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prettyboykatsuki-moved · 1 year ago

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I can just imagine fujo neet reader practicing different sex position with rin to make sure she gets the proportions right.

✮ tags ; fem!reader, sexual tension, rin's pov, RIN IS KIND OF MEAN TO HER BUT HE WANTS HER SO BAD FDKJJS, reader is a fujoshi and bl mangaka, pre-relationship, they work together, part of a ficverse i haven't written yet Sorry, ONE JOKE ABOUT RIN WANTING TO OFF HIMSELF, SUPER SUGGESTIVE LOL 18+

✮ wc ; 3.5k (WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!)

✮ a/n ; i had to do this for my sanity. i promise i will write them a proper fic with them i promise.

You never text Rin.

Not really. Not first at least. It's a new... friendship. Kind of. Sort of. Most of your communication thus far has been through meetings and random in-person chance encounters. Outside of that, Rin will call you since it's faster. If you do "text", it's mostly through twitter DM's.

There's a discord server your fans run, and you pop in there often enough. He's had the invitation extended but declined unilaterally, since he'd rather not see himself fucking Isagi anymore than he already has in his short, miserable career.

It surprised him this morning, seeing your message flash across the top of his screen. Asking, specifically, for him to come over and help you with something related to the new manga you were writing. He had it in his right mind to decline, but after learning it wasn't a doujin for him, he semi-reluctantly agreed.

Rin doesn't know when exactly your relationship to him grew this...comfortable. Inviting him over to your house, begging him for favors, not wincing every time he talks to you. Rin isn't an extrovert but compared to you he's a social butterfly. And your aversion to people in general, Rin thought, would prevent you from doing anything more than squeak at him forever just like you did when he met you.

(Though nothing in his life has been normal since your arrival in it. He's not sure why you would remain unchanged when he certainly hasn't.)

He doesn't know what to feel when you ask him for a favor, and he doesn't know what force of nature compels him to go. If it's morbid curiosity or annoyance or something else even worse.

It was compelling enough to take the train all the way out to Machida - an hour long trip from his own place. His manager hounded him to take you something, so he has a bag of ginseng energy drinks and snacks with him as a gift. He took the bus with his mask on, and then walked all the way to your building.

Your apartment is tucked somewhere classically suburban - attached at the far end of a residential street and behind concrete support beams for a highway just overhead. Cherry blossom trees and other shades of white flowers grow around it in thick patches, making the entrance hard to find. Rin would've had trouble if you didn’t give him details on exactly where to go.

It's an older building, stone walls worn and grass-stained from age. At the gate are groups of old people talking amongst each other as they sort through recycling and trash. All visor hats and sunspots, they fawn over Rin for a long while before he goes in and interrogates him with questions. None of them know him, which is relieving. It quickly graduates to them asking who he's there to visit, if he has a girlfriend or not.

All of them ooh and aah when he mentions your name, say something about being relieved she's found a man so handsome and that Rin should marry you because even though you're a little strange you're a good girl. Rin does not have the time nor energy to correct them - only nods and bows his head and leaves.

On the elevator ride up to your floor, he can't help but think repeatedly that this isn't the kind of place he'd expect you to live. He thought it'd be out in the middle of nowhere, maybe in a damp and broken building.

But this is a nice place with nice people, vibrant and colorful. Totally opposite from what he considers your personality.

Suitable or not, Rin manages to make it to your floor without a hitch.

He finds you, then, as he'd expect. Down a long hall, behind an unassuming white door. When you open it, you're a mess. Your hair completely unkempt, face greasy, a wild look in your eyes and complete surprise in your expression as if you didn't invite him over. You do, however, manage to invite him in without stuttering or stumbling over your words foolishly like you did the first time you spoke to him.

Another surprise is how... clean your living room is. It's lived in but he was expecting more mess in there. Your bedroom is in a similar state, undoubtedly messy but not terrible. Your NEET tendencies finally end up showing when you drag Rin into your office where you draw your manga.

It's not dirty but it's cluttered. There's a pull out sofa on one wall, with a blanket and pillow littered about and pages upon pages of paper sheets with scrapped panels about the floor. One wall has a bunch of post-its with several notes in both English and Japanese, and another has tacked up pieces of art. Both yours and other peoples. He chooses to ignore the ones of him and Isagi, The walls themselves are cream colored and uninteresting and the wood floors are slippery. At the far end of the room is a spread of desks, a PC set-up and a professional looking tablet among various art supplies in stacked boxes.

It's this room you bring Rin into without explaining yourself at all, mumbling and muttering as you give him a place to sit and go back to your work for fifteen silent minutes.

When you're finally finished doing whatever the fuck you were doing, you turn yourself back towards Rin. Bluelight glasses fall down the bridge of your nose as you swivel around in your chair - your sweatpants half pulled up your leg with the other pulled down. You're wearing fuzzy socks with Naruto characters on them.

You stare at him, pulling your glasses off and rubbing your eyes - dark circles under them.

"Uhm," Your voice is clipped and thick with exhaustion. "You came."

Rin deadpans. "You asked me to come."

"I thought you'd say no."

He did too. He doesn't respond back. You chew your lips, already anxious and Rin resists the urge to say something about it.

"Okay. Uhm. Please don't get mad," You start with and then explain, looking away. Your hands pull your sleeves over your palms. "So. Like. For my new series, I'm finally getting to the sex scene but I've never drawn characters with an intense height difference like this. And I need... new reference photos.... and uhm," You rub your feet together on your chair where you sit "Well our height differences and size is the exact one my characters have. So."

Rin stares at you. "So?"

"SoIwaswonderingifyou'dtakereferenceimagesforsexpositionswithme,"

Rin feels his jaw lock. "Slower."

You frown and look away, tucking your chin with embarrassment. "I was uhm, like, wondering if you'd take... take the uhm, sex position reference photos with me, please."

"What?"

You clasp your hands together, immediately prostrating yourself by throwing yourself down the ground. He flinches back, wondering if you're gonna hold onto his leg next.

"Please, please help me. You're the exact height of my seme and you uhm have similar builds and he's doing the most of the legwork. The poses are a little bit hard but I want them to look good or Minami-san will eat me and I'm scared of her, please help me."

"Who is Minami-san?"

You sniffle, on the verge of tears just thinking about it. "My editor. She used to be my fan. She's scary. Please, Rin-kun, please."

"What the hell did you do before?"

You frown at him, big wet puppy-dog eyes.

"It was hard. Sometimes I'd pose with my big stuffed animals and make up the proportions. Oh and usually watched porn and stuff. Sometimes I'd get lucky with stockphotos. But I don’t get the angle exactly right unless I have good references."

Rin wonders if anything you have ever said has processed in your mind before saying it. He doubts it for some reason.

"So," Rin pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes the image of you humping your stuffed animals out of his head. "You're asking me to.. pose with you?"

You nod and chew your lip. "Please, I promise I'd never ask you for this if I wasn't s-scared of Minami-san! Please?"

"I should make you pay me for this," He sneers. You flinch back and close your eyes.

"I'm sorry." You whine wetly, but then open your eyes again anyway. "Please help me."

Rin doesn't know why he helps you. Maybe you're just too pathetic for him to ignore. Maybe he's a masochist. Maybe inhaling the same air as Bachira last week turned him stupid.

He pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Fine."

If Rin didn't believe you before when you told him you make your own references, he'd definitely believe you after you take him to your bedroom.

Your bed is in the center of your room, instead of being pushed against a wall. Large stuffed animals laid in one corner. On both sides of the room, are makeshift digital camera stands and remote-controlled lighting among another remote for said cameras. There's about 4-6 angles from what you explained to Rin, and a few adjustable lights. It's an elaborate set-up and takes the kind of dedication Rin can only imagine a hardcore fujoshi freak like yourself thinking up.

All of this to mostly draw porn of him and his rival. He tries not to think about it too hard because he thinks it's going to give him an aneurysm. Rin sits at the edge of your bed as you adjust each of the cameras individually.

"What do you do if it's not on a bed?"

You flinch like you aren't expecting him to talk. "Uhm. I either simulate as best I can o-or move my things and bed around. It's why I moved my desk to my office."

Rin stares at you. "You take it seriously."

You nod meekly. "Producing high-quality doujin is what made me money, so I have to work hard. Being poor is tough."

If Rin didn't find you so unbearable he might find that awe-inspiring in his own fucked up way.

"Okay. Everything is set-up. Now for the poses," You say, suddenly sparking back to life. Rin sits and watches. "They're having sex on a public beach so the bed and the way the seme sort of sinks into the sand will be good... I think the bridge one is the one we'll do first."

"The bridge?"

You nod, talking in short sentences. But Rin can tell this is where you're comfortable, doing things for this... hobby. Your usual constant embarrassment and shame seem to disappear when it comes to it. It's fascinating like a car crash. "Uhm. You have to stand on your knees and then, I'll lay on my back and arch my back up to meet your... y'know. It'll emphasize the height difference."

Rin stares at you agape. You take the remote control for your cameras in your hands and look at him expectantly.

Rin doesn't know whats wrong with him. Why the hell did he agree to this?

"Do you want me to take my jacket off?"

You nod, surprised. He shrugs the thing off of his shoulders and tosses it onto the floor.

Rin, per your instruction, gets into the position in the middle of the bed. He stands on his knees waiting for you. You join him a minute after, squinting at your phone screen beforehand. He isn't sure what he's expecting as a result of your ask, but he sure is shocked when he finds you placing your feet flat on the bed next to his knees and pushing yourself up for your crotch to meet his.

He knows that’s what you said but your shamelessness proves to be… shocking.

He tries not to let it show. His jaw ticks. His face feels warm but his expression remains neutral all the same. You shift and adjust and don't seem concerned at all - like it doesn't occur to you that this is in any way socially unacceptable. Or it's unfathomable Rin would take advantage of this. That this is weird, or could be interpreted in less than innocent ways. Rin knows you're so out of touch that it probably isn't. That this is, to you, just considered a favor which is partially why he even agrees.

But you're mid-brushing up against his bulge. The angle of your back forms a triangle, your arms laid flat at your sides as you squirm and push. And your expression shifts, deep in thought.

"Uhm, like, would you mind p-putting your hands on my hips? Kind of squeezing tight like it's," You flush this time, but Rin harbors doubt it's about him. "Like it feels good I guess? Like hard, and stuff so you can see the indent."

He's so astonished, he does it on autopilot. Neutral and even. He lets his hands grab your hips and holds tight just as you ask. Your long, loose sweatshirt falls down revealing the soft skin of your tummy. He can see the tops of your underwear, the thin cotton kind that come in 6-packs with a single bow in the middle in a grey color.

You don't seem to care about it. Rin shouldn't either, but his body does seem to care. His brain does. Something is happening in his gut. Anger maybe. Some cheap, frustrated desire to make fun of you.

Instead the words he's been wanting to ask since you proposed this tumble out of his mouth. He stares at you.

"Is this the first time someone's done this with you?"

You jump with a start, but remain in position. You take the pictures first, six clicks in a row before answering.

"H-huh? Why-why are you asking that?"

He doesn't know. Really. And he knows how it sounds. Rin doesn't say anything and you fold under the immense pressure of his gaze.

"S-stop staring," You say, and take a few more pictures, lowering your back just a little but still staying up right. "And no. No one tall enough or with the right physique."

There is another gnawing question, another burning curiosity. He makes his voice as even and unaffected and apathetic as he can. As mean as possible.

"Have you ever even had sex?"

Your eyes blow wide, but you seem to fall for the persona of apathy, curious boredom and cruelty. Worse, you seem a little used to it. You squirm this time and Rin holds you firmly in place. Your voice is small.

"Uhm, like, once I guess. I-it was with a guy, I didn't really date him but he seemed interested in me and I didn't think I'd ever have the opportunity again s-so I did it and I didn't uhm, it wasn't very good or anything." You reply, and he can feel your toes curl in your socks next to him and his brain feels like it'll melt from out of his ears. "Sorry, I don't-don't think you care about that, just uhm, felt like I should explain."

"Yeah," Rin feels dizzy. "Do you need another pose?"

You blink and then nod. "Yeah! Another one kind of like this, but with the legs like uhm, on your chest and my feet closer to your head. With you leaned back a little. Does that make sense? The butterfly position, I think."

Rin swallows something at the back of throat.

He nods, pulling you into position so easily he can heard you gasp. Your legs straighten against his clothed chest, and your sweatshirt falls far enough to let him see your bra. A fabric sports kind, a little worn - just the logo visible. He doesn't say anything about it, your feet resting near his neck. You make a little soft noise.

"This feels a little difficult to be in. Poor uke. Sorry if this one is kind of weird, but can you put your hands, I dunno, on my ass, I guess? I know that's probably too much but I think it'll be a good detail, so please? I'll pay you"

Rin stares at you, teeth gritting so hard he feels the back of his skull throb. "Fine."

Rin, per your request, puts his hands on your ass. It's easy enough, and he doesn't hold too tight. But it's too intimate, too stupidly fucking intimate, and he can feel you. You're hardly paying attention, caught up in your own head with whatever else. Rin is paying too much attention. Like how your sweatpants aren't thick enough to cover the outline of your frumpy cotton panties and how your soft all over. He's going to kill someone. Maybe himself.

Six more clicks and a little noise of satisfaction.

"Okay!!! I think these will turn out so great, and I can use them later too. Just one more. I have a lot of refs for this position, but uhm - I want to see if I can get the proportions correct, so if you'd please lay down," You tell him with such genuine excitement he can't find it in himself to say anything horribly cruel. "I'll be doing most of the work this time. I just-just need to see how uke will compare..."

You mutter something to yourself as Rin lets you down and lays himself down on your bed. You sit next to him for a long while, squinting at your phone. Rin stares at you as you. Wonders if he's gone completely insane, and tries to ignore the doom of the impending hard-on cozying itself in his pants.

Unceremoniously, you find yourself perching over Rin's lap. Not bothering to give him any pretense, it's the one thing about today that's really getting him.

"Oh, I need my hands for this," You give him the remote and stare down at him wide-eyed, over his lap. This has to be hell. "Could you take the photos this time?"

He closes his eyes and counts to ten and wonders if a concussion has made him insane. "Hm."

You brighten and Rin feels his chest go tight. "Thanks!"

Rin just nods, his mouth drying as you start to move and pose. A picture with your hands next to his head, and anothe r where you're sat up - your hands at your sides. Rin obediently takes pictures when you ask, his entire body tensing every single time you move.

"Okay, last one," You say. This time, you put your hands on his chest. Just the one. You must have something specific in your head that you're wanting to recreate. You bend down close, looking down at him as you do - your other hand clenched.

Rin looks up at you. He should not be thinking about you in any way. He's looking at the way your lips curve and plump and at your bare skin and your dark circles and your stupid licensed anime hoodie. He just gapes at you in confusion and mystique. He's around so many weirdos. It's not like there's anything special about you. You’re just another freak who makes porn of him. Plenty of people do that.

A loser and an idiot with no sense of self-preservation. There's nothing special about this, but Rin hasn’t been able to convince himself of that.

You stare down at him.

"Take a picture?"

Rin looks at you. Studies your expression. You seem like you're thinking. It's the only oppurtunity he has to pry.

"Did you want to ask something?" He says first. “You’re not hard to read.”

You startle, then nod. Your hand is on his chest. It's warm, and smaller than his.

"Oh, I-I guess I was wondering about what you asked me earlier. And uhm, like, I don't know. If you ever did anything. Your relationships aren't in the media and fans speculate but," You fall flat on your words. "I guess I was just curious."

Rin hates this question. It's why he never answers it. Why he hates being called a hearthrob, always too shallow and too personal for his taste.

"Nothing long term or serious. It was most for physical relief." Rin says, almost on autopilot. “Not that’d you know what that’s like.”

Your eyes widen. Rin feels his hands twitch, watching your expression finally grown conscious of him. Lust spreads through you like honey and Rin can see it in how you look. You squirm in his lap. He's not usually so aggressive, not usually one to care about sex in any important way. Not one to brag about something so unbelievably inane and trivial.

But it's bothering him, just how much he's fighting the urge to pin you down and fuck you. You of all people. It's not like him. Rough sex is whatever, but it's bothering him how little any of it seems to register in your head anymore like it once did. You could barely breathe the first time you met.

He doesn't know why he cares that you don’t anymore. He doesn’t give a shit about anything related to you

But the thought nothing seems to bother you anymore bothers him.

"Oh... I see. That's uhm, interesting. I b-bet you have a lot more experience than me. Maybe it'd be a good thing to keep you around for that kind of refernce too," You joke.

Rin lets his hand slip up to your hips without asking, not bothering to hide it anymore. His head feels with nothing but stupid useless thoughts. Thoughts of fucking you in your old, worn clothes and stained shirts and comfortable cotton underwear. Thoughts of your hands clutching at his shoulder all weepy with desire and need and stupidity - your big wide eyes bleary and sensitive. It's cruel how relentlessly he thinks about taking advantage of all your differences. Of how unathletic and awkward and unused to everything you are.

It's horrible just how much he's staving off his own arousal about it. Maybe you're strange habits are infecting him, making him strange too strange. All Rin can think about uselessly is how easily he could put you in your place. Fix you in some strange way. You’d be his to fix and you’d cry and weep and want to run away. Rin wouldn’t let you, keep you pinned and caged like an animal.

His throat feels tight. What is fucking wrong with him today?

Is he that pent up? He stares at you, and gets some passing feeling that there is more to it than that. He closes his eyes.

"Whatever," He says, letting go. You don't seem to notice it again, how thick his voice is getting "Are you almost done?"

You nod and smile. "Yes. Thank you."

Rin feels his heart tug and seethes. “You're welcome."

#return to sender #writing tag #fujoverse #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #bllk x reader #bluelock x reader #THIS IS KIND OF COOKING ME TO DEATRH IM?

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xs-devil-cat · 4 days ago

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Hello! I have a request :3!

Hope it's not too much ;w;

Would it be possible to get a story where X saved the reader once, and they politely thanked him and offered sweets as reward. He was surprised and intrigued that they didn't want autograph or didn't pester him, so in the following days he kept an eye on them out of curiosity, in most normal and absolutely sane way. He would use his dimensional powers and pretend to be his own grafitti on the walls or in random ads and posters, sometimes would be even hiding in the floor. Reader's suspicions grew when they felt random touches or he saved them from tripping over etc. Some ads had X on them, and then they suddenly didn't anymore. Suspicious. He was eventually caught red handed by reader. How? I will leave it up to you!

Man is being all pathetic, full of yearning and secretive for no reason, just as gods intended.

A/N: Hey anon!! Thank you so much for this request !! :3 When I tell you I was really excited to get this, you have no idea. (A certain someone can confirm, though, lmao. Thanks for putting up with my squealing and fanenbying king 🤍)

This was genuinely so much fun to write, and you can tell bc I very visibly got way too carried away with it, and so it ended up becoming (thus far) the longest fic I've written on here. I hope I did your ideas justice, anon 🙏

INCLUDES/CW: An even MORE ridiculously long story (Someone needs to take writing privileges away at this rate). Mentions of stalking (X is the one doing it, shocker /lh). Semi-Obsessive behavior from our favorite loser X(?). He is PATHETIC, I tell you, and is SO very downbad for you. X yearning (pathetically) for reader (just as the gods intended). X being a lil dumbass (when isn't he?).

["X" Bai Xizhuang x gn!Reader]

Today was supposed to be relatively boring and uninteresting. Though, it seemed that one of the many local villains had other plans. X wouldn't have intervened, but he happened to be literally right there, and the hero that had come to deal with it was too focused on the villain to notice you were even there — That damn moron.

Of course, saving you was effortless for him. With just one simple snap of his fingers, he'd saved you from becoming collateral damage to the fight between that hero (who he didn't care about) and villain (who he also didn't care about).

X had expected the usual reactions he always got whenever he saved people or ran into civilians in public in his hero form: squealing, pestering him for his autograph or something else, the attempts to flirt with him or drape themselves over him — as well as some inappropriate comments here and there, though, he tried his best not to think of those...

Yet, he didn't receive any of that from you. No, instead, you had looked at him with this certain sincerity that he couldn't recall ever seeing from anyone else before. And, when you'd spoken, your tone was polite, just as sincere as your eyes and smile, and full of genuine gratitude.

Well, that was certainly a new one...

However, as if that wasn't strange enough for him, after you'd verbally thanked him, you'd kindly offered to buy him some sweets as a way to 'properly' thank him, as you'd put it.

Your not only polite, but also kind demeanor had managed to successfully catch the usually unfazed number one hero genuinely by surprise — as well as left him feeling almost overwhelmingly intrigued about you, considering you hadn't acted at all the way he'd initially assumed that you would.

You'd managed to exceed his expectations, to catch him off his guard — something he couldn't recall anyone else, even any other heroes, doing before...

And, in doing so, you've successfully managed to catch the attention of the most enigmatic —and very likely most powerful— man in the world without even realizing it (or meaning to).

In the days that followed, X had to repeatedly reassure himself that what he was doing wasn't necessarily 'stalking'. He was just... 'keeping an eye on you', that was all. He was just... curious about you, nothing more.

And, luckily for him, his powers made that perhaps a little too easy for him to do. Thanks to him taking the number one spot as the top hero, there were advertisements and posters of him plastered at practically every inch of the city, allowing him to hide in literally plain sight.

He could follow you essentially wherever you went. Of course, his normal job as a 10-6 office worker in his civilian form did make following you constantly a bit of a challenge. However, he naturally found ways to get around it — he is X, after all.

Despite what he kept telling himself, however, he couldn't deny that he felt strangely drawn to your... uniqueness. Although you were just another average, normal person, you managed to stand out amongst the crowds in his eyes. Not because of your appearance, but because of your demeanor, and especially the way you treated him that fateful day.

Of course, though, you aren't completely oblivious. Ever since that day that the top hero, X, had saved you, you've had the feeling of being watched near constantly. You tried to ignore it, considering that whenever you would look over your shoulder, you'd never once catch anyone there.

But, somehow, that made the feeling even worse.

The thought that he was the one somehow, and for some reason, following you had naturally popped into your head due to the 'coincidence' of the timing. However, you'd quickly wrote that idea off.

After all, why would the number one hero be following you of all people?

Yet, you couldn't push away your ever-increasing suspicions that, maybe, you were right — because the 'coincidences' weren't lessening, they were only increasing...

Ever since that day, you could've sworn that the amount of advertisements and posters around you with X's face on them had grown quite significantly. And, as if that wasn't already odd enough, you swore that you'd see his face on an ad, poster, or even on the walls one moment, then, the next — it'd be gone.

As if it had never been there.

Then, there were the, although very brief, feelings of feather-light touches you'd occasionally feel. They were never entirely uncomfortable, though. In fact, it was strangely quite the contrary.

Those random, unexplainable, and almost ghost-like touches were never invasive, and you'd usually only feel them if you ever tripped over your own feet while walking somewhere. Or, if you dropped something, you'd swear that you'd feel the ever-briefest feeling of delicate fingers just barely brushing against yours — as if someone had caught the object you'd dropped, despite it hitting the floor (which looked much more colorful than you remembered...).

As the days turned to weeks of this, X had long since given up convincing himself that his behavior was just curiosity, or just 'keeping an eye on you' anymore. At this point, following you around had just become a part of his routine, something he did without even putting any thought into it.

He wasn't following you around anymore because he felt like he had to 'keep an eye on you' or just because you had simply intrigued him — he was following you because he'd fallen hopelessly in love with you, and he had no clue how to tell you.

In truth, X doesn't know how, or even when, it happened. Maybe, it was the way you smiled when you were genuinely and sincerely happy. Or, perhaps, it was the sound of your laugh that was like a beautiful, almost hypnotic, melody to his ears.

Maybe, it was the fact that he'd gotten to see you be so... yourself.

The fact that, because he followed you home on occasion, he'd gotten the chance to see the way you are when no one (as far as you know) is around to see you — and he... he loves it.

He loves the way you let yourself lounge around in your free time, whether you are just sitting on your couch or bed watching TV, or you are playing games, or you're doing something else. He loves the way you sing and dance to your favorite songs without a care in the world.

He loves you.

And, oh god, he has no damn clue how to handle that.

X wants so badly to tell you, but he knows that would be a very bad idea. After all, he has been following you around these last few weeks without you knowing. It wasn't like he could just reveal himself and say: "Hey, I know I've been basically stalking you these last few weeks, but in doing so, I've fallen totally and completely head over heels in love with you. Will you please be my partner?"

... Damn it.

He isn't sure just how long he's been wracking his brain to come up with a way that he could make this work — mostly trying to figure out how he could 'happen' to run into you in his civilian form, considering you wouldn't recognize him that way. However, him being himself, he wants it to be perfect. He wants your 'first' meeting to be perfect, that way when he inevitably confesses to you, you will (hopefully) accept his feelings.

Though, as it would turn out, it's his own meticulous planning that ends up getting him finally caught.

X had gotten so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't noticed it right away when you'd abruptly tripped over something while you were walking home for the night. When he did finally notice, the hero didn't really think (for a change), and he snapped his fingers: causing him to appear at your side and catch you before you could hit the ground.

... Wait, what did he just—? Oh. God damn it—

He feels his entire body go stiff when he realizes just a beat too late what exactly he's just done. You can practically see the way his brain is going about a billion miles a second, the internal panic screaming in his head about how much of a fool he most certainly is, by the way he isn't wearing that seemingly usual calm, confident smirk of his. His jaw is tight, lips pressed into a thin line — but his hold on you has yet to cease, you notice.

However, you also notice something else. The poster on the nearby wall that once had X on it is now vacant, and his touch... You recognize that light, almost delicate, yet now subconsciously protective touch.

You can't help smirking a little, realizing quickly that you'd actually been right in your initial assumption: the number one hero is the one who was following you these last few weeks.

"So... you were the one following me, after all." You say aloud, seeing and feeling him flinch as he quickly snaps his attention to you, dark eyes staring at you with panic as well as embarrassment, confirming your assumption.

There are visible hearts in his eyes, though, when he looks at you, even through his yellow-tinted sunglasses — which you notice have now cracked a little. His face is visibly red, and he's totally fumbling as he struggles to get a response out, some kind of explanation or excuse — anything.

Damn it, damn it, damn it! You know?? Hell, of course you do. Damn it. Does that mean you're mad at him? He wouldn't blame you if you are, you have every right to be, after all.

Yet... strangely enough, you don't look angry... But why would that be—?

Your laugh suddenly interrupts the rapid, panicked train of thoughts running through his head.

"You know, if you wanted to ask me out, you could've just said so." You tease lightly due to noticing the hearts in his eyes and the redness in his face, hoping that you are right in this assumption too of what that means.

You find out very quickly just how right you exactly are after he just... stares at you for a few more seconds, processing what you just said and mentally composing himself. Once he has, though, he smiles; softly, warmly. Affectionately and lovingly.

"You're right... I'm sorry." X starts before snapping his fingers.

A small bag of your favorite sweets and treats, as well as a small bouquet of your favorite flowers —and perhaps a plushie of himself— appear in one of his hands, his other now holding one of yours; gently, delicately, as if you're the most precious thing in the whole entire universe.

His head is bowed a little, causing his yellow-tinted sunglasses to fall down his nose just enough for you to see his dark eyes behind them: his eyes that still have those visible hearts in them, the size of which grow ever-so slightly as those eyes meet your own.

"Will you grant me the honor of taking you on a date and making you mine?"

#tbhx #tbhx x reader #to be hero x #to be hero x x reader #tbhx x #tbhx x x reader #hero x #hero x x reader #bai xizhuang #bai xizhuang x reader #tbhx headcanon #devil-cat responses ⋆ ｡🧃°#devil-cat writing ⋆ ｡☕°

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ceescedasticity · 3 months ago

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Okay okay so.

DCU Batman canon Court of Owls (1) is waaaaay too similar to anti-Semitic conspiracy theories and (2) doesn't make sense. In so many ways.

If it's so entwined with Gotham's upper crust, how could Bruce Wayne never have noticed it? If they've been controlling Gotham all this time, why is Gotham so out-of-control? If unscrupulous rich people who spend a lot of time in Gotham can have people assassinated for free, why haven't they gotten rid of any of the Rogues who make life dangerous/really annoying and/or interfere with business? What even is the deal with that supposed "nursery rhyme"?

It's possible to rationalize answers for at least some of those questions, but it would just be propping up this way-too-similar-to-real-and-dangerous-conspiracy-theories thing, so why bother.

So what could it be instead?

Under the readmore, a lengthy discussion of how I would do it if I were to write a fic including it though anyone else can use it if for some reason they want to.

(tl;dr: a secret society too up their own asses to try to take over the country club much less the world, but still plenty dangerous to the vulnerable, and unfortunately they have a manual on creating superhuman assassins)

The Court of Owls can still fulfill most of its narrative purposes — certainly fulfill most of its fanfic-frequented narrative purposes — if it's stripped down into just a cult. They could be murdering, kidnapping, creating utterly loyal assassins, and planting agents in politics for no other reason than that they're a comic-book cult and they're Evil. They're presumably getting their money from somewhere but it doesn't have to be associated with Gotham's elite. Boring, but it does the job for Talon creation.

If we wanted a little more flavor, though—

It could be not a conspiracy but a "secret society" — something more along the lines of Skull and Bones, except obviously not restricted to college years. Add a dash of Bullingdon Club and the old Hellfire Club(s).

We get a bunch of rich people who want to LARP as Illuminati and behave transgressively without facing any consequences. Its members benefit from it socially/politically/economically because of the networking opportunities.

That is what most people who have heard of the Court of Owls think it is — solid networking and some wild parties, but also embarrassing, decadent, and likely to have covered up some manslaughters at some point, hopefully not recently but who knows; sex workers are leery of them. Probably "the Talon" is what someone dresses up as during one of their cringeworthy "ceremonies".

That is also what most members think the Court of Owls is. They do their networking and their partying and their LARPing, and don't pay much attention to how their hefty membership fee is spent. They think the uppermost echelons of the Court are full of those who get a bit too into the LARPing, which isn't even wrong. Being really into the LARPing is one of the criteria for being brought into the innermost circle.

Before I get into the innermost circle, let's discuss the "nursery rhyme":

Nursery rhymes as a rule are probably not actually coded references to real events. (Wikipedia on nursery rhymes — see Meanings section.)

I think if you want there to be an actual children's tradition of repeating this rhyme, there are two ways to go:

(1) It's an old rhyme and it's associated with a game. One kid is the Talon and they tackle anyone who speaks, something like that?

(2) It only dates back to the 20th century, where it's a song featured in a locally produced cartoon TV show or maybe a radio show. Maybe it's a cartoon about anthropomorphized mice and it's the anthem of the menacing owls. Whatever. Written by either a non-innermost-circle club member who wanted to enhance the intimidation factor or a non-club-member wanting to make fun of it.

Anyway.

The very innermost circle of the rich-people-club Court of Owls — I can see two directions to go with this.

First one is that the very innermost circle actually knows about an associated Evil Cult.

Second one is that they're sort of functionally a cult, but not exactly — they aren't trying to bring about the end of the world or anything. There isn't some god they're trying to serve or appease. They aren't trying to control Gotham or the world any more than they already control it. They're still networking and having fun by being Wild and Edgy and Occult.

Just, they're so Wild and Edgy and Occult they're turning people into Talons as an initiation rite/club activity.

—On second thought I'd prefer a little more intentionality, but imagine the extreme: a Court of Owls which is a student secret society with extremely fucked-up traditions and initiation rituals. Their frat house has a really high power bill because of all the Talons frozen in the basement.

A little more intentionality: They're old money and extremists, and we can tie in them being obsessed with Gotham's leading families though not synonymous with them — they're into eugenics, mostly but not entirely in that pre-scientific way where it's about Good Breeding and specific family lines rather than race as such. They want to Breed Better Gotham Rich People because… reasons. I said more intentionality, not well-reasoned intentionality.

They make Talons because (1) the Court of Owls has always made Talons; (2) the idea of having a superhuman assassin at their beck and call is really cool; (3) it makes for a killer initiation rite; (4) occasionally they can all agree someone is a threat to the Court and may be disposed of; (5) even more occasionally someone gets permission to use a Talon for personal grievances or advantage; (6) they're creepily into the power dynamic. Being into that sort of thing is one of the criteria for induction into the upper echelons, after all.

—Oh wait what am I doing with Talons.

Fanon Talons (a.k.a. what I've encountered like. 99% of the time in fanfic) are thoroughly brainwashed and deeply dehumanized. Their memories and identities are suppressed or just gone.

Sometimes the mental condition is partially or fully reversible, or may be reversible at some stages; more rarely the physical process is partially or fully reversible. (Usually this is the case when Dick is made a Talon.)

I haven't run into this as much, but sometimes the condition is not only irreversible but Talons are described as essentially already dead — destroying them is not killing.

(Optionally the Owls may abuse them for fun, but if you give an unscrupulous and cruel person total control over someone else that's not an unlikely outcome.)

From what I can tell from the wiki, canon Talons are (usually) loyal and devoted and follow orders despite any previously held scruples. This suggests some level of indoctrination/conditioning. We also know their training is brutal.

However, most seem to retain their individuality — they bear grudges, request assignments, take pride, and now and then go rogue. I get the impression from the wiki that they generally remember their pasts.

(The wiki does not mention pronoun usage. I have no idea if the third-person-it way of speaking is canon.)

Canon Talon recruitment looks like it aims for older teenagers. Most of it also seems to be nominally voluntary. They agree not knowing what they're getting into, and maybe under pressure from an authority figure, and they're not allowed to quit later, but they do initially agree.

The physical condition is reversible via Lazarus Pit, which probably means other methods would work as well.

Durability of the mental conditioning seems to vary from person to person. Some remain devoted and very concerned about failing the Court, however: One guy deserted entirely when he realized he'd been ordered to kill a two-year-old. Another broke away after feeling kinship with vigilante opponents and eventually making a friend. Clearly whatever they are doing is not very durable on at least some subjects.

An advantage of the fanon-style total dehumanization over the canon situation is it explains why they don't have a hell of a lot more desertions.

Maybe: Recruitment is usually targeted towards those who would enjoy being a superhuman assassin enough that they wouldn't care who they worked for. Maybe: There are actually a lot more desertions and loyal Talons spend 90% of work hours hunting down disloyal ones. Maybe: They're convinced the Court is doing good and important things. Maybe: There are other perks.

With a Court that is more a secret society than a conspiracy or a cult, it would be harder to convince anyone the Court is doing good and important things. Other perks are possible. A mix of targeted recruitment and eliminating a lot of failures is possible. The fanon approach is also possible.

The canon approach is much more compatible with a Haley's Circus that is, while sketchy, not evil. There's very little outright coercion and some recruits even stay in touch for a while. Everyone has plausible deniability and they keep desperately needed financial backing. —Of course you can make the circus evil if you want but I wouldn't go that way because it feels… disrespectful to Dick? As much as that makes sense.

The canon approach also works much better for William Cobb. —Sort of. Cobb's whole character is clearly someone who has an identity, who has aspirations and grudges. But it doesn't make a lot of sense that he'd get screwed over twice by Gotham's elite then turn around and become utterly loyal to an organization virtually synonymous with Gotham's elite????? Was that supposed to be a demonstration of the effectiveness of the brainwashing?

But with the secret society version, the Court of Owls isn't synonymous with Gotham's elite, and probably doesn't include the particularly stuffy elite like whatsisface Crowne. —It also works fine if the Court is just a cult.

In my opinion either cult or LARPing secret society version of the Court also works better with using a circus as a Talon farm anyway, because while some circus-honed skills could be useful to an assassin they're neither necessary nor sufficient. It's a weird choice for a conspiracy which actually accomplishes things.

(…Alternate Joker origin story: Court of Owls snagged a clown for a Talon and things went horribly wrong? —Actually I like that as much as any other origin I've heard.)

I'm seeing a couple of ways to go with this.

Option one: Fanon Talons. Haley's Circus has no intentional connection and very little knowledge of the situation; William Cobb was there before being picked as a Talon for whatever reason (maybe Whatsisface Crowne is in the Court and wants to get rid of him), and whoever decides Cobb's descendant will be the Gray Son decides the bloodline needs to incubate in the circus for some reason. Most Talons are picked from Gotham's lower classes. —Maybe the Court has a Thing about Cobb and goes for circus performers when it can get them?

Option two: Canon Talons. Haley's Circus is involved with plausible deniability. Cobb is probably the one who decides to incubate his bloodline there. Potential Talons are chosen based on how much they seem like they'd like it but there is still a high rate of attrition; cooperating Talons don't get a totally bad deal but non-cooperating ones usually get dead. In this model Talon!Dick would be dead if he was anyone else, but they're really invested in the Gray Son thing and keep trying to break him.

My inclination is generally to stick closer to canon unless I have a reason not to, so — I guess it would depend on what story I wanted to tell.

(As for the whole "Gray Son of Gotham" prophecy thing, either it was delivered by an associated cult OR it's some bullshit that came out of nineteenth-century occultism and then got taken seriously because the inner circle of the Court of Owls has delusions of grandeur.)

(Another note on the circus: I was going to say that one advantage of the "Court of Owls is a powerful conspiracy using Haly's Circus as a Talon farm" thing is that it does explain why this increasingly anachronistic circus is still operating, but it turns out it's not as anachronistic as I thought, I just live under a rock I guess. Traditional circuses still exist. Circus elephants were only banned in New Jersey in 2018. We don't need to have the Court of Owls intimidating regulators — though it helps if they're pouring money in!)

So that's Talons �� not settled, but hopefully adequately considered.

(…If I wanted I could get super creepy with the intersection of the Breeding Better Rich People goal and the Pursuit of Perfect Specimens for Talons goal. That's optional though.)

Anyway.

I think this works pretty well at clearing up the questions.

Why didn't Bruce Wayne notice earlier? He made the mistake of taking what he thought was a weird social club at face value. He knew members might be up to no good and dealt with that in whatever arena they were acting in. Maybe he extracted people who were caught up in their parties. But he didn't realize they were engaging in human… not experimentation, they know what they're doing. They're engaging in Talon-making and stockpiling assassins even though they very seldom use them for anything but stopping other Talons. If their enemies die mysteriously they are assumed to have hired one of the universe's innumerable other assassins.

If they've been controlling Gotham all this time, why is Gotham so out-of-control? They've never controlled Gotham any more than any other rich people, they just like to play-act like they do.

If unscrupulous rich people who spend a lot of time in Gotham can have people assassinated for free, why haven't they gotten rid of any of the Rogues who make life dangerous/really annoying and/or interfere with business? Because using Talons for anything other than controlling other Talons requires a quorum of the innermost circle, and there's always disagreement about if it's the right time, and they can't decide anything and nothing gets done.

(Am I actually going to use this? I don't know! Maybe. Probably? I have some batfic ideas but I've decided not to post anything until I finish it or I finish Unforsaken, so possibly my energy will fizzle out first.)

#unsolicited fandom opinions #batman #dcu #writing babble #in that it describes my thought process #things i'm not writing #for the moment

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leviathanlazarus · 1 year ago

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In Your Fantasy

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x (F) Reader

Word Count: ~5300

Warnings: semi-public sex (like...very low-key), oral sex (F receiving), unprotected PIV sex. 18+ only ~

This took me forever to finish because I started it before my stupid tonsillectomy and I was totally useless throughout most of the recovery. Also, it's been absolutely ages since I wrote a Jake x Reader fic so I'm not sure how I feel about it...I really enjoyed writing this regardless of my trepidation though. I loved the idea of falling in love with him at work and him being so cheeky...hope you enjoy it too <3

P.S. also ages ago, I wrote a Josh x Reader fic that also took place in a library which you can read here. Links on my desktop masterlist aren't active for some reason...but I found it using a certain tag lmao. If you know, you know.

---

You were finishing up fixing the order of some art books in the back of the library when you felt Jake come up behind you. “Wanna hear something kind of crazy?” he whispered in your ear, his chin nearly on your shoulder, his hair brushing against yours. Without even seeing him, the closeness and warmth of his body and the low, husky whisper sent a tingle up your spine–he certainly added a level of intrigue to working in a library.

“Always,” you said, slipping the last book into the correct spot. It was a quiet Thursday afternoon–you’d thought it’d actually be busier given the rain that kept bucketing down outside, creating an even cozier atmosphere, but maybe people just wanted to stay home with their books instead. That was fine by you. You liked it when it was nearly dead silent throughout the building and Jake was there to occasionally break through, his voice a river through your thoughts and his subtle touches all shockwaves to your heart.

When you turned around to face him, Jake looked like he was holding back a hilarious joke or something, eyes all eager and a grin tight on his lips like he was bursting at the seams. “So I just went to the bathroom and guess what I heard?” he went on, raising his eyebrows.

You scrunched up your nose, already worried. This wasn’t what you were expecting when he’d said ‘something crazy.’ What sort of craziness happened in libraries anyway? “There are a lot of things I can think of. Is this a gross story?”

Jake chuckled. “It depends on your definition of ‘gross.’ Okay,” he said, looking around to make sure you two were still alone in the section. Then he looked into your eyes again and lowered his voice even more to tell you, “There were people fucking in there.”

You scoffed, offended on behalf of the library–the sacred, beautiful space where people went to relax and read, not deal with lewd conduct. That wasn’t crazy, that was just offensive! “What, like two guys?” you questioned, tilting your head, a little irked at Jake finding this all so funny.

“No, a guy and a girl.”

“Ugh. That’s even worse. Women shouldn’t have to deal with getting laid in a men’s bathroom,” you said, then were momentarily distracting yourself with yet another out of place book on the shelf. “I’d never do that. I can’t believe someone else is. I mean, kids go here.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Jake said slowly. He leaned against the bookshelf and looked at you pointedly, his dark eyes even darker in the dim light. “Then again–”

Before he could finish, you had another thought. “Wait, Jake–did you say anything to them?”

“No. What could I say? I just high-tailed it out of there as soon as I heard.”

You sighed. The whole thing would be far more redeemable if your boyfriend had at least tried to throw out some warning words to the perpetrators. “You should have told them to stop. I would have.”

“I’m sure they finished soon after I left.” He smirked. “It sounded like they were pretty close.”

You groaned quietly and turned away, preferring to find another thing to busy yourself with now. “Gross. They should be banned.”

Jake followed along right at your side as you whisked through the rest of the art section and back to the cart you needed to empty. “I didn’t see who they were, so no chance of that.” At the cart, he put his hands on it, keeping it in place. “I actually thought you’d find it sort of amusing, Y/N.”

You leaned over, almost close enough to touch your noses together. “You’re such a guy. Only a guy would think it’s amusing and not disgusting.”

“I don’t know about that. Maybe you’re just a little stuffy,” Jake replied, tilting his head up as if he were challenging you. “Although maybe I shouldn’t be surprised, considering we’ve never done anything like that.”

You scoffed again and leaned back, surprised and still a little irritated, but also genuinely curious. “Oh, so you want to fuck around in a public place? That’s something I didn’t know about you.”

Jake’s challenging stance turned crestfallen, and he lifted one of your hands to press a kiss to. “Forget I said anything about it. I mean, I suppose you’re right–it is kind of gross.” He kept your hand clasped in his for a few seconds as he said, “But I’d never make love to you in a public bathroom. I’d hope you know me better than that.”

You looked over your shoulder at the sound of a man clearing his throat, settling down into a chair with a newspaper. He wasn’t paying any attention to you or Jake, but you gave the cart a push anyway, cajoling Jake off it so you could navigate to where you needed to go next.

“It’s really the fact that it’s the bathroom that makes it so gross,” you whispered as Jake kept following you. You couldn’t deny you’d had some secret fantasies about getting it on in the library–after all, it was where you and Jake had met and where you continued to spend the most time together. But none of your fantasies included the restrooms in the hall, or the utility closet or that little corridor tucked away across from the restrooms where the vending machines were. Too grody, too cramped, too obvious.

“At least our bathrooms are clean.” Jake parked himself right next to you once you were in the biography section, and when you stepped away from the cart, he wrapped his arms around your waist and held you in place. “But if I’m being really honest, I have thought about us, well, fooling around here. I think it’s quite surprising we never have.”

“Jake,” you said in an attempt to protest, but his sweet, pretty face and ticklish touch on your waist made you giggle, and his confession that echoed your own secret thoughts lit a little spark. “We work here!”

“So? All the more reason. It’s always been our special place.” Jake smiled as he got even closer to kiss you; you kissed him back, looping your arms over his shoulders. He was smiling even bigger when you both broke away and he said, “You know, it’s just me closing tonight. You should stay after with me.”

“God, and do what?” you replied, but, despite yourself, you were growing more intrigued.

“Well, don’t you think the study rooms here are nice and cozy?” Jake questioned, still latching himself to your side as you started to put more books away. “There aren’t any cameras in any of them either. No one would know.”

You looked up at him from your crouched position, sliding a book into place. “Someone would know. Someone would find out somehow.” You were quickly finding even more perfectly good reasons in your mind not to do this, to not even really toy with the idea, but the more you thought about it, the more you thought, why not? Could the risk make it more fun? Even just the new, ill-fitting, sort of scandalous environment?

Besides, Jake really did look hot today. He looked hot every day, but the second you’d seen him after he’d come into work earlier, he’d lit a fire in your belly that was more intense than usual. His hair had the perfect level of slight messiness and the relaxed black button-down shirt was perhaps one or two buttons shy of being overtly inappropriate for work; the smooth tan skin of his chest exposed and acting as a lovely backdrop to the long silver chain dangling, the pendant hitting his sternum. You could imagine tugging on that chain, grasping the pendant in your palm, to pull him closer while he pressed you against one of those thick wooden tables. You’d run your fingers through his hair and kiss him in the frozen silence, and maybe no one would ever know after all.

“I can practically hear the wheels turning,” Jake remarked, tapping your forehead once you were standing again. “You know you want to.”

You let out an inadvertent nervous giggle and rolled your eyes. “Yes, I’m thinking about it.”

Jake stepped closer, pressing you back against the cart of books. “I’d love to hear some of those thoughts,” he said, putting his hands on your waist.

“You’re lucky it’s dead here today,” you said, keeping your voice a whisper despite the, indeed, dead library around you. You rested your arms over his shoulders, twisting a strand of his hair between your fingers; Jake just kept looking at you with that sweet, silently begging gaze until you giggled, relenting. “Okay. I was, um…thinking about you pushing me down on one of those big tables.”

Jake’s eyebrows rose. “What else?”

“Well…” you began, looking down at his dark jeans rubbing against your skirt. “You’re giving me some more ideas now.” You lifted one foot off the floor to rub your calf over his, the delicate material of your tights creating subtle but scintillating friction against his denim.

Jake ran the tip of his nose up your cheek and whispered in your ear, “Same here.”

Just as you were closing your eyes and allowing yourself to let your environment fall away around you, to forget about all the risk of being caught right there, and just as Jake’s hand was sliding down between your legs, a person’s incredibly soft–thanks to the clever carpeting job–footsteps headed your way yanked you right out of the moment.

Jake, too. He shot back and cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair and looked in the direction of the footsteps; you did too, and soon enough an older woman with her nose already in an open book trotted past the shelves.

“See?” you whispered, gesturing at the passer-by who was already out of view. “It’s so easy to get caught.”

“Please, that lady didn’t notice a thing. Alright,” Jake said before he stole one last hurried kiss. “I should let you keep doing your job and I should carry on with mine. But will you stay after with me tonight?”

You pursed your lips as you looked at him, considering, but it wasn’t long before you said, “Alright, Jake. I’ll stay after and we can play out your little fantasy.”

“It’s your fantasy too, baby doll,” Jake said with a wink before he half-turned, beginning to step away. “I think we’ve established that.”

There wasn’t a whole lot to keep your mind occupied as the afternoon carried on. The rain kept coming down, hammering hard against the roof and windows, and the sky outside was pure gray, all flat and blank. It reminded you of your first day working here, as a matter of fact–that morning in the previous late October, when autumn’s chill was officially in the air. A fine layer of frost had even been on the ground that morning; your shoes had crunched over it on the short walk to your car and you’d had to use your defroster once you turned the key, your anxiety peaking as you had to wait even longer to start the new job.

How could such a quiet, peaceful place encite so much anxiety anyway? You remembered wondering that very question as you walked over the sidewalk to the library entrance for the first time since being hired, the concrete slick with that morning frost and the beginnings of a gentle rainfall. And just when you’d been settling in and getting comfortable, Jake had showed up and introduced himself, all casual and easy like he didn’t know he was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen.

Thankfully, Jake was also the sweetest man you’d ever met. It didn’t take long before his beauty and charm stopped intimidating you and instead just made you feel all light and full of joy–you were simply happy to chat with him whenever you both could spare a few minutes. Those few minutes steadily turned into shared breaks; then, shared lunches where you’d sit out back on the one picnic table when the weather permitted. Then he started bringing you special treats sometimes, things he knew you liked because he actually listened about what you liked, and then after that he started bringing you whole lunches packed with love and care that you’d never experienced before.

So, after all that, was it really such a big deal to make love inside the place in which you fell in love?

None of your other coworkers even seemed to notice that you were staying later than planned this evening. But, just to be safe, you also made a point to hide out in the kid’s section when closing time crept up, busying yourself with cleaning up stray crayons and markers and then browsing through some of the newer picture book additions when you were done with that.

When you were sliding one picture book back onto the shelf and reaching for another, you noticed the part of the library beyond the kid’s section dim; you stood up and walked out into the main area, and there Jake was behind the checkout counters flipping switches.

“Despite almost always being the one to close,” he said, flipping another switch. “I still sometimes forget which lights actually get turned off and which ones stay on.”

A path of yellow light led the way past the checkout and reception, past the few rows of public use desktop computers. Jake held your hand as you both stepped through the library, your heartbeat speeding up a bit with nervous yet delightful anticipation; a few more steps and you were further into the very back of the library, just about there. Four study rooms were staggered just beyond the teen reading section, two on the left and two on the right with a wall of windows in between.

Jake opened the door to the last study room on the right. A large window was in there too, soaking in the deep sunset that was resting beyond the grass outside and the trees, and the mostly-bare branches of all the trees were throwing shadows across the library grounds. Then Jake flipped the light on, making it all disappear.

“Oh no,” you said, reaching behind him to flip it off again. “It’s sort of magical with the light off. Look at that sunset.”

Jake followed your gaze out the window to the wash of deep blue painted across the sky, nighttime so early in autumn that only a slight sliver of golden-orange remained just on the horizon. The rain had stopped a few minutes ago and had left a lingering mist on the ground, its faint haze trailing along just outside the windows–the whole scene was so much more peaceful than what was going on inside your head. You couldn’t shake the possibility of getting caught even though Jake was right about there being no cameras back here, and there was no one else around, not even any of the custodial staff, and not a soul out there in the fog. Just you and Jake in the little dark study room, his hand still warm around your own.

Your thoughts started to drift away, making space for your mind to comprehend the shadowed image of Jake before you as he gently turned you to face him. He smiled with the slightest bit of white teeth gleaming between his full lips, and you instinctively smiled back, pulled under his charm again. So, now effortlessly charmed and put at ease, you wrapped him in your arms and pulled him close, caressing his shoulder blade with one hand and the slight curve of his waist with the other as both of your smiles disappeared into a kiss.

“You were making me crazy all day,” he remarked between the kisses that accelerated with both of your lips parted and the wet meeting of tongues.

“Really? You kept it well-hidden.” Of course Jake did–you never doubted his affection and passion for you, but he kept everything so private. It was one of the many things you liked about him. You cupped the back of his head, sinking your fingers into his hair, scratching his scalp with your nails just the way he liked it, and kissed him again.

“God, your ass in this skirt,” Jake said, voice a little rough, and he reached down to grab you there. “The way your hips move.” He licked his bottom lip as he took a moment to just look at you, his eyes scanning your face. “So unbelievably pretty.”

You held the side of his face. “You are too, Jakey.” He really was, and even in the dark–perhaps especially in the dark, actually. The shadows enveloped him in even more mystery than normal, but you could still so plainly see the angles of his face and the smoothness of his skin in the faint, distant glow of the lingering sunset. Jake smiled at the sound of that little nickname coming from you, then disappeared as he pressed his lips to yours again and pushed you back against the table just like in your little fantasy.

You felt the warmth of his hand travel around your hip then slide down over your skirt; you kissed him harder and spread your legs a little wider when his fingers skated effortlessly up your thigh over your tights. Jake purred against your mouth as he traced the seam of those tights, and subsequently the crotch of your panties beneath, with one fingertip, and your own hands hurried down his body with much less grace to squeeze his ass and feel the hardness between his legs as reciprocity.

Before you could do much more than that, he was pushing your skirt up all the way with one hand and continuing to use the other to tease you. Your breath caught in your throat as you were finding yourself trying to stay silent despite the library being completely empty; Jake carried on with longer, deeper touches over the crotch of your panties and tights. The steady back and forth of his fingers over the two thin layers of fabric sent a delightful tingle of pleasure up your spine but you couldn’t forget his either–you kept that one hand of your own on his crotch too, gently squeezing his erection through his pants.

Jake huffed softly and kissed you again; you clutched his arm with your other hand, squeezing his bicep. Maybe other people didn’t mind getting caught–maybe there really was some sort of thrill to it. Maybe other people actually sometimes wanted others to witness their most intimate moments but you didn’t. You couldn’t imagine doing this with the lights on in the middle of the day, with the soft noises of people beyond the walls and the risk of someone catching a glimpse from opening the door or from outside the windows. You were perfectly happy with having Jake all to yourself in the shadowed little square study room, his skin so perfectly warm, his kiss so perfectly molded to yours.

“Was this part of your fantasy?” Jake questioned as he slowly sank to his knees, keeping your skirt bunched up over your hips with both hands now. But it was obvious what he was doing, so you took their place to keep it out of the way while his hands squeezed your thighs as he pressed his face between your legs.

The scant sharpness of his teeth over your crotch made you gasp. “Maybe,” you answered, thighs quivering against the table behind you.

“Oh, come on,” Jake beckoned, looking up at you with a sweet but slightly mischievous gaze, his eyebrows raised just enough to display teasing curiosity.

“Seems like you already know,” you replied, stifling a giggle at him struggling to get your tights down from beneath your skirt.

“I don’t know how you wear these things,” he remarked, which made you actually let out a laugh.

“Just rip them for fuck’s sake,” you instructed, eager now, already wet for him. “They’re not expensive.”

Jake didn’t hesitate. “If you insist,” he said as he grabbed a fistful of black nylon in each hand and ripped the tights right open, then quickly pulled your panties to the side next, giving you no time to think at all anymore. Whatever words your mind may have found merely turned to shaky breaths as you watched Jake’s face disappear between your legs again.

He gave a little hum just as he went straight in, the bridge of his nose rubbing up against your clit while he dove his tongue into your center like he really did want to eat up all the arousal that had been conjured up just for him. Your fingers found his hair again, knuckles curling to tug the long strands while your nails scratched his scalp again and he let out a little pleased sound, almost like a gratified laugh, and dug his own blunt nails into your inner thigh as he kept you spread open.

One word finally emerged from your lips–Jake’s name, simply spoken in a soft tone as the ministration of his tongue and lips had you squirming and quivering even harder, your heels digging into the carpet below as you slightly struggled to stay upright. The repeated flicks of tongue over your clit disappeared for a brief moment, then slowed to one long drag of his tongue over your center just to start that quick pace again. Sighs and whimpers were dragged out of you with each lick; when Jake slipped two fingers in, the slow but easy stretch made you tremble and clench your fingers into his hair even harder.

“You’re so tight,” he commented when he pulled back just enough for you to look down again and see your own wetness glistening on his lips and chin. You could feel it too, how much tighter you were clenching around his fingers as he gently thrust them and teased, curling them and now rubbing your clit with his thumb.

“You’re so good,” you told him breathlessly, closing your eyes again when the sensations had you arching your back. You hissed and bit your lip when Jake’s mouth found you again, his tongue teasing your clit more while he slid his fingers in deeper.

You had thought it would take more of a conscious effort to relax in this space and just let go, but it was easy, so easy–you just let your body respond to Jake with each tremble and moan and gasp and tug at his hair until your legs were outright shaking. Panting, the peak rising deep inside, you pulled him closer and he obliged, sucking on your clit as his fingers curled and gently tugged deep inside you too as if he was literally trying to pull you right to the edge you were already rapidly careening to.

His name from your lips once more wasn’t a soft little sigh; it was a sharp, long whine that seemed to boom in the little study room. Your ferocity surprised you even more when the overstimulation came on so soon and you yanked his head back with one hand and shoved him away with the other, your hand gripping his shoulder. Panting, eyes still shut, you could feel how much wetter you were with his saliva and the rush of your orgasm, the fluid soaking your panties that were pulled to the side and even the very inside of your thighs.

Jake pressing a kiss to your thigh made you look down but he was getting up on his feet now; your gaze followed the steady movement of his rise and then you were whisked away into blissful darkness again when he closed in and kissed you–close-lipped because he was so polite. But you parted yours and slid your tongue over his and gripped his waist tight for a moment before hastily getting those buttons on his shirt undone, fingers trailing all the way down to get his pants undone next.

He tentatively pushed you back onto the table a bit more so your feet were off the floor, legs still spread wide around him and dangling when he pulled his pants and underwear down just enough to reveal that heated hardness. His cock leaked just a bit as he stroked it once, looking at you, and a blip of that old insecurity born from adoration and fascination stroked your brain, because Jake was just so beautiful and his beauty was so much more stark in contrast to the plain white walls behind him.

“That was intense,” Jake said with a chuckle, leaning in to kiss you. You sighed against his lips as he slid the head of his cock all through your wet center, making a point to rub longer and harder over your clit. As he slid in, taking your breath away entirely, he sighed too and you watched his shoulders drop and his chest flush and he asked, so casually, “Is your fantasy being fulfilled?”

Even with the impact of Jake’s cock filling you so perfectly, you had to laugh. “You're a fantasy, Jake,” you told him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to bring him closer, to make the head of his cock hit so deep inside you that you gasped again as if you weren’t expecting the feeling. “What about–” You had to pause when Jake gave his first thrust. “What about your fantasy? This was all your idea.”

“It was a shared idea,” he reminded you with the cutest little smile. How could anyone be so sexy and adorable at the same time, especially during the actual act of sex, especially when that sex was taking place inside a public library? But he was, and you kept your eyes on him as he steadily sped up with his hips and his hands explored your body over your clothes, one squeezing your breast through your shirt and the other smoothing down your waist, your hip, traveling around your thigh.

“Oh god,” you chirped when Jake’s fingers made contact with your still-sensitive clit; but he was gentle, clearly deliberately being slow with the little circles he was making. With your arms still a loop around his shoulders, you sank your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and held him there for a minute before the soft pink of his chest became too tempting not to touch.

“Fuck yeah, that feels amazing,” Jake said in that deliciously hazy, husky voice after you slipped your hands past his open shirt to toy with his nipples. Bringing more attention to him put your lingering overstimulation in the background–you continued to tease with one hand while the other skated over the other side of his chest, feeling his warm, soft skin, up to his neck. You caressed him there, your fingers lightly touching the tender skin along his throat and then up to his ear, and Jake moaned softly and tilted his head to try and get more contact.

That was fine by you. You lightly scratched behind his ear like he was a cat and he sort of purred like one anyway, making you giggle; Jake giggled too and surged forward, picking up his pace as he whisked you away with another series of kisses that were deep but just sloppy enough for your mutual moans to be voiced.

But, also to your surprise, Jake began to voice more thoughts between increasingly ragged breaths: “Remember when we first met?” he asked, his fingers over your clit sliding down to get slick again from your own arousal. “That was–fuck, that was such a good day.”

“It was,” you agreed, playing with one of his earrings as your other hand squeezed his pec. “I’m lucky I even got the job here. For a lot of reasons.” You stole another lingering kiss before adding, “You’re the biggest reason.”

Jake smiled. The sunset that had been just barely clinging to life when you’d both began was gone now–the only illumination was coming from a parking lot light that was too far away from the windows to see, but the pale yellow glow was scant enough to see that alluring, mystical beauty that your boyfriend possessed. Just looking at his face was enough to make you come again.

But Jake’s skilled fingers and the heat, weight and stretch of his cock still thrusting into you certainly helped. You buried your face against his neck now that you had access to all of him; a thick sob was muffled as you tightened and spasmed around him, and you heard him let out a quiet “wow” as the second orgasm rolled through you.

His fingers on your clit, thankfully, moved away. He gripped your thigh again instead; his pace was now messy and fierce, and you had to fight to stay in place not only from the harsh movements and how the table you were sitting on was skidding a bit across the floor, but also from that second round of intense bodily excitement.

“God,” you huffed, stifling another laugh. Apparently it didn't matter where you were–if you were with Jake, he just gave you the giggles. “You’re really going for it.”

Jake cradled the back of your head, messing with your hair a bit. “And I’m–hmm–almost there.”

You kissed him softly and sweetly, from his collarbone and up his neck to his ear. “Good boy,” you whispered there, giving his ear a nibble. Jake moaned wordlessly in response and gave one last deep, solid thrust that jostled you backwards and made the table creak, then he went slack over you, his whole upper body all loose and so hot that warmth was radiating through his shirt.

When Jake lifted his head, you leaned back and waved the back of your hand over your forehead with a silly “whew” motion; Jake laughed and nodded, then slowly pulled out. He collapsed forward again, resting his head on your chest, and you wrapped your arms around him once more.

“Well, we’ve done it once. Do we ever need to do it again?” you asked, petting his back.

“Like, um, sex?” Jake asked, mumbling against your chest. “Or sex in the library?”

“In the library, duh,” you said with a chuckle, and kissed him when he lifted himself up and looked at you.

“Where else should we do it?” Jake replied, his tone and little smile making it obvious he was kidding–finally. You were glad to have played out this little fantasy and do something new and a little risky, but you’d be even more glad to just go back to the way things were. Nothing wrong with a classic.

“Our bed, definitely,” you said, and Jake smiled and nodded again; you began working on buttoning up his shirt. “Our couch. The floor. Maybe the shower.”

“Maybe?”

“Last time we tried the shower, you nearly cracked your head open,” you reminded him, lifting a hand to cup his jaw. “And nearly broke your perfect teeth.”

Jake’s smile grew wider. “That would be terrible, wouldn’t it?”

“I’d never forgive that stupid shower.”

Jake patted his hands from your shoulders down the length of your body, stopping at your ankles. “Well, babe, we’re both in one piece now, aren’t we? Time to close up?”

“Definitely. The custodians are probably going to be here any minute.”

“Oh my.” Jake held your hand to bring you off the table. “That would have been quite the show for them.”

“No more shows,” you said as you both put the finishing touches on getting yourselves decent before Jake opened the door. “I should be the only one looking at you when we fuck.”

---

If you'd like to be tagged in any of my fics, you can let me know here or DM me :)

Tagging: @kissingsun @starbuggie @lightsofthe-living-gvf @sanguinebats @gvfrry @milojames16 @mindastreamofcolours @wetkleenex-gvf @itsafullmoon @heckingfrick @peaceloveunitygvf @musicspeaks @clairesjointshurt @bizzielisteningtogreta

#cumsluts only #in honor of my old gvf mutuals RIP #Jake kiszka #Jake gvf #Jake kiszka x reader #gvf #greta van fleet #gvf fanfiction #Jake fic #gvf smut

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obsessedwhyyes · 4 months ago

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The Art of Not Admitting a Thing (1/2)

Summary: You can't help but notice that Gale and Astarion have been acting... differently towards one another lately. Perhaps it's time to investigate!

Alternatively: one simple question leads to some big thoughts!

Rating: T Word Count: 1177 Pairing: Astarion x Gale Content: First Person Gale POV, interview format, mutual pining, yearning, denial of feelings, character study, Gale is bad at feelings, fluff, a teensy bit of angst but not much!

A/N: So here we have my first ever Bloodweave! I am both exceedingly nervous, and very excited about it. I've had ideas in mind for Bloodweave for months, but actually writing these ideas and sending them off into the big, wide world has been a rather intimidating affair. But we're finally doing it! And what better way for me to dip my toe into Bloodweave waters than by being incredibly predictable and writing yet another first person fic?

Chapter 1: "What do you think of Astarion?"

What do I think of Astarion? Well, that's a rather loaded question, is it not? Not that I don't have an answer, of course. No, quite the opposite, actually. I have too many answers, all vying for precedence. Because, you see, Astarion is not the sort of person one can sum up in a single sentiment. He is… how shall I put this? He is an equation with variables that simply refuse to behave. Utterly unsolvable.

Come now, don't look at me like that.

It’s just that Astarion is - well, to put it plainly - a lot. A relentless force of nature wrapped in silk and a layer of his own smugness. He walks into a room and suddenly you're aware of him. No, not just aware - attuned. It's all deliberate, of course. All part of the performance.

Yet, somehow, despite knowing it's all a performance, I still find myself watching.

And it's not just his presence. He's also clever, which is, dare I say, the most irritating thing about him. Not just sharp-witted, but… strategic. He understands people, knows exactly where to sink his teeth. Not just the literal ones - though those certainly warrant consideration - but also the more subtle. A smile, a look, a well-placed word. He plays people like instruments, plucking their strings just so, and I… Well, I have spent a great deal of time telling myself that I, of all people, should be immune to such things.

Alas, I am not immune.

Which, of course, presents something of a metaphysical conundrum. Feelings, after all, are best understood when dissected. Laid bare and examined like lines in an ancient tome. One does not simply experience something without questioning its nature, its source, its… implications. No, the wise approach - the rational approach - is to study it with the same rigour that one would apply to any magical phenomenon. To categorise it, to determine whether it is genuine or merely some arcane anomaly. A peculiar resonance of the heart, if you will.

And so, in pursuit of intellectual honesty, I find myself studying Astarion with perhaps more dedication than strictly necessary. Any lingering thoughts are purely academic, I assure you. Elminster once told me that understanding the world means understanding its people, and what is Astarion if not a mystery to be unravelled? The way he moves, the way he speaks, the way he wields his beauty like a blade.

… Yes, he is beautiful, but that is besides the point. The point is–

…

I've lost the point.

That's what he does to me, you know. He derails my thoughts. I'm speaking perfectly rationally one moment, and the next, I'm somewhere else entirely, wondering if that grace comes naturally to him. If, behind closed doors, he rehearses those cutting remarks, those honeyed words.

Of course, I’m hardly special in that regard. I’ve seen him turn those honeyed words on just about everyone. He gives people what they want with such artful sincerity that they can’t help but believe him. He doesn’t mean it - not truly. And I would be a fool to imagine I’m any different. The world is his stage, and he is quite the performer.

And yet…

There are things about him. Real things. Beneath those rakish charms. I see them sometimes, in the quiet moments, when he doesn't realise anyone's watching. A weariness. A wariness. He's always aware, it seems. Of every room he walks into, of every person in it, of where the exits are. I recognise that sort of awareness. It's the kind you learn when you have been made someone's pawn for too long. When you've spent years convincing yourself that you're the one holding the strings, only to realise the strings are wrapped around your throat.

It unsettles me.

Dare I say, it even hurts me.

Not that I would ever say so. I doubt he would ever want to hear it. I doubt he would believe it.

And, anyway, it's not as if–

Not as if what?

No, truly, what was I about to say? That it's not as if I care? That would be a lie. That it's not as if I think about him more than I should? That would be another.

Perhaps I should stop talking.

…

You know, there was a time where I thought myself above this sort of thing. I thought I understood love completely. How could I not? I had experienced love in its most divine form - quite literally, in fact. My devotion to Mystra is… was… something transcendent. Something cosmic. I thought that was all love could be. All it should be. That anything less would be settling for a pale imitation of true devotion.

But lately, I find myself wondering if perhaps I’ve been rather short-sighted about the whole thing. Mystra herself appears in many forms; adapts to what her followers need. Perhaps love is similar - not always a grand, cosmic force that reshapes reality, but something more… subtle? The way a person looks at you when they think you aren't watching. The way their voice changes when you say their name. The way they make you feel like you are something more than what you were before.

But if I did feel something - hypothetically, of course - it would hardly matter. Because what could I possibly offer him? A man who’s spent centuries under the control of another, only to find himself finally tasting freedom… What could he possibly want with someone like me? A wizard with borrowed time, carrying within him a responsibility so great that I am expected - destined - to lay down my life for it?

I’ve seen the fire in his eyes when faced with that which threatens to cage him. That fierce, burning defiance - the look of a man who has faced centuries of servitude and vowed never to be chained again. And what would I be, if not another form of binding? Another tragedy waiting to unfold? No. No, I wouldn’t blame him if he wanted nothing to do with such complications.

And yet… sometimes, I wonder.

If things were different - if I were different… If my fate weren’t already destined to end in sacrifice, would he look at me differently?

If he did - and that’s a big “if” - would I be so willing to accept that fate? To willingly embrace my end, if it meant never knowing what this - what we - might have become?

I was so sure the answer was simple. But then he looks at me, and for just a moment, I feel something I thought was long beyond my grasp. A foolish, reckless thing. It makes me hesitate.

And hesitation, well… that’s dangerous, isn’t it?

But stranger things have happened.

… Perhaps I have rather a lot to think about.

But I believe I’ve taken up quite enough of your time with these philosophical meanderings. No doubt you have better things to do than listen to a wizard ramble about matters of the heart. Besides, I have some rather important reading waiting for me. Something about… well, anything other than this conversation, really.

Masterlist can be found here!

No Pressure Tags: @roguishcat, @davenswitcher, @silverfangmarks, @sparrowbard, @chonkercatto, @stokzr , @trafalgarussy , @asterordinary , @bite-me-tonight , @transparentkittenheart , @vividiana (thank you for being so supportive with this one <3), @bg3-fanfic-reblogs

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dont-offend-the-bees · 11 months ago

Text

I Got Sunshine in a Bag

Something else a bit different today! I had a different fic idea, but when I started writing it it was already becoming a bit long and involved and tbh, I had such a busy/painy week last week that I really had to cut back on the fic time! So I whipped this one together in my phone notes app instead, short 'n sweet. It's audio script format-ish, which is something I like to play with sometimes. Very much skimping on the detail/sound design though as I really just wanted focus on the dialogue and get something out today! 1.2, T-rated, also available on Ao3. Thanks again, @painlandweek!

Silence. A hollow, echoing emptiness, broken by slow, deliberate breathing. Then, muffled as if from the other side of a wall, a voice:

EDWIN: Charles?

Beat.

EDWIN: Charles, where are you?

Another beat. Then, a clearer voice, hoarse and weary:

CHARLES: In here.

EDWIN: ... Oh. In the…?

CHARLES: Yeah.

EDWIN: I see.

Beat.

EDWIN: May I… come in?”

CHARLES: ...Yeah.

EDWIN: Right.

Fabric rustles.

EDWIN: Ah, if you wouldn’t mind…?

CHARLES: Oh, yeah, yeah. Here. Grab my hand.

Leather squeaks against leather. More rustling, and some slight huffing. The barrier breaks, and Edwin's voice returns clear and close.

EDWIN: Thank you. Hm. Have you redecorated?

CHARLES: Shoved some stuff around.

EDWIN: It’s very… homely.

CHARLES: (chuckles) Cheers.

Silence again, this time with two sets of breathing. Then, the slight creak of a weight sinking down onto leather cushions.

EDWIN: Charles. Are you… alright? You disappeared in quite a hurry.

CHARLES: 'M fine.

EDWIN: ...

CHARLES: Stop lookin’ at me like that.

EDWIN: Like what?

CHARLES: Like... (laughs) Like you can see right through me.

EDWIN: (lightly) I’ve no idea what you mean.

CHARLES: Right.

Beat.

CHARLES: I… I panicked. A bit.

EDWIN: Whatever for?

Beat.

CHARLES: ... You ever have to say something, or like, wanna say something, yeah, but… but you know once you say it, things’ll be different, and it’s fucking terrifying so instead you just… don’t?

EDWIN: I am… familiar with that anxiety, yes. But if there’s something you want to say to me, Charles, I promise I’ll do my utmost to take it in good faith. You need not fear repercussions. I don’t imagine there’s much you could tell me that would change my opinion of you.

CHARLES: I know. I don’t — I don’t even think things'll be bad different. If anything they’ll be good different. Great different. I’m just a proper coward.

Edwin tuts.

EDWIN: Charles. You are a great many things, but a coward is not one of them.

Charles chuckles, quietly. Edwin follows suit.

EDWIN: Hm. Now. Will you say what you wish to say?

Leather creaks, fabric rustles.

CHARLES: Edwin?

EDWIN: Yes, Charles?

CHARLES: You know I… I love you. Yeah?

EDWIN: What a question. Yes, Charles. I know that you love me. I’ve about thirty years of anecdotal evidence to the fact.

CHARLES: No — I mean, yeah, but what I'm tryna say is…

EDWIN: ?

CHARLES: You know I’m… I’m in love with you. Yeah?

Beat.

EDWIN: ...Oh.

CHARLES: Mm.

EDWIN: That is… a revelation.

CHARLES: News to me too, mate.

EDWIN: How long have you…?

CHARLES: Known? Not long. Week or so. How long have I loved you? Fuck, I don’t even… now that I know it’s there, it. It feels like it’s always been there. Know what I mean?

EDWIN: ... Yes. Yes, Charles. I most assuredly do.

Beat. Charles laughs, breathless.

CHARLES: Bloody hell. This is terrifying. How’d you just come out with this, when you thought of it?

EDWIN: There was some deliberation, believe it or not. I didn’t just declare my undying love to you on a whim.

CHARLES: Oh, so you planned it for the run from Hell, then?

EDWIN: There may have been some… last minute amendments to the plan. An element of improvisation, perhaps, when things seemed dire. One must adapt to changing circumstances. But there was a plan. I even dressed for the occasion, if you recall.

CHARLES: Wait. You got all dressed up for me?

EDWIN: Yes. Certainly took you long enough to notice.

CHARLES: Fuck. You were gonna tell me, weren't you? Before...

EDWIN: Before we were interrupted? Yes. And then I had no idea we would both make it out in one piece, and I... had to speak off the cuff.

CHARLES: (laughs) You’re proper mad. And just… just brave. Never met no one as brave as you, Eds.

EDWIN: (softly) Nor I you.

CHARLES: Pfft. Had to scurry off into a little hidey hole and have a panic before I even got up the guts to tell you.

EDWIN: But you did tell me.

CHARLES: ... Yeah. (laughs) Yeah, s’pose I did, didn’t I?

EDWIN: Charles?

CHARLES: Yeah?

EDWIN: May I kiss you, now?

CHARLES: Oh, Christ, yeah.

Kissing sounds, soft, tentative. Then a break, mutual heavy breathing.

EDWIN: ...Well.

CHARLES: Wow.

EDWIN: I’ve… wanted to do that for quite some time.

CHARLES: Me too. And I had no sodding idea. (laughs) How thick can you get?

EDWIN: Do stop being self-deprecating and kiss me again.

CHARLES: Now that, I can do.

Kissing again, louder, more intent.

EDWIN: Mmm…

CHARLES: God. (kiss) I love you. (kiss) I love you. (laughs) I fucking love you!

EDWIN: You don’t have to keep saying it.

CHARLES: Say it as many times as I bloody like, mate. ‘Specially if you keep grinning at me like that.

EDWIN: (chuckles) You’ve rather shown me up. I’ve only said it once, so far.

CHARLES: Got some catching up to do then, don’t you?

EDWIN: Mmm. (kiss) I love you.

CHARLES: Yeah? Still?

Beat.

EDWIN: (sarcastically)... No, Charles. I loved you for thirty years but I got bored of waiting for you to say it back after six months(!) Yes, I still bloody love you.

CHARLES: Just checking. Give us another kiss?

EDWIN: Well. If you insist.

More kissing, rustling fabric. Leather creaking, soft sighs.

EDWIN: Hm… Charles?

CHARLES: (dazed) Yeah, love?

EDWIN: Something’s, ah… something appears to be prodding me in the stomach...

CHARLES: What? Um… Oh! (chuckles) Forgot I had that.

A loud cascade of rattles.

CHARLES: ... What? (laughs) Don’t mean I’m not happy to see you.

EDWIN: Why on Earth do you have… what looks to be an authentic Aboriginal rainstick on your sofa?

CHARLES: Well. Never know when you might need one, do you?

Another chorus of rattles and a hollow wooden thump.

EDWIN: Naturally. Come to think of it, how did you even get this sofa in here?

CHARLES: It’s one of them flatpack types. Put the bits in, assembled it in here. Pretty straightforward.

EDWIN: Yes, but more to the point: why?

CHARLES: So I can… have panic attacks and snog fit boys on it?

EDWIN: Bring many fit boys back here, do you?

CHARLES: Nah. (quick kiss) Saving it for the best.

EDWIN: (dryly) How romantic.

CHARLES: Take you somewhere bit nicer for the second date. Promise.

EDWIN: Oh, it wasn't a complaint. Who wouldn’t wish to have a romantic tryst in a backpack?

CHARLES: Magic backpack. C’mon, now, be fair.

EDWIN: Very well, in a magic backpack.

CHARLES: I could do it up a bit more. Get some nice candles.

EDWIN: Lit candles? Is that wise?

CHARLES: Well, I’ve already got some lit molotov cocktails stashed over there somewhere.

Beat.

CHARLES: What? They don’t go off or anything. Time doesn’t really work the same in here. Saves me having to light ‘em in a hurry, don’t it?

EDWIN: Next you’ll be telling me you have them stored next to the gunpowder.

CHARLES: ...

EDWIN: Charles.

CHARLES: Demolition section, innit?

EDWIN: Charles.

CHARLES: (chuckles) Alright, alright. I’ll do a re-shuffle.

EDWIN: Thank you. Hm…

CHARLES: What? (fondly) You’ve got your scheming face on.

EDWIN: I was merely thinking a throw pillow or two might brighten this place up nicely.

CHARLES: Making yourself at home, are you?

EDWIN: Objections?

CHARLES: Nope.

EDWIN: Good. Now, I know we haven’t a floor so much as a nebulous, void-like expanse, but how do you feel about area rugs?

CHARLES: (laughs) Fuck. C'mere, you.

Kissing, gentle sighs and soft giggles fill the echoing expanse of the pocket dimension.

Thank you so much for reading, do drop in and say hi in the reblogs/replies, I really love hearing from you! 💛 Should be a fic tomorrow that I'm pretty emo about, but it needs a little sprucing up first! Painland Week Prompt List

#painlandweek #painland week #payneland #dead boy detectives #dbda #my fanfic #y'all i feel SO weird atm #like not painy anymore but kinda foggy/light in the head #i probably just overheated a bit yesterday or i'm getting a bug #but yeah feeling a tad strange #still think i'll probs get tomorrow's fic finished #dunno if i'll have anything for day 5/6 though

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callme-holly · 5 months ago

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Hi! I love your work so so much omg it's so beautiful 💕 Could you do a Dallas x reader where Dallas is in the reader's room for the first time? And the reader has lots of vinyls and is showing them all to him and lots of books and poster and is just rambling about everything in their room. Just something cute yk. Thank you!!! 💕💕

𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐢 [𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

a/n: somehow writing dallas fics is comforting to me

If there was one place that represented you as a person, a single space that captured your entire personality, it would be your room. It was one of the only places that you truly felt like yourself, like you were exactly where you belonged. Your walls were adorned with posters, all displaying the things you loved most, shelves covering the wall opposite your bed, covered with books of different sizes, each one well-loved and cared for. Atop your dresser sat a small record player, a stack of vinyls beside it, one spinning under the needle, eliciting a crisp melody that drifted throughout the space.

Everything, every single thing in that room, held meaning, reflected you as a person, and Dallas had never felt more out of place in all his life. He was propped up against your headboard, watching you fondly as you bustled around the room, pointing all the little things out to him, showing him your newest vinyl like it was a prized trophy you held close to your heart.

He’d never really understood your interests; he didn’t get what was so special about records when you had the radio, and he certainly didn’t understand books. He’d only read one in his entire life, and he vowed to never read another after the entire gang had ribbed him for it. But right now, watching the way your whole face lit up as you spoke, he decided that listening to you ramble wasn’t so bad.

With a tentative, almost lazy gesture of his hand, he reached out for the vinyl you were holding, taking it from you and examining it carefully. He was barely registering the words that left your mouth as he read over the front and back, humming absently.

“It’s real nice,” he acknowledges after a moment, unable to contain his smirk as he watched you take it back and set it gently on the pile once more. “They don’t have feelings, ya know. You ain’t gotta pamper them and be all soft with them. They're records."

The look you gave him in response was the same as if he would have slapped you around the face. Shocked, horrified, and slightly hurt. "They're fragile, Dal. What if they broke?" do

He rolls his eyes but holds his arms out for you nonetheless, hating the thought of you being upset because of him. He winds his arms around your middle, pulling you into his lap, hands resting on your hips steadily.

"They're fine," he assures you, pressing a kiss to your jaw. "What else do you got to show me?"

You smile widely at that, settling comfortably on his chest and letting out a long sigh of contentment. "Well... I got a new book... And I put up some new posters." You continue to talk for a few minutes, your world not really registering in Dallas' head, but he just likes listening to you speak, loves the way you relax. Without really thinking, he leans in and cuts you off with a kiss, smirking when you stare at him stunned for a moment.

"What was that for?" You huff, raising your eyebrows pointendly, earning a shrug from him.

"Dunno. You just looked real pretty, doll. Couldn't not kiss ya." His words cause your cheeks to flush, and you bury your face in the crook of his neck, your breath warm against his skin.

"Don't be an idiot."

"wasn't trying to be," he hums, and you can hear the cocky lilt in his voice, his smugness shining through like the last rays of sun currently shining through the cracks in your blinds. "Just stating the facts."

You shake your head fondly and snuggle closer, enjoying the feel of his body heat against yours, his lips pressed softly to your hairline.

"Idiot..." you breathe, glancing up at him through your lashes.

"You love me." he responds easily, and as much as you want to deny it just to keep his ego in check, you find that you can't, and instead melt against him like putty.

"Yeah... I do."

#the outsiders x reader #darry curtis imagine #darry curtis headcanons #darry curtis x reader #darrel curtis x reader #dallas winston x reader #dally winston x reader #dallas winston imagine #steve randle x reader #johnny cade x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #soda curtis x reader #sodapop x reader #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #pony curtis x reader #two bit matthews x reader #two bit x reader #two bit mathews x reader

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sleepyeepyp3rson · 6 months ago

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tf141 as Hozier songs !! (x female!reader section in each)

an: used to so this with hazbin hotel characters, this was my og format before i started writing fics, decided to go back to it!! also shout out my poor best friend who had do read the spam texts of me explaining which song goes with with each character

hope this keeps yall fed until tf141!wwe au pt 2 drops :33

tw: vauge mentions of (soap's) death, canon typical mentions of violence, small references to ghosts childhood abuse, price in the gulag, religion/religious doubt, and civilian death

(masterlist)

John Price

If I ever say Too Sweet isn't Price, I want you to shoot me because THATS NOT ME!!!!

This song is him in every aspect. He's not a "good man," he knows that. He's committed atrocities, and done things no one else has the guts to do, and he does it all in the shadows.

He'd corrupt anything sweet he put his hands on. He has his boys, sure, but they're not sweet. And that's what's best for him.

He's fine where he is. Captain John Price. He doesn't need some sweet thing, it'd be bad for his health anyway.

He's watching his sugar intake.

(x reader section)

He's scared, honestly. And John Price is not a scared man. Not in the gulag, not facing down Shepherd, not staring down the barrel of a gun. He makes other people scared. He is the boogeyman. There's no way some sweet thing can make him scared.

But you do.

He thinks that at any moment, he'll break you. He knows how to nurture skill, he did it with Gaz, but he doesn't know how to be gentle. Not anymore. He tries though. Tries softening his harsh edges, makes two cups of coffee instead of one, apologizes when he's too blunt with you, tries his best to keep Captain and John separate.

He messes up sometimes, slips into commanding officer mode when you drop glasses or mess something up, but he doesn't mean to. He cups your face when you cry, tries to make it better. Just let him fix it. He can fix it, he always does.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

He gets two whole songs! (Price is my favorite but these fit a little too well for me to pick one.)

Simon's a soldier first. Hardened by the years, mean, rough, with blood stained scarred hands. He chose the military not because he was attached to his country or from a sense of loyalty, but because it was this or nothing.

He is what his father made him. A rabid dog, and given the chance, he'll tear men to bone.

His only other job was a butcher. He was made to draw blood. Made to be this Ghost, this horrid thing that haunts the nightmares of anyone unfortunate enough to hear the stories. He would retire if he could. But he can't. This is it. There is no Simon, only Ghost.

Even when the mask comes off, and he stares into the mirror, the scars covering his skin keep him there. Trap him in his own web.

He is a soldier, but he is nobody's. He's just Ghost. Livin' the dream.

(Jackie and Wilson, x reader section)

He finds you in a bar. Or, more likely, Soap finds you and won't stop talking his ear off about "That bonnie lass in the corner, just look at 'er, Lt." And through grumbles, he turns his head and-

He stops short. Guess Johnny knew him better than he thought, if he knew his type that well. And behind the very, very intense stare he's giving you, he's thinking about the future already. Maybe kids, name them Jackie and Wilson, go on coffee dates or whatever it is a bird like you likes. He'll learn.

He'll bury his mask if you ask. With his childhood bear in the backyard. Deep, deep in the mud and dirt, where he can finally keep the Ghost down and be Simon.

This world certainly isn't for him. He never got to feel like a kid, but this sudden crush has him feeling childish.

Johnny snaps his fingers in his face. "Aye! You're scarin' the lass! Stop staring."

He huffs, the smoke of his cigarette blowing out. He puts it out, and by the time he looks up, you disappeared. More of a ghost than him.

John "Soap" MacTavish

This is mostly x reader, but also also! thought the song fit his general attitude and death (HE WASN'T IN THAT URN)

He's used to working on empty. Chugging through missions and fighting his way through Hell to get back to a base with mediocre food. He likes it though. The rush of explosions, the quick decisions and actions, his team. He likes it.

But good Lord, his Mam will kill him for this. An early death is what she warned him of when he left home, with a wary pat on his cheek and a prayer.

Where is his mother's God now? Where is He as Johnny lies on the ground, the splitting pain in his head, the bullet under his skin making his vision blurry?

He sees no God. He only sees Simon, leaning over him.

He won't die. He can't. He crawls right back to his team everytime. He'll crawl home to them.

(x reader section)

You save him. Through hushed curses and Simon looming over you. You removed the bullet from his head before he could be lost.

He thinks you might be an angel, through the fever. The combat medic who saved him, the one person who could reach him in time, sent down from heaven.

He knows you've seen your fare share. He knows you don't care about what he's done, he knows you've seen the explosions and bombs and guns and came right back to your post everytime. You're just like him.

He tries to court you. To show his unending devotion. It doesn't work out well, but maybe he shouldn't have followed Simon's advice.

But one day, while he's lingering by you while you're trying to patch someone up (definitely breaking a few rules,) you take one look at him, sigh, reach in your pocket for your pen, and you write down your number on his hand.

He beams, leans down and gives you a peck on the cheek and leaves.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Gaz!!!! He gets arguably my favorite Hozier song because I LOVE HIM AWOOO AWOOOOO

Whenever he gets the adrenaline rush of battle, he feels like he's floating.

When he was in the SAS, he got that feeling often. The rush before the jump, the air wooshing around him, knowing he was doing something good. He was doing the right thing.

He's doing the right thing now too, but sometimes he doubts. Seeing his friends shoot bystanders alarms the morals floating around in the back of his head, makes him want to jump in between the barrel of the gun and the enemies and keep the peace.

But he can't. This is the right thing. They have to do the dirty work, right? The things no one else will do falls on them. Of course it's not pretty.

He takes a deep breath, and he jumps out of the heli. He falls, yet he feels like he's floating up, like the world is falling away from him.

(x reader section)

He'd do anything to keep you from falling away from him. He knows what the world is like, he knows what he's done, and while he knows there is good, he knows the bad is tenfold. He needs to keep you safe from all of it. To keep this floating feeling in his palms before it slips away.

He comes home from missions ragged, and you soothe.

And in your arms, he is weightless again. He has his wings, he's got the adrenaline he lost long ago back, he is in love.

And he finds himself craving that always. So much so, that on base between one mission and another, he's ranting about you to Price. "--everything to me. Always has been, since I saw 'er, Captain. Has me feeling lighter than a feather."

"Maybe you should get on with it and marry her then."

And that alone has him buying a ring the next day. His Captain knows best, after all.

#Spotify #tf 141 x reader #cod x reader #john price x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader

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luxfuxxvii · 1 month ago

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my theories on Bilbo Baggins - Post Quest

why is Bilbo's house a mess????? im 90% certain that it was not normally so messy???? at least not back then??????? WHATS THE REASON???? well i have a few theories (ignore the fact that i should be watching instead of making this post)

excuse me while i get to the third chapter, I have to double check this shit before i share any theories. [this is where I start progressing in the movie]

okay the doorway isnt.

ITS NOT!!!!

DOUBLE CONFIRMED ITS NOT!!!!

Okay so in An Unexpected Journey, we start the story with Bilbo as an old man, the day of his 111st birthday. Idk if you guys can see, or have noticed, but his house is a right mess. There's cheese dropped on the carpet, crumbs on the floor, papers everywhere (like me too Bilbo, i know thats a writer thing, but it just needs to be mentioned in order to further the argument), countless books stacked high instead of actually put away, dirty dishes, mail hes ignoring, etc. Now, if you get further into the movie where the dwarves are all coming in, you'll see that it didn't USED to be so unkempt. In fact it was relatively neat.

So why isn't it tidy post-quest???? well. well. my friends. my theories, that I've decided are all true, include:

1. old age. he got old. it hurts to clean. yeah that'll do it. pick a joint, pick a bone, pick any set of tendons, theyre going to hurt.

2. the ring definitely made him less aware, less mindful. it takes up all his time by fucking with his mind and worsening his-

3. GRIEF!!!!! HOLY SHIT THE GRIEF!!!!!! Guys, his house was ransacked at the end of the quest. Y'know what that means???? All evidence of the dwarves is gone. All of it. The furniture wasn't in the same spots as they were the night the dwarves came. And if you're a rearranging adhder you know for a fact that the placement of your furniture holds memories. THIS POOR MAN HAS NOTHING LEFT OF THEM ASIDE FROM ahem I digress. he is simply too sad to keep track of his home like he used to. he does not have the energy, the will- he has all the time in the world but he needs that to be spent on something else, anything else.

4. this. this. you guys. this also leads into grief. yknow how the dwarves completely obliterated the state of his home???? "mud trod on the carpet, they've pillaged the pantry, im not even gonna tell you what they've done to the bathroom, theyve all but destroyed the plumbing. I dont understand what they're doing in my house!" so basically. the only thing. the only thing he has left of them. is the mess. thats it. thats all. just the mess. AHHHHHHHHH-

5. he is definitely not the same hobbit as the one who left the shire. i think maybe in the aftermath, after finally returning home, he adopted many traits of the company in order to preserve their memory. this is a very real thing guys. you lose someone, and you pick up the habits you most remember them by. thats just how grief works. it is a subconscious thing that you cant always control, at least not without help. dont get me wrong, hes still very obviously a hobbit, but you dont come out of a year long adventure in the company of 13 rowdy dwarves unchanged.

6. this could actually be what Frodo was referring to when he said that "You know, people are beginning to wonder about you, uncle. They think youre becoming ... odd." "Odd?" "Unsociable." the state of his house COULD just be that he is withdrawing from Frodo, from neighbors, from friends, etc. his mind is a thousand miles away, thinking of a distant mountain-- certainly hes not worried about the state of his kitchen when he could be going BACK.

this all basically narrows down to Bilbo's grief. but I just had to point it out.

Personally, I'm never going to use this information in my fics because i believe in HAPPY endings, thank you very much. however, this NEEDS to be shared with the people who are braver than me and are actually willing to write something so gut wrenchingly depressing.

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thetriggeredhappy · 7 months ago

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I know we’re on spoiler lock down and you can respond at your pace but OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD THIS IS HANDS DOWN THE BEST BIRTHDAY GIFT IVE EVER GOTTEN! HOW IS THIS GOING TO EFFECT YOUR TAKING SHOTS CANON? ARE YOU GOING TO BE WRITING OTHER FICS IN LINE WITH THE FINALE CANON NOW???? Oh my god HOW ARE YOU FEELING?????

yeah i know right! this does mean i’m going to need to go back and edit taking shots a bit to be more canon-compliant, here’s some of my initial notes on it:

fixing scout’s last name to reflect “willis”.

fixing spy’s first and last name to reflect “eugene hinkle”.

adjusting to make room in dialogue for scout being definitively a brunette, as we saw near the end.

a few tweaks to better fill in the implications the comics seem to have for how the respawn system works.

in the same shot we saw the photo of scout and his mom, opposite that we see a picture that i believe is of scout and a doggy—i’ll need to add that into the story somewhere, maybe from his brothers telling a story or something similar.

already word on the street is that some of his kids seem close enough in age to probably be twins, which actually does imply that it’s likely some of his brothers are twins! this is good, but i should really lean in more—maybe more of his nieces are twins?

”willis” is an english name, so i’ll need to slightly adjust some backstory to make them english-catholic or perhaps protestant, not irish-catholic.

obviously i’ll need to adjust to include the address of the house and a better approximate location, as well as adjust all timings mentioned to account for the correct distance and travel times.

scout seems to be big on rushing into marriages, so i’ll most likely need to rework the fic slightly to include a proposal within the first chapter or two.

since sniper knows how to fly a plane, it makes sense that they would probably just fly to boston rather than road-tripping, which means i’ll need to edit out most instances of driving that sniper does.

obviously, spy hadn’t come clean about being scout’s father, so i imagine that he probably never will, and instead that entire storyline will pivot, instead being about something else, perhaps that spy wants to romance and marry his ma, who he met some five or six years previously.

since there is apparently some kind of indoor public pool in the area they live in, all scenes outside of the home will be moved to take place in that pool.

it seems like sniper’s reaction to scout’s rambling to miss pauling about his courting would imply he is aware of scout’s crush, so the story and dialogue will be altered to instead have sniper suggest they be a throuple of some kind. this will lead to complications in which Benny and Terry are irritated that they’re being copied so blatantly.

speaking of which, scout gave two of his kids names that start with “t”, which to me implies they perhaps have some kind of naming convention in their family involving repeating first consonants. to reflect this, some of scout’s brothers will be renamed, meaning his brothers (oldest to youngest) will be named Jack, Jenry, Jarcher (Jarchie for short), Jolin, Jenjamin and Jerrence (Jenny and Jerry for short), and Jony.

while going over these changes, i realized that i’d completely forgotten to account for spy’s cyanide tooth, and written a moment where he’s gritting his teeth. unfortunately, that means that in my rewrite, spy will need to die during that scene when the cyanide tooth most certainly pops mistakenly. this will be inconvenient, but a gifted writer knows how to play with the cards dealt.

since unfortunately we now know that scout is terrible at marriage, i will most likely need to write a scene where scout finds out he is pregnant and sniper immediately leaves him. i find this difficult because i’m unsure how sniper will be able to get into a plane quickly enough to escape in the pre-established suburb, but i will make do.

i will have to kill scout’s mom.

oh and happy belated birthday!

#shut up me #everybody talks #tf2 #team fortress 2 #sniperscout #speeding bullet #running blind #to actually answer your question yeah i’m probably going to write some shorter stuff in the post-canon at some point #my shit has been tagged canon divergent or non compliant this whole time

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nehswritesstuffs · 2 months ago

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the geisha's komuso

You ever have a fic fucking possess you until it's done? Yeah, this fic was like that for me.

12,435 words; this wasn’t supposed to be so long but it got away from me; I mostly got this idea while writing flashback sequences for ghost speak in whispers and lies, so make of that what you will; mostly takes place during Wano but also contains spoilers/extrapolation for Egghead and minor Elbaf spoilers; absolutely love it when a man gets swept off his feet by a capable woman it’s such a great dynamic

Also: this is my 300th fic. I’m posting this today on the 21st anniversary of my joining FFN, which means that my (online) fic career is absolutely insane. FFN only has 239 of these fics, but AO3 has them all. Buck fucking wild, if you ask me, especially considering how far I’ve come since I was a teenager when I started (and you can fucking tell), with stuff ranging from short poems to multiple +200k longfics. Here’s to what the future may bring!

Law was merely supposed to meet up with Robin to exchange information as they scouted Wano ahead of the Sanji Retrieval Team. A slip of the tongue starts something--will it last? [LawBin; mostly Wano set, Egghead/Elbaf spoilers]

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“We’ll meet in two weeks to exchange intel. Don’t worry about a rendezvous point; I’ll find you.”

“Will you be able to, dressed like that?”

“Of course he will! Our captain’s the best!”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Bepo, but I think I can handle it.” A pause. “Are you sure this is the sort of position you want? We can find you something else.”

“It works towards my already-established skillset. No worries.”

“…and what skillset is that…?”

“Mm… you’ll find out… if necessary.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Robin plucked at the shamisen carefully, getting used to how the large bachi pick felt in her hand. She looked at the sheet music in her lap and slowly hit the notes; she was familiar enough with stringed instruments thanks to her many attempts at making a place for herself before the Straw Hats that it would be almost too simple to pick this one up as well. It felt light and natural as she idly played a few notes of a different song, one she learned a long time ago now, while lifting her head to watch the other inhabitants of the okiya shuffle about their morning. The one thing she had to give the specific okiya she was undercover in was that at least it was peaceful—strict and hardworking, certainly, but the tranquility she found there was above and beyond nearly anywhere else she’d less-than-honestly infiltrated.

Eventually, however, that lazy morning was disrupted by whispers and murmurings by the back gate. Robin kept at her practice, looking graceful as possible as she pretended to ignore the minor commotion and remain on the courtyard porch while her Devil Fruit allowed her to observe the disruption safely. It seemed as though her contact hit a snag and panicked. She allowed her extra parts to dissolve into petals—circumstances had made her work with worse.

“O-Robi.” Robin paused her playing and glanced to her right; the madam of the okiya was standing there, a stern look upon her face and the only one in the okiya already dressed in dayclothes instead of the plain yukata for lounging. “A word.”

Robin placed her shamisen and its bachi down and turned to face the old woman, who merely turned around and began to walk away. She gathered her things and followed her, the pair slipping inside of a waiting room where they sat seiza across from one another.

“Your husband is here,” the madam scowled. “You never told me you are married.”

“My apologies, obaa-san,” Robin replied. She bowed lowly, faking her shame well. “I feared that if you knew I had a husband, you would not let me work. All I want is to work. It was not meant to unjustly deceive you.”

Which, in a roundabout way, was the truth.

“He would not leave and insisted on seeing you. He almost didn’t tell us why and instead nearly started a fight. Do you realize how much of a scene it can cause us taking in a monk? A komuso? What did he do to make him wander around playing the flute for alms while leaving you to find work on your own?”

“Defended me, if you must know,” Robin lied. “One of Kaidou’s men made a pass at me and he objected. Strongly. The penalty was either the factory… or…” She sat up straight, letting well-practiced tears fall down her cheeks. “They thought it… amusing to separate us and take everything we had. That is why I wish to work: so that I can support a man whose only fault is loving me.”

The madam made a noise in affirmation. “I see.” She thought for a moment before exhaling heavily. “He may… visit you, but he must be more discreet in the future. I do not want the yakuza investigating us for harboring a man who should be on a celibate spiritual journey.”

“He might have been banished to wander, but he is still a man, and a faithful one at that.”

“Then go meet him at the back gate.” The madam waved her hand in dismissal. “Do not let this get in the way of your studies or your work. The moment it does, not only is he done but we are as well.”

“Thank you,” Robin said, bowing deeply again before standing. “I understand this is a big risk and you will not regret this kindness.” She grabbed the shamisen and bachi and exited the room, heading towards the back of the okiya. Sure enough, there was Law, the straw basket he was wearing over his head towering before the ones who were keeping him there. She hugged him abruptly, almost causing him to shove her away before he realized who she was. “My darling.”

“O-Robi,” he whispered, holding her close. The other okiya members began to relax as they saw what they assumed was a tender embrace. “They almost didn’t let me in.”

“You need to be more careful,” she chided, “or the yakuza will ruin this place.”

“They have taken you in; I’d never even dream of it.” He allowed her to take his hand and lead him through the building, her blushing and smiling demurely as she brought him to a room that was small, but out of the way, only taking off the basket and his hat when the door was slid shut. There was something handsome about him as he gathered cushions to sit on… something that made her consider her options for this ruse. “How is this place treating you?”

“Well,” she replied. She sat down close to him and whispered in his ear, “this place has more eyes and ears than I do. Watch yourself. Now kiss me.” He grunted in response and played his part, nuzzling just behind her ear before pressing a lingering kiss to her neck.

“You play the shamisen now?”

“A little.”

“Can you play for me?”

“Of course.” Robin picked up the shamisen and bachi before procuring the sheet music from her sleeve pocket. “Tsugaru-obaa-san has noted I am quick to pick things up. She’s pleased with my progress.”

“I don’t like this,” Law admitted. He nearly broke character, catching himself instead. “I should be able to take you from this place and give you a home again.”

“When you are free, I will be the one to give you a home,” she replied. A few notes on the shamisen to test the tuning. “Our children will have a doting father and know that their mother is strong and capable. They will be free from what haunted us.”

“…a thought that eases me to sleep every night.” Law leaned onto his side as Robin began to play a song, waiting for a chance to reveal his true motives for seeing her. An ear eventually sprouted on the wrist that he was propping himself up on, while a pair of lips appeared on his palm—this was their chance.

“I already spread word that you are my devoted husband, who defended my honor from one of Kaidou’s thugs and are now banished to wander as a penitent, celibate monk,” Robin whispered through the spare mouth. Law nodded in understanding. “Did you establish the base camp for the potential recruits?”

“Still looking for a place both big enough and discreet,” he whispered back. “We’ve located the shogun’s private farm and weapon caches throughout the country. Most of them seem easy enough to strike; the ones that don’t shouldn’t take much more planning than the others.”

“Good; I have not gained access to the shogun yet, but that should be soon. He is currently on Onigashima for business. I have been entertaining merchants and yakuza in the meantime—their lips are loose when saké is involved.”

“Anything we can use?”

“Potentially; I need more time to corroborate and pick apart the bragging from truth. Any sign of our reinforcements?”

“Luckily, no. I want us to be more established before Luffy comes around and ruins everything.” He could feel the lips smirk against his skin. “Am I wrong?”

“No.” Robin hit a couple loud notes and Law allowed the corner of his mouth to twitch upwards. “Now, come over here and kiss me.”

“…but Nico-ya…”

“Would you rather me be more passionate with my clients than my husband…?” He blushed at that, knowing he was cornered.

“They wouldn’t let me in; I had to try something.”

“And now that something should be followed-through on, considering they know you are not here to listen to the shamisen.” Both the ear and mouth dissipated into sakura petals, effectively ending the conversation. She gave him a coy smile as she continued with her song, challenging him boldly.

Law thought about it for a moment, tongue darting over his lips idly as he considered what had been laid out before him. Had he imagined something like this happening? Sure, but only in the cold loneliness of his cabin and those tired nights he spent in the woods trying to not let the Beast Pirates find their plans. Those were thoughts he was fine with remaining out-of-reach, that he’d get over it in-time like everyone else who’d caught his eye over the years. Now it was almost as though he was given an invitation to act out his most recent guilt-riddled fantasy, and he did not want to waste it.

Without waiting for the end of the song, Law sat up and shifted towards Robin, gently taking hold of the shamisen mid-note and putting it aside. He reached up and touched her face—first with one hand, then the other—gathering his courage before easing them both side-by-side on the tatami mat and kissing her. Any spy would easily mistake his actions for delicate, yearning, and adoring, yet she knew what he really was: timid. Hesitant. Awe-struck.

“I have missed… the sight of you,” he admitted, not entirely in-character. His face was still close to hers, the tips of their noses touching while their lips were barely apart. He touched her hair before angling himself so that their foreheads found one another. “Is this okay…?”

“Of course it is,” she smirked, playing with his earrings. “I take to my room whomever I want, and I choose the man who has been faithful to me.”

“I have stared from afar for so long… I don’t deserve it.”

“…and yet I know there’s no other aside from me.” She met his eyes boldly as she hooked her leg over his, opening herself up. “Touch me.”

Law swallowed hard and did as he was told, reaching inside the fabric of her yukata and realizing she was wearing nothing underneath. He found her folds and was surprised to learn she was already in the beginning stages of being worked up—was this his doing or was it merely wishful thinking? Rubbing at her gently, he eventually dipped two fingers inside her, wetting his hand on her before going back to her clit. Robin broke eye contact and buried her face in his neck, panting hotly.

“More,” she demanded.

“I shouldn’t.”

“Take what is yours.”

“I don’t own you… we’re in the okiya that took you in.”

“My husband has finally found me; don’t deny a woman her husband.”

After only a moment’s thought, Law rolled them both over so that Robin was on her back, gazing up at him with lust-darkened eyes. He made sure she was in possession of enough cushions as she tugged at his obi, opening his kimono and revealing how aroused he was already. They ground their hips together as they both got lost in a kiss that grew increasingly passionate with each passing moment. Hands wandered, hungrily exploring one another, finding sensitive spots that made their breath hitch and bodies twitch at contact.

Eventually, it was too much to bear, and Law hiked up the front of Robin’s yukata and guided himself inside, drawing breathless moans from the both of them as their sexes met. Thrusting into her with purpose, it took all he had to not come immediately, knowing he had to give some sort of performance for the spies in the corridor. A contently married man did not pop off easily like a sex-starved loner whose only true experience with women was being punched by his sisterly ship’s engineer. He hid his face in the crook of her neck as they made lewd, slapping noises whenever their hips met, the only thing on-par with their gasps that otherwise filled the room. Her legs held his hips in place as a low grunt escaped him and he buried himself deep once, twice, then groaned as he came inside her. Sweat dripped off his face and mixed with hers on her now-exposed chest, the yukata having come loose in their lovemaking. He tried to support himself on his elbows afterward, knowing instinctively that things were not going to last long.

“It truly has been a while, hasn’t it?” she crooned, reaching up and wiping the sweat from his forehead into his hair and slicking it back. His expression quickly changed from blissed-out to horror as he realized what they had done.

“It… truly has.” He pulled out of her and collapsed at her side, trying to ignore the trickle of fluid that leaked out and soiled the inside of her yukata. “I… I meant to pull out… I’m sorry…”

“We have tonics for that,” she assured. “Our children will not be born in an okiya unless their father wishes it.”

“I… prefer not.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it. “May I see you again…? Like this…?”

“I’ll do you one better,” she claimed. “Pay attention to which room this is; I will hang a signal out the window when I am not working for the night. We can meet then, sleep in a real bed, be together properly.”

“…but…”

“You trusted me before, so trust me now.” She leaned in and kissed him gently. “It won’t be for a few days yet, so do not fear. Okay?”

Law nodded and kissed Robin once more before cleaning himself up and putting the basket back on his head. He slid opened the door to the corridor and surprised the other geisha who were there wondering why it had gone so quiet. It was a good thing his face was hidden, or else it would have been much more difficult to hide his flustered, flushed face and shocked expression. He wandered almost aimlessly to the edge of the Flower Capitol, his specific disguise allowing him passage out without fuss despite his sword.

What the actual fuck just happened…?!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

That night, Penguin and Shachi noticed that their captain seemed a bit off. He had been cagey since he’d come back from acquiring intel at the okiya that Miss Robin was working at. Had someone in the Flower Capital pissed him off? Was he withholding information from what Miss Robin had given him? Something was preoccupying his thoughts and they decided to give him a wide berth until he sorted it all out. Even Bepo could tell something was up and allowed Captain his space. They all guessed they’d been a bit clingy since meeting with him again on Zou, but could anyone blame them? It was why when he left that night to wander the woods by himself, no one followed, taking the hint that he wanted them to stay behind. He always came back; it was nearly a guarantee.

Law was grateful to be left alone with his thoughts that night as he allowed his feet to take him far from the base camp. He couldn’t stop thinking about his encounter with Robin, how the entire thing went from unfortunate accident to a wet dream come to life. The word husband had slipped out unconsciously, not even realizing it was said until he saw the looks on the okiya residents change from annoyance to confusion.

Sure, he had gained access to his informant, but at what cost? It opened doors, yeah, yet now he kept thinking about it, thinking about her, about them, and what it in the fuck it could mean beyond Wano’s borders. She didn’t strike him as someone who would engage in casual sex and it was difficult to consider that as a possibility. Sure, she was in character, but some of the things she was insinuating were hitting him just right, turning over and over in his brain like the Polar Tang’s rotisserie. He leaned his arm against a tree as he used his free hand to reach under his kimono and begin stroking himself as he let his thoughts consume him. It had been so long since he’d had any positive musings about the future that he was going absolutely mad and he wasn’t even sure it would last beyond the mission.

He thought about romantic vows unlike anything he had expected to hear again; about unzipping a gown or peeling back the folds of a formal kimono; about the domesticity of going to bed together every night and waking up together in the morning. Imagining her hands on him in so many ways made sweat bead on his forehead and his own hand work faster, glad his precome was now leaking in earnest. He wanted to carve her up, carve himself up, make their bodies intermingle as they truly became two parts of one flesh fused by oaths and convictions and devotion declared before all forces visible and invisible…

Choking down his own moans, Law shivered as he came in his own hand, aiming his spunk for the base of the tree to save the inside of his kimono. It was embarrassing, rubbing himself out in the middle of the woods for something likely no more than a fantasy, but he had something now that was worth aiming for despite it all.

He could become Robin’s one day, and the very idea that he could escape death multiple times, survive on trash, almost kill himself in the pursuit of revenge and closure… and yet still somehow become Robin’s husband…? It was a thought that threatened to devour him completely if he could not get it under control, embarrassment beginning to slowly consume the frayed edges of his dignity. He needed to know… he needed answers about what this meant underneath this consummate lie told elegantly for their cause…

…he needed to see her again, because if he didn’t, he was very likely to go insane.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was a few days later when Robin and the rest of her geisha sisters were coming back from an off-site performance. The hour was relatively early and the sound of their geta on the street echoed off the surrounding buildings. A relaxing night was ahead of them, a rare one in the scheme of things.

“What do you plan on doing with your evening?” Robin asked one of the other geisha. The younger woman giggled in reply.

“I have a new novel I want to start,” she replied cheerily. “What about you, O-Robi? Is your husband coming tonight?”

“If he sees the signal I leave for him,” Robin smirked. Her coworker snorted in laughter. “What?”

“I’d show him off more if I were you,” the younger geisha said. “I’m short enough to have caught a peek under his basket—he is very handsome.”

“Why thank you.” Robin gave the younger woman a smile. “He is easy on the eyes, isn’t he?”

“Very. It’s a good thing he has to wear that basket in public, or else he’d have a more difficult time staying faithful, I suspect.” The geisha thought for a moment. “How did you keep other women away from him before?”

“When a man is satisfied with his marriage, his wife does not worry about what his eyes might find,” Robin said. The younger woman giggled again; the prospect was not something that seemed possible to her, and that was fine. It was not what Robin needed her to believe the most, after all.

Soon the group arrived back at the okiya and dispersed to their respective places. Some went to the kitchens, or the halls where other guests were still being entertained, yet Robin went upstairs to her room, where the futon had already been laid out for her. All the guests in the building were regulars and known to be poor fonts of information; anything worth her interest would be still passed around in the morning. Taking her time, she pulled the spotted white hat from a drawer and placed it on a hook outside of her door to the balcony. Once she did that, she lit the lamps and knelt down at the vanity, beginning the process of removing her makeup.

She certainly had… enjoyed the result of the mix-up the other night, though she wondered if it had been entirely a good idea. It had not been the first time she had engaged in sexual activity while undercover—and it likely wouldn’t be the last—it was, however, very clearly the first time for her informant in a long time by any circumstance, if at all. She had thought of bringing him to bed since the moment he had been brought onto the Thousand Sunny; he seemed like a man who could keep her interest for longer than most and she detected a sense of vulnerability that could make such an encounter all the more so. It seemed fortuitous that he committed the exact slip necessary to bring them closer—it must have been something on his mind as well. The only question was if this was going to stay in the okiya, or if they would let it become something more… long-standing.

Eventually, she heard the sound of a pebble clack against the lacquered wood outside. A moment later and her door slid open and shut—he was there.

“I was wondering where this went,” Law said as he took off his basket and tossed the hat and his sandals in it. Robin could see him staring at her via the mirror, a quality to his gaze that had not been there when they last met… one that she was pleased to recognize. “Thank you for keeping it.”

“It is not a problem,” she said. She then turned slightly, allowing their eyes to meet directly. “Can you help me out of this headgear?”

Without a word, Law knelt down next to Robin and helped slide the pins and combs from her hair. She took a brush to the strands as he lingered, leaning in close to her ear.

“We have a candidate for a base camp we can move into soon,” he whispered. “Any more news on your end?”

“None of use,” she replied softly. “I hear too much useless gossip, but we’re almost there regardless. We are scheduled to attend to the shogun within the week.”

“Excellent.” She watched his face in the mirror; it was clearly everything he could do to hold himself back. She put down the brush and one of his hands found the back of her obi, gently pulling it loose. “Did you mean it?”

“Did I mean what?” He leaned in closer, lips barely grazing the shell of her ear.

“That we can be together…? Properly…?” He sucked in a shaky breath. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it since then.”

“Are you mistaking this for something else entirely, perhaps?” She felt the tension of her obi go slack as he slowly untied it. “Love and lust are not the same.”

“I am aware.” He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on her shoulder as he cupped her breasts from behind. Her kimono was still in place, so all he touched was fabric, but neither could be called a fool. “I don’t do casual. Please don’t hint at something more than this if you’re only going to make it casual banter. I can suck it up and compartmentalize these meetings for the plan, but if you keep teasing me about what could possibly come after…”

“You’re not a hit, so I think you’re safe,” she purred. Robin leaned back into Law’s grasp, feeling the soft scratch of his facial hair against the curve of her neck. “Does that bother you?”

“Does what bother me?”

“I have tricked people into trusting me by using sex to my advantage,” she explained, though still keeping her confession vague and voice quiet. “That would make most normal people think twice about considering me as something more than… casual.”

“So you developed a certain skillset before teaming up with… your friends—I’d be more surprised if you didn’t, considering everything.” He flexed his fingers deliberately, massaging her breasts as he did so. “That is different. This is now. What does this mean going forward?”

“I guess we’re going to have to find out.”

Robin carefully disengaged herself from Law’s grasp and stood, making sure to keep the fold of her kimono in place as the obi dropped to the floor. She held out her hand towards him and he took it, allowing her to help him to his feet. He pulled her close into his arms as they stared silently into one another’s eyes. They were nearly the same height like this, the three centimeters between them melting away as he barely had to dip down to join their lips in a kiss.

Oh! It felt wonderful as they slowly kissed away any reservations either of them had, hands wandering as they slowly made their way across the small room to where the futon laid. Robin eased Law’s kimono off his shoulders, baring his arms and chest as the obi held the rest of the garment in place. The cold air hitting his skin sent a shiver down his spine, making the fine hairs on his body stand on-end as he sucked in a breath against her neck.

“Is this part of your disguise?” she whispered, tugging at the obi. He shook his head.

“We made real ones,” he replied breathily. “Mine will be fine, but yours feels a bit more like we need to take special care of it. Allow me.”

“No,” she chuckled. “This needs a little more care than yours. Just watch.”

Not wanting to disobey so soon, Law took off his kimono and tossed it to the side as he did not take his eyes off Robin. He slid into the bedding as he watched her bare herself to him, naked as she carefully folded the garment into one slender block of fabric. She then shuffled her way over to the bed, crawling in as she settled herself above him, grinding her already-wet core against his hardening cock. A moment and said cock twitched as he felt arms form underneath the blanket and hold his legs in place, completely out of sight from where anyone could see if they barged in (or spied) on them.

“No fair,” he growled, in an effort to keep his voice from cracking. “That’s cheating.”

“All’s fair,” she smirked. She then used well-hidden fingers to guide him into her as she held his wrists down against the futon with her real hands. Rocking her hips against his, she pulled a moan out of him that was so high-pitched he would never admit to it.

“Waging war, are we?” he choked out. She leaned down and pressed their lips together in a kiss before forcing another gasp from him, swallowing it down with pleasure.

Oh, she was going to have fun with this.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Morning broke and Robin woke to the feeling of Law’s lips against her neck and his erection against her ass and thigh as he curled around her. After such a vigorous night together, it was impressive he was ready to go again so quickly. She reveled in the sensation of being full-bodied caressed until it hit her exactly what time it was.

“Oh… you need to leave…” she realized.

“They folded my kimono and left us both breakfast, so I think it’s fine,” he replied. Sure enough, she bent to look towards the door and saw two trays sitting there, both filled with food. “Your coworkers like me.”

“My coworkers think you’re handsome,” she corrected. Robin sat up and used her Devil Fruit to pass along a couple of plain yukata from where they sat folded against the wall. They pulled them on and began to eat, the food clearly better than what Law had been getting thanks to his pleased reaction. “Not a lot of gourmet restaurants outside of the Flower Capitol?”

“Ha, ha; it’s all I can do most days to keep my friends from eating river fish.” He ate another mouthful of rice and shook his head. “Eating here will at least mean more to go around later.”

“It shall,” she agreed. Robin leaned over and plucked the umeboshi out of Law’s pickle bowl, knowing she would not get any resistance. “I am glad that you at least have your friends on the outside; I will see some of my friends from time to time and I don’t know what I’d do without that support.”

“Yeah…” Law stopped eating and contemplatively looked down at his food. “I know the rest of your friends are coming… but what if they… don’t…? What if… what if my time to wander comes to an end and the plan we had built falls apart?”

“This okiya could always use menfolk around who won’t take advantage of their position,” she said plainly. “Depending on how much I’ve made in the meantime, we could strike out on our own.” A pause. “With our friends, of course.”

“You say that so easily,” he frowned. Sure, he wanted to sail away with her in the Polar Tang, bring her with him as he attempted to find out the meaning of his name and the history behind it, but it was nothing more than a pipe dream. “If your friends do show up… then where do we go from here?”

“We’ll figure that out in time,” she assured. “Now hurry up—if we get moving, I can sneak you out into the alleyway and we can have the whole day to ourselves.”

“A date…? In the middle of our… situation…?”

“It is my day off, and we can make use of that.”

A grin tugged on his lips as he knew what she meant—they could take their activities elsewhere, whether it be mission-based or not. They finished their breakfast and quickly dressed, glad that the corridor seemed rather deserted when Robin conjured some eyes to peek at who else was around. Their pathway towards the rear exit looked like it was going to be an easy escape route for them, as it had both the least amount of people to dodge and the shortest amount of distance to travel.

They were almost out the door when a woman’s scream caught their attention—one of the other geisha was being assaulted at the gate opposite the one they were sneaking out from. Robin discreetly conjured some eyes and saw that not only did the attacker have a knife, other members of the okiya were rushing to her aid.

“Looks like a new delivery courier isn’t in it for the tips,” she said, allowing her extra eyes to vanish before being noticed. “I’d snap his neck, but there’s too many witnesses.”

“Then we might need to do this the old-fashioned way.” Law took the basket off his head and fished a handkerchief from his pocket, tying it around his face to conceal his identity. He and Robin then went to the other door and found that a few people were bleeding as they tried to contain the attacker. Law did not break stride as he walked up to the attacker and slammed Kikoku’s hilt dead in his face, breaking his nose and fracturing a cheekbone. The attacker stumbled backwards as he held his face, looking livid as he glared down Law.

“What the fuck is up with the mask? Too scared to show your face?”

“As though you’re worth showing my face to,” Law said. He drew Kikoku and held the tip directly under the attacker’s nose. “I still have a jaw to break—how about it?”

The attacker looked at the sword and decided that it was no longer worth the effort and left, running through the back alley to what he thought was freedom, but was instead a snapped neck and back courtesy of Robin’s Devil Fruit once he was out of sight. Law, however, simply sheathed his sword and immediately began to look at the wounded.

“We should run for the doctor,” someone said. Most of the injuries were superficial, but the initial geisha who had been attacked was stabbed in the side, blood still pouring from her wound.

“There’s no time,” Law said. “Where does the doctor usually put people they’re operating on in here?”

“In the sick room, but I…”

“Get her in there, now, and I need your medical kit, along with a sturdy needle and thread—catgut if you have it.” He was met with further confusion, to which Robin had to step in before anyone began to ask questions.

“My husband was a surgeon and doctor before our current situation,” she explained. “Please, do what he says.”

After a moment of hesitation, the okiya residents began to follow Law’s orders, bringing him and the injured geisha to the sickroom. They were able to get him fresh, hot water and soap, as well as the medical kit he requested. Once he was clean and his sleeves tied back, he went to work on staunching the bleeding and stitching up the wound. He had just finished when the doctor arrived, having still been sent for by the okiya’s manager. The old man stared at the pale, unconscious woman as Law was finishing cleaning her up.

“You should have waited for me,” the doctor said sternly. Law didn’t even glance up from his patient.

“She would have died,” he stated. “She has fifteen internal stitches, not including the sutures you see on the outside. Timing is everything with gut wounds and she did not have the luxury of waiting.”

“That is very tidy needlework,” the doctor noted, seeing the wound before Law covered it with gauze. “Where did you learn?”

“That part’s self-taught,” Law smirked, knowing the older man could hear it on his voice. He finished covering the woman’s wound and made room for their actual physician to step in and examine her.

“Her pulse is weak, but it doesn’t seem like she’s in danger,” the doctor said after a quick check of the woman. “You did the right thing, lad. She’ll live.”

“She’ll more than live—she should make a full recovery,” Law replied. “It’s on my pride as a doctor.”

“A little unconventional for a doctor, aren’t you?” the doctor said. He looked at the tattoos on Law’s hands and forearms, as well as poking out from under his kimono on his chest, and frowned. “You look more yakuza than anything. Where did you train?”

“Here and there; my training was… less than formal.” Law didn’t like the way the man was sizing him up, the tension in the room broken by one of the geisha’s friends bursting in through the door and breaking into sobs at the sight of her.

“O-Nana!” she cried. The young woman sank to her knees next to her friend and grabbed hold of her hand. “She’s so cold…!”

“She just lost a lot of blood,” Law explained. “That will change after she gets some rest.”

“Thank you!” the young woman replied. She gave Law a brief hug before remembering who he was, backing away in embarrassment. “Please, I don’t even know your name—all anyone knows is you’re O-Robi’s husband…”

“…Tora-o,” he said, remembering the nickname Luffy had given him. He was hesitant to use it, but at the same time, it made the most sense out of any. “We are Tora-o and O-Robi of the Nico Clan, a small family that used to be along the coast. Don’t ask me for any more details—I was young when everything happened.”

“We all were pretty young then, yeah,” the young woman agreed, clearly thinking he meant the Boil of Oden. The usual doctor seemed to be rather perturbed by her acceptance of Law, as though he didn’t even exist anymore. “I’m so glad you’re here, Tora-o-san—Mizuki-senpai lives a bit far, so I bet he’s glad too that you were here, aren’t you Mizuki-senpai?”

“Hmm, I guess,” the older doctor shrugged. Law did his best to not smirk gleefully as the patient’s friend continued to sing his praises, only letting himself crack as Robin finally came into the room to see what was going on.

They might not have made it out on their date, but they had something better: the trust of those around them. They both knew it was better than gold to a spy, and they were going to use it for everything it was worth.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Your captain’s in town.”

The words were whispered into Robin’s ear as she and Law laid together in her bed. Since he had saved one of her coworkers from a near-fatal knife wound, he had become a staple fixture around the okiya, able to come and go as he pleased without any resistance or suspicion from the others who lived and worked there. He was seen as one of them, in fact, as they would warn him when they heard of crackdowns and even covered for him when yakuza wanted to start poking around for “inspection purposes”. The couple took advantage of their newfound fortune as much as possible; that night had been only kissing and groping, but his words had been the first ones of actual importance to their true mission spoken all evening.

“I take it you had a run-in with him, then?” she chuckled. He grumbled in reply, because of course he did. “What did he do that was so Luffy he couldn’t help it?”

“Gave an entire cart of food headed for the castle to a bunch of randos in Okobore Town,” he claimed. “You can’t be a pirate and pull shit like that—makes me sick.”

“…and you becoming the okiya’s favorite new doctor isn’t anything like that, is it?” she teased.

“I’m a medical professional first and you know that; he’s just…”

“Luffy…?”

“Yeah.” He kissed her bare shoulder and held onto her waist a bit tighter. “This might be the last time I can see you like this if my suspicions are correct. Your captain is going to take up all of my attention and it’s going to be annoying.”

“You knew what you were getting into,” she smirked. “Do you think that Dressrosa was a fluke?”

“…no…”

“Then we’ll be fine,” she assured, scratching his scalp. “Luffy always finds a way to come out on top; that’s part of why we follow him.”

“He’ll make me go gray before that,” Law whined. He shifted so that he could hide his face in her chest, not wanting her to see the frustrated blush that was darkening his skin. “I don’t want to go gray yet.”

“If you go gray, then I’d really have to protect your honor,” she noted. He mumbled something between her breasts and she pinched his shoulder for his attention.

“My father never went gray,” he repeated, looking her in the face this time. “He never got the opportunity.”

“I don’t know if my mother’s hair was an early gray or white-blonde, and there’s the chance she was the younger one,” she replied consolingly. Robin offered Law a smile, feeling rather privileged to see the infamous Surgeon of Death—Supernova and former Warlord—embarrassed and frustrated over the process of ageing. “You will look distinguished with gray—sexy, even.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Maybe I am, but that doesn’t make it not true… nor does it mean I will be afraid of looking more and more like my mother in order to watch you grow old.” She stroked his hair as he buried his face between her breasts once more in resignation. “I would imagine it could be nice, slowly walking towards a death of old age, outliving those who tried to make it otherwise.”

“Nothing romantic about slowly using control of one’s faculties.”

“Then is it true what they say? That the bladder goes first? Or is it something less noticeable, like the spleen?”

“My specialty is not palliative care. That’s something you will have to ask Tony-ya about.”

“Hmm… possibly.” Robin closed her own eyes and sprouted some additional ones in discreet locations, monitoring the okiya. The man in her arms began to melt in her touch as they simply laid there in silence, enjoying one another’s company while they still could. Her false eyes dissipated as she opened her real ones, noting how Law was now sleeping peacefully nestled atop her. The tension in his shoulders and neck was slowly fading as he softly snored into her chest, snugged up against her as though it was where he was meant to belong… as though it was the only place in all of Wano and the seas where he could get meaningful rest.

Maybe… if everything went well… then they’d see.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The afternoon sun was hanging low in the sky as Robin wandered through the Flower Capitol, trying to find a way out that would not bring attention to herself. She had gone back to the okiya to discreetly grab a few small things that she thought would be useful. Now with her prizes in her sleeve pockets, she carefully moved throughout the long-shadowed streets, making sure to avoid eye contact with anyone who seemed to possibly be in the employ of either the yakuza or shogun. She was glad that the local enforcers only really knew her from images made depicting her as a geisha, making her high ponytail and plain kimono an extra level of protection.

She was nearly out of danger when she ran into a roadblock: yakuza milling about the exit to the Flower Capitol, checking people who were attempting to pass through the gates. Robin attempted to think of a plan while she pretended to busy herself with a pottery vendor, her train of thought crashing when she felt a familiar pair of hands settle on her waist as their owner’s voice tickled the shell of her ear.

“I thought I told you to wait for me,” he said lowly, with a hint of playfulness to his voice. Robin smirked; two could play at that.

“Then maybe we should take this elsewhere,” she suggested. She put the bowl she was inspecting back onto the table and went towards a nearby alleyway. When Robin turned around, she saw that Law had been dutifully following her, the basket he normally wore fully replaced by his usual hat and his sword strapped to his back. “Dropped the formalities now that our secret’s out?”

“That, and no outsiders are in the Capitol today,” he shrugged, tucking his hat into his kimono. “I went to see you at the base and you weren’t there—what did you need that was so important?”

“A little of this and that,” she replied. “My time in information-gathering was not simply to have more opportunities to be alone with you.”

“Ha, ha; you should have asked me to come along. We’d already be out of here if you did.”

“…and what prevents you from getting us out right now?”

“The goons about to stumble onto us.”

At that, Law leaned in and kissed Robin passionately, one hand cradling her jaw while the other squeezed deeply into her ass. She threaded her fingers through his hair as she kissed back, the pair aggressively making out as a trio of yakuza stumbled through the alley, drunker than they should have been for the time of day. As they approached, Law picked Robin up by her thighs and held her against the wall, causing the yakuza to wolf-whistle and congratulate him as they went past. He put her down once the alleyway was clear, snapping up a large Room and replacing them with rocks from outside the city walls.

Robin felt a few more tugs of Law’s Shambles ability in quick succession, the sensation almost making her dizzy, before she felt his body press up against hers, pinning her against a large tree.

“Don’t you trust me?” he asked, voice catching as he breathed in her scent. His hands wandered and Robin realized that he had placed her on a root, elevating her position compared to his.

“Possibly,” she smirked. She slipped one hand under the collar of his kimono, scratching lightly at his upper back and neck. He held her close at that, peppering her throat and jaw with kisses.

“Possibly…?” He nipped at her pulsepoint with betrayal on his voice. “How possibly…?”

“Anyone can break under these conditions,” she reasoned. He held her tighter, fingers digging in against fabric and flesh.

“Then what do you want from me?” he breathed. “Is this… is this all just a game to you? Please tell me it’s not that…”

“Far from it,” she moaned softly. Despite the hesitation in his voice, he was giving her such an intense amount of physical attention that had she been unable to parse a hidden meaning, she would have been a fool. “You’re handsome, you’re intelligent, you’re interesting… I want us to hold each others hearts in our hands and feel it beat against our palms and fingers.” The noise that came out of him was encouraging, sending a jolt through her.

“I will give you my beating heart if that is what you wish,” he murmured against her skin. He rutted against her thigh and she could feel how hard he was already. “I can show you the inner workings of the body; vivisect a particularly irritating individual and show you how their insides move perfectly in sync with each other while they’re splayed out like a pinned butterfly. I can show you your bones and how they compliment your beauty… shower you with affection from the inside-out.”

“Is that all you’re after?” she teased. “My bones?”

“I’ve done a fairly decent job of jumping them, I’d say.” She could feel him grin against her throat, an action that in any other man would have seemed predatory. “I could be after something else.”

“…and what might that be?”

Law opened another Room and muttered under his breath, taking something from both of them. He took half a step backwards and held out his hands, showing that he had removed their hearts, offering one to her. “It could have been only your heart after all.”

“Interesting,” she smirked, taking the offered organ. It was not hers, as she felt a different rhythm in her hands than the one she felt still reverberating in her chest. She held it closer to her face, watching it work despite its separation from the body. “I didn’t think you’d give me what I wanted so quickly.”

“I want to show you that I’m serious,” he replied gravely. He slid her heart into the opening in his chest, it disappearing as his body absorbed it. “I will care for your heart as I leave mine with you—a promise that we’re both going to make it out of here alive.”

“…and if I die…?” she wondered. “I could be strangled by one of Kaidou’s men… done with as they please.”

“Then I would know, and they would regret it; they wouldn’t even get a chance to know they accidentally took out a Warlord at the same time.”

“Hmm… you don’t wear survivor’s guilt well, do you?”

“I’m sick of it,” he claimed. He eased her hands towards her chest, sliding his heart into the unnatural cavity to seal it away. Robin felt his heartbeat pulse inside her once it settled in; their twin hearts did not beat in unison, but in a rhythm that was more complimentary than anything. Hands on her chest, she felt the odd sensation until he took hold of both her hands, kissing her knuckles. “Please don’t make me go through survivor’s guilt again. I don’t know if I can handle it.”

“The Surgeon of Death is so fragile?”

“The Surgeon of Death is only a man and men can only handle so much in a lifetime.” He pulled her down from the tree root and held her close, whispering, “Please.”

“Only because you asked so nicely,” she gently teased. Pressing their lips together in a kiss, she inhaled sharply as she felt the crackle of his Room envelop them once again, stealing the breath from his lungs before he swapped them both again, rapidly changing their location until they were by a secluded wayhouse on a long-abandoned path. They were truly alone, the realization allowing them both a guilty grin.

Kaidou and his army would be there when they were done, anyhow.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Sukiyaki closed up the entryway to the staircase and looked at his guests. “It will take me a while to acquire the amount of paper that you requested. I shall make sure I have the rubbings done before you leave tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Robin said, bowing deeply at the waist. Law echoed her with a nod. “We appreciate your generosity.”

“Thank me by going and attending the festival in the meantime,” Sukiyaki replied. “You both should be out there enjoying the fruits of your labor as two of the nation’s rescuers. Go be young.”

“Yes, sir,” Robin smiled. Law simply grunted and pulled down the brim of his hat in a futile attempt to hide the fact he was blushing. She took his arm and they left the kokeshi doll room, heading towards the main of the castle. “This is so exciting—the fact that the Poneglyph was underneath us this entire time… it’s unreal.”

“Watching you read that was honestly worth the hassle of taking down Big Mom,” Law said. They exited the castle and found themselves at the mouth of the main street, where festivities were in full-force. “You are wonderful when you’re in your element.”

“…and what is ‘my element’, I might ask?” she asked cheekily.

“Doing what you love and enjoy without worrying about who’s about to attack from around the corner.”

She hummed in agreement. “It’s a good feeling.” Her grip on his arm tightened slightly and they continued to wander the festival. Varied members of their crews and allies were speckled throughout the crowd, enjoying themselves beyond anything they would have thought possible a week prior. None of them noticed the couple, who were taking in the festival with a quiet, academic air of people who just wanted to watch for a while before they began participating.

“Oh! O-Robi!” The pair’s attention was caught as the diminutive okiya manager came into view. She was with a couple of the geisha from the house—the trio forming a small musical group—all stopping what they were playing to approach Robin and Law. “We were worried about you! When the word spread that you and your husband were foreign spies, we feared the worst!”

“I can assure you that it was far from it,” Robin admitted with a smile. She let go of Law’s arm and bowed lowly at the waist. “Thank you for the position you gave us, even if unknowingly. The information we were able to gather due to my geisha work was invaluable.”

“…and you must be proud of O-Robi,” one of the geisha teased, giving Law a wink. “She put herself in such danger! Your wife is much braver than I am.”

“I am proud of her, but…” Law blushed, trailing off. The geisha all looked at him curiously and he froze, causing Robin to cut in.

“We’re not married,” she admitted. “It was mostly a ruse so he could come see me.”

“You’re… not married…?” the okiya manager marveled. “You mean none of that passion between you was real?”

“It is real,” Robin assured. “We plan on exploring our options later.”

“That will never do,” the okiya manager decided. “You come with me.”

At that, the older woman started down an alleyway, with the other two geisha dragging along Robin and Law as they followed. She went along willingly, though…

“What are you doing?” he scowled, trying to look intimidating. It didn’t work. “Where are you taking us?”

“Don’t worry, Tora-o-san!” the geisha pulling on Law’s wrist grinned. “You’re gonna like this place!”

“You have to keep it secret, though!” the geisha leading Robin added. “We only know because the shrine is run by Tsugaru-obaa-san’s brother!”

“A shrine…?” Robin wondered. She was clearly having much more fun than Law. “What kind of shrine?”

“You’ll find out!”

After turning down a few other streets and alleyways, the group stopped in front of what looked like a small, shabby shrine that was tucked away between apartment buildings. A crest was emblazoned on the cloth divider between the street and the internal worship space that caused the outsiders to pause: a pair of crossed scrolls over the outline of a sun. Out of all the clan crests they had seen while in Wano, this one was foreign to both pirates.

“Come in!” the okiya manager insisted. Law and Robin exchanged a look and nodded at one another before stepping forward of their own accord. The other two geisha remained outside as everyone else took off their shoes and walked inside, with the older woman scowling as she looked around. “Are you even here, you old fart?!”

“Watch who you’re calling an old fart!” An elderly man came hobbling out from behind a large Buddha statue that was sitting on a platform, looking as though he had been in the middle of cleaning. He saw the okiya’s manager and cringed. “What do you want, imouto-chan?”

“I want to introduce two of the foreign pirates from the shogun’s alliance to someone who is familiar with their rites,” she said, motioning towards Robin and Law. The old monk regarded them carefully as his sister whispered in his ear.

“What are you talking about?” Law frowned. “What rites?”

“Rites that were passed down from master to apprentice, from before the time of isolation began,” the monk explained. “What did my sister tell you before bringing you here?”

“Nothing,” Robin said. The monk nodded.

“Then what do you know about the Closing of Wano?”

“It was done when the Walls were built,” she replied. “The leaders of the time deemed it safer for Wano to have little-to-no contact with the outside world. It made crossing the nation’s borders a capital offense.”

“Indeed,” the monk affirmed. “What do you know, then, about before the Closing of Wano?”

Both Robin and Law looked at one another—neither had heard anything in particular about Wano before the Void Century outside of their conversation with Sukiyaki, least of all something they could divulge to a random stranger. The monk chuckled at that.

“The tales that have been passed down to me over the generations may differ slightly from the truth, but what I am confident in is that Wano used to be a cultural and trade powerhouse, with merchants and visitors coming and going as they pleased. When the Walls were built and Wano cut off from the rest of the world, the shogun of the time declared that we abandon any foreign ways we may have learned… that Wano was to remain for Wanolese only.”

“So then the isolationist policy was more than just a safety measure, but a cultural one as well,” Robin noted. The monk raised his eyebrow.

“Yes; a scholar’s question.”

“It is my life’s work,” she smirked. She then allowed her expression to grow serious. “What happened when the cultural purity policy was enacted?”

“Much as you can imagine: lives were lost, traditions that had naturally taken root and grown died out or went underground, and people who loved Wano yet clung to ways deemed too foreign lived in fear. Even when under the auspices of a tolerant ruler, we’ve taken care to hide ourselves, in case his successor does more than simply hold us in mild contempt.”

“‘We’…?” Law noted. “What do you mean by that?”

The monk simply crooked his finger and hobbled behind the statue. When his sister silently urged them to follow, Robin and Law held hands as they did, climbing onto the platform holding the giant statue and finding that it held a secret. On its back sat a cross-shaped recess, the inside of which was intricately decorated while a sun was etched in the stone around it. Suddenly, the crest on the outside of the building made much more sense, drawing a gasp from Law and a curious look from Robin.

“Then you know of Nika?” the monk asked.

“He brought salvation to those cast away and downtrodden,” Law said, still in awe. Robin let his hand slip from hers as he stepped closer to the back of the statue, tracing over the designs with his fingers. “Slaves see him as a liberator, their masters see him as a destroyer; my hometown saw him as a source of strength and spiritual guidance. He is a god—maybe even in relation to the God, if there is one—and his ideals around freedom and social equality helped ground us.”

“Good,” the monk grinned. “What do the priests in your hometown say?”

“They used to say he would save those who are good and keep them from damnation… that he would make everyone free and equal as he laughed in the faces of evil sinners,” Law replied. His voice was low and quiet as he reached back into his memory, to things he had not said aloud in well over a decade. “No more slaves or wars, the poor not going hungry or cold, the faithful becoming heirs to an eternal kingdom free of suffering after we pass on… but they’re all dead. Some good that did them.”

“There were people who thought similarly in my hometown,” Robin offered. “Some found the tales more academic in nature, but others did genuinely believe, even if it was privately.”

“The shoguns of old did not like Nika, as the sort of piety he was associated with paid no homage to their right of rule,” the monk explained. “That is why those who believe in him were forced to go underground and hide our faith while others who allowed reverence to the shogun were kept as part of Wanolese culture. Most think of me as another normal monk, but those who know the temple crest’s true meaning understand that is just a disguise.”

“What does that have to do with us?” Robin wondered. “Tsugaru-obaa-san mentioned that you knew of foreign rites… what sort of rites was she referring to?”

“Marriage rites,” he said plainly. His audience of two looked at him curiously. “My sister said that you two should be married before you leave this island. If you agree, I am willing to perform the ceremony in your ways… or close to them.”

“Excuse us for a moment…” Law said, pulling Robin off the stage. He waited until he was a few paces away before whispering in a panic. “What in the hell is this?!”

“It seems like a genuine offer,” she replied. She glanced around the shrine and saw that her former employer had left—they were alone with the old man. “If we go through with it now, there might be complications.”

“That undersells it,” he scoffed. “We’re supposed to go in different directions once the festival is over. It could be years before we see each other again.” He bit his lower lip in thought. “You’d be tied to someone you were barely with—when we do meet again, we might be on opposing sides. Even if we do meet next as friends, we might realize that’s all we are…”

“Many couples have differences, some even more prominent than ours,” she reminded him. “You seemed very attached to that carving on the back of the statue… does it remind you of better days?”

“It does, but… I don’t know if I can do this,” he admitted. He held her shoulders as he looked into her eyes, wanting little more than to run away from everything with her. “It wasn’t that long ago I thought I was marching to my death; I mean… isn’t this fast…?”

“We didn’t exactly take any of this slow, did we?”

“I guess not,” he admitted. Law felt as though his brain was floating in soup—the overload of everything was impacting his ability to think as quickly as he was used to, something he didn’t like. “What do you want to do…?”

“This might be our only chance to have this done in a way meaningful to either of us,” she said. “It wouldn’t matter to me who does it; it might be nice to have it taken care of so we have something to look forward to when our adventures are done.”

Silently, Law nodded and took Robin’s hand in his, kissing her knuckles. She held his face with her free hand, stroking his cheekbone with her thumb.

“Robin,” he whispered, “will you marry me?”

“Of course,” she smiled. “The minister’s waiting on us, isn’t he?”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Later on that night, while the rest of their crews, the remainder of the alliance, and all the Flower Capitol were partying until they dropped, Law and Robin were in her room back at the okiya, making use of the madam’s promise that they would not be disturbed. They made love into the early hours of the morning—both with and without Devil Fruit assistance—selfishly giving themselves a wedding night to keep in their memories for the long days apart looming ahead of them. Their shouts were drowned out by fireworks and they gasped breathlessly in the moonlight; between was all kisses and touches, mapping out one another’s bodies with their mouths and hands desperate to feel something more substantial than lust to sate their future yearning.

Before they left in the morning, they placed simple golden bands on each other’s hand, promising to meet soon as they were able. She even gave him a clipping from her fingernail with express permission to have it turned into a Vivre Card. Hers would be safe with him, they agreed, but his would no doubt be discovered by Luffy and that was an entire other bag of cats they didn’t want opened quite yet. After returning their hearts to one another, Law and Robin left the okiya separately, finding their respective crews in the middle of departure prepwork. It was easy to settle back into their normal roles, and yet it hurt as they failed to acknowledge their newly-established connection.

In the end, they did a damn good job in Tokage Port pretending they weren’t tearing themselves up inside trying to act as though there was nothing between them, to the point Law snapped at Chopper.

It was nothing—they were just two members of a dissolved alliance continuing on their separate ways. Far as anyone else knew, they were cordial at-best. A couple of their crewmates seemed to notice something was different, but if they did, they said nothing and figured it was their imaginations.

Good.

The more distance that seemed between them, the safer they were going to stay.

…and hell they wanted to keep one another safe.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Robin looked in the mirror at her new haircut, hoping it was going to have the intended effect once they arrived at Elbaf. She caught sight of Bonney peeking over her shoulder, causing her to smile.

“Are you sure you want to stay on Elbaf?” she asked. The young girl nodded.

“I miss being in one place right now,” Bonney replied. “Besides, Lilith says she can help my dad wake up, and I wanna be there when it happens.”

“I can understand that,” Robin nodded. She felt Bonney’s arms wrap around her shoulders as the girl leaned against her. “Saul wasn’t a father figure, but he was still an important adult to me when I was small—being there with him will make us both more than happy.”

“That’s nice.” Bonney then went quiet, hanging off of Robin. She made a noise, alerting her adult that something was on the girl’s mind.

“Thoughts?”

“Well…” Bonney let Robin pull her into her lap and cuddled in close at the contact. “What if Lilith and the rest of Vegapunk can’t help my dad? What do you think will happen then?”

“There are many options, I would imagine,” Robin said. “You could… stay on Elbaf with the giants and Miss Lilith—I’m sure they wouldn’t kick you out. There is also the option of going back to your homeland, if it is still there…”

“It is, but there’s a lot of old people there and I don’t want them to be in any more danger just because of me,” Bonney frowned. She then had an idea. “Oooh, can I stay with you? You know, after you’re done pirating?!”

“You’d have to ask my husband, but something tells me he’d say yes,” Robin smirked. Bonney looked over at the rest of the crew as they were huddled by the opposite side of the ship, talking to their giant benefactors. “No, no—he’s not on the crew, but has his own. We plan to meet again later—he’s wearing the matching pair to this.” She showed the girl the ring looped into a chain around her neck, sitting low enough to hide under her clothes; not many of her crewmates had noticed, and none had mentioned it.

“I didn’t know you were married.”

“Not many people do, so consider it a secret between us girls.” Robin gave Bonney a wink and the girl giggled. “He’s a friend of the crew, so I know no one would be upset when they learn who he is, but right now everyone is running on a need-to-know basis about a lot of things, so I’m sure they won’t mind if we break the news later once we’re done with our adventure.”

“Oh, okay,” Bonney nodded. “What’s he like? Your husband?” She then gasped, horrified. “He won’t try to be my dad, will he?! I already have one of those!”

“Something tells me he won’t be unless you ask,” Robin replied. “He’s a bit prickly at first, and you might not get along, but once you get to know him and he knows you, I imagine you’ll be good friends.”

“Yeah…?”

“Yeah; he’s younger than me, so he’d be more of an older brother to you than a father anyhow. He’s like me and doesn’t have a home to go back to… he’s like us in that the World Government ruined his life as a child too. He’s also best friends with a bear.”

“A bear?! Does it talk?!”

“He’s a Mink, so of course he talks.”

“Wow!” Bonney seemed to have stars in her eyes as she thought about the prospect of meeting a talking bear. “When do you think I can meet them?!”

“In time,” Robin chuckled. “Is that what you want to do, then? Stay with my husband and me if your father can’t be switched back?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Bonney said. “I know you said he’d be more a brother, but if I’m with the two of you, it’d be close enough to having both a mom and dad at once—my mom died when I was very little, so I don’t remember her. It wouldn’t be the same, but that’s what playing pretend is, isn’t it? Oh! Are you going to have kids?! Do you have them already?! Does the bear babysit them?! I wanna babysit! I’ve always wanted to babysit!”

“We’ll see,” Robin replied with a chuckle. “Babies need to happen first before you can babysit.”

“Well, yeah, because otherwise I’d be babysitting your captain and that’s redundant, isn’t it?” Bonney scowled. Robin choked down a laugh—not quite there, but close enough—and knew they’d do well to keep the young girl around. “What…? You know I’m right.”

“I never said you weren’t.” She caught sight of the rest of her crew celebrating something out the corner of her eye; land must have been within their sights. “Why don’t you go see what they’re making a big fuss about, hm?”

“Okay!” Bonney ran off to see what was going on, leaving Robin to smile privately to herself, allowing the wind to rustle her hair as she thought about the future that Bonney envisioned, fueled by her youthful optimism and Devil Fruit of possibilities. She could imagine Law bickering with the tween as an elder brother would snipe with a younger sister, the trio passing even younger children between them in a well-worked routine, while the sweet and darling Bepo arrived and relieved the elder family members so they could go to school and work and… it didn’t seem like such a bad life.

Now it was simply about making it for long enough to see if it could become a reality.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Finally on dry land, Bepo laid on his back in the sand as he attempted to catch his breath. It had taken him all he had, plus another Rumble Ball, to get his captain to safer waters, and now there they were: no ship, no crew, and no way back to either. He wasn’t even certain how long he had been swimming, other than that at least a day had passed. If he had been anything but someone who could swim, they’d both be dead by now.

“How are you doing, Captain?” the Mink asked between deep breaths. He looked over at Law, who was laying on his side, just as he’d taught his crew to place unresponsive patients. “Where do you think we are? I didn’t get a good look at the chart before we left.”

Silence.

“Okay…” Bepo strained to roll over onto his hands and knees, forcing himself to his feet. “Let me see what I can do.” He pulled Law onto his shoulder and began to trudge into the nearby foliage, hoping to find someone who could help.

As it turned out, no one was in sight before Bepo collapsed in a small glen, absolutely exhausted. After a while more of laying still, he repositioned Law again and got to work, building a small fire with some twigs and a spark of Electro. A berry bush was nearby and he picked enough to keep them both going, holding his captain’s portion in a deep leaf he used as a bowl. He then waited, hoping his unconscious best friend would wake up soon.

…and he waited…

…and waited…

…until suddenly, Law jerked violently as he coughed and choked on seawater, vomiting in the soft grass beneath him. Bepo rubbed his back as his body purged the offending substance, waiting patiently until even his dry heaving ceased before handing him the leaf full of berries.

“Here—you’ll feel better.”

Law took the food and shifted closer to Bepo, away from the pool of bile and seawater. He leaned against the bear’s arm as he ate, carefully eating the berries one by one.

“Where are we?”

“Not sure; it’s likely none of the islands the others went to, I can tell that much.”

“…and the crew…?”

“I don’t know—it was just my job to get you out of there.” He let that settle between them—it was back to the two of them, no matter how much they wanted otherwise. “What do we do?”

“See if there’s any survivors, pick up what’s left, mourn those who didn’t make it,” Law decided. He chewed on a berry in thought. “That island won’t matter to Blackbeard now that he thinks he defeated me—whomever survived is probably still there. I’m sure it’s safe to go back.”

“How can we?” Bepo wondered. “It was pure luck that I found this island, let alone reached it. Without charts and a ship, we can’t get back there… not easily.”

“I didn’t say it’d be easy, but it might be easier than it looks if we take into account every resource at our disposal.” Law opened a Room and used it to pull out a space in his chest, from which he procured a rolled up scrap of paper that was held together by a golden metal band. He slid the paper out and gave it to Bepo, who looked at it curiously. “Vivre Card.”

“Okay, but for who?”

“That should lead us to Nico Robin of the Straw Hat Pirates,” Law explained. “She will help, and her help comes with her crew’s help.”

“What makes you think Miss Robin will help?” Bepo asked. He watched as Law stared at the ring for a moment before slipping it onto his left hand, specifically on the fourth finger.

“…because I married her,” he admitted. He heard Bepo inhale sharply and he felt a pang of guilt. “I know Nico Robin will help us because I am her husband.”

“When… when did this happen…?” Bepo’s voice sounded hurt; he should have been given the news a different way.

“It was… sudden,” Law said. “There was an actual priest in Wano… someone who knew traditions that weren’t that far off from Flevance’s. I would have told you sooner if we had found some time alone, but as you can see…”

“…this is the first time we could talk in private,” Bepo realized. The bear exhaled heavily—nothing he could do now. “I’m not gonna lie and say I’m not upset I wasn’t there, but I am glad it happened. Even before… you know… you left… didn’t really think it was gonna happen. Now it has, and Penguin and Shachi are going to be jealous.”

“If they’re even around anymore.”

“You know they won’t die that easy!” Bepo gave his captain a big grin. “Now let’s see if we can find your wife so she can help us get a hold of our crew again!”

Law cracked the bare semblance of a grin for the first time in a long time; that didn’t sound so bad at all. Yeah… not bad in the slightest.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

A/N: I had known from the get-go that Law’s disguise was somewhat modeled after komuso, traveling monks who played the flute for alms and wore baskets on their head for anonymity. These practitioners of a Zen Buddhist sect (Fuke Zen) were eventually one of the few people able to freely pass checkpoints in feudal Japan—an extremely rare privilege—leading to it being a good (possible?) disguise for spies and informants, which can show up in historically-set Japanese works from time to time. Something that I, the ignorant Westerner, found interesting while doing research for this is that one of the individuals who is claimed to be a predecessor of Fuke Zen is a man named Ikkyu, who was a significant (and eccentric) figure in Japanese Zen history. He was a renown flute player, artist, calligrapher… and also was very outspoken against the celibacy placed on monks and priests, considering sex to be part of human nature, therefore pure, and believed that engaging in it in many forms would lead one towards enlightenment. Something tells me that’s not part of the Ikkyu-san children’s anime Toei made in the 1970s and 1980s, ahaha.

I will also always be intrigued by the fact that Oda utilized the concept of fumi-e and the practice’s purpose of rooting out unwanted allegiances in One Piece, because as far as I can tell (and please correct me if I’m wrong), that was only really used to identify Christians from when the shogunate made Christianity illegal (another thing I saw in the manga and immediately went into Leo-pointing-meme mode). This means that one can presumably figure that if there’s Christian/Catholic symbolism and imagery in other parts of the world, Wano could have their own version of the Kakure Kirishitan as the series’s analogue to isolation-era shogunate Japan. It’s been driving me nuts since the Fish-man Island Arc first came out in Japan and it’s only gotten worse over the years. Granted, Oda tends to take from plenty of world religions/cultures/traditions and lots of Japanese manga-ka enjoy the striking visual aesthetics of Christianity/Catholicism, but sometimes things are just too overt concerning my own religion for me to brush off. Crosses and nuns and churches and the foretold Return of the Chosen Savior? Par the course; Japan loves that shit. Noah’s Ark (twice!) and the forbidden fruit granting the consumer a new ability that casts them from favor and the concept of God vs gods and winged, flaming Seraphim and a man living in a whale and naming a pair of characters Sodom and Gomorrah? Those are varied levels of less-to-rarely-found references and I’m staring at this manga and its creator wondering what’s going to happen next. Did someone Joyboy didn’t quite know have a bunch of insane-ass visions and write their own Book of Revelations? Where the fuck is Golgotha? Will the seas be parted? Is Luffy going to ascend to a higher state of being, body and all? Is the reason we don’t know who his mom is because she already did that? You’re killing me, Oda.

#One Piece #One Piece fan fiction #LawBin #Law x Robin #Robin x Law #Nico Robin #Trafalgar Law #I've been sitting on this for a bit to make sure that I liked what I had #so pls enjoy the 300th fic of my online career #it's got everything: sex. Law being a surgeon. espionage. hidden christians. more sex. endgame marriage.#I love it so much #and down here bc I don't like spoiling certain things via tags:#Trafalgar D. Water Law

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