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good-beanswrites · 6 months

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Just wanted to plant an idea if you wanted a bit of fuel: Mahiru asking Yuno to come to her cell before everything goes down.

Edit: I forgot the ask didn't say it but this is part of Kyanako's incredible Order Of Attack AU!

Didn't mean for this to become a mini Mappi study but here we are ✨ Thank you for the request! I fully intended to write them hanging out, but it's more right before they hang out lol. Went a bit on-the-nose with foreshadowing, but isn't that the fun part? It has become Emotional Over Mahiru Hour...

I kept things vague, but TW for mentioning her boyfriend's state of potential self-harm

Mahiru tried not to act superstitious, she really did. As much as she loved the idea of little luck charms, or avoided easy signs of misfortune, it was easier to keep quiet about such ridiculous things.

Maybe catching a bride’s bouquet meant no guarantees; maybe there was no real harm in stepping underneath ladders, maybe a coin tossed into a fountain had no real magic to its wish. However, the one thing she knew for sure held power was a lucky presence. Being in the right place at the right time could alter everything. And today was the right time for something. There was this waiting in the air. The prison had been holding its breath. Mahiru knew it was time to release it all.

“You must be so lonely, why don’t you let big sis Mahiru keep you company?” She beamed at Amane.

She often recalled the good fortune that she and a certain young man had crossed paths on the university terrace. She used to laugh with him about the wonderful coincidence of bumping into each other outside of the bakery, then the convenience store.

Though she’d never spoken about it to him, she was also grateful for many occasions where she walked in on him at the precise moment to talk him out of something reckless. She always told him that they’d do everything together. He didn’t need to be alone anymore.

“I wish to be alone. I need peace of mind to think.” Amane turned away from the cell door.

It was a good thing, too. Mahiru’s smile wasn’t as convincing as she said, “o-oh. Of course.”

She made her way around the panopticon, hearing Fuuta pace his cell in anticipation. He must have felt it too, this holding of breath.

Or perhaps not. He turned down her offer for a bit of company, including a few more colorful words than Amane had. Mahiru just apologized for bothering him and headed back to her cell. She wasn’t sure where Mikoto was at this hour, but she didn’t feel like smiling through a third rejection.

She shook her head back and forth. She wished the motion could rattle the voices inside, she wished she could shake them all away. With her arms secured in place she could no longer cover her ears. She used to hum to keep them at bay, but lately they’d been too loud to stifle. They just kept on talking.

Their words told her the two were right. Nobody needed her company. No – nobody wanted it. Being together hadn’t helped her boyfriend. In fact, being together had been the very thing that got him killed. No wonder Amane and Fuuta wanted to avoid her.

So then, this was for the best. She would rather deal with the brief sting of refusal than stumble in one day to find them hurt… or worse. As much as she tried to avoid the superstition of it all, the voices reminded her that her very presence could mean life or death.

“Mappi, are you alright?” Mahiru hadn’t realized a tear had slipped down her cheek until she hurried to swipe it away in front of Yuno.

“Hah, I’m fine! Just fine.” It was impossible to fool her, Mahiru had learned, but that never stopped her from trying.

At least she always spoke tactfully. “Rough morning?”

Mahiru shifted her arms in her uniform, making a small sound of agreement.

“Can I do anything to help? What if I stay with you for a bit? I can do your hair, and…”

The voices were right. Amane and Fuuta knew it, too. Presences did hold power, and Mahiru’s was cursed.

But she would sound foolish admitting such a fear to Yuno. She'd heard plenty from the voices about how stupid and airheaded she was, there was no use in getting the same lecture from someone as grounded as her.

Mahiru managed a weak protest, unable to explain her real reasoning. Yuno was insistent. She didn’t give much of a choice. Could she feel the strangeness of the prison, as well?

At last, Mahiru allowed her shoulders to sag. Yuno was lucky. And kind. Having her nearby would do her good. Amane and Fuuta would be alright. Mahiru had tried spending more time with them after verdicts were announced. Now, she made a mental note to pull back. If her love couldn’t save anyone, at least she could spare them from her curse. They would be safe.

“Yes. Please stay. The truth is... I don't want to be alone.”

#milgram #mahiru shiina #yuno kashiki #amane and fuuta mentioned #i dont know how well this all fits in with your vision of the au but i had a ton of fun with this lmao sorry 😂#oh hey if anyone knows any japanese superstitions like those in the beginning lmk #i was trying to research them but i kept getting lucky symbols/words - not necessarily actions like that #anyway thank you so much for this!! it was a really interesting moment to capture >:0 #drabbles that take me way too long to combine my three brain cells but im really pleased with the end result #i had a lot of Mahiru Thoughts but it took a bit of fiddling to make them fit together #the superstitiousness - the focus on one's presence - the parallels with his bf - what she's dealing with from the voices #im glad it came together semi-smoothly in the end asdfsd #i didnt mean for mahiru t break the fourth wall or anything --#i always saw her as a master at picking up on social changes/cues so she can tell when things are most tense/kotoko is fully prepared #but she doesnt consciously know it -- she just knows that things feel Off #not only do the attacks confirm mahirus fear that shes cursed - but yunos involvement confirms her belief that shes extra lucky #i wonder if shed still end up spending all her time with yuno now that she thought she was such a protective person...#i couldnt articulate it right since the end was wrapping up so nicely - but mahiru starts to wonder if most people are fine being left alon #and *shes* the odd one out for craving company #then she feels isolated because by getting what she wants shes dooming someone else #i mean... if everyone you try to get close to starts getting hurt... wouldnt you worry about the same...?#AHAHAHAHA hope you enjoyed 🙃#*posts this then retreats back into the void for a bit*#drabbles

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dfortrafalgar · 5 months

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Hi, saw that your request were open so I was thinking on asking you for Law X fem reader where law has a crush on reader and starts hanging out and sees that one of reader’s guy friends is being way too touchy and starts touching her butt, he is also being mean to her and at one point even hits her in the head.

How would he react, I was thinking of a fluff ending.

thank you so much for your request anon!!! i really loved this one, it was super fun to write! it was definitely a bit of a struggle though, as much as i enjoy writing heavier topics, physical abuse is tricky for me to deal with, but i hope the fluff at the end delivered some resolutions <3

also, i actually really really like Bellamy as a character. i think he's super cool, but i couldnt think of anyone else who could really fit in the role he's playing in this fic LOL

Rectify

Law x Fem Reader

Law’s feelings for you are forced to clash with a loathsome person in your life.

Warnings: descriptions of brief physical abuse, implications of past abuse, very mild suggestive language, modern setting, hurt/comfort, fluffy ending

By the time Law realized his crush on you had surpassed its normal, healthy limit, it was far too late for him. It certainly didn’t help to see you sitting next to Bellamy, tossing joking remarks back and forth. All of you were in the same friend group, so it was truly impossible to avoid your interactions with the much larger, stronger, arguably more handsome man. And the thought began to make Law’s blood boil.

Because Bellamy was everything Law wasn’t.

You and Law had been friends since childhood, growing up in the same neighborhood and running with the same crowd. You were familiar with his best friends and his dad, just as Law was familiar with your closest peers. Law liked to think that, as the years went on, the two of you grew closer and closer. You were always far nicer to Law during his awkward teenage years, and there were a few times where the raven-haired boy grew hopeful that you might one day return his budding feelings for you, but that day never came. And then you started college… and then you met Bellamy.

On the contrary to the black-haired medical student, the blonde was known around the entire campus as ‘The Hyena,’ and for good reason. He was ruthless in every sport he played, a malicious, sadistic grin constantly pulling at his thin lips striking fear into the hearts of his opponents. He was strong, freakishly so, with muscles that could rival that of an Olympic weightlifter. His blonde hair was a hit with the ladies, and partnered with his darker skin tone and his assortment of badass tattoos, it seemed like a no brainer that women would be falling all over him.

Law just internally hated that one of those women seemed to be you.

Despite you having confirmed on multiple occasions that you and Bellamy were simply friends that you met in one of your classes, and that you truly had no interest in men like him, Law couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in his chest.

Bellamy certainly seemed to like you. A lot.

Law watched from across the room, a plastic cup still completely full of an unidentified cocktail in his tattooed hand and the large group of friends you shared laughing and chattering around you in the living room of the house party, as one of Bellamy’s large, strong hands began to circle around your waist, gripping the soft flesh of your ass through your pants. The sensation made you jump, trying to scurry away from him with a nervous smile on your soft lips as you awkwardly laughed at the feeling, but Bellamy tried to pull you in closer. The couch cushions sunk under his weight, creating a deep divot that made it hard to stand up.

You lightly shoved Bellamy’s chest, mumbling something about standing to get another drink, before you were finally able to haul yourself up from the warm sofa and make your way toward the kitchen in the back of the house. Law stood from his metal folding chair, abandoning his cup on a random end table. He followed you diligently into the kitchen.

“Hey,” he muttered.

“Oh, hey, Law!” you returned his greeting, mild surprise filling your eyes. “I didn’t hear you behind me!”

The man shrugged, leaning against the counter. You awkwardly fiddled with a glass bottle of beer, using the edge of the counter to pop open the metal cap. Law eyed you suspiciously.

“You don’t drink beer,” he stated, watching as you simply held the chilled bottle in your hands without making a move to drink it.

You smiled in response, but the gesture didn’t reach your eyes like it normally did. “I know… I just needed to get some air away from the living room for a little bit.”

Law couldn’t hold back the question fighting on his tongue. “Is Bellamy bothering you?”

Pointed stares were shared between the two of you before you finally, lightly, shook your head. “No.”

“Are you sure?” Something told him you were lying to his face.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you groaned. “Law… I know you don’t like him… but he’s really not that bad.”

“You didn’t seem to like it when he touched your ass,” the med student grumbled.

“Law, I don’t want to fight,” you retorted, firmly. “I don’t like it when Bellamy touches me, anywhere. I know he’s into me but I’m not into him, but I don’t want to cause a scene at a party I was graciously invited to.”

You had a point. Liquor was running as free as tap water within the stale, stuffy walls of the house, and saying or doing something that could potentially cause a fight wouldn’t be ideal. Especially since the police had already been called multiple times to a house just a few steps down the sidewalk from this one.

Law wished he could open his mouth and just tell you, tell you everything that had been on his mind, how he realized just recently (and yet somehow far too late for his liking) that he’s madly in love with you, how he doesn’t want to see you be treated poorly by someone who you call a friend, how he wished so desperately that you would see him in the same way, how he longed for your touch. But instead, he stayed silent, watching as you anxiously eyed the brown glass of the untouched beer bottle you still gripped in your hand, as if the bottle was the only thing keeping you glued to reality.

“I’m fine, Law,” you blurted. He hadn’t said anything more. With your eyes cast down to the floor, you left your beer bottle sitting open on the countertop before retreating back into the thick of the party.

The raven-haired student waited a few moments before returning as well, his metal folding chair unfortunately having been taken by two sweaty economics students locked in a very passionate, very inappropriate, makeout session. He pushed his way through the mingling crowd back toward the couch where he spotted you perched on the arm of the sofa this time, Bellamy practically flush against your body on the end cushion, his palm on your ass, fingers squeezing intermittently. The blonde was locked in an intense conversation with the man in front of him, and the look on your face screamed uncomfortable. Law felt his stomach flip over. Your eyes caught him again, and you frowned. A frown so deep that it left shadows under the creases of your lips. You looked… aged. Stressed. Afraid.

But Law kept his distance.

You didn’t want a scene to break out. You could handle yourself on your own.

Bellamy’s hand trailed from your ass down your thigh, your skin still protected by the rough denim of your jeans, but that didn’t stop his fingers from crawling around the front of your body and dipping between your thighs. The feeling of his intense hand trying to pull you apart in front of another man, without your consent, made you visibly tense up and pull away from him. Your motions finally made the blonde’s attention snap to you, his dark eyes narrowing and somehow becoming even more villainous.

“Don’t run off,” he snapped. “You’re sitting right here with me, all pretty like that.”

You steeled yourself. “Then I don’t want you touching me like that. We’re not an item, Bellamy.”

“I don’t care,” he huffed back. “I’ll touch you however I want.”

The music of the party, the chattering voices slurred with alcohol, faded completely around Law as he watched the argument unfold before his eyes. The only sounds entering his ear drums were the disgusting words leaving Bellamy’s mouth, the demands, the insults. The dim lights of the living room did very little to hide the way your face contorted in discomfort, trying to pull away from the blonde athlete even more.

“Bellamy, I said no,” you snapped.

No one seemed to be paying any attention to what was happening, all eyes everywhere but where they should have been. When you were being closed in on by a man much larger than you, no one was looking. You were alone.

And Law was somehow so far away.

“I don’t remember ever needing to listen to you,” the hyena chortled, his voice gravelly and nasally. “You should be lucky that you have a guy like me who’s into you. You’ll never be able to do better than me.”

You opened your mouth once more to shout a retort, but you were cut short. Bellamy’s clenched fist connected with your lower jaw, swiftly knocking you to the ground in a stunned shock. You fell like a lead brick, hitting the ground with a force that Law somehow felt through the soles of his shoes, rattling his bones and making his head spin. Your hands blindly scraped against the floor searching for your bearings, completely disoriented from the blow that had just met your bone. You brought one of your hands to your mouth, cupping your palm over your lips as your eyes closed, trying to block out every overwhelming color and sound filling your brain with a nuclear buzz.

And yet. No one. Noticed.

Law cleared the floor in an instant, just as Bellamy was yelling something about your worth being determined by your partnership with him. The fist inked with DEATH clocked the blonde in the temple, the short, stubbly blonde hairs leaving phantom singing pain on Law’s fingers. The hyena stumbled backward, catching himself on the arm of the sofa you were previously sitting on.

For a brief moment, the med student was gloatingly proud of himself. His father was a retired marine after all. Law knew a thing or two about a good punch. His thoughts were quickly retired, however, as he crossed the crowded floor to your side, quickly helping you to your feet and pushing through the crowd with you hunched over in his arms, tripping over your heels as he rapidly escorted you to the door.

Don’t cause a scene.

Bellamy didn’t follow, and Law counted his blessings. “Hey, your apartment’s on this street, right?”

With a hand still cupped over your mouth, you nodded. Your eyes were barely keeping themselves open, what was visible of your face contorted in a muted agony.

If Law was any less collected, he would’ve stomped that hyena’s face in with the heel of his boot.

The two of you were barely getting anywhere with your afflicted state. Law scooped you into his embrace, your legs wrapping around his hips and free hand clenching the soft fabric of his shirt as he carried you back to your apartment with one of his arms carefully supporting your rump. Thank goodness you lived so close, in a converted townhouse on the corner of the same street. Law still lived in on-campus housing across town, which was less than ideal for his tastes. He helped you fish your key from the pocket of your pants, keeping you in his grasp while he pushed the door open and entered the narrow entryway of your home. Your roommate was gone for the week visiting family on the other side of the country, so your place was completely dark and quiet.

Law flipped the light switch on just in time to watch you scurry to the first floor bathroom as soon as your feet touched the hard wooden floor, leaving the door open as the light in the smaller space flicked on as well. He quickly followed, standing in the doorway as you finally pulled your hand away from your mouth.

A few droplets of blood were dotting your palm, but when you opened your mouth, a worryingly large glob of bright crimson exited past your lips and splattered in the white porcelain of the sink. Law’s stomach lurched as he watched you try in vain to spit out the metallic liquid, your entire face scrunching up as the nauseating sensation and taste. Your shoulders shuddered with the feeling of your gag reflex bobbing in the back of your throat, forcing your stomach to hold its contents as you released drops of bright red into the white porcelain of the wash basin.

The med student’s first thought was that one or more of your teeth had been knocked loose or even came out permanently, but nothing solid landed in the sink. As you began to calm down from your spitting into the basin, your eyes began to well with overwhelmed tears. You gazed at Law in the mirror, his golden eyes locked on yours as a small dribble of blood and spit slid down the skin of your chin.

Wordlessly, your friend stepped into the bathroom with you, grabbing a wad of toilet paper and wetting it with warm water from the tap, wiping away the bloody drool that left your lips.

“I know it hurts, but I need you to open for me,” he muttered, gently holding your cheek in his hand as the other one balled up the toilet paper and discarded it into the open toilet bowl.

When you opened, Law reached into the back pocket of his speckled jeans and procured his phone, clicking on the flashlight without looking at his screen. He shined the light into your mouth and, to his relief, didn’t see any chipped, broken, or missing teeth. He did, however, see a substantial gash on the side of your tongue. You must have clamped down hard on the muscle with your teeth thanks to the force of the punch. The thought made a silent rage build in Law’s gut. He turned you around and closed the toilet lid, sitting you down and proceeding to rummage through your medicine cabinet.

He handed you two pieces of gauze wrap from below your sink. “I need you to hold these against the cut on your tongue, okay? Don’t remove them until I say so.”

You diligently followed his orders, taking the dry cloth from him and inserting it painfully into your mouth to rest on the stinging wound that cut your muscle. You watched as he continued to rummage through your supplies, pushing aside boxes of tampons and toilet cleaning chemicals and finally finding what he was hoping he would see- a brown plastic bottle. He stood from his crouching position, the bottle in his firm grasp. He spun the item around to gaze at its expiration date and hummed approvingly under his breath. He quickly exited the bathroom, leaving you alone for a few fleeting moments.

While he was gone, you were able to take a better look at your face. While one of your cheeks was puffed up slightly with the clump of gauze against your tongue, you could still make out the swelling of your skin on the same side. A large, black and blue bruise was quickly blooming along your jaw and up your cheek, your fractured capillaries leaking into your epidermis.

Law finally returned, a very small cup in his right hand and a bottle of diluted bleach in his left from the kitchen. You watched as he poured a small amount of clear liquid from the brown bottle into the small cup before running the sink tap and filling it the rest of the way with plain water. He handed the cup to you with no instructions before lightly spritzing the porcelain basin with the diluted chemical, running the tap once more and washing your blood away, making sure to scrub the entire bowl. He finally turned around to face you.

“I need you to swish that in your mouth for a few seconds, and then spit it out in the sink,” he directed. “It might taste kind of bitter.”

You carefully pulled the gauze out of your mouth, wincing as some of the light fibers pulled against your wounded muscle, but followed his directions and tossed the contents of the small cup back into your mouth, swishing with your cheeks puffed, trying to focus the liquid onto your wound. Just as Law warned, the taste was bitter, vaguely salty, but definitely not pleasant. Law finally stepped aside from the sink after a long 30 seconds and let you spit. Both the gauze and the clear solution you rinsed your mouth with were lacking blood, meaning your wound was already on the clotting and healing path.

After sputtering for a few moments, the faint smell of diluted bleach filling your nose from the sink, you placed the cup down on the counter and gazed at Law, who watched you with a keen eye. “What was that?”

“Hydrogen peroxide and water,” he uttered. “To disinfect your tongue. Luckily, peoples’ mouths tend to heal much faster than other body parts, so after a day or two of discomfort, you should be back to normal.”

Cleaned and disinfected, you finally started to let your mind sink on the gravity of the situation, your heart rate increasing and your eyes once again growing heavy and blurry with impending tears. You watched as Law, avoiding your gaze with a deep frown on his lips, grabbed your rinse cup from the counter and turned to head back to your kitchen. You quickly grabbed the fabric of his shirt sleeve to stop him in his tracks, the fuzziness of your vision causing the colors of his form in front of you to waver and warp, but that didn’t stop you from wrapping your arms around his lean torso in a hug, the warm wetness from your eyes soaking the cotton of his clothing.

“Please don’t leave,” you uttered into his chest, your body trembling. With the adrenaline finally subsiding, the pain radiating from your jaw grew more and more noticeable. Every movement seemed to irritate your bruised bone, and talking felt like trying to articulate with a lead weight attached to your mandible.

With your face smushed into his clothing, you didn’t see when Law placed the cup back down on your counter, only hearing the soft tap of the plastic against the linoleum surface. His arms carefully, as if to not shatter you where you stood, wrapped around your waist, one hand coming to rest comfortably in between your shoulder blades, his fingers sprawling out over your spine before retracting and collecting some of the fabric from your own shirt into his inked fingers. It felt like his hand was made specifically to bring you comfort.

—

It took some time for you to calm yourself down enough to relocate from the bathroom doorway to the small living space you typically shared with your roommate when she was home. You listened with your head resting on a soft pillow and an ice pack nursing your jaw as Law busied himself between your bathroom and kitchen, washing the cup, cleaning off the bathroom counter and sink for a second time, and disposing of the small garbage bag where your bloody gauze had ended up. Your living room was dark, with the only light coming from the kitchen, just enough to catch glimpses of Law’s shadow moving about the space. Your face ached from the force of crying against your bruised jaw bone, your eyelids uncomfortably sliding over your corneas, dry and fragile after expelling what was easily the rest of the water in your body.

After what felt like an eternity, Law finally emerged from the kitchen, carefully approaching your laid out form on the couch. He kneeled in front of you and adjusted the ice pack against your cheek slightly, the tenderness of his fingers ghosting over your own. Your heart galloped in your chest.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into that mess,” you groaned, forcing your dry eyes closed to avoid Law’s pensive stare.

“You didn’t drag me into anything. I acted on my own,” he replied stoically, his hand remaining within close proximity to your own. His tattooed fingers flexed a few times, eager to take your hand in his, but he eventually relented and let his limb fall back to his side.

You shifted uncomfortably on the couch, curling your legs up toward your chest. “But you could’ve gotten hurt.”

Law bit the inside of his cheek at your words, his own chest clenching in disdain, not for you, but for the hyena that had left you feeling such a way. “I don’t care if I get hurt if it means you stay safe.”

When your eyes opened, they were small. Weak. Like you had been fighting some unknown battle in your skull for as long as you could remember. You truly looked tired and ragged, and Law wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms until all your life’s woes flushed away like the aftermath of a rainstorm.

“Law…” you began, your mouth opening and closing a few times, at a loss for what to continue with. “I never really liked Bellamy.”

The man stayed quiet, his lips pulled in a taut line.

“But sometimes, when you get really uncomfortable, all you can do is laugh and smile. Because you hope that acting friendly and cordial and cute will keep you safe from danger.” Your voice was so fragile, your words mumbled as you continued to cradle your jaw with the thawing ice pack against your skin. “I never wanted to hang out with Bellamy, but he scared me so much and I just… didn’t know how to say no. I didn’t want to get hurt.”

Again.

Law’s own jaw clenched, suppressing a bubbling rage as he relived the blonde’s actions from a few hours prior. A deep-rooted maniacal side of the medical student wished he could gut the D-1 athlete in his sleep, but what good would that do? It certainly wouldn’t help you in the way you needed it. And the fact that your attempts to protect yourself had only led you to getting attacked in the first place made his blood boil in his veins. But he needed to stay calm for you. Anger solves no issues. He learned that from Cora, his best friends, and now you.

A bout of anger got you out of the situation you were stuck in, and now you needed comfort.

“What…” he began, stumbling. “What do you want from me? To help you?”

After a few brief moments of silence, the only sound cutting through the darkness being the faint wrrr of your air conditioning unit, you finally spoke up. “Can you spend the night with me?”

Law blinked once, then twice. “Here?”

“Yeah. In my room.”

He gazed at you through the darkness, his golden eyes widened. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

You emitted a small gust of air through your nose. “I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”

Fair enough. “Do you have anywhere you want me to sleep?” he asked, helping you sit up against the couch cushions and carefully easing the ice back off of your jaw. The swelling had gone down substantially, but it would still take a week or two for the bruise to fully heal.

One of your hands remained planted against his shoulder, gripping the cotton of his shirt. “In my bed. I feel safe with you, Law. It’s really okay.”

After receiving your words of affirmation, Law stood from his crouched position and guided you to stand through the darkness, his hand in yours and the other clutched around the ice pack. He discarded the item on your kitchen counter to be dealt with in the morning, keen on getting you comfortable under your secure blankets. You gladly followed him, stepping carefully through the dark home into your bedroom where you blindly navigated to your bedside lamp, pulling down on the cord to activate the light. The warm orange glow flooded the room, making the two of you squint your eyes.

Law could finally see just how bad your bruise really was. A large, black and blue swollen welt tinged with red the exact size of a harshly clenched fist was carved across your skin. The sight of the impact was much more swollen compared to the other side. You had taken a hit most street thugs hadn’t ever dealt with.

“It’s really bad, isn’t it,” you asked, voice still paper-thin and anxious.

“It’s… definitely a decent injury,” Law responded bluntly, inwardly cursing himself at his awkward language.

You didn’t hold it against him, however. Instead, you stripped off your clothes, crawling into bed and leaving the other side open for Law.

“You’re really okay with this?” he asked, one more time.

You nodded. “Yes.”

Law followed your initial lead, taking off his jeans, followed by his shirt and socks, leaving only his boxers covering him. He carefully crawled into the space in your blankets you had left open for him, laying on his back like a plank with his hands awkwardly draped over his abdomen. You pulled down on the cord to your lamp once more and flooded the room with darkness.

The med student felt the mattress dip as you moved closer to him, effortlessly draping yourself over his body, as if you were made to fit into the crevice of his neck. His hands found their position around your back and waist yet again, surrounding you in the comfort you had been longing for all night. You nestled your face into the soft skin of his neck, slow, deep breaths setting a hypnotic, drowsy pace for the both of you to fall into slumber.

No words had to be exchanged, not until the morning at least. Your legs tangled together and your hearts beating in sync did all the talking for now.

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #request fics

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