as a cliffhanger, but the first part is completed and I’m still working on the second part and I wanted to finally release something for this story. I hope you’ll enjoy this little snippet and I will try to complete the next part soon. Happy Reading!

(Divider by @/cafekitsune and banner by @/eelnoise

Law couldn’t be more thrilled. Somehow, blessedly, you would be staying with him.

More simply, it would be you and the other remaining Strawhats on the journey to Wano, but the details of your failed rendezvous were irrelevant. For now he could at least continue enjoying your company.

Re-coordinating the plan was difficult, though having dealt with the Strawhat captain made Law more skilled at adapting to irritating deviations. His crew was a godsend for they were practiced in anticipating his needs before even being asked. Their reunion had filled him with the realization of how close he’d been to never seeing them again. Would they have forgiven him? Would they have even cared? Would they harbor any resentment for him abandoning them? It took great difficulty to prevent himself from falling down a rabbit hole of self-loathing, but it was combatted with his gratefulness for having such dedicated and devoted people in his life. He’d also internalized your guiding words which reminded him that there wouldn’t even be a dependable and trustworthy crew of his if there weren’t a great captain to lead them.

His mind and heart had been a jumbled mess on the days leading to Zou. A shard of his heart was being taken away, and he feared it would make the rest of him collapse in a way his own Devil Fruit wouldn’t be able to fix. He’d dreaded the moment he’d leave you behind—even more so when you’d clung to him, rendering him frozen with your unshed tears, a suffocating lump lodging in his throat. He’d never seen you look so small and defeated, shriveled as your vivacious essence was drained. Any doubts of your feelings for him were wiped clean when you’d whispered softly how guilty you felt for wanting to stay with him.

Despite your anguish over your blasphemous confession, a part of him— more mountainous than he cared to admit—was delighted that he’d somehow nestled himself within your heart. He’d kissed you so fiercely, pilfering the breath from your lungs, and uttered thankful praises against your lips for painting his world a little brighter—saturating it with your sweetness.

Now that your time together was extended, he had the luxury of hosting you within his domain. Almost daily he struggled with the task of remaining discreet and careful not to further exacerbate the brewing tension between you, him, and Zoro. Not so secretly Law wished the mossy-haired swordsman had joined the others in their rescue of their cook, though he soon realized how futile that would have been given Zoro and the Cook’s contentious relationship.

What was even more concerning was Zoro’s audacious hovering—the man never let you out of his sight. Evidently you and him had engaged in some sort of tryst and now he’d magnetized himself to you and was digging in his heels. Law had taken for granted the minimized scrutiny he’d had aboard the Sunny and how greatly it’d worked in his favor. Now back on the Polar Tang he was forced to maintain the veneer of a respectable host. Ultimately he found himself lying awake at night, wishing to carry you back to his quarters and lavish you with his mouth and body every second of every day it took to reach Wano.

The question now was: where would everyone sleep? How would they divvy up the common areas? The Polar Tang was quite large, but it was uncertain if it could comfortably house 8 guests. The easiest solution was to drag in the spare cots from the infirmary and send all of the men to the men’s quarters.

With strained indifference he’d sent you and Robin to stay with Ikkaku, whose keen eyes took notice of him lingering in the doorway as you settled in. Between her and Robin he felt far too exposed, but it was understood that they’d never mention anything about it. Not to him anyway.

As the sun dipped into the horizon amongst brushstrokes of apricot and magenta, the mighty sub made its descent, hurtling deep into the ocean’s depths. While the Heart Captain sat in his office a soft knock wrapped at his door.

“Hey Captain,” popped Bepo’s head from the doorway as Shachi squeezed past to join him, “that one Strawhat guy was looking for you earlier.”

Massaging his temples, Law prayed that no one else had tampered with anything else of importance.

“If it’s their shipwright tell him we’ll arrive at the next island in a few days’ time, so he can get the materials to fix that tank Long Nose-ya busted.”

Bepo scratched his head as Shachi struggled to hold in his snicker—he’d been complicit in pranking the sniper after all.

“No, it’s that green-haired swordsman who’s been wandering around all day and knocking things over with those swords of his. I think he’s lost but he won’t tell anyone where he’s trying to go.

He’s probably looking for you, Law thought to himself, remembering how you’d spent most of the day sleeping.

“Figures. Bring him and his astronomically pathetic sense of direction in here.”

“Who’re you calling pathetic,” came a grunt from the other side of the door before Bepo stepped aside.

“Actually Captain he’s right here.”

“Yes I see Bepo, thank you. You both can leave. And Shachi, stop encouraging the Strawhats from wreaking anymore havoc. We have too long of a journey together. We can’t afford anymore repairs.”

“Aye aye sir,” Shachi saluted, failing to wipe the shit-eating grin from his face as he ushered Bepo out of the room and closed the door.

Law and Zoro were finally alone, which had never actually happened before they’d arrived at Zou. Much to their surprise they’d formed a delicate alliance, one that stemmed from their disdain for the ludicrous mourning over Kanjuro’s crude drawing and their shared excitement for meeting a ninja. They’d become tentative acquaintances—save for the awkward chill that surged between them whenever you squeezed in to link your arms with theirs. Side-glancing each other over the top of your head, they reluctantly folded as you guided them along.

Zoro leaned against the desk a few steps from where Law sat, who frowned as the force of the other man’s weight knocked over his lamp.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, looking anything but.

“What is it that you want Zoro-ya.”

Taking a moment to answer, he ran his finger over the hilt of Wado Ichimonji.

“Where’s she sleeping tonight?”

Setting down his pen, Law swiveled around to face him.

“Somewhere you’ll never be able to find.”

The perilous edge in Zoro’s eye made him snort.

“Relax Hercules. She’s with Nico-ya in Ikkaku’s room.”

Blowing out a breath, Zoro shifted on his feet. “Surprised you didn’t drag her to your lair.”

“Are you saying I’m Hades?”

The genuine befuddlement crossing Zoro’s face prompted Law to trudge neatly along.

“I might’ve thought about it but i figured it would be inappropriate to grant her the privilege in front of everyone.”

Zoro smirked and Law relaxed, leaning back in his seat.

“I would if I could though.”

Zoro glanced aside to the disorganized pile of books stacked in a corner.

“Everyone knows you know. Even your crew.”

“I know.” Law laid his hands over his stomach, drumming his fingers. “But I can at least maintain the illusion that we’re all keeping it professional.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m lookin grab her right now and take her to that...observation aquarium-thingy she likes so much. Makes for a very romantic setting.”

With a scoff Law turned back to his desk. “Good luck finding it.”

A bark of laughter whisked the tension aside as Zoro removed his katanas to lean them next to him against the desk. Carding a hand through his hair he turned to face Law properly.

“I can see why she likes you so much.”

Law’s brow twitched as he was unable to tamp down his confusion.

“She likes people who give it to her straight. Bet you’ve said things to her that most people would consider rude.”

He was momentarily stage-hooked to his first encounter with you and smiled.

“One day I basically told her she looked like shit. Like she hadn’t slept for a week.”

“I see,” Zoro replied, concealing his laugh with a fist over his mouth. “Did she...ever tell you why she has so much trouble sleeping?”

Of course you had. It’d been one of the very first offerings of yourself you’d entrusted him with.

“Almost every night for weeks on end, without even breaks sometimes, they forced me to participate in those underground fighting rings under the threat of being sold as a slave to a Celestial Dragon. All thanks to my shitty parent’s debts. And ever since, I’ve been like a prisoner in my own mind. I don’t think you realize how much you’ve helped me.”

“Yeah, she told me.”

Zoro scratched his jaw.

“She still has those nightmares you know, even now. But I imagine you’ve provided the perfect late-night distraction for her.”

Law’s eyes widened in bewilderment.

“I thought she was with you during all of those late nights. You both seem so close after all.”

“Well. Shit,” Zoro shook his head, “I guess we were both missing our opportunity.”

“I guess we were,” Law affirmed with a wry smile.

A blanket of comfortable silence settled before Law turned back to re-open his book.

“Looks like I’ll have to work harder to find a way to steal her away.”

Zoro’s head snapped back to him, eye gleaming with careful warning.

“She’s not going anywhere.”

Law’s face gave away nothing as he flipped the pages of his book.

“You sure? I can be very convincing. My crew seems to like her already. I’m sure she’d fit right in.”

“She’s not the type to abandon us just because she fell a little for your pretty boy charms,” Zoro muttered, leaning closer.

“Well it seems your Mr. Cool act hasn’t been enough to keep her full attention, so you never know.”

Zoro’s mouth curled in a taunting sneer.

“I definitely had her attention a few weeks ago in our kitchen. And I was also smart enough not to cut it short by the way.”

Law snapped his book shut, bristling as he stood up.

“She told you about that?”

“Not directly. I could just tell. She said it was good though.”

His body eased with relief. He’d been worried he hadn’t given you enough during your last encounter. It was good to know you’d at least liked it. He’d give you so much more if you let him.

“Well luckily I have ways of bringing her to me discreetly, if she wishes. And we’ll have plenty of privacy for me to service her properly.”

Zoro leaned closer, not quite touching his nose to Law’s but close enough to feel the heat from his body.

“Don’t think it’s gonna be that easy to take her just because you made her cum.”

Law countered with unwavering eyes, “I don’t know if you’re trying to offend me Zoro-ya, but this thing between us is much deeper than just satisfying her sexually, and I think you’re underestimating that.”

“I’m not underestimating shit. That’s why I’m telling you. I won’t back off, and I’m guessing you’re not either, so this ain’t personal but I’ll fight you for her if I have to.

Their aggressions squared off until Zoro shifted back to tuck his katanas safely back into his haramaki.

“You’re lucky you’re too noble of a guy to play around with her heart, otherwise I’d have to slice you up just for wasting her time.”

Law remained stood at his desk, arms folded.

“And I know you’re too honorable of a man to sacrifice the greater good of our alliance for some non-beef with me. It’s nothing personal on my end either.”

Fully finished with the conversation, Law sighed and held out his hand. “I’m sending you back to the men’s quarters now since I do not trust you to find it on your own.”

“You’re just trying to get rid of me so you can-“ but his reply was cut short as he was teleported out of the room, replaced with a dirty sock that flopped to the floor.

Collapsing back into his chair, he threaded his fingers behind his head. Considering Zoro’s accusation he now considered actually teleporting himself to Ikkaku’s room and stealing you away. Before he could talk himself out of it he focused on a discarded hairbrush and landed softly on the carpet. You were still sound asleep in your bunk, tightly wrapped in your blankets. As he approached your bed he considered an item inconspicuous enough to swap himself with without being too obvious that his presence had been the reason for your absence.

Settling on a pen, he bundled you up in his arms and swiftly warped back to his room, setting you down on the bed just as your eyes cracked open. His heart fluttered as you gave him a dreamy smile.

“I was wondering when I was going to see you.”

#myfic #Trafalgar Law x reader #Law x Reader #Roronoa Zoro x Reader #Zoro x Reader #This is kinda short and sweet but the next chapter will be from the reader’s perspective which was super fun to write #Trafalgar Law x you #Law x you #Roronoa Zoro x you #Zoro x you #attention series

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our-happygirl500-fan · 11 months

Text

Rise introduced various new characters, but something that I found kind of interesting was that one Rise character seemed to kind of fill part of a role that is kind of usually filled by another character in other iterations of TMNT.

Splinter: Big Mama and I were inseparable

Within Rise, Big Mama is not only one of the Turtle’s enemies but she also fills another role of previously being Splinter’s past love but when it comes to Hamato Yoshi’s past love interests in previous iterations of TMNT Hamato Yoshi’s past love is usually a character named Tang Shen.

Throughout the many iterations of TMNT a recurring character that has been brought up is Tang Shen who is either the love interest or wife of Hamato Yoshi, in various iterations Tang Shen is also involved in a love triangle involving Hamato Yoshi & a third member.

In the IDW comics Tang Shen is the wife of Splinter’s past life & the mother of the Turtle’s past lives.

With Tang Shen having previously been kind of consistently been Hamato Yoshi’s love interest in previous iterations of TMNT it kind of makes me wonder why Rise decided to not have Tang Shen be Hamato Yoshi’s love interest which made me kind of wonder if Big Mama might have possibly been meant to be the Rise version of Tang Shen considering that we do not really hear Big Mama’s real name however I kind of found out that Rise actually does have it’s own iteration of Tang Shen

In Rise Tang Shen actually does kind of get a brief mention in the episode Hot Soup the Game as she is shown to be one of Lou Jitsu’s co-stars when Foot Brute & Foot Lieutenant are telling Casey about Lou Jitsu.

Tang Shen being Lou Jitsu’s co-star & possibly in movie love interest might possibly be a slight reference to how Tang Shen is kind of typically Hamato Yoshi’s love interest in previous iterations of TMNT

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tang shen #rottmnt #tmnt

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nahoney22 · 6 months

Note

I’ve been having some terrible stomach pains (recently diagnosed with endometriosis) and it’s kicking my ass! Was hoping you could please do a f!request on how the bad batchers would help reader? Established and non established relationships is fine 😊 thank you in advance if you do this!

Caring for You - Endometriosis***

Bad Batch Boys X F!Reader

warnings: Very brief mention of implied sex, female reader with Endometriosis, blood 🩸, mentions of reader feeling low and in pain, established relationships, lots of comfort. 🤍

authors note: here you go darling, sorry to hear this! I couldn’t imagine dealing with this 🙁 hope this gives you all the comfort and cuteness you need. 🤍

Endometriosis definition and symptoms for those not familiar, like myself (thanks google):

It is a long-term condition where tissue similar to the lining of the womb grows in other places, such as the ovaries and fallopian tubes.

The main symptoms of endometriosis are:

pain in your lower tummy or back (pelvic pain) – usually worse during your period

period pain that stops you doing your normal activities

pain during or after sex

pain after using the toilet during your period

feeling sick, constipation, diarrhoea, or blood in your pee during your period

difficulty getting pregnant

You may also have heavy periods.

may sometimes lead to feelings of depression.

Echo 🤍

In the quiet cocoon of your bunk, the persistent ache of your abdomen tightens its grip, creating a throbbing discomfort that feels like an unwelcome guest. You're curled up tight, a subtle wince marking each passing wave of pain. You curse as each throbbing pain feel like your abdomen is having its own battleground, aching and cramping with an intensity that leaves you breathless.

Sensing your silent struggle, Echo delicately places a plush blanket over you, its warmth like a feeble shield against the raging storm inside.

As he settles beside you, his eyes reflect a mixture of empathy and helplessness. He reaches for your hand, his touch alone like a claiming balm.

Soft whispers escape his lips, "I hate to see you in pain." His fingers gently trace soothing patterns on your palm, and you can only mutter a faint ‘thanks’, not feeling up to talking too much.

He helps you sit up as he presents you a steaming cup of caf and when sipping the tea, you feel a momentary respite. But the pain lingers.

Your boyfriend's tender touch on your waist extends to your hair, his fingers stroking away tension as his gaze conveys a profound understanding.

"You're strong," he murmurs, his voice a gentle relief, "and I'm here for you.” You were more than thankful to have Echo by your side..

Hunter 🤍

Finding a place to stay other than the Marauder for the night, Hunter heads to the hotel room he knew you were resting upon when he stops and catches a subtle shift in the air.

Following the trail that leads to your shared room, he finds you on the couch, your face contorted in silent agony and the metallic tang of blood mingles with the room's atmospherea.

Silently, Hunter approaches, his keen eyes discerning the distress etched on your features. With a swift, graceful movement, he pulls you into his lap and then wraps a blanket around you, shielding you from both the physical and emotional chill. His eyes painted a shade of empathetic concern. "How much pain are you in?”

“I feel like death.” You grumble in reply, sweat painting your sickly looking face.

He watches you, whispering soothing words but grows a little panicked when he notices a larger shift in your demeanor, body feeling a little limp. You’ve done this before, clearly feeling faint and doing what he can only do, hold you a little closer and wait for the pain to subside. “You’re going to be okay, doll. I’m here.”

Wrecker 🤍

"Hey, hey, what's up, baby? Are you—oh." Wrecker's eyes, filled with adoration just moments ago, quickly shift to concern as he hovers over you.

Witnessing your gasp of agony, you curl into yourself, abruptly halting the intimate moment. Wrecker sits up, his gentle yet fumbling hands taking hold of you, lifting you from the now blood-stained sheets and guiding you to the refresher.

"I'm sorry, Wreck. I'm sorry—agh!" You cry out, a wave of embarrassment and pain washing over you as your period arrives, accompanied by the sharp ache in your abdomen.

"No need for sorry's," he whispers, placing a soft kiss on your hair. "Have a quick shower, and I'll tidy up back there, okay?" However, he pauses when he notices the sadness in your eyes, cradling your chin gently. "It's okay. I'm here."

As you shower yourself clean, Wrecker quickly puts the sheets in the wash, pulls out all the sanitary products he memorised from when you had this bad spell before and gets out your comfiest nightwear and socks.

Tech 🤍

"Following the laparoscopy results I conducted, I can confirm a diagnosis of endometriosis." He adjusts his goggles and fixes a concerned gaze upon you.

This underlying issue, persistent for a while, found clarity after Tech convinced you to undergo a small operation he performed himself. The confirmation of endometriosis hits you, and tears well up uncontrollably.

Tech flinches at the sudden sound of you sobbing, quickly setting aside his device. Kneeling in front of you, he takes your hands into his. "Darling, are you in pain?"

The diagnosis stings, and the prospect of enduring agonizing pain every month overwhelms you. Tech sighs softly, "I will be here for you every step of the way."

"I can't do this, Tech. I can't endure this every month," you sob, hiding your face in your hands.

Tech grapples with the feeling of helplessness, acknowledging the absence of a cure. However, a glimmer of hope emerges. "I will do everything in my power to explore treatments, to make this pain tolerable. Whether it's creating a concoction or a device, I won't rest until you are free of pain."

Wiping away your tears, you muster strength through the pain to meet his gaze. "You don't have to do so much for me, Tech," you sniffle. "You've already done so much."

"And I will do a lot more," he says softly, leaning in and placing a delicate kiss on your forehead. "Whatever it takes."

Crosshair 🤍

"Are you getting out of bed today or not?" Crosshair's gruff voice echoes as he notices you curled up under layers of blankets, facing the wall for hours. He's aware you've been talking to Hunter, so he knows you're awake.

You grunt in response, and Crosshair, assuming laziness, rolls his eyes. "Come on, get up; there's stuff to do." As he yanks the blankets off, his expression changes when he sees splotches of blood on your sheets and pants. You sit up abruptly, yanking the sheets back, tears welling in your eyes.

"Kriff, sorry, kitten," he sighs, sitting on the edge of your bunk. He raises a hand to you, checking your temperature. "Is it happening again?"

"Yeah," you sniff, "and my flow is heavier than usual, as you can tell." You sigh, feeling completely embarrassed.

"Do you not have any pads?" he asks. You're grateful for Crosshair's tenderness, appreciating how he's always been gentle and caring, especially considering your endometriosis, which you initially thought might complicate your relationship.

"I ran out yesterday, so I've just been using tissue," you admit, shaking your head.

Crosshair frowns. "Why didn't you say anything to me?"

"I didn't want to be a problem." The words hang in the air, but Crosshair gently cups your cheek.

"Never will you be a problem. I'm here for you, and so are the others. We can go get some pads."

You manage a soft smile, still feeling and looking completely drained. "We've already left the town. I don't want to tell Tech to turn around just for me. He was dead set on finding a port for outer repairs."

"Leave it with me, princess." After kissing your clammy cheek, Crosshair heads straight into the cockpit. You suppress a laugh as you hear, "Tech, turn this ship around right now."

You knew you were in good hands as long as Crosshair is around.

Tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @sol-the-otter @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @imalovernotahater @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @photogirl894 @id-rather-be-a-druid @the-bad-batch-baroness

#nahoney22 writes #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch x you #tech x reader #echo x reader #Hunter x reader #wrecker x reader #crosshair x reader #the bad batch #the bad batch HC’s

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auroravictorium · 1 year

Text

sweet nothing (k.b.)

to you, i can admit that i'm just too soft for all of it.

Summary: reader tries to surprise kaz, but he foils her plan out of concern for her safety.

Pairing(s): kaz x fem!reader (established relationship)

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: one brief mention of liquor but in a good way (you'll see), mention of prostitution, mentions of gambling, reader being in danger (kinda in the background for right now), mention of touch aversion

Genre: pretty fluffy but a lil argument happens

Author's Note: we are back to the present for kaz and reader :)) i had a hard time writing this one so shoutout to @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r for helping me through my writer's block. ALSO, requests are coming, so if the next part of this takes a minute, that's why! happy reading loves!

You kept your head ducked as you hurried down the East Stave. Cold air gusted off the canal, chilling passersby and making you pull your collar higher up around your neck. You had your head covered by one of Kaz's hats and wore one of Inej's coats. It didn't fit properly, and you felt horrible asking to borrow it in this weather when you had your own perfectly suitable coat to wear. But it served your purposes for this errand, which required passing the Kaelish Prince and the Emerald Palace on your way to the Lid.

The heady cloud of dusk descended over the city, and the Barrel began to stir as daylight faded. You slipped through the beginning bustle of the main avenue along the East Stave, for once grateful for the crowds. It was easier to go unnoticed at night; Kaz would have preferred for you to make this trip during the day for fear of someone mistaking you for someone lost in the Barrel and trying their hand at harming you, but that was precisely the mistake you were hoping the Dime Lions would make as you passed right through the heart of their territory.

You held your breath as you moved past the shouter that beckoned men toward the Emerald Palace to try their luck with the cards and the prostitutes waiting inside. His gaze passed right over you, moving to someone else who looked more likely to hand over their kruge. Perfect.

Once the Emerald Palace was a few blocks behind you, concealed by the tangle of Ketterdam's streets, you allowed yourself to catch your breath. It had been three months since the Dime Lions learned of your relationship with Kaz, and you were still on high alert. No attempts had been made to steal you from your bed or ambush you on a job, and that made you uneasy. Pekka Rollins didn't wait aimlessly. He had to be planning something, but Inej had been unable to find any indication of what it was.

You were relatively at ease as you made the rest of the trek to the Lid and arrived at your destination just minutes before a bell across the Barrel rang seven times.

You slipped into the cramped shop. The scent of sugar and honey greeted you, followed by the tang of freshly-cut fruits. You inhaled deeply, reminded of when your mother would bake for birthdays when your family could afford it. It was a comforting smell, settling over you like a warm blanket on a crisp winter evening. You remembered why you were here and let yourself smile as you moved to the counter.

Five minutes later, you stepped back out onto the grimy streets. This time, you felt a set of eyes on you. As you slipped the packet of goods into the inner pocket of your coat, your eyes swept the street until they settled on a familiar figure standing under a streetlamp. With no hat and the collar of his overcoat pulled up around his neck to combat the cold, Kaz looked significantly unhappy to be there.

Unbelievable.

You moved over to him and crossed your arms. Normally, you wouldn't mind him following you; he was Kaz, after all, but you were hoping he would refrain from being Kaz just for today. "Shouldn't you be at the Club?" you said, accusation in your voice. "Not following me across the Barrel?"

"I could ask you the same," Kaz said, shifting his cane into his left hand and examining you. Once he decided you appeared unharmed, he raised a brow. "Decided to go on a nighttime stroll, did you?" He seemed less than impressed with your trip across the city. You knew he wouldn't be. However, you had planned for him to find out later once you'd surprised him with the pastries in your pocket, and he was too busy enjoying them to be angry.

"I'm not unarmed." You lifted your chin and met his gaze. "And I had an errand that couldn't wait." You turned and started to walk back in the direction you'd come. Kaz huffed behind you and followed. With his stupid long legs, he caught up quickly and infuriated you more. First, he ruined your surprise. Then, he dared to try and lecture you on the street.

"For sweets?" Kaz pressed. He limped alongside you and gave you a look of clear annoyance. "Someone could have seen you."

"Hence the disguise." You gestured to the hat on your head and Inej's jacket. It wasn't as if you'd been particularly reckless. You'd taken necessary precautions, and if it weren't for him, you'd have been able to get to the shop and back undetected. Kaz was practically a neon sign with how he attracted attention from gangsters and non-gangsters alike, and you could predict the turning of heads as you tried to walk back down the East Stave with him next to you.

You made a frustrated noise and took a sharp right onto the first street off the East Stave, long before Dime Lions' territory came into view.

"It's not a very good one," Kaz said under his breath as he followed you.

You stopped in the middle of the street and whirled to face him. "It was until you decided to show up and give me away," you hissed. "Didn't we agree to avoid being seen together? That's why we take turns going on jobs." It was an agreement you despised but one Kaz thought necessary to make it harder for the Dime Lions to strike.

Kaz's jaw clenched, and he leaned heavily on his cane. His leg ached after trailing you across the Barrel, and you almost softened when you noticed his discomfort. Almost. Instead, you forced yourself to temporarily ignore your concern until you had sufficiently vented your frustration.

"You weren't at the Slat, and nobody had seen you. You understand how that looks," Kaz said. A look of worry crossed his face, an expression he would let only you see, and your irritation wavered.

He had a point, and you hated it.

You took a deep breath and then gradually let it out. Once you felt calmer (and guiltier) than you had five seconds ago, you spoke. "I would have left a note," you said slowly. "But that would've defeated the purpose." You couldn't hide your surprise for him anymore, and the guilt of worrying him was eating at you.

Kaz's eyes narrowed. "What purpose?"

You sighed and produced the packet of pastries from your pocket. Two round apple tarts were carefully wrapped in crinkly paper and slipped into a pouch for safe travel. You stepped closer, so your words would be just between the two of you rather than shared with the people walking to get to the East Stave. "I got you these," you said softly. "Because it's your birthday, and I wanted to surprise you with something nice. I didn't mean to worry you."

Kaz's brows furrowed like he was thinking about how best to pull off an outlandish plan. It was a look you recognized well, but it seemed out of place right then.

"What is it?" you asked, looking up at him as your own brows came together. You didn't think you said anything confusing, but Kaz's mind worked in mysterious ways.

"It's my birthday," Kaz muttered, almost in disbelief. "I forgot."

"You forgot your birthday?"

Strangely, you weren't surprised. Kaz had a lot to deal with, from managing the Crow Club to planning the next elaborate heist to make you all rich.

Sadness twisted in your stomach. Kaz deserved to celebrate his birthday. Everyone did. But in this city that birthed and forged new people and then rendered most poor and hopeless, you knew birthdays meant nothing. Even though your parents had saved money for the ingredients to make you a birthday treat some years, that didn't mean everyone's parents had. You were one of the lucky ones.

Kaz looked down at his gloved hands with the ghost of a frown on his face. "Let's get back to the Slat," he said, not confirming or denying your question. A typical Kaz response when he was lost in thought.

He started to walk, and you let him lead the way, sliding the pastries back into the inner pocket of your borrowed coat. You knew he'd appreciate the peace of mind of knowing that you weren't crossing directly through Dime Lions' territory again, not that you had planned to do so on your way back. Pressing your luck a second time wasn't a good idea. Ketterdam was only so generous with her residents.

Kaz led you back to the Slat and then beckoned for you to follow him to his room. You did as he asked, trailing after him and removing your hat and coat so that you could return them to their respective owners. Once within the safe confines of his room, you blew a warm breath into your freezing hands and set the pastries you'd gotten for him on the tiny, leaning table shoved next to his bed.

"You went across the Barrel to get pastries for my birthday that I didn't remember?" Kaz asked as he shed his coat and gloves. He unbuttoned his vest and rolled up his sleeves before settling on the edge of his bed and looking up at you. He watched you fumble with the wrapping on the tarts before giving up with a dramatic sigh.

"Yes. And I'm sorry for worrying you, too. I wanted to surprise you, but I didn't realize," you flicked Kaz's ear, making him swat your hand away, "that you were following me. You ruined your own gift." You'd saved up a couple of months' wages for it, too. It was near impossible to get baked goods in Kerch during the winter when thick ice in the harbor made it difficult for cargo ships to dock, so the shops hiked up their prices even more than usual in response.

"How was I supposed to know it was for me? You didn't leave a note." He flicked you back, and the corners of his lips quirked up in amusement. The exasperation on your face made him want to laugh, an urge he hadn't felt in a long time. But the feeling disappeared as quickly as it had arrived when he noticed the nervous twitch of your hands. "I know you can handle yourself," he said quietly. A lump formed in his throat so suddenly that he nearly choked on it, as it did every time he tried to admit anything he was feeling to you. He shoved it away like he'd practiced. "I got worried."

"They've been too quiet," you said softly. "I understand. I'm sorry for worrying you." You settled next to him and pulled one of his hands into both of yours, clasping it tightly to keep your own still. Your unease mirrored his own, an ever-present cloak that had embraced you both since the Dime Lions learned of your relationship.

You looked up at him and saw regret flickering deep in his blue eyes. The amusement there just moments ago was gone, replaced by the doubt that you knew haunted him, even if he would never admit it to you.

You shook your head. "Don't do that. Don't doubt this now."

He nodded slowly, pondering your words. Every day, he feared you would wake up and decide he wasn't worth the risk. When you chose to join the Dregs, you didn't choose a life of hiding and running from the Dime Lions. Kaz had promised you relative security, money, and vengeance, as long as you joined the Dregs. Now, all he could definitively offer was the last.

"Kaz." You tightened your grip on his hand as his mind started to go elsewhere. What you would give to have insight into what he was thinking, where his thoughts pulled him that was so far from you. "I'm not going anywhere," you said firmly as his icy blue gaze focused on you again. "You remember what I told you?

You loved him, whole, bruised and scarred. Of course, he remembered that. He thought about it every single day. It lingered around him, muddling his psyche like a liquor he wished to drink forever. Sometimes, the same words would linger on his tongue, begging to be returned to you. As he lay in bed at night, unable to sleep, he would imagine how you would light up if he said them. You would smile so brightly that his heart would ache, and maybe you would kiss him if you were any other couple.

But you weren't any other couple. Kaz was certainly scarred, and he fought to heal those wounds every day. You had been through your own share, though perhaps your scars were less visible. Or maybe you were simply better at hiding him than he was, masking them with smiles and easing their pain with revenge. The two of you would never be able to be effortlessly affectionate like Wylan and Jesper, so Kaz relished in the touches he could allow.

"I remember," Kaz finally said, realizing he'd drifted back into his thoughts for too long again. You were looking at him, your brow creased with worry, and he turned his hand to lace his fingers with yours. "I remember," he said again, softer this time. Another meaning laced his words so faintly that you almost didn't catch it. So close to those three words you'd murmured to him, that assurance and a promise wrapped into a gift Kaz never thought he would get. He only wished he could return the same sentiment, exactly how you had offered it to him. Unconditionally and truthfully.

But not yet.

You smiled at him as if he had said those three words, and your face heated with a blush. You looked down at your intertwined hands and gave his a soft squeeze as if to tell him you understood what he wanted to say. "Happy birthday, Kaz," you said softly. You took the pouch of tarts and offered it to him. "Shall we?"

Kaz's lips turned up at one corner as he took the pastries from you. "Thank you," he said. He opened the pouch of pastries and handed one to you before taking one for himself.

In the cool, comfortable darkness of Kaz's room, safe from prying eyes and a plotting gang leader that threatened you both, you wished you could freeze time and remain there forever. With the taste of apple on your tongue, you allowed yourself to imagine that half the city wasn't after you and that you and Kaz were nothing more than two teenagers celebrating a birthday. There were no Dime Lions, no Dregs, no gambling halls or crumbling city buildings.

Nothing else existed but the peace of that moment and the feeling of Kaz's arm hesitantly slipping around your shoulders and pulling you into him in a gesture of thanks that made your heart beat a million times faster.

There was nothing but the two of you, and you wanted nothing more for that to be true.

TAGLIST: @tonberry-yoda, @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r, @futurecorps3, @statsvitenskap (welcome to the taglist!), @sapphiccloud (welcome!!), @casualladyinternet (welcome 😊)

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lotusconstellation · 6 months

Text

“Shy Confessions” Pt. 1

Reborn Sun Wukong x Gn Reader

Story by: @queenofroses22

Written by: Lotus_Constallation

When hearing about the great tales of Journey to the West, you’ll often hear the stories of the great and all-mighty Monkey King, also known as Sun Wukong. The great sage equal to heaven, the celestial monkey that was born from a stone and set off to cause mayhem amongst anyone that crossed his path without any concern or hesitation.

You would also hear about the laughingstock of heaven and, honestly, of hell as well. The tales of Zhu Bajie, also known as Pigsy, a man who used to be a heaven official but made the mistake of refusing to believe he’s lightweight when it comes to alcohol, leading to his banishment and being cursed to be a pig demon for all eternity.

It’s also no doubt that you would hear about Tang Sanzang, formally known as Tripitaka, the powerful yet peaceful monk who had set off to fulfill his destiny!

There is also Sha Wujing, also known as Sandy, there’s not much about him but everyone knows he’s a water demon who fought courageously.

And finally, Ao Lie, the white dragon horse, who was also disguised as a white horse for Tripitaka to ride on while they make the hellish adventure to get those scriptures.

All of the people I have listed so far are very obviously well known. Some more than others. All have backstories worth mentioning even if there isn’t much. However, what if I told you there was one other person who, too, followed the demons and the monk on their journey, but you won’t find them in any stories. Not even a brief mention of their name. And that’s because this person was no one special. I apologize profusely, but those are the words I’ve heard from time and time again when I would ask why this person isn’t written down in history like the rest.

Surely, if they were a part of The Journey and were brave enough to follow the rest down the path of chaos and destruction, with a high risk of death, and trusting your life with 3 demons, that in itself is special, no? Unfortunately, people don’t see it that way. If you do not have some sort of spectacular fact about yourself that would capture the eyes of a dozen citizens, then you are nothing but a worthless little pebble under someone’s shoe. It’s a harsh reality.

However, that is why I am here! I am here to tell the tales of {Full Name}, Whether people like it or not, Because I firmly believe that they too deserve to be written down in history, just like the rest! And who knows, maybe you’ll learn a thing or two, but enough chit-chat, Let us begin!

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪

This story starts with a small village that sits just at the bottom of a mountain. And on this mountain, lived a vicious demon.

The demon had been around for what felt like centuries, and often loved to cause havoc amongst the town’s people. The demon would poison the soil so nothing would grow, destroy stalls, steal from said stalls, smear mud and dirt on any clean laundry, and would run people over with a mysterious carriage. People of the village constantly prayed and prayed to any god to take care of this demon, but upstairs always remained silent. Eventually, after realizing that no one was going to save them, they decided to take matters into their own hands.

Chaos could be heard from a mile away as the townspeople shouted over each other.

“We must slay this demon!” Someone from the crowd shouted.

“With what?! Pitchforks and dainty knives? We’ve all seen what this demon is capable of, what we have won’t do shit!” Another one rebutted.

Throughout all this chaos, a rather average looking person stood off to the side, trying to share what they had to say, but their hushed voice was drowned out by all the other booming voices in the room. It’s quite funny, really. This person, {Name}, spent– heaven knows how many hours practicing what they were going to say, was also the first few to show up, only to be pushed into a corner. And no matter how much they tried to step through the crowd or raise their voice, all their attempts were futile. Eventually, {Name} let out a heavy sigh, before making their way through the crowd to leave through the front door.

Upon stepping outside, {Name} felt the spring breeze gently caress their skin, they inhaled deeply, letting the faint smell of blossoms ease their mind. It was a rather peaceful evening, despite all the ruckus going on in the house behind them. The air wasn’t too hot or too cold, flowers were starting to blossom from all around, the petals and their scent being carried by the wind, and the sun was just starting to set over the horizon, with the skies becoming a mixture of blue, orange, and a dash of red. Honesty, all of it was a sight to see, but sadly, everyone was too frightened to pay it any mind. Who could blame them though, really. With this demon who’s caused nothing but constant dilemmas and chaos for heaven knows how long, it’s no wonder everyone here would be in distress all the time.

{Name} sighed heavily once more before rubbing their temples, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. All the commotion, and the sudden sound of glass breaking was truly starting to get on their nerves. Unfortunately, however, it had always been like this, whenever the town’s people would try to talk about getting rid of this demon, it always ended up getting physical, and In the end, getting nowhere. Honestly, all of it was ridiculous and {Name} was starting to get irritated by it. I mean, that’s why they attempted to be a part of this meeting in the first place. They thought maybe, just maybe, they could take some initiative and try to have everyone think rationally for once, and not be so hostile and rowdy.

Though, I guess looking back on it now, it was stupid to think someone so bashful and run-of-the-mill as them, could make a difference. If they can’t even fake the confidence to take matters into their own hands. Then hell, what good are they? The thought alone made them feel…useless. {Name} tilts their head back, in a poor attempt to keep the tears from falling. However, the tears trickled down their face regardless. Embarrassed by their current state, {Name} took off towards the direction of a nearby forest. They didn’t know where they were going, they didn’t think of how close it was to nightfall. All they could think about was getting to a safe place to let out their woes without any judgment.

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪

The labored villager continued to run throughout the unfamiliar territory, making impetuous twists and turns for heaven knows how long, trying their best to jump over fallen logs and moss covered rocks, and unaware of their ankles getting little cuts from open thorns and sticks.

{Name} continued on until they found a spot behind a tree, sinking down to the floor as they finally let go of all their sorrows. They didn’t want to continue living like this; Living in constant distress, with nothing ever being solved because everyone was already so stressed out and exhausted from this blasted demon. I mean, what did the people in the village ever do to him? Why must he keep coming back to attack everyone — even children? Is there some sort of unknown history we were all unaware of? Does the demon know something we don’t?

Whatever the case may be, {Name} just wanted it all to end. They couldn’t take another second of living in that village; where the people do nothing but scream and yell at each other and don’t take a second to just think rationally. There needs to be a change before this demon eventually gets bored of terrorizing everyone and does something worse. {Name} wanted to be that change. But they were foolish enough to think that would ever happen. “Why?” {Name} spoke. Their voice low and raspy from crying so much. They looked up at the starry night sky, unable to realize just how long they’ve been crying for. “Why must this happen to us? What did we ever do?” {Name} honestly didn’t know who they were talking to, or if they were even talking to someone at all. Hell, it would be a blessing in itself if their voice was even loud enough to reach anyone. “We have done everything. Prayed, made offerings, dedicated ourselves to you,” {Name’s} voiced a little louder, their face contorted with anger. “So why do you choose to ignore our pleas? Are we simply not worth your time?” A gentle breeze passed by, but {Name} paid it no mind as they waited for a response, a voice. A comforting breeze will do no good, it will not just magically make up for the constant neglect from the Heaven’s. {Name} knows they shouldn’t dare think this way, they know such thoughts would poison their soul, but they felt like they deserve some sort of proper response from someone. Their childhood had been damaged because of this vile creature, they watched as their parents went from kind and caring folks to aggressive and hostile ones. They used to welcome {Name} with loving arms, often trying to encourage them to be more confident in themselves, to not be afraid to stand up for what was right. But slowly, over the years, they started getting more…aggressive and uncaring towards {Name}.

Out of respect, I will not mention the things they have done. Though, I will say that it unfortunately got to the point where {Name} had become very skilled in tending to wounds.

The lonesome village felt another tear prick at the corner of their eyes, their head dropped as the fresh set of tears left little stains on their clothes. Please, just send someone, anyone, to take care of this demon. I would do anything in return, I promise.

…

The rapid crackling of leaves suddenly reverberated around the forest, {Name} nearly jumped out of their skin when they heard it. The lonesome villagers quickly wiped the remaining tears from their face before attempting to see the source of the noise.

From where they were, they managed to see a tall, humanoid figure running as fast as they could, the figure was wearing all black colored clothing so they could’ve easily blended in with the night. The only reason {Name} could see them was because of another figure dressed in all white colored clothing that was lazily thrown over the other one’s shoulder.

“WUKONG!! SAVE ME!!” The person in white yelled.

Without thinking, {Name} got up from their spot and started chasing after the strangers to the best of their ability. Their name wasn’t Wukong, but regardless the stranger was in trouble.

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪

The figure dressed in black was fast, {Name} will tell you that. The figure was jumping around while also making unexpected turns—which threw {Name} off a bit—all while the person in white continued to cry out to someone named Sun Wukong. Which, {Name} had no idea who that was, but they’re assuming Sun Wukong is this guy’s friend. Though, what’s a bit strange is that this guy, despite crying out for help, made little to no effort to fight against the person who was holding him captive.

After what felt like hours, {Name} managed to follow the figure to a cave that was located at the top of the mountain. {Name} heaved while trying to force themselves to walk further up the steep hill. Once at the top, they leaned up against the entrance of the cave, trying to catch their breath. “I wasn’t built for this shit,” they thought.

A moment or two had passed before {Name} looked further into the cave, borrowing the faint moonlight, {Name) couldn’t help but sigh in awe.

The cave was covered in foliage, with a few small waterfalls that flowed down from a few openings in the walls, and the moonlight only gave the place an ethereal glow.

(Artist: Unknown. Source: Pinterest).

{Name} was astonished, never in their life have they ever seen something as elegant as this. It all made {Name} ponder about their own life choices. From their younger years, there were always these rowdy kids who always dismissed the adults' concerns and went as far as they wanted into the woods. The kids offered for {Name} to join them one time, but they timidly refused. Now looking back on it, Perhaps it wouldn’t have hurt to accept their offer.

After what felt like an incense time, {Name} carefully moved towards the cave, the light from the moon slowly warning the further they went, relying on the tiny luminous blue flowers that scattered throughout the cave. As time passed, {Name} couldn’t help but grow more nervous. I mean, what were they going to do? How were they going to save this stranger from someone who could be armed and is undoubtedly stronger then {Name} was, when just prior they were sitting in the dark crying because they can’t even get their voice to go up an octave or two.

Honestly, the smartest thing to do would’ve been to go search for this “Wukong” guy but nOoOo, they just had to prove themselves.

Sighing heavily, {Name} continued on, trying to ease their mind by taking in the scenery. Whoever that black-clad man was, and as horrible as it sounds, {Name} was glad this was the place the man led them to. While they walked, they suddenly came to an opening with a bunch of stone staircases leading in all different directions, leading to multiple different rooms. {Name} was about to walk past it before a rather rejoiceful voice echoed throughout the room. “How lucky, How lucky I am today!!” {Name’s} blood ran cold, they recognized that voice. It was the demon. {Name} had followed the demon back to where he lived!

…

Shit.

End of part 1!

I really hope you and Queen enjoyed it. I can’t guarantee when the next part will be out, but keep an eye out 👁️

Love you all!!

#Sun Wukong #monkey king reborn #reborn #journey to the west #X reader #fanfic #x gender neutral reader #gender neutral post #sun wukong x reader #Reborn Sun Wukong x Reader #Sandy #Pigsy #lmk #tripitaka #sha wujing #zhu bajie #the monkey king #monkey king

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sardonic-the-writer · 1 year

Text

—a stakeout

SUMMARY | a late night steakout with tangerine has you questioning how you really feel for him

PAIRING | tangerine x reader

REQUESTED | no

WARNING | mentions of guns, hit men, murder, some angst, etc

WORD COUNT | 2k+

AUTHORS NOTES | no spoilers for bullet train! and as much as i love the rivals/enemies to lovers troupe with tange, here's some softer stuff. happy holidays!

🍊 Masterlist 🍊 Navigation 🍊 Rules 🍊

Lemon had done this on purpose.

He had always had the ability to read people well when he wasn't busy talking about that train show of his. You swore he could tell what you were feeling before you did most times—instantly there with a handful of tissues or some reaffirming words before you even knew it. Most times it was real a help.

Most times.

That was all you could think as you stared out a tinted window into the cold night. The leather of the car seat underneath you was warm from hours of constant body heat, your legs surely numb from blood loss by this point.

From next to you sat a tall figure, dressed to the nines per usual. Soft ringlets of messy brown hair fell in his eyes, only ever moving as he let out a big sigh on occasion.

Tangerine rested his head in one hand, the other drumming his fingertips across the steering wheel as he clutched it. Flashes of moonlight would steadily dance over your vision as the luminescence caught sight of the metal rings decorating his fingers.

His rings. Seperate pages in one giant book it often seemed. Each one of them told an individual story throughout his life. The pitch black ring on his pinky? The first time he'd ever gotten into a fist fight on the job, that one had left a mark deep enough in the other guys face to shed buckets of blood. A lucky hit. Tangerine often told that story with pride, boasting that you would still be able to see the scar he left behind to this day.

The chunky gold one situated snugly on his pointer? Lemon had snatched that off a random bloke that had been in the wrong place at the wrong time a few years ago. It had been right when they had first gotten into the business, presenting it to his twin afterward with a clap on the back as a job well done. A sick gift of sorts, but it still managed to make each of them smile when they looked at it.

And that smooth, rose gold band hanging around his chest—dangling loosely on a silver chain? Well that was the reason you were currently sitting in a car in the dead of night.

Lemon was no fool. The moment he had seen you pull out that small gift box for his brother last week, he had recognized that love sick smile on your face. The way your eyes shone with excitement as you practically bounced on the balls of your feet when he went to open it. Lemon should be able to recognize it after all. It was the same look Tangerine got anytime you entered the room.

It was antagonizing for him really. Watching the both of you harbor crushes for each other in your own ways. (Tangerine; constantly checking for texts from you when he was away, using more than enough loving nicknames for you just to see your ears grow red. You; buying anything and everything that reminded you of him, doodling little drawings of the man on the corner of your loose leaf nktebooks at briefings before quickly erasing them.)

Finally he had had enough, pulling you off to the side last night. He had been a bit too rough about it for his liking, but it didn't matter now.

"Here's the plan." He didn't even stop to acknowledge your confused expression, questions surely bubbling on the tip of your tongue. "I'm sick. Very sick. You're not. Tha' stake out tomorrow night? You're goin' on it mate."

"The fuck Lemon?"

"Mate, just trust me. I know you fancy m' brother. Just take th' opportunity."

He had taken your stunned silence as a yes, giving you his best smile before moving on like nothing had happened.

So far, that was the only thing you had been able to focus on the entire time you'd been sitting idle on this hill. Not your target or his friends' late night activity you were supposed to be monitoring. Just re-running things over and over in your mind until you were dizzy with the effort.

All the times you had tried to be subtle with the longing looks and sporadic gifts. All the nights you had lay wide awake staring at the ceiling. Wondering if it would even be possible for someone like him to love you back. How did Lemon know? Were you really that obvious? Did anyone else know?

More importantly, did Tangerine know?

"Alright. S' going on in that lil head of yours (Y/n). Been quiet all night. Not like you."

Tangerine was now facing you. Arm draped around the back of your seat as if preparing to back out of a parking space. Heat from his hand radiated mere inches from your neck, but you pushed your shiver down with a forceful swallow.

"The mission." You shrugged, not moving your gaze from its spot on the window. Hoping that your response would be the end of this conversation.

"Yeah right." Tangerine just snorted. "You've never cared for these kinds of jobs love."

You forced the butterfly in your stomach to be killed off one by one. Refusing to be affected by the nickname.

"Guess I do now." Your shoulders moved with the effort of another shrug.

Tangerines mouths dipped down into a slight frown. He had been looking forward to a night alone with you. Maybe even going to get some food afterwards, even if just under the guise of two friends having a meal together. He would take it. He would take anything involving you at that point if he was being truthful.

Calloused fingers gently cradled your chin, softly gripping it as Tangerine turned your head to face him. You finally got a proper look at him, seeing the way his baby blue eyes rippled with concern as they traced unseeable patterns on your face. You were so focused on his intense stare that you forgot to remind yourself not to lean into his hand.

"You alright love?"

It would be so easy to kiss him. Just a little stretch of your neck and—

"I'm fine." His hand fell away from your face as you jerked yourself away. You almost immediately regretted it, wanting nothing more to feel him against you for a moment more.

"(Y/n)—"

"I'm just peachy Tan." You snapped, suddenly feeling angry. "Can we get back to our jobs now? You know. The thing we came here to do?"

Tangerine felt his own face flare up with anger. A rare feeling when it came directed at you.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He frowned with a bit more bite to his tone than he intented. The sound of it made a flicker of regret cross your face before it was replaced with a scowl. "Seriously, who fucken pissed in your oatmeal this mornin?"

"Oh like you don't fucking know." Your own teeth grit against each other as you glared at him. The both of you now locked in a heated staring match. It wouldn't be a suprise if the windows started to fog up. The car certainly seemed like it was a lot hotter than it had been a few minutes ago.

"What, so I can fucken read your mind now?" He ran a hand through his hair in a jerky movement. The way your heart fluttered at his disheviled state drove another molten spike of rage into your heart, frustrated with yourself for finding him attractive even in the middle of an argument.

"Sometimes I really hate you Tan." You hissed. How it had gotten to this point you had no idea. But each word was like a nail to the heart for you.

"Yeah? Well, you're not exactly a joy ta be around all the time either, sunshine."

"And that's another thing!" You were full on yelling now, probably looking like a crazy person to any passing cars as you threw your hands in the air. "Stop fucking calling me those names! I bet you think you can just charm your way into anyone's pants with that huh?"

"When the fuck did I ever say anything like that!? And I thought you liked the nicknames for fucks sake!"

"I do!" You hissed with clenched fists. "The problem is I like them too fucking much! I like you too fucking much Tan! And it's killing me knowing I can't do a single goddamn thing about it!"

It was only after it was already out there did you realize what you had really said.

"Fuck. Listen—"

You didn't get any farther than that before Tangerine slammed his lips into your own. A sound of muffled suprise made it past your lips before it was quickly swallowed by him, along with the rest of your breath. The faint feeling of something prickly ticking your upper lip sang in your head as you realized it was his mustache, resulting in a silent sort of laughter. Teeth clicked against each other harshly before you reached up to rest a hand on his jaw and the other in his hair, steadying his pace to a softer, more tender one.

He only broke away in time for you to notice how fuzzy your head was becoming at the lack of oxygen. Gasping for breath, you brushed a hand over your lips. As if checking to make sure that had really just happened. Or maybe to keep the moment bottled up forever, solidifying it with the graze of your fingers.

Both of you took a moment, panting for breath as a way to fill the silence.

"Did you just—?"

"Yeah."

"Did we just—?"

"Sure did."

"And that means you're—?"

"If you ask anymore questions I might have to kiss you again (Y/n)."

The smile in his voice shone through. You allowed yourself one as well, eyes watering.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that for." The englishman sighed, resting his elbows on his thighs as he watched you stare star struck at him. "Please tell me I didn't seriously misread the situation there." He added on as an afterthought with a chuckle, already knowing the answer as he looked deep into your eyes.

"I'm sorry Tangerine." The sudden apology left you with a breathy quality. Tears were threatening to fall at a rapid pace now, one or two escaping. You couldn't tell if they were from remorse or joy. "I didn't mean that. Any of it."

"What about th' part where you confessed your undying love for me?"

He laughed as you went to hit him in the chest playfully, noting how the tears in the corner of your eyes began to disappear.

"You know what I meant. And I did no such thing." Your efforts to conceal a smile were fruitless for once. "You just got lucky this time."

"This time?" He reached a hand out to brush the pad of his thumb across your cheek with a sudden fondness. "Nah. Been plenty lucky for a while now, love."

"Sap." You mummbled, closing your eyes with a sigh as he continued to leave soft strokes against your skin.

"Just for you darling."

You really would have to thank Lemon when you got back home.

#tangerine x y/n #tangerine x you #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train #bullet train tangerine #bullet train x y/n #bullet train x you #bullet train x reader #bullet train imagine #tangerine imagine #tangerine #bullet train #lemon #fluff #x reader #one shot

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blackshadowswriter · 1 year

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Matt Murdock and blind reader. Maybe his girlfriend and they had been dating for years? And maybe she loses her ability to see due to some accident? And now he is with her in the hospital when she realizes she lost her sight? Her waking up, all in panic with him comforting her? I would totally love this.

World Gone Dark┃Matt Murdock

Summary: In your world gone dark, Matt is your comforting light.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, a few brief mentions of injury from a car accident, mainly glass shards damaging the eyes, my medical knowledge is shit so I made all the doctor-y stuff up

Words: 1,661

AN: Thanks for the request, @cioemyr! And apologies for taking so long to get this up, I tinkered with several different versions of this idea before settling on this one. Idk, I wasn't satisfied with how it came out, but that's probably because I'm shit at writing emotions unfortunately 💀

You awoke to a rush of noise abruptly.

A beeping noise somewhere to your right—a monitor perhaps—the low murmur of voices nearby, and the faint shuffle of feet and clatter of equipment, muffled as though it were coming through a closed door. There was smell and taste too: the sharp, bitter tang of antiseptics in the air and the distinct smell of latex gloves—you were in some medical environment. And you could feel as well: the cheap hospital sheets wrapped around you, the thin mattress you were laying on, and the strange sensation of something wrapped around your head—around your eyes.

But there was one sense conspicuously absent from the influx of sensory information that you awoke to.

You couldn't see.

The realization panicked you more than you would like to have admitted. After all, decades of living primarily through your sight had trained you to find comfort in familiar settings that you could see. Now, you were in an unrecognizable place with people you did not know because you could not see.

Faintly, you heard the beeping noise increase suddenly as your own heart rate spiked, sudden fear and an unexplainable sense of claustrophobia creeping up on you. Voices grew louder, but the rush of blood pounding in your ears filtered it all out. Your hands flew up from underneath the sheets to grope your own face, trying to figure out why you couldn't see.

Soft, scratchy material. Wrapped around your head. Around your eyes. Gauze, wasn't it? Around your eyes. Why was there gauze around your eyes? You tried to force your eyelids open, but they wouldn't cooperate. And oh, the claustrophobia only increased with the overwhelming feeling of your eyes not responding to you. Why wouldn't they just open?!

Gentle hands were suddenly covering your own, tugging yours away from where you had started to claw at the gauze over your eyes. Flinching at the touch, you drew back instinctively, afraid and unable to see who was holding your hands. Then, familiar, warm, and scarred hands were cupping your face with a tenderness that had only ever come from one person. A low, murmuring voice reached your ears, the familiar sound a soothing balm on your panic.

"Sweetheart," he whispered, his voice sounding oddly strained. "It's alright, honey, calm down."

"Matt," you croaked, wincing at how scratchy and hoarse you sounded even to your own ears. "What's going on—I can't see—there's something on my eyes—I can't—"

He shushed you quietly. "It's okay, baby. It's—" His voice hitched, cracking for a second before he cleared his throat and seemingly forced himself to continue. "It's okay," he repeated.

"What happened, Matt?"

"What do you remember?"

Your memory was still hazy as were your thoughts, but you strained to recall any prior events that would have landed you in the hospital. It came back to you in fragments: you'd taken a taxi back to your apartment. Distracted, you had been on your phone for majority of the ride, texting Matt to let him know you were coming home. Then, the last thing you remembered was looking up to see a truck barreling towards you, and a terrible pain consuming you before you blacked out.

With no strength in you to say all of that, you croaked out, "Accident. Taxi. Remember now."

Matt's fingers smoothed your hair away from your face. "You're lucky you're alive," he said quietly. In your muddled state, you thought you heard a tremor in Matt's voice. "They got to you just in time, the doctor said."

"Oh..." you whispered, "but...Matt, my eyes, I can't—"

He let out a soft, mournful noise. "I know, sweetheart. I know."

"What happened to them? Why—why—?" Why can't I see? you wanted to scream, that overwhelming feeling of panic and can'tseeit'stoodarkletmeout clawing at your throat.

Matt dropped one hand from your face to grasp both of yours in his larger one. His touch grounded you, distracting you from the terrifying darkness you had been plunged into. "The doctor said..." His voice wavered for a moment, compassion seeping into his words. "She said that when the accident happened, the—uh—the windshield...it shattered. And there was...a lot of flying glass. She said you're lucky none of it got lodged into your vital organs."

"Vital organs—but my eyes," you started.

"I know, sweetheart," he breathed. "I know."

Yes, you thought vaguely, yes he did know. If anyone else had tried to tell you that, you would have pushed them away, but it was Matt. Matt knew what this was like, he probably knew everything you were feeling right now. After all, he had gone through the exact same thing when he was only a child. Your heart broke for both you and him, imagining how much more terrifying it had to have been for a nine-year-old child to wake up without his sight.

If your eyes had not been shredded by broken glass, you were certain you would have been bawling your eyes out. As it was, a swell of emotion lodged in your throat until a small choked sob escaped your lips. At your little broken noise, Matt wrapped his arms around you, letting you press your face into the crook of his neck as he gently shushed you.

"It'll be okay, sweetheart," he whispered. "I promise it's going to be okay."

"Is—" you sniffled quietly. "Is it bad?"

A short, pained silence passed, and it told you everything you needed to know. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry," Matt said softly, cupping the back of your head where you'd burrowed your face against his collar, drinking in his familiar scent. His strong arms wrapped around you tightly, cradling you against him. You leaned into Matt, trying to soak in the feeling of safeprotectedokay as though it could ward off the fears of this haunting darkness all around you.

Matt shifted you in his arms, and you felt warm lips pressing against your forehead. "It'll be okay," he promised.

You shook your head against his shoulder. "I don't know how you do this," you whispered. "I can't—I'm scared, Matt. I just—I just wanna see you again." Your voice cracked, and you broke off.

"I know, sweetheart," he breathed. "I'm so sorry."

"Will—Matt, what am I going to do? I don't have—" your voice lowered "—super senses or anything, I can't be like you—what the fuck am I gonna do, Matt?"

He was silent for a long moment until he said quietly, "When I woke up in that hospital at nine years old...I was terrified. As terrified as I know you are. I wanted to see my dad again too. And the senses: everything was so disorienting and confusing. Even without the extra noise and feeling, just not being able to see anything anymore was scary."

Matt paused to brush a kiss against your temple, right above where the gauze around your eyes began. "I had this kind of gauze around my eyes too, you know. I couldn't see a thing, and I had never been more scared of the darkness than then." He huffed out a dry laugh, and you knew he was considering the irony, just as you were, of how he had now adopted the darkness as his vigilante's symbol.

"I can't fix this, sweetheart," he continued mournfully, his voice utterly torn as he said those words. You knew it must have been shredding him to be unable to fix this the way he always tried to do with all your problems—but this wasn't something he could punch or threaten. This was something much more fragile, something that you would have to figure out slowly.

Reaching for him, your hand fumbled around without your sight to navigate, basically groping for his arm until Matt, sensing what you wanted, caught your hand in his. You squeezed his hand tightly, both trying to offer him comfort and console yourself with his touch.

"It's not going to be the same," Matt whispered against your hair. "We can't get our old lives back. But we can move forward and work with what we have. I won't lie, sweetheart: it's not going to be easy, and it's going to be hard and frustrating and painful, but I'll be here with you every step of the way. That I can promise you."

In the beat of quiet consideration that passed, it took you a moment to realize that the burning feeling in your eyes for once wasn't pain from your injury or broken tears but another overwhelming lump of emotion swelling in your throat. The quiet but fierce determination in his voice stole your breath away at just how utterly committed Matt was to you.

Unable to speak, you just buried your face against his shoulder and clung to him as hard as you could. You were nearly dragging him onto the hospital bed with you, but Matt didn't seem to mind. If anything, he wrapped his arms around you even tighter, and you'd never been more grateful for how good of a hugger Matt was than at that moment.

"Thank you," you breathed. "I—I don't know how I would've done this without you."

"You won't ever need to," Matt promised softly. "I'll always be there for you. I swear, sweetheart."

It was still scary, of course. The pressing darkness all around you was still unknown and terrifying, a stark difference from all the vibrant sights you were used to taking in. Already, you were desperately recalling every memory you'd had, trying to engrain those sights in your mind lest you forget what the world had looked like with your vision intact.

But Matt was there with you, and that meant that you didn't have to be scared. Honestly, there was probably no one better in the world who could help you navigate this besides him. He was your light against your world gone dark.

═══════ ∘◦ ❈ ◦∘ ═══════ ∘◦ ❈ ◦∘═══════ ∘◦ ❈ ◦∘ ════════

If you enjoy, please remember to like, comment, and reblog!🖤

Matt Murdock Masterlist

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saintmurd0ck · 7 months

Note

Congratulations, rhi!! 🥳

86th st

Prompt: “why are you really here? to mock me? to... make me hate you more?” “no. none of that. i came to be a friend, because it really looks like you need one right now.”

Character: Matt Murdock

Also, I don't mind if a confession or smut is involved somehow 🤣

glass ceiling

join my sleepover | main masterlist

pairing: matt murdock x vigilante!reader

warnings: canon typical injuries, brief mention of religion, angst, tinyyyyy confession

a/n: ok nonnie i couldn't fit the smut in cause matty low-key friendzones you in this prompt butttttt enjoy the mini confession 💗 thank you so much for participating !! (ps this is low-key unedited but hope you enjoy nevertheless)

There’s a coppery tang to the air as you drift in and out of consciousness, akin to a wave receding upon a shore. Your eyes shutter open, unable to take stock of exactly what you’ve injured, but at least you have a faint idea of where you are, and how you ended up in this position.

“Ow,” you wince, twisting onto your side, desperately trying to staunch the gash above your eyebrow. The pain in your side has faded to a dull throb, but a quick glance at the blood pooling beneath tells you the cut is anything but superficial.

It’s a balmy night, but the wind dries the rivulets of sweat on your skin in cold increments. The cement rooftop is even more frigid underneath your spent body, seemingly siphoning your energy with every sawed breath. Anything remaining of your once ironclad resolve ebbs to a bare whisper.

The constant ringing in your ears blots out your efforts in concentration, rendering your attempts to move, to sit up, utterly futile. You know your neurons stopped firing the second your assailant decided that this was the end, except the asshole didn’t even have the decency to finish the job. To make sure you wouldn’t come after him.

It was your luck he was cocky enough to leave you up here.

You wiggle your toes, but even that action makes every muscle and bone in your body scream for help. The cracks in your defense widen to a chasm, and so you resort to basics. To your default programming.

“Please,” you grit, jerking your chin up to the light-polluted sky, “make it quick.”

You don’t know who you’re aiming your prayer towards, and you’re foolish enough to believe that someone would care enough to listen, to send an aide, but you hope nevertheless that it catches the attention of some benevolent force, deity or not.

The peals of a police siren shatters your fantasy, making you whip your head to the side. Instead, it speeds off into the distance, carrying with it any last fragments of survival.

This is it, you think. This is how I go.

That’s not what happens, though.

As you settle into the ground, your fingers coming away sticky from the laceration in your side, you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stick up. A warning, maybe, but you’re too fatigued to tell. Still, it alerts you, causing your arduous eyes to widen.

Your head smacks the concrete listlessly, because all you see is the skyline of the city stabbing into the indigo sky, the lights haloing your vision. Jutting out amongst the landscape are the spires of a church, lackluster compared to the twinkling highrises. Your mouth contorts into a grimace at the irony it presents.

The lack of discovery doesn’t explain why goosebumps continue to prickle your skin, or why you hear the rustle of fabric carried with the wind — the sound too soft to notice to the untrained, unobservant ear.

There. A glimmer of movement catches your eye, a crimson shadow dancing in and out of your sight.

Out of the vestiges of darkness, a saviour emerges.

Him.

Matt bounds towards you, closing the distance in four short strides. He falls to his knees beside you, hands scrambling to triage your body.

His expression goes grim, sweat forming a thin sheen along the exposed part of his face as he speaks. “This isn’t good.”

Your weak chuckle turns into a wet rasp. “Tell me the other guy got off worse, at least.”

Matt pauses for a moment, his tongue flicking out at the corner of his mouth. His voice dips to a murmur. “He’ll never make that mistake again.”

You nod slowly, training your gaze on Matt as he takes off his helmet, setting it down on the concrete before putting pressure on the wound in your side. White hot pain blossoms throughout your nerve endings, exploding behind your eyes, but he ignores any markers of your discomfort.

Gritting your teeth, you lift one of your arms to push the lock of hair that’s fallen across his forehead. There’s an inexplicable familiarity about the gesture, even though you haven’t seen him in months. Even though your final encounter was precisely that: your last.

“I thought you said I had to get out of your way, Matt.”

“I know,” he says, his face irresolute.

“Then why are you really here?” Your mouth twists into a scowl as you shrug his hands away, blinking away the tears welling in your eyes. “To mock me, for coming back to Hell’s Kitchen? To… make me hate you more?”

Something between disconcertion and indignation crosses his face. “What? No. None of that.” He wrestles you back down, compressing his hand over the wound again. “I came to be a friend. Because it really looks like you need one right now.”

You hold onto his words, acquiescing his comfort, his company, but all that comes out is an incoherently grumbled response, one that pulses in time with your darkening vision. It’s as if the second he showed up, your body has finally relinquished to the tranquility of rest, knowing that despite your past, Matt is someone to be trusted.

Agony radiates throughout your body as he hoists you up over his shoulder, your heart fluttering at the gentleness of his touches, the soft cadence of his voice. You barely comprehend what he’s saying, but you cling onto “apartment” and “I’ll look after you”, like a beacon of hope. God-sent, if you consider your prayers answered.

There’s something else you catch as you’re dragged under. He’s talking to you, soothing you, settling you. It feels like he’s explaining something to you, but whether it’s for him to get it off his chest, or simply to lull you to sleep is indistinguishable. Yet, your attempt continues to listen.

“I never wanted you in my way,” he starts, slowly becoming a jumble of noise, “because I was falling in love with you.”

But you’re too tired to contest him. To ask if he’s confessing that because you’re on your deathbed, or if they’re pointless words, said just to appease.

“I heard when you called,” he finishes. “I always do.”

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil angst #daredevil fanfic #all aboard the saintmurd0ck express #x reader #rhi writes 💻

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moomv · 12 days

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- till death do us part - chapter eight: trust in me

when a girl vows to save an ever-destined agency from death, even if she's been trying 106 different times and even if she's died 106 different times in the process.

-chapter one & prologue | series masterlist

-word count. 3.0k

-genre. fic, comfort/angst, eventual romance

-tags. fem.reader, mentions of blood

-note. not sure about the last part of this chapter, i hope it's alright!!

You came out of Fukuzawa’s office with a soft click from the door.

The agency room hung empty except for a certain blonde and certain tiger.

Quietness settled over in a thick blanket; you curled into the feeling till the dull ache of whatever feelings remained were left buried.

“[L.name]-san,” Kunikida pushed his glasses upwards and came over towards you, “I didn’t get to ask if you were okay before you went to the Director, they didn’t hurt you, did they?”

You shook your head, “I’m okay.”

He nodded and with the words you spoke, his shoulders softened into a relaxed position and with it, you felt a tang of guilt at the sight.

“Sorry,” Your voice was soft, “I didn’t mean to worry you guys.”

Kunikida shifted where he stood before stiffly shaking his head. “No need for apologies. I’m sure you had your reasons for your actions.”

You gave a half-hearted smile, “Still— I should have informed the rest of the agency and not just Fukuzawa-san of my actions, I caused needless worry and for that, I apologize. It won’t happen again.” the words rung in your ears, deafening and loud, liar carved into the syllables like a melody.

You cannot save the agency without risk – you cannot save the agency without sacrifice.

Kunikida blinked before giving another stiff nod. “The agency trusts you,” He gave a brief pause, “I trust you, [L.name]-san and although your actions may cause worry and although we haven’t known each other for long, I can assure you that we trust you and your actions. So although it is much appreciated for further warning before you make a decision that could very well be your downfall, I can understand the need for secrecy.”

He gave a thin smile, “So please don’t apologize where it isn’t needed.”

Atsushi came up to Kunikida's side, a warm smile taking place on his features, a smile that spoke of lands with forever spring and summer and forever with a warmth you could only dream that one day you can dare partake in. “He’s right, [L.name]-san. And I know I haven’t known you for long but I can wholeheartedly say that I trust you. Call me a fool, but I can put my entire life in your hands and I know you would take care of it.” He gave a sheepish laugh.

Your chest grew warm, dancing butterflies taking up residence inside your stomach and making a mess of your feelings. “I-” You took a breath, “Thank you… truly.”

Kunkida gave a smile. “We are co-workers, comrades and most importantly friends, [L.name]-san, it is only natural that we have your back, that we trust you.”

Something in you echoed of a moment long past, of words long shared, friends, yes, you were, weren’t you? You were friends and nothing would change that, not even the slow tide of time that consumed everything in its path, you were friends and that couldn’t be rewritten, fate couldn’t toy with such a simple fact.

The feeling made you feel a sense of pride, a sense of overwhelming comfort, you basked in the feeling until it lingered moments after.

He gave another nod and this time it came loose. “Then, moving on from that, the Director had asked that we move out the workers from the office, he left just before you came out, [L.name]-san.”

You frowned slightly. “He’ll want us to go to the old Bankou Hall then.”

Kunikida quirked an eyebrow, “Bankou Hall? That was the old base you used before switching, wasn’t it? Why there?”

Atsushi eyed you curiously.

“It’s well hidden; Fukuzawa-san… has resolved that this conflict will be ending in a fight. It’s better if we can be protected and prepared.”

Kunikida grimaced at your words. “There’s no way for the fight to be avoided?”

You shook your head, “It can’t. I’ve tried.”

Kunikida gave a shallow sigh in response. “...Then we should inform the other members of this decision.”

At his words your phone rung, you gave a look to Kunikida and Atsushi before flipping it open.

“Fukuzawa-san? What is it?”

“We’re going to the old lecture hall—” You could hear him sigh over the phone. “But I’ve supposed you gathered that already, haven’t you?”

You nodded even if he couldn’t see it. “I have. But I’m not a seer, what would you have me do now?”

“Nothing as of this moment. But I need everyone there, we’ll sort out what to do when we can do a proper meeting, and [Name]—” He muttered something under his breath, “Apologies, it seems I have company. Let's talk again when we meet up.” the phone gave a soft beep when he hung up. You stared blankly at the screen before pocketing the device.

“What was that about? Is the President in danger?” You looked up at Atsushi, his eyes were wide, on the verge of being frantic, ready to do whatever was needed to help the Director.

You shook your head and offered a soft smile, “No need to worry, Atsushi. He’s okay, he’ll be okay.”

His hands curled into fists before easing. “Then… are we to gather the rest of the agency at that old hall you mentioned?”

You nodded, “I’ll tell the others, you get to the hall–“ you looked around before grabbing a piece of paper off a nearby desk and scribbling the location on it.

You handed it into Kunikida’s hands. “Here, meet us there then burn this paper, I’ll be no longer than an hour.”

He inspected it before putting it in his pocket. “Do you know where the others are?”

“I have an idea. Let’s hope my memory relies well.”

Kunikida pushed his glasses up and this time it was a sort of confirmation and with it, you felt a sense of warm familiarity.

“Stay safe, [L.name]-san.”

You let a smile ease to your lips, “You too. And [Name] is fine, please, it feels odd having you call me my last name.” you gave a look to Atsushi, “And you too, Atsushi, please, my first name is okay.”

Kunikida’s lips twisted slightly before he gave a soft sigh, “[Name]-san then.” Atsushi nodded along with him.

You gave a half-shrug before a smile eased to your face, with them calling you by your first name, it brought a sense of comfort to you. “I’ll see you soon then, Kunikida, Atsushi.”

“—Right see you soon.” The phone call ended with a beep, the silence thereafter echoing in the darkened tunnel.

The walls around you loomed, ever the tall, ever the suffocating, ever the cruel.

You had been in this room, in this very hallway that led to the main office, thousands of times, memories burned the walls brighter than stars burned in the night sky.

Cherished memories and some laced with the most vicious of poisons; you can still taste the burnt aftertaste of them on your tongue.

You had left the agency in this very hall, a bag slung over your shoulder and your eyes glassy and on the verge of tears.

Fukuzawa had stood tall before you. Ranpo and Yosano were gone on a mission, easier this way, they wouldn’t object to your sudden departure, easier this way for them to forget your presence.

You had been merely a ghost inhabiting these halls and rooms, merely a memory, that was all you were, all you’d ever be.

It was the best decision, you had decided it with Fukuzawa, better for the agency, better for you.

In some ways you regret the decision, you regret it deeply, carved into your bones and into your heart, you regret ever leaving them, regret the decision you made that night.

And in some ways, you don’t regret a thing you did, you don’t regret not saying goodbye, you don’t regret leaving, you don’t regret it.

Being back now only sparks dull coldness, long ago your strings of this place were cut.

The latch to the room opens with a thunk, you walk down the stairs and you enter to see Dazai, Kunikida, Yosano, Kenji, Tanizaki, Atsushi and Ranpo.

Atsushi perks his head up at the sight of you, a warm smile coming onto his face. “[L.name]-san! You’re back.” Everyone’s eyes focused on you, silent questions lingering in some of them.

You came over to the group, you nodded. “Are we only waiting on Fukuzawa-san, then?”

Atsushi gave a quick nod. “Yeah.”

Sheepishly he scratched the back of his head, “So um, [L.name]-san, what do you think is the next course of action? This’ll be a three-way battle between The Guild, The Port Mafia and us, won’t it?”

Everyone looked at you expectantly, their gazes looking at you like you held the key to the answers of the universe, in some ways you did.

Ranpo threw his arms onto the booth in front of him till he was tittering off the booth’s seat and practically falling onto the one in front. “Do we really have to do this? You know how this ends up, don’t ya, [Name]-chan?”

You walk over to Ranpo and pressed down on his hat till it was covering his eyes, he swats at your hand, an outrage yell with it. “I do. But if I change too many things, it won’t play out in our favour. This battle is necessary…” You frown.

“You know this already, Ranpo, why are you asking?” You remove your hands from his hat and he perks up like a loaded spring.

“‘Cause it’s troublesome and I like it when you explain things.” A teasing smile spreads across his lips, you could feel your heart do a nervous fit inside your chest at the sight of it.

You turn towards Atsushi before you completely stop working, you drop your bag on a nearby booth and sit down. “...We’ll be split into teams, probably we’ll have two offence teams and one defence team to try and protect Yosano-chan.” You give a small smile, “Or that’s my guess.”

Dazai snaps his fingers, you turn your head slightly to look at him. “Indeed a good guess, [L.name]-chan! My, change your mind about—”

You give him a glare. “Still haven’t changed my mind, Dazai.”

His expression changed before a smile lifted at the corners of his mouth, ““Dazai?”” he parroted back.

You tilted your head to the side, “Would you prefer Osamu?”

He gave a quiet hum, his eyes glinted with almost affection. “I wouldn’t mind—”

You gave a soft clap of your hands. “Dazai it is.”

Dazai shakes his head, “No, no, I quite liked—”

Before he could retort back to you a soft thunk echoed in the room, the words die in his mouth.

You turn to the set of stairs, Fukuzawa comes down them, silence settles over the room, everyone looks at him, awaiting.

He gave a once over towards the gathered. “Good. So you all made it.”

He gives a simple nod. “A couple of days ago we could have avoided this war, that bridge has long since burned.” His voice took on a tone of command, a soft powerful voice that made everyone look in his direction. “On one hand we have the Port Mafia who is trying to take us down and on the other hand we have The Guild trying to take over us.”

“We are in a lose-lose situation if we don’t change something. We have to safeguard the agency with everything we possibly have against this two-front attack.” He nods in Dazai’s direction, “Dazai, elaborate.”

You leaned back slightly in your seat, a dull ringing of a headache on coming.

Dazai nodded, “Gotcha.”

“The Guild possesses formidable capital while the Port Mafia has considerable troops, if we engage in open conflict on either side it’s surely going to lead to our ruin. So, we’re going to arrange our offence and defence into separate groups, like [L.name]-chan said earlier.” He gave a quick glance in your direction before addressing the whole of the group again.

“It’s the defence's priority is to stay here and protect Yosano-san, with her healing ability we can go all out without having to worry for our lives. As for how that’ll feel… that’s another story.” You scrunch your nose up at his words, mirrored by you so did most others, except Kenji who just let out a fit of laughs.

Dazai continued, “The defence team will be the Director, Ranpo-san, Yosano-san, Kenji-kun and [L.name]-chan. While the offence team will be split into two groups: group A and group B, group A consisting of Kunikida-kun and Tanizaki-kun and group B will be myself and Atsushi-kun.” he gave a soft clap to finalize everything.

“The main objective of this operation is to make sure this place stays secure and hidden. Since if our enemies storm this place with all the ability users the defence team won’t stand a chance.” Dazai blinked before grinning as if he had just given the news of celebration.

You let out a quiet sigh in response, you can’t turn back now, can you?

Your breaths came out in harsh gasps, the air around you turning acidic.

You didn’t expect to encounter the Port Mafia on your dive for information, you didn’t expect to get into a fight with an executive—!

You brushed your hand across your cheek, the blood that lingered there smudging with the movement, you took in another shuttering gasp before tumbling into the little café under the agency building.

A blonde sitting in a nearby chair, eyes swivelled towards you, his eyes growing wide at the sight of your roughed up form.

“Fuku—” You took in a deep breath, “I need Fukuzawa.”

The blonde got up and came over towards you, his drink left forgotten on the bar counter.

His hand hovered awkwardly in the air before he steeled himself and ushered you towards a chair. “Calm down, what’s wrong? Why do you need the Director?”

You let him guide you towards a chair, your movements jittery, adrenaline still high, you took in another breath until you could speak without a tremor in your voice. “Are- are you a member of the agency?”

He nodded, his hand sliding to push up his glasses. “I am. Now can you tell me what’s wrong, why do you need the Director?”

You sat in a chair, your hands clutching the fabric of your clothes, you looked at him, green eyes stared back at you, furrowed with worry, you drowned yourself in the feeling of warmth brought to you by him, it spread through you and calmed your nerves that were frayed beyond repair, stitching them back up with gentle hands and melody of spring.

In and out, in and out, in and out. You chanted as though it would ease the way your hands shook and the way your head ached.

“Kunikida Doppo?” You stared at him as though looking for an inch of familiarity; you wouldn’t find any, you’d never met this person in your life, in your lives. The thought came sickening and suddenly you wanted to be anywhere but here.

He gave a curt nod. “Why do you need the Director?” His voice was steely, his guard raised.

You swallowed, “[L.name], [Name]. I’m… was a member of the agency.” you took in another breath as though it would calm your nerves. “It’s about the Port Mafia.”

“A member?” He shook his head. “What about the Port Mafia?”

You grasped his wrist, “Please, I need to see Fukuzawa.”

He placed a hand on yours and pulled out of your grip, you sat loosely staring at him, shock written through your pupils. “What about the Port Mafia, [L.name]-san?” His voice was coaxing, soft and gentle.

You hesitated slightly. “I…” You shook your head, “I need to see Fukuzawa, please, I need to see him.”

“You can tell me, [L.name]-san. What is it about the Port Mafia?”

“I can’t, what if…” The thought lingered heavy in your mind, ‘What if I can’t trust you?’

“...I need to see Fukuzawa.”

“You can trust me, [L.name ]-san, once we determine the severity we can go see the Director.”

You looked at him; hopeful.

You swallowed again, you shifted in your seat. “You're really a member of the agency?”

You knew the answer to that question, he was, you had looked at his information over thousands of times. Kunikida Doppo, previously an algebra teacher, birthday is August 30 and he took the entrance exam 3 weeks ago.

He nodded. “I am, so you can trust me, [L.name]-san.”

You hesitated for a second, the words coming far too easily for your own comfort. “I… had an encounter with an executive.” You fidgeted with your hands, dirt littered the underside of your nails and there were droplets of dried blood all along your hands. “They’re after me, my ability, they want my ability, my knowledge. I know this sounds crazy, I know my words are hard to believe, but please, I need to see Fukuzawa, I need to talk with him, please Kunikida–san.”

He gave you another once over, weaving a story for himself with your words, weighing if you lie or tell the truth, weighing if you’re part of the Port Mafia yourself.

He gave a soft sigh in response. “Let’s get you to the office firstly, [L.name]-san, we can go from there.”

You gave a small nod and let him lead you up to the main office, into the warmth, back into a place you swore you would stay away from.

Coming back because you got scared, coming back because you were tired of running away from a place that was— is your home, through and through, your fate was so entirely weaved with them, how could you think you could stay away? Run away?

[previous chapter] [next chapter]

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #kunikida doppo #kunikida x reader #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #ranpo edogawa #ranpo x reader #bsd angst

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uchihabbynic · 1 year

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Trafalgar Law x Fem! Reader - Domestic Life ♡

content: SFW, married life with Law and you’re expecting a baby! so, mentions of pregnancy obvi, fluff, a tiny bit of angst, very brief mentions of Corazon & Law’s backstory.

a/n: This is the most self-indulgent thing i’ve written in a super long time. So in love with him 🥺 this one’s for you my love! @jordyn-degas 💕

The delicate fragrance of cherry blossoms consumed your senses as you gently swayed in the wooden chair that sat on the front porch of you and your husband's shared home just outside of a quiet springtime island. Carefully cradling your baby bump - images of playtime, late night feedings and soft giggles filled your mind; soon overshadowing the memories of harsh seas and brutal battle wounds you were once accustomed to.

You were thankful that your husband Trafalgar had retired from pirating and had settled in nicely to domestic, married life with you. It was all still a bit strange when you thought about your ex-Warlord husband now becoming a family man when the two of you often lived every day with the thought it could very well be your last.

The idea of raising a baby shook Law to his core. It was never something in the cards for him as he was just thankful to have made it past his 13th birthday but seeing the way his usually stoic face cracked into a face-splitting grin the moment you told him the news, you were thrilled to embark on this next adventure with the love of your life.

“Fresh air treating you well, love?” Law questioned as he stepped outside onto the front porch next to you, the colorful wooden front door slamming behind him.

You smiled up at your husband whose heavily tattooed hand was now outstretched in front of you; steel gray irises peeking down at you from underneath the brim of his signature hat. You interlock your fingers with his and with a sigh, stand up with Law’s assistance; your other hand never leaving the prominent bump.

“Yes!” you said cheerily. “Thank you for buying us this house, Law. We really needed something of our own, now that the baby is almost here.”

Law cracked a small smile and gently placed a firm hand on his daughter. “You two deserve only the best; besides, The Polar Tang was no place to raise a child.” Law momentarily reminisced about the submarine that got him and his loyal crew through many battles.

While it wasn’t ideal to sell the Polar Tang, his crew understood wholeheartedly why he had to. However, this didn’t come without gut wrenching sobs from Bepo the day Law said goodbye to his trusty ship. Life was quickly changing and retiring meant letting go of the past to make way for this next phase.

The moment you tried to step foot off the porch and into the grassy field below, Law scooped you up in his arms bridal style and began down the path into the city. “Law, what do you think you’re doing?” annoyance written all over your face as you lay cradled in your husband's arms.

“Did you really think I was going to let you walk all the way to the shops on your own?” Law huffed, still holding you close to his chest. You involuntarily rolled your eyes in response at how overprotective your husband was being.

“I can walk just fine, thank you.” You sighed dramatically, now petitioning to be let down.

Law scowled, unamused that you wouldn’t let him carry you the entire way. Law was naturally protective in his nature, but ever since he found out that you were pregnant, the way he’d occasionally hover over you almost became insufferable. Perhaps, it was the doctor in him but you often had to remind your husband that you were capable of doing things on your own.

“Have it your way.” Trafalgar said with a shrug. He knew better than to argue with a heavily pregnant woman and decided not to protest against your wishes.

As you and Law made your way into town, hand in hand, you managed to find last minute baby essentials at a few small boutiques. Digging through the shopping bag with excitement evident in your eyes, you held up a cream colored dress with tiny hearts embroidered all over.

“What a steal! Cora is going to look so cute in this!” you gushed, holding the small article of clothing up to your husband's face. This was completely uncharted territory for Law and shopping was his least favorite activity but he knew how important this was to you and decided to entertain your excitement for new baby clothes.

“Absolutely, dear.” Law had such a soft spot for you that it was impossible for his heart not to swell seeing you prepare for the baby. He knew you’d be such a great mother, much like the one he’d lost many years ago and found himself trying to hide the blush on his cheeks and his embarrassingly cheesy grin in the collar of his jacket.

“Remember, Nico-ya asked that we be back at the house by 3pm, so we’ll need to wrap it up here soon.” Law reminded you as he was fully aware of the surprise baby shower the strawhats were planning for you in the backyard.

“Of course hun, let’s just stop at one more place?” You sported the best set of puppy dog eyes you could, knowing that Law wouldn’t be able to resist you. With a groan, he nodded his head and grabbed your hand, letting you lead the way to the final shop.

As you approached a small, locally owned boutique called The Pink Hippo, your eyes were immediately drawn to a fluffy white stuffed polar bear sitting in the window, one that looked similar to your real life friend, Bepo!

“Law, look!” you pointed eagerly at the stuffed animal. Law couldn’t help but chuckle, noticing the resemblance between the toy and his ex subordinate.

“Do you want to get this for the baby?” he asked, staring at you, only to be met with that beautiful glimmer in your eye he absolutely adored. With a nod, you pulled Law inside and grabbed the toy from the window and immediately went to stand in line. Today was a day where you splurged a little, not limiting yourself to how many Berries you and Law had originally budgeted out for.

15 minutes had passed and the line hadn’t moved an inch. A searing pain shot through your lower back causing you to hiss. Law snapped his head to look at you, startled by your outburst. Law placed a gentle hand on your lower back, rubbing small circles in an attempt to soothe your pain.

“Y/N-ya, do you need to sit down?!” Law said in a quiet whisper, sounding slightly panicked but quickly composed himself to ensure he could support you in the way you needed.

“Shit, yeah.” you groaned, now rubbing your own back. “I’m going to sit on that bench outside and wait. I’ve been standing for way too long.” Law was hesitant to let you leave his presence but he knew that letting you rest was what was best for you at that moment.

When you managed to waddle outside and plop down on the nearest bench, giving your back and ankles a rest - Law didn't hesitant to stick his head out far enough to check on you through the shop window as the line slowly began to shuffle forward. He’d worked hard to simply survive and overcome many trials just to get to where he was at today and he’d be damned if he let the best thing to ever happen to him slip through his fingers.

No sooner than you got settled, awaiting your husband’s return from the boutique, you heard shuffling in a nearby alleyway. Your head snapped over your shoulder to check if anyone was lurking nearby but nothing out of the ordinary caught your attention. With a shrug, you turned back around assuming that you’d clearly just been hearing things. Moments later, you felt a cool, metal blade pressed firmly against your neck from behind. You immediately cradled your stomach and went into “Mommy Defense Mode”. You did everything you could to stay calm and not agitate the assailant.

“Do what I say and no one has to get hurt.” The deep voice croaked out from behind sending chills down your spine. You squeezed your eyes shut cursing yourself at your current state because any other time, you would have sprung into action and kicked ass, however; now that you were carrying precious cargo, you weren’t left with many options of defending yourself.

“Stand up, bitch!” The man boomed, still pressing the blade taut against the skin, now grabbing hold of your arm. “I know you had quite the bounty on yer’ head, so, I could sell a pretty thing like you.” The attacker snickered; evil dripping from his tongue.

Goosebumps pricked your skin and tears stung the corners of your eyes as you felt foreign hands all over your body, desperately trying to drag you away until a familiar voice instantly soothed your discomfort.

“ROOM!” With his fingers spread in front of him, a large blue sphere appeared, encapsulating you, Law and the attacker. Law’s heart felt like it’d burst seeing another pirate’s grimy hands all over you. He cursed himself for ever taking his eyes off of you.

“SHAMBLES!” With no time to think and a flick of the wrist, Law used his Ope Ope no Mi ability to swap the blade against your neck with a flimsy wooden stick. The attacker's eyes practically bulged from his head when he saw the way in which Law quickly disarmed him.

“Y-You’re … You’re …” The man stuttered, eyes full of fear, having immediately recognized the Trafalgar D. Water Law, notorious ex-pirate and Warlord. While he was no longer an active member of the pirate community, Law was iconic and had made a name for himself in the New World and all across the seas. Any low level pirate would be stupid to mess with what was his, especially if they didn’t possess even a fraction of the Haki that Law did.

“You scum!” Law screamed, gray eyes staring into the pirate’s own like daggers. “Attacking my pregnant wife?! How DARE you!” Law’s voice boomed throughout the city streets causing a vein to prominently bulge from his forehead.

The attacker scurried away with his tail between his legs, having quickly realized that he fucked with the wrong woman. Sweat beats raced down Law’s face as he ran to accompany you. His heart felt like it’d burst as he replayed the scene that just occurred in his head.

“Y/n-ya! Are you ok?! How’s the baby?!” Law frantically spewed question after question as he carefully examined you from head to toe. You buried your head into your husband’s chest, sniffling and trying to regain your composure. The amount of stress you experienced wasn't good for your little bundle of joy and so you knew that it was time to go home.

“I- I’m a little shaken up, but I’m fine.” you managed to squeak out. “Thank God you came when you did.” Law frowned, angry with himself that you ended up in danger the moment you were left to your own devices. Law kneeled down and wrapped his arms around your midsection, for once - not caring that you were in a public setting and placed a gentle kiss on your belly.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if something happened to you two …” he said shakily, breathing still clearly accelerated. “I couldn’t live with myself had I not protected you.”

You could see the worry in Law’s glassy eyes as he finally peered up at you over your stomach - an emotion that rarely came through, which caused you to pull your husband to his feet. You reached up and carefully cupped his cheek, sideburn tickling your fingers and pulled his face down to yours.

“I love you. Thank you for always protecting us.” You whispered loud enough for only your husband to hear and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

In an ordinary scenario, Law wouldn’t allow such an intimate moment to transpire outside the confines of your shared home but given the fact that he almost lost you and his child in the blink of an eye, he let himself melt into the sweet kiss.

“Let’s get you home, y/n-ya.”

After a long shopping day in the city, you were grateful to be approaching your home that sat just over the hill. Laughter and music could be heard the closer you got to your home which caused you to turn to Law, with a confused expression on your face.

“Law, what’s going on?” you asked, now approaching your front door, zoning in on the melodic tunes of Brooks' violin and Luffy’s boisterous laughter from around back. “I’ve had enough surprises for one day…”

“The strawhats put together a little something for you … I just couldn’t oppose it.” Law explained. “Go change into something nice and meet us in the backyard.”

You shot Law an annoyed glare, taking offense that he’d asked you to change. “What’s wrong with what I have on?!” you yelped. The pregnancy hormones were fierce and let’s face it, it’d been hours since you’d eaten so you could feel yourself getting angrier by the moment.

“Nothing, dear.” Law calmly reassures you. “I just figured you’d want to be a bit dressier for photos.”

“Fine.” you huffed as you walked inside to change. Law walked around back to see what exactly the crew had put together. Luffy immediately spotted Law and jumped up from where was sitting.

“Tra-guy!! Congratulations!!” Luffy cheered, with both fists in the air. Law cringed and buried himself into the collar of his jacket at the way Luffy put all the attention on him.

“Can we at least wait for my wife to get out here?!” Law grumbled, knowing Luffy meant well but hated being the center of attention in a crowded space.

Looking around the crowd of his loud and lively guests, he just knew you’d appreciate being around your friends after the shockingly eventful day you’d just had.

You finally settled on wearing a beautiful pink floor length gown, with sleeves that expertly hung and clung off the shoulder gripping you in all the right spaces, highlighting the adorable bump you’d worn for the past 8 months. As you smoothed your dress, you took a deep breath and made your way to the back deck, unsure of what shenanigans you were walking into.

As you swung the door open you were greeted with an array of blush and ivory colored balloons, confetti, a “It’s A Girl” sign, a huge buffet of food and all the smiling faces of your fellow Strawhats and Heart Pirates.

“There she is!” Usopp happily spoke up and pointed in your direction as everyone’s heads turned, taking notice of the sparkly white grin plastered on your face. The space was filled with so much love and adoration, your heart felt as though it’d explode.

“Y/N-swannnn! You look absolutely radiant, darling!” Sanji cooed with heart eyes as he outstretched his hand towards you and held a plate of hor d'oeuvres in the other. Law grumbled and pushed Sanji’s arm out of the way, taking your hand instead and carefully helped you down the stairs.

Robin and Nami both gathered, ‘oohing’ and 'aahing’ over how pretty you looked in your dress. “You look absolutely beautiful, dear.” Robin gushed as you followed the girls to a nearby table.

“We have tons of food, y/n! Come get it before I eat it all!” Luffy cackled obnoxiously as he continued to shove his face with a stick of meat.

“-And booze!” Zoro piped up, as he slurped from the giant barrel of sake that he brought from his personal stash. Nami rolled her eyes in response, “She can’t drink that, idiot!” she said, sounding exasperated dealing with the boys all afternoon.

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the way your crew mates all gathered together to celebrate the life of your new baby. As exhausted as you were, you felt you owed it to your friends to hang around a bit and enjoy the celebration they worked hard to put together.

“Let’s start with opening gifts everyone!” Chopper yelled, jumping up and down ensuring that he gained attention from all the guests.

“Here, Y/N, open mine first.” Chopper said sweetly, handing you a perfectly wrapped gift box.

As you and Law took your respective seats in the “Mr and Mrs” chairs, the gifts began piling in at your feet. As you tore into the gift box, your face lit up to see that Chopper had gifted the baby a small pink hat adorned in an “X” and small brown antlers.

“Chopper, this is adorable!” you beamed, as the small reindeer climbed upon your lap. Chopper’s cheeks turned bright red at the compliment. “You really love it? I had it specially made!” Your heart was so full seeing how enthusiastic he was about his present.

“Of course! The baby is going to love it! Thank you!” You gave chopper a small pat on the head to which he did a small happy dance where he sat.

“Your compliment doesn’t make me happy at all!” The embarrassed reindeer quipped back causing you to chuckle softly before jumping off of your lap.

“Yohohohooo!” Brook hurried over with a small box in hand and gently placed it on your lap. “You’re going to love what I got the baby, y/n!” The skeleton said, absolutely. This time, you handed the gift to Law allowing him to open some gifts.

“Here, how about you open this one, love?”

“I suppose I will.” Law replied as he peered down at the small box now in his hands, meticulously unfolding each corner of the wrapping paper. Luffy snorted and scooted closer, now becoming impatient.

“Oi! Tra-guy! What’s the hold up?! Let’s see the gift already!” Luffy piped up, sticking his nose right next to Law’s face and outstretching his arm in an attempt to snatch the present. Law grit his teeth and snarled; you could practically see the smoke billowing from his ears.

“Idiot! Knock it off!” Law grabbed the gift once more, prying it from Luffy’s fingers. Nami eventually stepped up in the midst of the commotion holding her head.

“Both of you stop it! You’re ruining this moment for y/n!” Nami yelled at the two boys who clearly shared half a brain cell, desperate to get the focus back on the gift reveal. Nami’s voice echoed, causing Zoro to abruptly wake from his nap, where he was peacefully resting under a cherry blossom tree, with all 3 swords posted up next to him.

“Can’t a guy squeeze in a nap around here?!.” Zoro grumbled under his breath as he settled himself back down under the fragrant tree that bloomed all year round. Nami and Law shot him a death glare, wondering why Zoro even bothered showing up to begin with.

As Law finally opened Brook’s gift, a chorus of praises rang out as a tiny music box was pulled from the carefully wrapped box. You and Law had said your thank you’s as the gifts kept pouring in from all sides. The baby shower really ended in a success as you were truly spoiled - the food, the games, the good company; It all made you take a moment to look around and see how much love your precious daughter was being born into. The crew that you’d fought endless battles and gone on mind blowing adventures with had shown up for you once again when you needed them the most and for that, you were forever grateful.

2 months later -

Quiet whimpers turned to an ear-splitting shrill cry as baby Cora had awoken from her sleep. Now only being a month old, you were trying to adjust to life of new parenthood and boy, was this a challenge. However, the last 30 days had been filled with a newfound tenderness and warmth as Law delivered your healthy baby girl in the comfort of your home.

You peeled your heavy, tired eyes open, rapidly blinking to adjust to the darkness of your bedroom but before you could lift your head off the pillow, Law had already sat up in bed next to you, ready to attend to his daughter.

“Go back to sleep love, I’ll grab her.” Law whispered, the tiredness in his own eyes more evident than ever before. Having dealt with insomnia his entire life, being awake at all hours of the night was certainly not uncharted territory.

You mumbled something about the breast milk being prepped in the fridge as your head hit the pillow once more and that was all he needed to hear before Law carefully scooped up the little girl and cradled her, carrying her to the kitchen.

As Law prepared the milk for his daughter, he couldn’t help but stare at her in awe, heavy emotions consuming every fiber of his being. Looking down at the beautiful baby girl who wore a pile of messy black hair and eyes to match her mothers, he felt his heart skip a beat.

How could he make something so tiny and precious? Him. The Surgeon of Death. It all felt so surreal as he swayed the infant ever so slightly, attempting to soothe her cries.

Images of Corazon flashed in his mind, causing a tear of his own to form. The man who raised him, gave his life so that he could live was his constant motivation for being the best father he could be. In moments where he doubted himself and his ability to be nurturing in the way babies needed, Cora-san was always the angel on his shoulder cheering him on, giving him silent encouragement to keep going and he knew that if he could see him now - having made it to 30, married and thriving as a father, that he would be so proud.

A single tear dropped as Law stared down at his daughter who was now happily suckling milk with her eyes gently closed and a tiny hand wrapped around his tattooed finger. Tender moments like these are one’s he cherished and wished would never end.

“I’ll never let anything happen to you, little one.” Law’s silky voice cracked, finding himself choked up and in admiration of his creation, he planted a single feather like kiss on the infant's forehead, enjoying every bit of this newfound domestic life ♡

tags: @unsuretater-simp

#trafalgar law #trafalgar law fluff #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law sfw #law one piece #one piece one shot #one piece fluff #domestic life #strawhats #corazon

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riaki · 6 months

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> under warm kitchen lights and puffy silk sheets dad!aki hayakawa x reader hcs/drabbles

man... i finally finished this. oh my word wc: 3.2k :cry: cw: fem!reader (use of mother terms but no explicit description), brief mention of hospitals, kids omg so scary boy n girl not proofread!!

i always find myself writing waaayyyyyy too much for these 'short' drabbles/hcs/whatever they are. i think this one got even worse than the yoshida one. anyways its ok cus i live laugh love aki

also thank u @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat for feeding me ideas with canon hayakawa family interactions :3

it's hard for him, to say the least.

while parenting is a new experience for the both of you, it's more than appropriate to say aki's the least bit familiar. putting up with denji and power (begrudgingly, he'll tell you-- although you never believe it) certainly has him battle-ready and prepared, albeit with a slight darkening of the circles under his velvety blue eyes and a minute downward tug on his chapped lips that need yours on them for rejuvenation when he thinks about the tiring journey lying ahead on a path of family that's only been slightly worn. but then you smile, squeezing his calloused hands that are bigger than yours and intertwining your fingers gently, and he forgets there's supposed to be blood between them as he presses a light kiss to your forehead and tells you in that smooth velvety voice that he's ready for whatever pandemonium your rascals will cause as long as you're there with him.

truth be told, there's nothing in this damned world that aki wants-- yearns for than a life of normality with you. he doesn't have a lust for a revenge that festers and infects, anymore; the only thing on his mind when his work gives the luxury of a time of rest is how wonderful it'd be to start a lively little family of your own as you smile at him or card your hands through his damp hair when you share a lukewarm bath surrounded by cold austere tiles in the darkest hours of the morning, having found him covered in a thin veneer of chilling sweat only moments ago, knuckles pale white as he clung to the duvet. more often than not you find a knot between his dark brows; a heavy weight on his shoulders that's perceivable but frustratingly intangible-- like an ugly patch of weeds in an old, worn garden that's not worth saving, but still has enough life within it to be marred by rot and degradation of soil. but when you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him flush to your chest, so close to your heart-- the place where he thinks he deserves to be furthest from-- when your lithe fingers work so gently it's almost painful to soothe the crease on his nose bridge and the tension between his bare shoulders, he's so bold as to dare to just hope for a life further than nights of hollow intimacy that, in vain, attempt to sew and patch up the gaping valley between the wants of his heart and of his mind. further than exhausted mornings littered with extinguished cigarette butts and framed with curling smoke, pale sunrises and slow, languid movement that reflect the growing shadows beneath his tired eyes; further than the bitter scent of the black coffee he always makes for himself because the pathetic attempt at at romantic in him insists that your sweet lips are the sugar and cream to his life enough. but in truth he can-- and thought he'd always be able to taste that overwhelming tang of something equitable to sourness on his tongue when he downs the bland caffeine, like the feeling that crashes and overwhelms him when he realizes that what you have right now? is just an illusion for his poorly-kept facade of something he wishes could be more. something with a shared bed and an extra room painted bright pastel, a bunk bed tucked into the corner and kids' toys scattered all over the place.

(and as much as you tell him otherwise, some small part of him that he's tucked into the darkest recesses of his mind will always, always believe that you deserve someone immensely better than him-- better than a cynical devil hunter with nothing to offer but years of bottled tears, unspoken words that die on his parched tongue, and withered feeling in his heavy limbs that come with the sensation of dragging himself through the pool of molasses that is the routine of life-threatening missions he throws himself into by a hollow ambition. but he's never, and if he's being honest, he doesn't want to have the heart to end things with you. and imagining you, holding hands with someone else, laughing that bubbly bright melody and smiling that cheery grin in any direction but his, makes his heart hurt uncomfortably and his cold blood boil.)

and so, when the fever dream that's your wedding day comes around, he wishes he had met you early enough to be addicted to the taste of your lips instead of the rough, paper end of a cigarette and the numbing thrill that settles in his diluted veins at the hit of nicotine clogging his lungs, before it's disillusioned and the despondent cycle repeats. you don't know the half of what he'd give for that. either way, he believes it a miracle that he even got the chance to see the starstruck look in your gorgeous eyes when he slid that silver band onto your ring finger; that he lived to see the day where the familiar touch of your tender hands coupled with the refreshing bite of cold metal on his skin, treating him like some elegant thing in your garden; a lily of the valley when in reality he's just some weed that should've been rid of. a flower who's bell shaped bunches of milky petals hang from the stalk like a condemned man on a court platform, yet still so bright and graceful you could forget the plant was poisonous. when aki had laid eyes on that pretty ring, tucked into a black box of deep velvet on a shaded patch of street one sunny afternoon, he immediately thought of how nicely the elegantly-cut gem would match your dazzling irises; he takes extensive care to make sure the luster suits as an addition to your appearance instead of a distractor-- after all, when he looks at his then future spouse, he wants to be drawn to your eyes, then the ring tying you two together like a red string on your pinky fingers. that, and the way your gaze will soften as it lands on him, in the way that could only happen when the purest angel from heaven chooses to spot the bastard straight from hell out of the crowd who dared to nose his way into your ethereal presence. it's truly befitting, he thinks; your touch is featherlight even when all he does is weigh you down like a ball and chain locked to your ankle, bound by softly-spoken vows and a promise amongst the white of veils and pretty cream flowers. and aki is a selfish man, so he's only glad he decided to weave your fates together, even if it meant the good and bad mingled to paint a splash of gray on love's canvas.

that's the story of your love on weighted scales that runs through his buzzing mind the night your sweet little kids ask their mama to recount the tale of your plunge into devotion together to them, far different than the telling words which seem to sweeten tenfold as they fall from your lips onto eager ears that soon turn deaf, sleeping soundly in your arms. for all the aloof, coldness and silence he's ever turned out into the harsh world your family lives and breathes in, aki's surprisingly loving as a father-- he can't help the gentle soft spot he has for your children when he remembers the big, teethy grins with little cinnamon pastry crumbs scattered around their curved lips and round cherry cheeks are a result of your combined efforts; the streak of tenderness you unearthed in him finds itself being yanked wide open by two pairs of small, grubby hands that are tiny enough to wrap around the length of his thumb, like a little pair of gloves that sponge the inpurity from his hands and make his eyes soften, crinkle around the edges in the way that you love. it's certainly not an unfamiliar feeling; the one invoked deep within his hardened chest buds and unfurls within his organs when your kids take their first breath of fresh air-- well, as fresh as clinical hospital air and stark white lights can get-- is the same one that hit him like a truck when his gaze inevitably finds its way back to you every moment you're near him. cupid's arrow has long burrowed into the cavity of his chest, and if he's honest, he doesn't mind at all. if you had the energy to, you would've snuck a quick picture, if not mental, and made a little sweet teasing fun of him for being so dumb-- no, starstruck; a fool absolutely enamored with two little reflections of you and him. the product of literal years in blood, sweat and tears; maybe some coffee, and definitely some love.

and while aki may involuntarily be an intrinsic liar to his very core by nature (you still love him either way, even when he tells you he tried to stop your baby boy from crawling onto the kitchen counter over the sink and clambering onto two shaky toddler legs to paw at the jar of peanut butter in your cabinet), you're not. so you'll enjoy the strawberry blush that seeps its way across the soft skin of his cheeks that you've mapped with fluttering kisses and trembling hands when you tell him just how much of a great father you think he is to your kids, on the nights when he gets home with sufficient energy to whip something up for the haven of cozy warmth he calls 'home'. you'll prep a warm stew together that makes your daughter's mouth water and eyes go round as saucers as she clings to aki koala-bear style, legs wrapped around his neck and fingers curling into his raven hair as she watches him stir the broth with one hand (the other resting firmly, yet gently on her ankle) to melt the icicles clinging to the awnings of your windows for frigid winters. or, maybe some cold soba for those humid summer nights to enjoy amongst the symphony of cicada buzzes and city sounds, watching lights flash by as you laugh and reach out to wipe the soup off of your son's cheeks when the noodle he was indulging on goes up a little too fast, missing the way your husband's eyes fall on you ever so affectionately. you'll enjoy a sweet, tender kiss in the golden hazy glow of your warm kitchen bubble, full of lively mirth as you carve out silly little smiley faces and stars out of potatoes and bits of cucumber and carrot. on the rare occasion you decide it's a good idea to let your kids contribute a little, the immediate and guilty regret you feel when you watch your daughter slip up and knick her little finger gets washed away by a familiar, blooming feeling of adoration, almost sickeningly sweet in its intensity as you pause to watch aki kiss away the beads of ruby red blood welling on the cut, rubbing her 'boo-boo' so tenderly it makes your heart hurt as you gently plaster a cute sunflower bandaid over the cut while your baby girl stares at your husband with such wonder you think he might be a knight-in-shining-armor in her wide round eyes. and it makes his bleeding heart skip a beat when you tell him you see him the same way, too. there's always guaranteed to be a fresh plate of intricate bunny-shaped apple slices as dessert after dinner, and on slow nights spent in the company of family, there'll be a quick and intense battle of rock paper scissor or sticks between the love of your life and your beloved children on who'll be the lucky winner to put their head in your lap tonight.

(although, aki rarely lets himself win, because he knows he'll be able to later that night if not in that fond moment, sure to become a treasured memory.)

aki sees himself as a good father; he's strict when he needs to be, and he always tries to make time for his kids. he's even stopped smoking in front of them; in the house, as a whole. he had to pepper you with a few sweet, slow and intentional kisses and light-hearted apologetic words when you demanded to know why your requests for him to stop slowly killing himself with each drag fell to deaf ears, but suddenly you got a little more intimate and out popped a few kids-- and he'd stopped. of course, those were enough to pacify you; he made your resolve weak, like the sweet wobbly jello you indulged your daughter to as you watched your husband work out a crossword puzzle with your son. sometimes, you have to remind him sternly not to curse in front of his kids. but when he reminds you of the vehement stream of swears that always left you when you had to change less-than-pleasant diapers in your earlier parenting years, he’ll chuckle at the flush on your face, because you seem to elicit a lot of those from him. he’ll smile, because he’s finally found something worth the effort. and he'll run a hand through your hair and press a kiss to your forehead because you've made him capable of caring (and he knows how to distract you). sometimes, though, he thinks he's a little too soft on their pleading looks and puppy eyes on the nights when lightning streaks across the sky in frightening arcs, claps of thunder rumbling across the dark clouds when the streets of tokyo are enveloped in curtains of rain showers, when one (or both) of your beloved kids peeks their head from the doorway, a little 'can i sleep with you guys?' escaping as a timid peep. he watches in a sleepy sort of amusement as you nod, one hand lazily curling around your waist to keep you close to his side as he rests his chin on your shoulder. and it's your turn to stifle your amusement when a small, quiet mumble of protest leaves his mouth as your kid sidles into the covers between the two of you, effectively splitting you from your husband. if he was impatient, you know he'd have half the mind to pick them up and plop them at the edge of the bed to have you all to himself, but on most nights he'll just observe in quiet affection when you scoop up your son or daughter in your arms, cradling them to your chest and playing with that head of soft hair, humming gently in a way that makes his heart melt at the edges

sometimes, when 'uncle' denji and 'auntie' power are over, they'll poke fun at him in their usual, disrespectful and chaotic manner, because it doesn't take a pair of keen eyes to see the way he looks at you like you've hung the very constellations in the sky; like the stellar designs in the firmament were all carefully crafted by your hand. he's no overdone zodiac freak, but he dares to say the stars aligned the night he was finally able to call you his and only his. denji and power get along incredibly well with his kids; it almost makes him jealous. like you, his resolve is incredibly easy to weaken with the right expression and the right words; your kids must've picked up a few tricks from your book, because they know exactly how to play him into the palm of their tiny little hands. denji and power spoil them to no end; the wonder duo indulge the kids through games of tag and roughhousing, treating them to a wide array of candy and sweets that guarantee a doctor's visit the following week. he swears the pinch between his eyes you worked so hard to eliminate returns little by little when he watches them run around the place he used to call his safe haven, leaving a trail of absolute destruction and havoc in the form of torn magazines, splintered puzzle pieces, apple sauce sludge, tiny lego blocks (that leave a lifetime of pain), and pairs of his socks. it only gets worse when they learn how to negotiate; he makes a mental note to blame denji and power, because there's no way in hell your children figured out how to bargain from you or him. whines of "aww, but uncle denji lets me take the toys outside, dad!" and "buy me that neko charm, or else i'll tell mom you knocked over her plant pot yesterday!" (which, for the record, isn't true. that was 'auntie' power.) that being said, it's a given family outings are narrowly avoided disasters; as the kids grow, aki swears he'll have to start keeping them on a leash, or they might end up accidentally shoplifting your local 7/11's supply of sour gummy cubes, or have fed daffodil seeds to each stray cat on your condo's street under one blink of a weary eye. at the end of the day, he always caves with an exasperated sigh and an irritated 'fine. but don't tell your mom, okay?'. after all, he's always been a sucker for you; who's to say he's not the same with your kids?

unserious hcs... :3

def the type of dad to mutter 'no she didn't' or 'they probably deserved it' under his breath when ur daughter's school principal calls u both in to tell u she stuck her chewed melon gum in three different girls' hair that day

unreasonably competitive w his children. god knows why

yells at ur kids a lot and starts pouting like the grown ass man he is when u scold him for it ("sorry, love. i got used to it. power and denji were a hell of a handful.")

tucks them both in n denies it with everything in him when u ask if he likes making them beg for goodnight smooches

tells them to fuck off (in childrenspeak) when its ur marriage anni / date night

when they were rlly young, u guys used to all do family showers and or baths together but then water would get everywhere and the rubber duck would be fought over n bathbombs would overflow and the kids would get mad at each other so u dont do that anymore...

an absolute goof and doesnt know what the hell hes doing at first... one time ur son was choking on a cherry pit and he didnt know what to do so he just. shook him. by some miracle it worked (if it was denji or power he wouldve js smacked their back unnecessarily aggressively)

unrolls his cigarettes and makes origami shapes out of them; once ur daughter got her ears pierced he made a pair of crane earrings for her from the paper (clean ofc. i hope)

thoroughly enjoys forcing himself into mother daughter nights and he grumbles but secretly loves when ur daughter practices makeup on him or braids his hair

hopes and prays like an idiot that his kids see him as a cool epic devil hunter awesome sauce dad and not a silly pathetic failwife househusband (that's only for u to think)

stitches up any clothing, pillow cases or stuffed animals that r falling apart, also makes sure that no color bleeds when washing clothes and that nothing shrinks cus he does all the laundry for evryone

helps u make a family photo scrapbook and tape polaroids to ur fridge. lets the kids cut out patterns and shapes (his fav r the nutrition facts for some weird reason) from their juiceboxes and kids' magazines to put in the scrapbook

whenvr ur napping he always tells them to shut up. or he just forces them to nap too so he can be lazy and crawl into bed w u

a very good dad !!

hes such a loser oh no.. i should've just used the unserious hcs for the entire thing. i rambled im sorry it will happen again. i love himr

my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

#i j remembered thatm y school's swim had states today and yet im here writing instead #ooops!! its okay. i also have two essays to write but we up!!!!#eeeee i write too much but its ok. i lovr dadki!! !!!#gonna aim to post every weekend starting now #she says #aki hayakawa x reader #aki hayakawa x you #csm x reader #aki x reader #the aki in my head doesn't really value or like himself anymore :(#give him a hug #i think this has more words than the req amt im supposed to have for my essay #i have like 400 on it rn BYE #billet-doux

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senorabond · 6 months

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Rumor Has It: Chapter 3 Peña x f!reader x Pike

Pairings: Javier Pena x f!reader; Marcus Pike x f!reader; future Pena x f!reader x Pike

Chapter 3 Summary: After a bit of a brainstorm, you decide it’s finally time to call Marcus and get his opinion (he always has the right words). Javi has opinions of his own on the matter.

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit sexual content, additional warnings may be added for future chapters

Chapter Warnings: no use of y/n, masturbation (f!reader), fantasizing (f!reader), drinking, Javi is a tired grump

Reader/Character notes: Reader is fem!afab; No mention of Reader’s body size, shape, composition, or skin color.

Words: 4k

Author’s Note: A big, big thank you and all the hugs and kisses to @kilamonster for being my beautiful beta reader.😘 It is so fun to write Marcus and Javi! Even though they’re both very different characters, I think in some ways they’re actually quite similar. I’m really enjoying how the different dynamics between Reader and Marcus/Javi are developing. I can’t wait to get these three in the same room!!

Masterlist || Previous Chapter

Present Day Texas “Thank you for being such a good girl for me, sweetheart. I had to taste you at least one more time before you leave...” Reality falls over the room like a weighted blanket, and you let your engaged muscles go slack against the lit surface of the table, suddenly harsh and blinding. You feel exposed instead of exhibited and you squeeze your thighs together as the final flutters of your orgasm subside.

“Hey, come back to me,” you hear Marcus murmur, and feel him turn your face to meet his. He kisses you slowly and deeply, and you taste your tang on his plump bottom lip. He presses his forehead against yours and you share a couple of breaths.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

~~~

You lay on your bed, panting, muscles loose and heavy after coming down from the incredible orgasm you just gave yourself. That memory from your last time with Marcus left you dripping and clenching around your fingers. It was still one of the most erotic experiences of your life. Marcus had a way of making the rest of the world disappear, with an intensity focused solely on you and your pleasure. It could get overwhelming at times being the center of his attention. Old insecurities could easily flare up, making you feel unworthy of that kind of devotion.

Not ready for that level of self-awareness, you turn your attention back to the case file contents spread across the other side of the bed. Some of the papers were strewn about the floor – they must have fallen off the bed while you were otherwise occupied. Before you could refocus on the case you decide to take a shower and wash away the distracting memories.

In your effort to rid your mind of Marcus’ mouth and hands, your sex-soaked brain brings up thoughts of Javi’s mouth and hands. Standing under the cascade of water, you imagine what it must feel like to have Javi’s hands running over your wet body, soaping up every inch of you, kissing and sucking at your neck and hardened nipples. You become engrossed in thoughts of what kind of lover he must be.

Javi likes to be in charge; that’s already apparent from your observations and the brief interaction you shared earlier that day. If you were his to enjoy, he’d push and pull, testing and stretching your limits he already knows you can handle. He likes to dance on the edge of temptation, prolonging the inevitable fall until you’re both drunk with desire. Javi wouldn’t take what isn’t willingly given; but, once you finally succumb, your mind and body would be consumed in his own immolation. He could get rough – all hands, lips, teeth, and cock – but not out of any desire to inflict lasting pain. Instead, Javier Peña loses himself, fully giving over to the raw physical sensations of your bodies moving together. It’s that utter immersion in one another that whites out the mind and drives the primal urge to take and be taken.

The shower turning suddenly cold is what jars you from your reverie with a slight shriek. Thankful for the snap back to reality, you carefully finish your shower with minimal exposure to the freezing water. You hated to think how long you’d been lost in thoughts of Javi. One interaction with the man was enough to drain your water heater – you hated to think what this case was going to do to your electric bill.

Back on the bed in underwear, tank top, and a comfy sweater, you spread the case notes around you in a semicircle. There’s something niggling at the back of your mind, and you pick up the wiretap transcript again. The phrase “just a bunch of splattered paint” leaps out at you again, and you huff a laugh through your nose. You’d shared their sentiments about contemporary art not too long ago. You might have even considered it relatively simple to create a fraudulent painting, not knowing enough about the real deal to spot the difference. You know better now, after that little art lesson from Marcus, but… what if?

The gears are turning a bit more quickly now and your gaze lands on Marcus’ t-shirt thrown haphazardly at the foot of your bed. This idea feels good - solid, but you don’t want to go spouting off half-baked schemes to Javier fucking Peña, not on your first real shot at making an impression in your new job.

“Fuck it,” you mutter to yourself, and grab your phone before you can chicken out. Dialing the number from memory, it starts to ring and you nibble at the rough edge of your thumbnail. You’re about to give up hope when the fourth ring is interrupted and you hear rustling on the other end of the line.

“Hello?” His voice is a husky whisper, and something in your stomach coils at the same time as something else inside you releases.

“Marcus…hey.” The noise on the other line stills for a brief moment.

“Hey, it’s uh-….” he clears his throat. “You okay?” He’s speaking low, almost in a whisper, and you hear more rustling, as though he were getting out of bed. Stricken, you look at the clock on your bedside table and see the glowing red numbers say it’s nearly two in the morning - your time. Which means it’s nearly three in D.C.

“Shit, Marcus, I’m sorry.” You groan and drag a hand through your half-dry hair. “I didn’t mean to wake you up, I didn’t even look to see what time it was. I’ll let you go back to sleep–”

“No! No, really it’s okay.” His voice is closer to a normal volume now. “Everything good? Settled in alright?”

You feel like an asshole. This is the first you’ve bothered to call Marcus since getting to Texas, and it’s to ask him for help on a case. In the middle of the night.

“Uh, yeah. You know how it is, endless paperwork, getting to know my place in the pecking order, drinking the same shitty coffee.” He chuckles softly, and you realize how much you’d missed just talking to him.

“Must’ve been on special,” he replies, and you can hear the smile in his voice. A brief, but comfortable silence fills the air, and then you both start talking at the same time.

“Listen, Marcus, I’m –”

“So what’s on your–”

Both of you stop, then share an awkward laugh.

Before you can lose your nerve, you blurt out, “I’m sorry I haven’t called.”

The briefest of pauses, then, “Nah, you’ve been busy. I get it.” The guilt twists tighter in your gut.

Marcus - ever the standup guy - had called a few times to check in on you since the transfer. Of course you wanted to talk to him, you just didn’t know what to say. After how you left things, what could you say? So, like a coward, you listened to his messages and missed them when they stopped coming a few months ago.

With a heavy sigh, you lean back against your headboard, shame prickling at the backs of your eyes. This is why the transfer was a good thing after all, for both of you. Marcus deserves better than this, and deserves more than what you have to offer.

“So, listen… I’ve got this case.” Talking about work makes it a lot easier to pretend like nothing is wrong. Clearing your throat, you launch into a brief overview of facts of the case and your ideas. Marcus is mostly quiet while he listens, chiming in occasionally with affirming murmurs and encouraging words.

Once you’re done, you ask, “So what do you think?”

“I think it’s a great idea.” The smile is back in his voice.

“Yeah?”

“Of course, I do. You’ve always had great ideas and insights, you’re smart as hell. That DEA agent is lucky to have you on the case.” A small smile spreads across your face at his praise.

“Thanks, Marcus,” you say softly.

Marcus always had the right words. Listening closely, you can hear Marcus breathing gently and rhythmically, and wonder if he’s nodding off. A look at the clock shows that you’ve been talking for over an hour.

“I better let you go,” you murmur. An inhale, and his throat clears.

“Sure, okay.” His voice is lazy and groggy. You wonder if his hair is mussed from sleep, or if he’d been smoothing it down absently while you spoke.

“Marcus?”

“Mhmm?”

“Thank you, really. I owe you. And sorry again for waking you up.” You’re shuffling the papers and photos back into the folder with plans to organize it before you speak again with Peña.

“You can make it up to me by calling back to tell me how it goes.” His voice is a bit more alert, his tone playful.

A quiet laugh escapes you. “You got it.”

“G’night,” he whispers.

“Good night, Marcus.” Laying your phone down, you crawl into bed and switch off the light. For once, your mind feels quiet, calm. It’s not long before you drift off.

***

Marcus smiles to himself as he slides quietly back into bed. The prone form next to him stirs and an arm drapes across his middle.

“Everything okay?” A sleep heavy voice asks. He rubs the slender arm and feels the press of his girlfriend’s warm body against his back.

“Sorry to wake you, go back to sleep.” She kisses the back of his neck and gives him a squeeze.

“Who was on the phone?”

“Just a work thing, nothing to worry about,” he murmurs, and entwines their fingers. Her breathing evens out again as she falls back to sleep.

Marcus feels a small pang of guilt, but shakes himself out of it. This was the first time in six months he’d heard from you. And it was just a work thing, nothing more. Besides, you were the one who wanted the transfer in the first place, and made it perfectly clear you didn’t want anything else.

He’d be lying to himself if he wasn’t a little bit apprehensive about who you were going to be working with. Marcus knew Agent Peña’s reputation - there wasn’t a federal agent who hadn’t heard about the guy who took down the Escobar and the Cali cartel. The DEA agent was a bit of a lothario, if the rumors were true.

Not that it was any of his business anymore. The two of you were never exactly exclusive, and that arrangement, for lack of a better word, was long over. He was in a steady relationship now – and happily, at that. Nevertheless, your phone call had come as a surprise, but not an unwelcome one, if he was honest. After mentally spinning his wheels for long enough, the ghost of your voice in his mind is enough to finally lull Marcus to sleep.

***

The Next DayTexas

Buying art with dirty money is usually just as simple as buying it with clean money. The biggest difference is whether your wealth has accumulated via legal exploitation of the working classes. Buying art to launder your dirty money is also easy, especially if you're working with a crooked art dealer.

Say you're a shady broker looking to turn a tidy profit as a side hustle to your legitimate business dealings. It wouldn't be difficult to locate clients on either side of the law. You would simply sell the same piece of art twice – first to your accomplice, then again to an unwitting buyer with clean funds.

Naturally, the second sale would be at a substantial mark-up. You would come away with a decent chunk of the profits for your fee, and your accomplice would leave with their money freshly laundered. It becomes more complicated if your schemes go international, but also more difficult to trace.

These are the basic building blocks of art money laundering you learned from working with Marcus. Criminals take advantage of gaping legal loopholes and the opacity of the art economy. “You have to know a guy – who knows a guy,” Marcus always used to say. You suppose it works the same way in a bureaucratic government.

Your normal caseload and paperwork has taken up so much time, you were surprised to see the sun beginning to set outside the break room window the last time you went to refill your water bottle. The rest of the office has already cleared out, but you want to review your notes on Peña’s case one more time while it’s quiet. Agent Peña said he’d drop by to talk about the case, but the day must have gotten away from him too.

Some time later, you’re packing up your notes and other belongings, planning to swing by Peña’s office on your way out. You’re bent over to retrieve your bag from your bottom desk drawer when you hear a noise behind you. Turning to look, you give a little jump at his sudden presence.

“Good, you’re still here,” he remarks without acknowledging your surprise. His eyes are a bit puffy and bloodshot from fatigue, and his suit has the rumpled look of being worn far too long. Peña lets out a breath, “Thought I’d missed you.”

You want to ask him how long he stood there with you bent over in front of him, but the man looks exhausted. Instead, you say, “You almost did. Long day?”

“You could say that.” Peña’s shoulders seem to labor under a heavy weight.

“We could talk tomorrow instead,” you offer, even though you really want to get this over with before you lose your nerve.

Peña frowns, shakes his head. “Tomorrow will just be more of the same. Let’s do this now.”

“Look, Agent – with all due respect – I don’t want to waste more of my time going into this if you’re too drained to go over it right now.” Frustration churns under the surface, but you’re trying to remain professional. Peña sighs and sinks his weight onto one hip. He won’t say it, but he knows you’re right. The man looks like he could benefit from a medically induced coma, and you don’t want to waste your breath if he won’t even be able to listen properly.

“Let’s go somewhere else to talk then. I could use a drink.” He walks away without another word and you force yourself to take a breath before following. This case is going to test every last ounce of your patience.

A half hour later, you and Agent Peña are settling in at a small table in the back of a dive bar several blocks from the office. You recognize a few other feds, but nobody really acknowledges each other. Most of the bar’s patrons are glued to one of several screens showing different sports games, and the droning of various commentaries become part of the bar’s ambience. Peña is at the bar ordering drinks for the both of you, and you think that might be his small way of atoning for his general demeanor earlier. His suit jacket has been traded out for a leather coat so well-worn, you imagine he’s had it for decades.

Drinks in hand, the agent saunters back to your table and sets yours down before he sits with a heavy groan. You told him you’d have whatever he was having, so the glass of whiskey on the rocks in front of you isn’t a surprise – but the smoothness of the first sip certainly is. Peña didn’t go for bottom rail liquor, which you appreciate. The burn in your throat travels to your stomach, where warmth begins to bloom pleasantly.

Peña is silent, slumped back in his seat, but his eyes actively scan the room and all its entrances and exits. That kind of spatial and situational awareness would have served him well in Colombia. You’ve seen that kind of thing become second nature to seasoned veterans like Peña.

You’re determined to wait for him to speak first, but decide to give him a bit of a nudge by putting the case file on the table between your drinks. The warmth from your second sip of whiskey spreads down your limbs. You relax a bit more into your seat, then give in and gesture to the folder. “My notes are on the top, if you want to read through them.”

Drink in one hand, Peña pulls the folder towards him and flips it open. He looks more relaxed now, not as tired. His eyes move over your hand-written notes; post-its stuck on the edges flag relevant information in the folder’s contents. Peña’s fingers wander aimlessly across the curves of his glass, trailing condensation around the rim. His mouth forms a pout of concentration, microexpressions flickering across his face as he continues to read in silence.

You’re halfway through your two fingers of whiskey and trying not to jiggle your knee in anticipation when Javi finally speaks. “It’s a good idea,” he says, and downs the rest of his drink. “But it won’t work.”

“I’m sorry?” Taken aback, you look at him in bewilderment. “Why not?”

“It’s too complicated, too many ways it could go wrong.” Javi gets the bartender's attention and gestures for a refill. “I know narcos, I know how they operate – this won’t work.”

Out of all the possible reactions you envisioned Peña having, for some reason downright dismissal wasn’t among them. A prickle of embarrassment behind your eyes is quickly replaced with indignation. It’s tempting to get up and walk out, but you’d worked too hard on this to give up this quickly, this easily.

Marcus even said it’s exactly what he would do, but Peña doesn’t know you already spoke with your contact at the FBI. And you’re not going to tell him that just yet – the last thing you want is for Peña to push you out the second you got your foot in the door. He wants the FBI? Well, he’s going to have to take you too. You need this to work.

“Agent Peña–”

“Javi,” he reminds you, making you grit your teeth.

“You may know more about narcos than I do, but you said it yourself – you don’t know shit about art.”

“I don’t quite recall phrasing it like that.”

“You sought me out.”

He looks away and purses his lips.

“I know it was for my connection with the FBI art squad. And I’ll make good on my promise, I’ll make the call. But I won’t be edged out of this case once the boys with the fancy toys and the dollars to spend get involved.” Javi tries to interrupt but you continue. “If I’m in now, I’m in until the end.”

A server comes by to drop off Javi’s refill and you sit there, silently sipping on your drink, waiting. You’re prepared to walk away from this table if that’s what it takes to earn the respect you deserve.

Javi’s eyes rake over you, leaving invisible scorch marks in their wake. His bold appraisal spikes your heart rate. You tell yourself the flush in your neck and face is from the whiskey, but you can’t ignore the pulsing heat between your legs.

Javi shifts in his seat, then slowly leans over the small table. You’re close enough now you can smell the intoxicating mixture of his spicy cologne, the leather of his jacket, and nicotine from the cigarette he smoked on the way to the bar. Dragging his thumb across that plump bottom lip draws your gaze, and you briefly wonder what that lip would feel like between your teeth.

“Okay,” his voice is gravelly and low. “I just have one rule,” he starts, and you lean in closer to hear him, letting the din of the bar fade to nothing. Your knees graze his, and you jump slightly from the unexpected contact. A flash of pink catches your eye as his tongue dampens his lips.

Javi waits for you to meet his gaze directly. Something about his intensity makes you feel naked and vulnerable, but not afraid. You meet his eyes – those damn eyes you could get lost in if you’re not careful – and have to calm your breathing once you see how dilated his pupils have become. There’s a crackle in the air between you, like static electricity.

“What’s your rule?” It comes out practically as a sigh. Maintaining eye contact, Javi leans in even farther, making you retreat a fraction of an inch.

“I make the rules.” Javi looks at your mouth, then back to your eyes. “My case, my investigation, my rules. Simple as that.” He takes another sip of his whiskey, and wipes the remnants from his mustache. His head is cocked, his eyes never leave your face.

Your mind bristles at Javi’s territorialism, but your body responds viscerally. Goosebumps break out across the exposed skin of your arms, your thighs squeeze together against an involuntary clench. You’re fighting the urge to rub your leg against Javi’s under the table like a cat.

“You’ve got a deal, Javi.” The emphasis on his first name draws a wicked smile to his lips.

“Glad to hear it. I think we’re going to work well together.” Javi lifts his glass in a small salute and you tap yours against his with a clink. As you both take simultaneous sips, you feel the unmistakable slide of his knee against your thigh.

Before you do something you’ll both regret, you pull back to a safe distance and extricate your knees from his. Javi has the audacity to smirk at you over the rim of his glass and you down the rest of your whiskey in one gulp. The delicious burn revives you and you start to gather your things.

“It’s getting late, I should go.” Javi finishes the last of his second whiskey and also stands.

“I’ll walk you back to your car.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s only a few blocks.” Throwing the strap of your bag over your shoulder, you grab your coat off the back of your chair. Javi doesn’t say anything, he just walks to the bar to close the tab. This fucking guy. “Really, I don’t need an escort.”

As he signs the receipt, he says, “I’m walking you to your car.” No malice, no anger, just stating a fact. Nodding goodnight to the bartender, Javi walks past you to the door and holds it open as you follow through.

Biting your tongue against another protest, you instead huff like a sullen teenager and start heading in the direction of the office building’s parking garage. The two of you walk together in silence for nearly a block before you speak up.

“Why is that your one rule?”

“Hm?” Javi takes a second to register what you’re asking, his brain occupied elsewhere. “Oh, well – got to make sure things are done right. I make sure things are done right.”

You two walk in silence for another minute, but when you open your mouth to say something else, he says, “It’s when people get it in their heads that they know better, decide to do their own thing – that’s when people get hurt.”

You nod in understanding – you were familiar with the kinds of things that happened in the U.S.’s South American operations.

The rest of the walk back to your car is in more comfortable silence, but that static electricity between you and Javi returns. It’s building as you open your car door and drop your things inside. Javi is standing close when you turn around, and this time there’s no table between you to act as a barrier.

Clearing your throat, you say, “Thanks for the drink.” His eyes are in shadow now, the parking garage lighting insufficient to see how large his pupils are this time.

“Thanks for your help on the case.” He props an elbow on top of your car door as you slide in and turn the key in the ignition. “Get home safe, cariño.”

Surprised at the bold use of an endearment, you look back at the man as he closes your car door. There’s just enough light for you to see the smirk on his face as he turns and saunters off.

Chapter 4 || SeñoraBond's Masterlist

Additional Author’s Note: I am beyond happy that there are others enjoying this story! I would love-love-love to know what you think. I really want to become a better writer, so any and all feedback is welcome! Thank you for reading! 💜

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