#We are neighbors | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

karikarasuno · 1 month ago

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part three | part four | part five

"no fucking way," nami nearly spits out her margarita. "that did not happen."

robin is laughing behind her hand. at least she's trying to be polite.

"not you sneaking out the back." you glare at franky, blinking blankly.

"sorry, i've taken his social media away," robin apologizes, wacking franky on the arm. he just shrugs and takes another swig of his beer.

"she'll never take tiktok away from me," he says, clearly way tipsier than any of you realized.

you have to ignore him for now, deciding on tackling franky's chronic online issue at a later date. because right now it's been a solid three days since you and law have spoken about what transpired between the two of you.

and it isn't for lack of trying this time. you just haven’t been able to catch each other between work and sleep. and stupidly, you never asked for his number. so it’s not like you can even text him.

“that’s just unlucky,” nami takes another sip of her drink. “i mean you finally get some after that disaster of a break up and you go and get interrupted by his entire family.”

“i know!” you groan, sinking further down into the booth. your hand plays with the condensation on the glass of your own margarita in anguish. you were so close to actually touching his dick. again.

“well, was it good at least?” robin chuckles, amused.

you roll your eyes. “of course it was good. i’ve had like three wet dreams about it since.”

franky whistles. “i do not miss those days. the mess, the hassle, the shame…”

“who invited him?” nami complains.

“he just kinda follows me around like a lost puppy,” robin smiles, leaning over and pinching franky’s cheek. which blushes profusely.

nami gags when she looks over at you. “i’ll never get it,” she whispers, forcing a giggle from you which you hide behind the lip of your drink.

you finish your margarita, pleasantly buzzed and stuffed with chips and salsa. it takes another twenty minutes for you all to say goodbye in the parking lot before you’re heading home for the evening. thinking of law the entire way.

which is where you make your mistake. because you’re a few blocks from home. driving slow in the residential, but you don’t see the wood panel in the middle of the road until it’s too late. until you hit it and hear a devastating pop from your front tire.

“oh, fuck me,” you hit your steering wheel, agitated. just your luck. you step out of your car rounding the hood to stare at the mess that is your tire. it’s practically shredded and you’re so close to home too.

you grab your phone looking to see if you had the stupid tow service included in your insurance since you don’t know how to change a tire.

“what did you do?” law’s voice startles you. you had seen the headlights coming your way but you didn’t expect it to be him.

“what did i do?” you whine, just shy of stomping your foot. “i didn’t do anything. i was driving home and a piece of wood with a nail in it murdered my tire.”

“do you have a spare in the trunk?” law sounds nasally, stuffed.

“i don’t know,” you say hopelessly, a true damsel.

law shakes his head and parks in front of you. when he gets out you note that he’s still in his scrubs. but that’s insane because he left for work before you did this morning. and it’s damn near 10pm now.

“are you just getting home?”

“long day,” law dismisses, really sounding congested. he leans into your open driver side door and pops the trunk. “i have a jack in my car, so it won’t take me long to replace. but you can’t drive on a spare for long so make sure you get a new tire soon.”

he sounds absolutely horrible.

“law, are you sick?” you can’t help the concern that seeps into your voice. this is just weird. and he’s acting so normal.

“i’m fine.” he moves the stupid shit you have in your trunk around and lifts the felt cover. so you do have a spare.

you stare in shock as he walks back to his car to grab the jack. and then walks back over to you to start changing your tire. “turn your flash on for me.”

you listen without thinking, only realizing after a minute or so that he shouldn’t be doing this.

“wait, you shouldn’t exert yourself,” you interrupt him. “i can just call a guy.”

“i’m already almost done,” he says, placing the tire iron over a lug nut and twisting. and you know for a fact that isn’t easy with the way he strains.

he stifles a cough and your eyes narrow.

“you’re sick,” you accuse, the hand that isn’t holding your phone props on your hip.

“it’s just a little cold. i’ll be fine after i get some sleep.” he pulls your tire off and starts fitting the spare.

“you shouldn’t be changing my tire when you feel shitty,” you argue again. feeling bad.

“too late,” he grumbles, twisting the final lug nut.

“law,” you sigh, hand slapping your thigh as he removes his jack and grabs your obliterated tire.

“i’m fine,” he stops in front of you and even without the flash you can see the exhaustion in his body and the lethargy in his face. and he genuinely looks ill.

your hand reaches up to touch his forehead, back of your hand brushing his skin. and it’s clammy. and feverish.

“you’re not fine,” you assert, dropping your hand. he nudges you out of the way with his leg forcing you to take a small step away from him.

“if you’re so concerned, you can follow me home,” he calls over his shoulder.

“ha ha,” you mock sarcastically, watching him throw both your tire and his jack in the trunk of his car.

"thank you," you say, grateful for his help, but worried about him.

he merely waves over his shoulder without another word. that's how you know he's not feeling well. you're sure he's mentally fatigued on top of everything as well. you'll just have to check on him tomorrow.

****

tomorrow arrives and you get home from work to see law's car parked in his driveway. you don't know his schedule, but something feels off. the bastard is absolutely sick.

so you make him chicken soup. you take the whole pot over when you're done along with a bag full of other sick supplies. but your concern skyrockets when you ring the doorbell and get no response. you wait a few minutes before ringing it again. still no answer. you try not to panic and convince yourself law isn't dead in his bed. because that would be dramatic.

crazy enough though you remember that you saw him put in his garage code once. what's even crazier is that you remembered it. maybe this isn't something you'll admit to him.

his house is eerily quiet and dark. all of his blinds are closed and his curtains are drawn. you peek into his bedroom since his door is open and he's laying there, in his underwear, tangled in sheets.

you're a creep, but this is for his health. so it's less creepy. you put everything down in his kitchen and grab the small towel you packed. you soak it through with cool water, also grabbing a bottle of gatorade and some ibuprofen before making your way to his room.

"law," you whisper and lean over to look at him. his breathing is ragged and huffing out through his mouth since his nose is obviously clogged. you put everything down except the towel, reaching out to lightly shake him. he barely stirs.

"law," you whisper louder and shake him a little rougher than before. he startles awake, his chest heaving as he looks around his darkened room bewildered.

when his eyes land on you he relaxes, but then he blinks, "what are you doing here?"

"i snuck in to check on you," you admit, a droplet of water from the towel drips down your wrist.

"how?" he's barely awake and his voice is so hoarse.

"it's better if you don't know," you respond as you push his shoulder so he's lying down again. his body naturally falls to the bed. his skin is burning beneath your palm and your chest aches at the sight. when you place the towel on his forehead he flinches, but quickly sighs from the relief.

you adjust law to place another pillow behind him so he's propped up slightly before handing him the painkillers and gatorade. he takes them without question, coughing a little after he swallows.

"you look like shit," you sigh, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"yeah, i feel like shit too," he slumps into his cushions, very much irritated about his current state. you do feel sorry for him. he looks quite pitiful if you're being honest.

"i brought soup. let me go grab some for you," you say, getting up quickly to head back to the kitchen. the soup is still hot when you serve it in a small bowl you found in the kitchen and head back to his bedroom.

you don't bother turning on any lights, surely he prefers the dark right now and since it's still daylight out there's just enough natural light filtering through the house to guide you. he's in the exact position you left him in except his eyes are closed and he's breathing carefully through his lips.

you sit down on the bed again. this time closer to him. he feels you sink into his mattress beside him and without looking he reaches for the bowl, but you pull it just out of his grasp.

"i got it," you say, stirring the soup so it cools off a little.

"you're not gonna feed me," he argues bitterly, like this is the last thing he needs.

"i am," you laugh as he opens his eyes just to glare at you. but with how sick he is, the stare doesn't hold very much weight.

"you really don't have to do that," he bemoans. poor thing.

"well, you didn't have to change my tire last night and you did." he doesn't say anything. "now open wide."

he begrudgingly listens, a very obvious pout on his lips before he parts them to wrap around the spoon you're holding out. you watch as the broth soothes his throat, the tiniest of moans crawling it's way out. you smirk to yourself, pride swelling in your chest.

he no longer argues as you feed him another bite. and another after that one. the two of you sit in comfortable silence as you feed him probably his first meal of the day. you can tell when he starts to feel more alive. he sits up further in bed, his breathing comes more naturally to him, and he eventually takes the towel off of his head.

he seems to forget he's practically naked. a fact that you have had to pointedly ignore. law's tattoos are far more extensive than you previously realized. they're so large that nearly his entire torso is covered. and you also know he's fit, having already made that conclusion after feeling him up a few times before. but jesus christ, his body is insane.

"you're staring." a hint of playfulness returns to his voice. your eyes snap up to his face and behind the sickly demeanor, there's the smallest bit of smugness in his features. your only response is to lift a spoonful of soup out the bowl and shove it into his mouth.

he chuckles around the spoon and then promptly coughs after he swallows.

"i just didn't expect you to have so many tattoos," you mutter, stirring the soup again to keep your eyes from wandering. he stretches his legs out, his thigh now pressing into you. you're not sure if its intentional, but neither of you move, so clearly you don't mind.

"i was a pretty rowdy kid," law says, his head falling to rest on his headboard. "ran around with some guys that i shouldn't have. definitely got into some shit i had no business being in."

"like getting tattoos?" you ask, scooping up some more soup.

"yeah," he nods, leaning over to eat from the spoon you're holding out to him. "it's how i met cora actually."

you tilted your head confused. "but isn't cora your brother?"

it clicks to law that you obviously don't know what he's talking about. he's usually not so open. "cora's adopted. my parents adopted him when he was 17. it was more of a formality if anything. i was 14 when it happened."

"how old were you when you met?"

"i was around 11, but i met his brother first. a real asshole," he shakes his head at the memory. "convinced me to steal some candy from the gas station and he'd pay me $20. and i did it of course, but i didn't find out until later that it was some weird initiation he did to recruit kids as a cover for him selling drugs because we'd get caught doing petty theft meanwhile he's selling coke and shit behind the building."

you're sure your eyes are wide and the spoon sits limply in your hand. "so you were in a gang?"

"pretty much," he chuckle-coughs at the look on your face. "cora's the only reason i got out to be honest. he snitched and told my parents i started selling too. i was pissed at him for months over it, but he was just looking out for me. he always hated his older brother."

you had no idea what to say. it's a lot to digest because he seems so unbothered by it all. but that makes sense since he lived it and its been years since.

"wow," you nod slightly. "where's his brother now?"

"maximum security prison."

"what?!" your jaw drops, absolutely stunned.

"i told you he's an asshole," law laughs, nudging you with the leg that's already pressed against you.

"i've met a lot of assholes in my life and none of them are in federal fucking prison," you say, still shocked by his admission. "and poor cora, that's so traumatizing."

"he's fine," law shrugs, gesturing for you to give him more soup, but you refrain.

"is he though? are you even?"

he snatches the bowl from you with a quickness he shouldn't possess with how ill he is, disappointment on his face when he looks down and realizes he ate it all.

"there's more in the kitchen, you baby." you take the bowl back and wait for him to answer.

"yes, we're both fine. i'm a surgeon, cora's a chidren's librarian. we are ok," he holds his hands up as if he's surrendering. "the tattoos on my arms i got as a kid, but the chest and back piece were years later."

"you have a back tattoo?" this man is quite possibly the strangest person you've ever met. purely because everything he said was so unexpected. you're currently still processing it all.

"if i show you, will you get me more soup?" he bargains, adjusting his body to prepare to flip over.

"fine," but you only agree as an excuse to continue ogling him without him witnessing it. it takes a fair bit of effort for him to turn over. his body weighed down by his cold. but you see that his back tattoo is just as large as the one on his chest and before you think better of it, your fingers are touching him. they trace the outline of the large circle and drag along the lines that extend from it. it's all thick black lines and it probably hurt like a bitch. his muscles are especially nice, all corded and firm beneath your touch. if he wasn't so sick you would absolutely sink your teeth into this man.

"i'm still hungry," he says, words muffled by his pillow. your shoulders jump and you hop off the bed hurriedly.

"right! i'll be right back." your face is warm and you swear you hear his laugh as you scurry out of his bedroom. he's too distracting.

this is a problem.

part six

#here we have the obligatory shoujo sick episode #i had to add some lore #i can't help myself #neighbor!law au #trafalgar law #law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #shortnsweet🍒

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machveil · 7 months ago

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Neighbor!König Headcanons

before the events of the sticky note exchange! just some thoughts while I write pt 3

Neighbor!König didn’t realize his old neighbor moved out - he happened to be deployed when they did. he was surprised to see a bunch of boxes against the wall between his door and yours

Neighbor!König whose brain short circuits when he sees you exit the elevator, another box in your arms. he’s not too sure what to do, he was just leaving his apartment to run to the store

his hands are a little sweaty, mouth goes a little dry. he’s absolutely taken with you when you look up at him, all wide eyed and awed. it’s the first time you’ve seen each other and he’s pretty sure his heart stopped for a moment. he can’t find his voice when you say ‘hi’, so he awkwardly waves and ducks back into his apartment - he’ll get his groceries later

he’s silently debating whether he should go back out there and offer you a hand or just leave you be. eyes darting between his front door and his keys. would it be weird to go back out into the hallway? he just stared at you and waved, was that strange? do you think he’s a creep? a behemoth of a man who just quietly looked at you and left?

safe to say, he decided to just sit down on his couch. sighing, looking up at the ceiling, his shoulders slump. you were so pretty, he thinks. maybe that’s why his stomach did a flip when he heard your voice, because that was pretty too

he didn’t see you again for a week. he figured it was too late for a proper introduction, he’d just be your… quiet, weird neighbor. he didn’t want to be that, but the back of his mind kept replying his retreat. yeah, maybe it’s better to let that situation be

so when he entered the building after a walk around the block, he was startled when your hand caught the closing elevator doors. you had smiled at him, he saw your mouth moving as you talked - probably a greeting? he couldn’t be sure, he too focused on not taking up too much room in the cramped space. so when he heard you introduce yourself, heard you ask for his name, he blinked

“Ah— König.”, he mumbled, gaze darting towards the bright yellow floor numbers as they slowly creeped towards your shared floor. what he didn’t notice was how your gaze was glued to him. he was tall - tall enough he had to duck his head a little going through doors, and he was so big. a pleasant contrast to his seemingly meek demeanor, a demeanor that heavily contrasted his work

maybe, if König could tear his eyes away from the floor numbers and back down towards you, he would notice your eyes dilating slightly, a dopey, nervous smile tugging at your lips. being up close in such a confined space with him was doing things to you. you barely know the man - König - and you’re already smitten. but, before you can continue with any small talk, the elevator doors open and König is gone

he’s pushing through his apartment door, a soft click ringing out as he locks it behind him. “Oh Gott.”, mumbled words leaving his lips as he kicks his shoes off. eyebrows slightly knit as he moves to his bedroom, he pauses when he hears music. through your shared wall, the soft hum of your music plays - or is that you singing? he isn’t too sure, but before he registers it, he sitting down on the floor, back pressed to the wall.

eyes fluttering shut, he takes a deep breath. maybe if he properly became friends with you he could be in there with you. the cold, hard floor grounds him a little, the muffled music keeping his head from spiraling down more ‘what if’s’. but, as the song slows down and the next starts to play, one thought crosses his mind

he really should try to speak to you more

#do we want more headcanon blurbs pre sticky note story?#konig #könig #könig cod #könig call of duty #neighbor!könig #cod #call of duty #könig headcanons #konig x reader #könig x reader #könig x you #hit post

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