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pandora-writes-one-piece · 3 months ago

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The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 6

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The Great Pretender 6 🔞

Word Count: 6110

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: Just a little heads up for the first scene 🔞 the rest is SFW! Also, doesn't it feel right for Doffy to slip in a few words of Spanish every now and then? I'm sure I've seen people do that in x reader fics (it's not new!) and maybe that's why it feels right...

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil

Masterlist

-*- Start of 🔞 -*-

Law closes the door to the bathroom and locks it. Now that he's alone he lets himself lose a sliver of his control. He slumps against it softly and closes his eyes, ragged breaths leaving his parted lips.

He went too far.

He didn't mean to make you come, he just wanted to tease you. But your face, your whimpers, your heat… it was all too much for him to handle. He needed to feel you close, to have you wrapped around him and holding him like a vise. He gave in. He shouldn't have.

He kicks his sneakers away and unbuttons his jeans with a soft groan, finally freeing his bulging cock. He got rock hard as soon as he started to touch you. He can usually prolong the teasing as far as he wants without getting this turned on himself.

But your whimpers… the way you gave up and begged, your willingness to let him do what he wants to you. It's all too much and yet, he is well aware that it will never be enough. He got a taste and now he’s obsessed.

Turning the shower on cold and removing the rest of his clothes, he hisses as soon as the water hits his back. He needs to regain his control. He shouldn't have gone this far, he'll have to apologise to you.

But for now, not even the icy water can take away the sound of your mewls in his ears, the way your lips part willingly for him and the way your flesh moulds easily in his hands.

“Fuck!” He curses softly as he punches the wall of the shower in frustration. Closing his eyes, his hand finds his cock throbbing and he palms it. A gentle squeeze and then a rougher one. He imagines you on your knees, willingly opening your mouth for him, your small, warm hands grabbing his length and licking it from top to bottom, your sweet eyes holding his gaze.

“Yes, sweetheart, good girl.” He mumbles against his teeth as his hand bobs up and down. He won't need much stimulation. He'll unravel just as easily as you did earlier. The tension between both of you is so thick that it's crushing.

He groans and tenses, he's so close.

He wasn't lying about your love story. Maybe it's not love yet, but it's something he hasn't felt in a while. You're special, you make him happy.

His hips thrust forward, faster against his hand as he pumps himself in a maddening rhythm. He's now picturing you squirming beneath him, your lips chanting his name in abandon, your whole body clenching his. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

It's not just attraction and want.

He comes with a muffled grunt, his viscous seed spilling against his stomach, his hand and dripping down the drain of the shower. His breaths are uneven and the ice-cold water does nothing to break this heat.

It's not just attraction and want. It's so much more.

-*- End of 🔞 -*-

You sit on the armchair as soon as Law enters the bathroom. Your heart is still beating out of sync, you're still breathless and a haze fills your brain.

How did he make you come undone so easily? He didn’t even need to properly touch you. What kind of spell does he have on you?

As you get up, trying to shake away all the lingering feelings of his touch and lips on your body, you remember how he couldn’t even look into your eyes afterwards. You shouldn’t have let go so easily. Maybe he wanted you to last longer. You didn’t discuss orgasms in your boundaries, but, as you ruled out sex, you didn’t realise that it might happen with just teasing.

You can’t help but think that you’ve, somehow, crossed some kind of unspoken barrier. You’ll need to apologise to him.

And you both might need to make your boundaries clearer.

It’s not that you mind what happened. You don’t regret it and you wouldn’t mind at all if it happened again. But if he’s not comfortable with it, it needs to be spoken about.

Sighing heavily, you stare at your clothes, about to choose something to wear to dinner, but you don’t know what to wear. Is it formal? Casual? Are jeans too casual but a cocktail dress too formal?

You’re about to sit back down again, your tablet already open on your trusted spreadsheet to distract you, while you wait for Law to come out of the bathroom so he can tell you what clothes would be appropriate, when the door opens.

He has a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair wet and still dripping against his tattooed torso and you have to swallow hard before you start to drool. His eyes meet yours for a brief second and you can already tell how much collected he is since your earlier interaction.

“I didn’t grab any clothes before hitting the shower.” He says, to justify his state of undress.

“It’s alright, I was just wondering what I was supposed to wear. Is dinner formal? Casual?” Your voice is still altered and on edge, too high-pitched to be your normal tone and you’re sure he picks up on it.

A soft chuckle escapes his lips as he opens his bag to fish out some clothes. “Dinner in this household is always a formal event. Though you are fine with semi-formal clothes.” Immediately your eyes rake the closet for what dresses you packed. There are some that fit the description so you should be fine.

“I shouldn’t have gone too far. It wasn’t my intention.” Your head whips back at him. He’s scratching the back of his neck - still undressed - and has a conflicted expression on his face. Though he can hold your gaze now.

A nervous smile tugs at your lips as you turn and shake your head. “No, no, it’s okay. It was my fault I… I got too caught up in the moment and-...”

“You don’t have to apologise for feeling pleasure.” His voice drags and envelops you. There’s a sense of safety in his words, a lack of judgement for any and all of your actions. Suddenly it hits you:

As controlling as he tends to be in these intimate settings - domineering even - he makes you feel free. You can be yourself. You can be whatever you need to be and he’ll accept you with open arms. For who you are.

And that is very new, uncharted territory.

Because with Ichiji you were always trying to be someone you were not. Faking your happiness, your likes and dislikes, just faking!

With Law…

It’s simple. So, so simple.

And this realisation makes your breath hitch, leaving you speechless and winded. Even from where you’re standing, you can see the way Law’s jaw clenches and ticks as he takes in your reaction with calculated measures.

“I won’t do it again. We never have to go that far again, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.” Is that regret or sadness in his voice?

You shake your head with vigour. He’s got it all wrong. Yet you don’t trust yourself enough to open your mouth at this moment. Your throat is tight with tension. It has been some time since you have felt validated and actually heard. It’s silly, heck, it’s silly as hell, but the simplest things are the ones that trigger you the most.

Law approaches you tentatively, he can probably sense something is wrong but the all-too familiar crease wrinkling his brows tells you he thinks he’s the cause of this tension. And he is, but for all the right reasons.

“Do you want me to leave?” He asks, taking a step back even before fully reaching you.

“No.” You finally find your voice, though it’s still trembling and weak. “I’m not hurt, or ashamed, or angry, or anything like that!” You let your eyes meet his, a blush on your cheeks and a soft smile tugging at your lips. “It just hit me that I can be exactly who I am with you. And that’s okay. I don’t need to pretend anymore.” Then you chuckle, a snort following your outburst. “I mean, we are pretending, but between you and me… I… well, I can’t quite explain it, but it’s good. I’m feeling good! Because of you.”

The sigh that escapes his lips is soft and full of relief.

“I don’t need to understand completely. As long as I didn’t make you uncomfortable. As long as you’re happy.”

You nod with another smile and he returns to his hunt for clothes while maintaining a close eye on you.

“Law.” You whisper, not looking at him while you too select the clothes you’re going to wear before heading towards the bathroom. “You said you wouldn’t do it again but… I…” He’s silent. He’s going to make you say it.

Somehow you know he’ll always make you say what you want, express your desires and needs. He wants to hear you.

Wait, always? That’s too long…

“I won’t mind if you… do it again. Nothing’s changed. No boundaries were added. At least on my part.” You briefly look at him. He’s wearing a smug smirk on his lips, just a raised corner of his mouth as his amber gaze pierces you. “Do you-...”

“No boundaries added.” He interrupts you and you nod. Already that familiar heat is starting to pool in your belly again. All the possibilities are still open.

And you’re willing to take them with open arms.

-*-

The air between you has cleared and everything is back to normal. You're both showered and dressed and ready to go mingle with family and close friends. There's still a bit of time before you're expected downstairs so you're sitting on your knees in the middle of the bed, with the tablet open in front of you, your notebook on the side and you're chewing on the end of your pen, mouthing facts and curiosities about Law in order to memorise them.

Law has been sitting in the armchair across from you for about ten minutes. His chin resting against his knuckles and eyes fixed on you, watching your every move.

“Are you nearly done?” His voice chimes with amusement.

“Not even close.” You mumble and sigh, opening your arms and falling back to face the ceiling. “I'm so nervous. I'm so doomed. Law, I don't want to fail you.” You drape your arm over your eyes for dramatic effect.

Your whine is both desperate and frustrated. You think you're ready for all the personal questions anyone sends your way, and even if there's something amiss, you've only been ‘dating’ for two months! It's completely believable.

However, before you can rally and say you're prepared, you feel pressure on your ankles and Law pulls you towards the edge of the bed, dragging you close to him. Leaning on his arms, which he places on each side of your head, he stares at your eyes deadpan.

“You're ready. You've got this. We've got this.” His gaze doesn't waver and he's hovering very, very close to your face. So you just nod. His presence is too intense for anything other than that. “Use your words, sweetheart. Do you have this?”

“I've got this.” You whisper.

“Good.”

For a second it almost looks as if he's going to kiss you, but he backs away and a feeling of dread in your stomach makes you wonder if something’s really changed after what happened earlier. The second after, you’re chastising yourself. Nothing’s changed because there’s nothing to change. You’re nothing to each other. Period.

You’re helping him in a tricky family situation and he’s helping you with your over-controlling issues. Nothing else.

“Let's go.”

-*-

You end up choosing a beautiful cocktail dress that is not overly formal but is not as casual as a summer dress and, after fixing your hair and dress again - from having been dragged by Law on top of the bed - he assures you that you look stunning and you both leave the room.

Law's dressed in black jeans, a white dress shirt - half open to show off his tattoos - and a blazer. You sigh. You can't get enough of his sexiness.

He extends his hand for you to take and you can't help a small smile from curling your lips. This does feel like a real relationship, so you need to keep reminding yourself that it's all fake. You can't fall in love with Law over a fake relationship.

Wait, fall in love? Where did that come from?

Law leads you through corridors and halls and, slowly, his demeanour becomes charged again. The usual scowl in place, the familiar creasing in his forehead. It's like he's a different person around his uncle, so much more guarded. So much more unattainable. When you reach the stairs to descend to the hall where all the guests are mingling before heading towards the dining room, Law lets go of your hand and places it on your lower back instead.

“It's showtime.” He mutters softly as you begin descending. You can feel all the eyes turning towards you, it seems like everyone is already gathered downstairs.

Baby 5 is the first to approach you, a big smile on her face as she drags a taller man with an annoyed expression on his face towards you. “Cousin Law! I've missed you!” She tries to hug him but Law grunts and refuses, making you chuckle. “This is Sai! My husband-to-be! Isn't he handsome?” She says dreamily. Sai doesn't seem too thrilled to be here at all, but when their eyes meet, you can see how his gaze softens. There might be love under all that gruffness after all.

Law clasps the man's hand and shakes it, then introduces you to them.

“Hello, it's very nice to meet you, and congratulations on your nuptials.” You say with a smile. “You make the most wonderful couple.”

Baby 5 is delighted with you. “Oh, Law! She's wonderful!” When Law looks at you to confirm her words, you somehow find his eyes softening as well, but he's interrupted before he can say anything.

“Trafalgar, it's been a while since I've seen you.” A blonde man with prominent scars on his face and a wide grin approaches. He speaks to Law but his eyes linger on you. “Baby 5 is right, your friend is wonderful.”

Law's scowl becomes more pronounced, his hold on your back tightens and he pulls you closer. “It's girlfriend, Bellamy.”

Bellamy chuckles and raises his hands in apology before you and Law move on to greet other guests. There are some board members Law said would be present and they're an odd bunch - Trebol, Diamante, Pica and Vergo are their names. The bridesmaid, Sugar, looks really young but Law tells you she's just two years younger than Baby 5. A groomsman, Buffalo and, of course, Doffy and Cora. The bride says that the rest of the wedding party will only arrive tomorrow so it's quite an intimate affair.

To you, it is anything but intimate. It's intimidating. Doflamingo keeps watching you and Law like a hawk, waiting for some kind of slip-up; his associates are already trying to whisk Law away, though he manages to postpone business talk until after dinner; and Bellamy keeps leering at you.

When Cora cheerfully announces that it's time to head to dinner, you close your eyes briefly and take a deep shaky breath. Law notices your discomfort and lingers behind, letting the guests enter the dining room ahead of you.

Then, he turns you towards him, his fingers grazing your ear and then your earring, trailing down your neck as you sigh. The signal. “If this were real,” he whispers near your ear so only you can hear, “you wouldn't have to feel nervous. You'd know I would be there at your side every step of the way. You'd count on me.”

Law's eyes bore into yours as his hands cup your cheeks in an intimate gesture. It’s so comforting that you have to keep repeating in your head that this is all fake and that he just used the signal! Then, you nod in acknowledgment of his words. “I do, Law. I count on you. I trust you.” You don't need to use the signal for your words, they're not fake, they're the absolute truth. You spy Doflamingo watching you from the doorway and Law must have seen him too, because he leans forward and gives you a small peck on the cheek. The small smile on your lips that follows his gesture is also something that is completely true.

Law clasps your hand in his to lead you to the dining room but Doflamingo still looms on the threshold, observing both of you closely, his arms crossed over his chest and a huge grin on his face. “Law, princesa. I hope you had an agreeable rest, earlier.”

You blush at his words. It's almost as if he knows something happened between you, but he can't know, right? It's just a silly guess. “Yes, Uncle, very agreeable. The car ride was quite tiring.” Law pulls you but Doflamingo steps forward, cutting your path and staring directly into your eyes.

“And you, cariño?” A shiver runs down your spine as you face the intensity of his stare and your heart rate accelerates dramatically.

“Yes, sir. Very agreeable, thank you.” You can't help but notice how small and meek your voice sounds under his scrutiny. Doflamingo really is someone who demands respect.

“Hmm…” He starts, holding a hand against his chest, and then whispers. “Careful, you're making me like you. You're really something.” Without taking his eyes off yours, he addresses Law. “You better keep a good hold on this one, Law. I might steal her too.”

Law growls, his calm facade showing a few cracks before he pulls you inside so you can find your seats. There’s no chance to ask him what his uncle meant now, the room is too crowded, and there’s no telling who could be listening.

But what could he mean about stealing you too? What happened? With whom? It feels like this is something you should be privy to, especially because Doflamingo keeps hinting at something. You make a mental note not to forget to address this with Law once both of you are alone.

The dining room is, like everything else in this house, grand and opulent, screaming wealth and fortune. Enormous chandeliers hang from the ceiling, shadowing the massive table. Beautiful china adorns it, along with vases of flowers and the most stunning silverware. It’s all so beautiful.

Law finds your seats and holds the chair for you, helping you get comfortable. He’s by your side, Sugar on your other side and Bellamy directly in front of Law. Cora sits at one end of the table, next to Law, and Doflamingo is on the other end, carefully watching every exchange with his observant gaze.

Bellamy keeps stealing glances at you and Law’s scowl deepens even more. His hand rests on your thigh under the table, and even though no one can see it, it’s a definitive claim to you. He’s acting possessive, and it stirs something within you.

Is it all fake?

The meal begins and everything seems to be flowing smoothly now. Baby 5 is a regular chatterbox and, being at Bellamy’s side, she alone holds the entire conversation for the majority of dinner. Every now and then, she asks you something or other about your relationship, nothing of much importance and all things you and Law have already rehearsed.

You feel a sense of peace and calmness washing away your earlier anxiety. It seems as if you were dreading this dinner for nothing. If the rest of the weekend goes as smoothly as this meal, you’ll both be perfectly fine.

But the wine has been flowing freely. You and Law have been restrained and switched to water long ago. Neither of you wants to get drunk and ruin the pretence, but the other guests are more at ease. And that fact is quite clear when Bellamy decides to stare directly at you. His gaze unmoving and his grin wide.

You begin to shift uncomfortably in your chair, wishing for this dinner to end so you can all get up, but dessert is still being served so it will be another half-hour, at least.

Law senses your discomfort and leans into your ear, you lean towards him as well and when he speaks, his whisper tickles your ear and sends shivers down your spine. “Relax. I’ll put him in his place.” His hand reaches up as he caresses your ear and earring using your signal. “You’re mine, and I’ll let him know soon enough that I don’t share.”

The word ‘mine’ sends a different kind of shiver up your spine. One that lingers. One that burns. It travels through your veins like molten lava and settles low in your core, a thrum beating at the same unholy rhythm as your heart.

You can only nod as Law pulls back.

Another moment passes as you receive your dessert and engage in a bit of girl talk with Sugar and Baby 5 about wedding dresses, but you can still feel the burning, lingering gaze of Bellamy upon you. It’s disconcerting.

Law places his hand on your thigh again, making sure Bellamy sees the gesture, before facing him with a sly smirk. “Bellamy,” his tone is casual, though thick with tension. “Is there something you would like to say to my girlfriend? You keep staring. It’s rude.”

The chatter around you silences as people close to you follow the exchange. Bellamy’s grin falters a bit as he shifts and adjusts his seat in the chair. He wasn’t expecting Law’s confrontational question.

“I just like to look at pretty things, Law. Didn’t know it was a crime.” He leans back, hands in the air, to excuse his behaviour.

Law’s smirk never falters, his touch is unwavering. His tone, however, speaks of annoyance and defiance. “Oh, I know she’s pretty. More than that, she’s stunning. But it’s not just about looking, is it, Bellamy? It’s about intent. And yours seems very, very misplaced.”

Your heart tightens in your chest as you see, from the corner of your eye, Doflamingo watching you attentively, though the rest of the table on his side is pretty oblivious to what is happening around you.

“Come on, man, relax. Drink some more wine. Looking doesn’t do any harm.” Bellamy lets out a nervous chuckle.

“It does when you’re looking at something that doesn't belong to you. You should learn to keep your gaze away from what is mine.” He nearly growls the word.

That word again. Your breath hitches and you bite your lower lip. You can’t help but feel safe and protected near Law. A bright flush spreads through your cheeks and you take a sip of water to try and calm yourself. Law’s hand on your leg squeezes and you take a deep breath.

Yet the fire in you burns hotter.

“Alright, alright. Geez, man, I didn’t mean any disrespect.” Bellamy adds, though his smug grin says otherwise.

“Good. We’re clear then.” Law’s gaze is unwavering and he doesn’t stop piercing his amber eyes into Bellamy’s until the blonde looks somewhere else.

You can’t help but hear Law’s voice saying ‘mine’ over and over again in your head, just like a song on repeat.

-*-

Finally dinner comes to an end, but it’s still far too early in the night to retire and you are all ushered by a smiling Cora to a lounge with a bar where you can have a few more drinks and let conversation flow.

After all, some guests are having fun.

Law leads you with a firm hand on your lower back, but you can feel some strain in his countenance, and you quickly understand why when one of Doflamingo’s associates beckons him over to a table.

Law groans, facing you. “I need to take care of some business with those oafs over there.” Then he sighs as he uses the signal on your earring again. Leaning in, he presses his lips to yours, a very chaste kiss to share in public. A kiss that doesn’t fail to send tingles all over your skin and burn in more places than it should. Law whispers: “If this were real, you wouldn’t need to worry if I were away from you. I’d be imprinted so hard on your body, mind and soul, that you wouldn’t even miss me.”

His words never fail to make you shiver. The intensity with which he delivers them is so powerful that, for a brief moment, you’re fooled into thinking he actually means it. Just a brief moment, though. “I’ll be alright. We’re in the same room. What can happen that is so terrible?”

Law’s scowl is back in an instant and his gaze flickers towards Doflamingo. “Much can happen. But I won’t allow it.” Another peck and he turns his back on you to meet with the men who have already called him again.

You sigh, locate Bellamy, still gazing at you, and decide to go to the complete opposite side of the room. Luckily Baby 5 and Sugar gather near you and you manage to distract yourself with the girls. Time goes by rather fast, in contrast to what happened during dinner and in the blink of an eye, Law is back by your side. But he's still sporting that tense scowl.

“I just came to check on you.” Baby 5 and Sugar are listening so he keeps the pretence, however, he doesn’t use the signal. “Wouldn't want you to think I've abandoned you.”

Your smile is genuine as you grab his hands. “It's alright, Law. I'm in good hands.” He squeezes and the way he's looking at you makes something flutter in your stomach.

You are suddenly reminded that you both discussed physical boundaries, but never emotional ones. Should you? Because this soft look he's giving you could be far more dangerous to your heart than a heated touch.

“You guys are so cute. I wish I could just turn you into plushies and have you on my bed.” Sugar says, her eyes sparkling with emotion.

Well that certainly cuts the emotional tension in the bud. Law rolls his eyes and you chuckle. “I'm just going to get a drink and go back there. It won't be long now, they're discussing a new merger and want to make sure everyone on the board approves.”

You sigh, your lower lip inadvertently pouting a bit. Why must he talk business at a family meeting?

He chuckles softly, his thumb brushing against your lip. “That's cute.” He murmurs, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “See you soon.” His hand lingers on your lip before releasing with another longing sigh from you.

You excuse yourself to go to the restroom and when you return, Baby 5 and Sugar are nowhere to be seen. They must have had some last minute wedding stuff to attend to, but now you feel oddly out of place. Law doesn't acknowledge your entry, too entangled in a heated conversation with Vergo, his expression very guarded. Something must not be going very well with the discussions. You're thirsty, so you swing by the bar - complete with a bartender - and ask for a virgin mojito, while leaning slightly on the counter to stretch your back.

“Lovely accent, mi querida.” Doflamingo’s drawl makes your breath hitch and you turn towards his voice, a deer-in-headlights expression on your face. You look for Law, but his uncle is standing right in your line of sight and he's so big that you doubt Law knows you're there. He probably still thinks you're in the bathroom.

“Thank you, sir.” You whisper to him, accepting the drink from the bartender with a strained smile and taking a step back.

His grin widens, turning wicked and you take a sip of the cold drink to distract yourself from his sharp, piercing gaze. Doflamingo accepts his glass of red wine without a ‘thank you’ or any sort of acknowledgment to the bartender, his eyes never leaving you.

“You're interesting.” He states once again. “Makes me wonder why you're in a relationship with my nephew.” His tone is inquisitive. He's probing, you have to sell this, you're prepared. You just need to forget how extremely intimidating he is.

“I'm in a relationship with Law because we fell in love, sir. It's as simple as that.” You say, like it's the most obvious statement in the world. Then you set down your drink and grasp the counter to stop the shaking of your hands.

He tuts and sighs dramatically. “Nothing regarding love is ever just simple.” Then he takes another step, further invading your space. “Is it?”

You stand your ground, trying not to feel intimidated. “With us it is. We want to be together. I want to be with Law.” Why are you being so defensive? Is he going to read through your act? You desperately want Law to see you, to come to you. Maybe even Cora? But Cora was also engaged in that discussion and, thinking about it, shouldn't the head of Donquixote Enterprises also be there? Why was he taunting you instead?

“You don't know what you want yet, princesa. Trust me.” He says. His grin widens and he leans his head forward, whispering in your ear. “Law is too soft for you. His words are too gentle, his touch is too sweet.” Doffy’s breath feels hot in your ear and you want so desperately to pull back, but you don’t want to give him that advantage over you. “Law doesn’t know how to handle a woman like you. I saw how you behaved when he was acting possessive at the table. I understand you, I know what you want. And you need more than he can offer.”

Somehow his voice drops even lower, a predatory whisper that manages to bristle all the hairs on your body. “I can make you feel what it’s like to be completely owned. You’d learn quickly where you belong.” His whisper burns your skin, but the shivers running through you are as cold as ice. “Under me, or on your knees, I would bend your will with just one look. I know what you crave.”

He’s challenging you, pushing you to your limits with crass words and rude behaviour. Law told you he was inappropriate but, somehow, you didn’t expect this much. It’s terrifying, even.

“You don’t know me.” The murmur that leaves your lips is barely heard, your voice trembles and your lip shakes, but you don’t want to be disrespectful, so you add something: “Sir.”

His hand reaches out, and he tucks a strand of hair out of your face as he hums in satisfaction. “But I know your kind, cariño. You’re all after power. I can give you that.” You try to pull back, to step away from him and his velvety words, but he grabs your forearm, his touch commanding and domineering, making your breath hitch in your throat. “If I were with you, mi querida, I wouldn’t hesitate to bend you over the nearest surface and remind you of who you belong to. I know that’s what you most desire, to be brought to your knees with a simple look. Not to be coddled by my nephew.”

You purse your lips to suppress a gasp as his fingers dig into your skin, his grin widening into a manic smile. Your mouth opens and closes as you try to fight for air, or to find the right words. You can barely think, he scares you. He pushes you and bends you and you just don’t want to break under pressure.

You don’t have time, however, to think of a good answer because you feel a pull at your waist as a familiar safe sensation invades you and you can breathe again. “Is there something I can help you with, Uncle Doffy?”

Law’s voice is low and calm. His usually controlled demeanour takes over, however, the crease in his forehead is deep and pronounced and there’s a lingering rage underneath the surface. Doflamingo releases your arm and you wince, slipping closer to Law, moulding to the side of his body easily.

“Not at all, Law. I was just getting acquainted with your lovely novia. There’s no need to be so possessive, is there?” He smirks as he leans back, taking a casual sip of his drink while his eyes still linger over you.

Law’s jaw clenches and he lets out a low growl, but Doflamingo continues.

“It’s funny,” he chuckles long and low, “it reminds me of a different time, long ago. Remember, Law? Back when you thought loyalty and love were something you could not buy?”

You’re not quite sure where Doflamingo is going with his speech, but Law’s hold on you tightens and he pulls you even closer. “That’s not important tonight, Doffy.”

“But I think it is, Law. You see, I thought I had taught you better than this. Yet it seems as if you haven’t learned. You keep seeking women who need more than you can offer. Something your soft words cannot provide. Must I teach you again what power does a firmer hand and money hold? How easy it is to make someone… change allegiances?” His eyes are menacing as he alternates between you and Law.

You’re still very lost as to what they are referring to, yet he is getting under Law’s skin. You’ve never seen Law this discomposed. He’s almost baring his teeth at his uncle, his eyes darkening as his fingers dig deep into your waist, they will certainly bruise.

“That’s enough, Uncle.”

“Women who seek a little power are all the same, Law.” Doflamingo’s smirk drops and he straightens up, his figure imposing as he stares at Law. “You once thought love was all it took, but all I had to do was wave a few bills. Let’s see just how long this one holds, I’m actually very interested in the challenge.”

He speaks as if you’re not there. It’s a personal agenda he and Law have and you can almost see the tension building around them. For a sliver of a moment, Law’s mask of perfect control slips and a soft vulnerability rattles him, like he’s considering his uncle’s words.

“Every woman has a price, Law. Whether it’s monetary, or just power and influence. I have it all.”

The way Law pulls you to him makes you wince, but you don’t pull back, it’s like they barely know you’re there.

“Don’t compare them, Doffy.” He says your name through gritted teeth. “She and Monet are not the same.”

Monet? Who is she? Law didn’t tell you about her, though from what you can grasp of the conversation, it seems as if she was someone Law loved. And Doffy lured her away.

How twisted.

Doflamingo leans in, his face inches away from Law’s, but he doesn’t flinch. “You know something I’ve learned, Law, is that the more I rattle you, and the more paranoid and possessive you get… the easier it becomes to steal your toys.” The manic grin on Doflamingo’s face widens before he finally falls back. He finishes his wine glass and decides to call an end to this taunting session. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Law is left staring at the spot where his uncle just stood. His face is a mix of emotions, something you’ve never witnessed before. He’s beyond rattled, he’s on the verge of losing the control he normally possesses.

He’s still gripping you tight and it’s beginning to be unbearable, so you place your hand on his chest, trying to get him to look at you. “Law?” He doesn’t respond immediately, his throat bobbing up and down, clearly trying to regain control of his emotions. “Law you’re hurting me.” You say softly and that makes him come back.

“Sorry!” He releases you in haste, the hand that was holding you tousling his hair as he lets out a loud sigh. Then he clasps your hand in his and pulls you. “Let’s go.”

You follow him blindly. A myriad of questions burning at the back of your mind. Why does Doflamingo rattle him so much? And why is he so adamant about breaking Law? Who was Monet? What did she mean to Law?

But mostly… is she still important to him?

|Chapter 7|

#one piece au #one piece #the meet cute #law x reader #reader insert #x reader #reader x trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #law x you #you x law #reader x law

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whump-town · 3 years ago

Text

The Traveling T-Shirt

No Pairings

No Warnings

It's just Morgan's t-shirt traveling through the BAU one person and story at a time

It starts with a coffee spill in Seattle. With Aaron, startlingly enough.

Six days in the rain and it seemed even their cleanest, driest clothing was damp with the chill from the constant downpour. Though, six days on their feet with clothing they’d already worn at least twice that week on their backs, they looked more and more “rag-tag” as the hours bore on. Even Hotch had lost his cookie-cutter charm. His white t-shirt crumpled where it was typically pressed to perfection, not a wrinkle in sight. His hair wouldn’t stay gelled into the style he liked it in, leaving it fluffy and soft on the top of his head. He looked significantly less like SSA Aaron Hotchner and a lot more like Aaron.

Maybe he had lost SSA Hotchner somewhere along the days and victims because SSA Hotchner would never spill coffee on himself. But Aaron would and Aaron did.

Derek watched the whole thing take place, unable to take his eyes off of Hotch since the second that he walked in. Something about his tired zombie-like lurches just couldn’t break Derek’s curiosity and he had to know what would come out of Hotch’s current state. Despite the far-away look in Hotch’s gaze, the tired bags of discoloration under his eyes, Derek would not have predicted this as the outcome. Hotch is so out of it that all he can do is stare at the mess he’s created, glaring at the mess of coffee grounds across his less than pristine white dress shirt.

“Here,” Derek shakes his head, has to manually clear the fog occupying his brain. He pulls at the loose clump of napkins someone had left atop the coffee table for this exact situation, presses the mass into Hotch’s stomach. It feels akin to something else, distinctly deja-vu. Like he’s pressing into a wound, holding him together with nothing more than cheap napkins.

The physical contact brings Hotch back to the Earth and with a few blinks of his blood-shot eyes he sighs irritably and mumbles, “I don’t have any more clean shirts.”

Derek would argue the one he’s currently wearing is not clean either. It’s got a few dots of red expo marker on the left elbow where Reid bumped into him, rambling quickly about his map and the geographical profile. On the cuff of his right sleeve, there’s something brown or black which could be something from a pen or an expo marker or something else he’s just stuck his hand in. God knows what else is on this shirt.

Hotch puts his hand over Derek’s, holds the napkins himself. Derek pats his shoulder, “it’s alright, man. I’ll get you a shirt.”

They could go just about anywhere and just buy him a shirt. It could be some looney graphic t-shirt from the boy’s sections of some store down the street or another white dress shirt to replace the one he’s wearing but Derek just gets one of his. It’s a light grey, the color worn down by how frequently Derek wears it. Where it fits Derek snugly, hugs his chest and back tightly, it fits Hotch oddly. Displays to them all just how right they were in the assumptions they have held about how his recent divorce is affecting him.

He’s lost weight.

Too much.

One thin grey Hanes t-shirt can’t fight off the chill and overtop it, covering his visible bones, Dave throws him a sweater. He stays buried in that sweater and shirt all day, long into the night as they go hunting out in the streets with flashlights. Rain comes down heavy and thick.

Dave gets his sweater back. Folded neatly and smelling of the distinct fabric softener Hotch uses, it makes his whole office smell nice and Dave nearly can’t bring himself to wear the thing again. Doesn’t want the scent to fade, every inch of that sweater is now stitched together with something more.

The t-shirt gets left at the bottom of a drawer, to be discovered months from now.

Emily finds it six nights after Foyet left Hotch in Saint Sebastion’s hospital held together by sugrical staples and the stubborn will to live. All of his clothing has been hunted through, his shirt drawer is nearly empty. JJ and Penelope had undertaken the job of finding Hotch clothing for the hospital -- anything that he could just slip his arms into without having to lift them above his head. The only things left in his drawers are regular t-shirts and jeans, meaning Emily doesn’t have a whole lot to pick through right now.

She hadn’t anticipated this need and as much forethought as she put into staying the night was assuming Hotch would have clothes she could steal. She hadn’t really thought she’d be here tonight but she doesn’t think she can leave him alone. Doesn’t think it would be kind of her as his friend to see him like this and still choose to leave him for the night.

She decides on a thin grey shirt that she finds, turning her nose up to his university t-shirts (as if she’d wear those) and a pair of sweat pants on his floor that she thinks are clean or at least don’t smell bad. It’s not the best but she came unprepared and she’s not going to complain, both are comfortable even if the pants are giant on her.

To her surprise, he’s still fighting off his meds. Hazy brown eyes blink open when she steps back out into the living room, following her as she comes to the couch. She’s careful, even if she does it nonchalantly, as she moves his legs a little so that she can sit down beside him. He’s stretched across the couch, too big so he’s pinched up in places, but he doesn’t want to sleep in his room. Stubborn like a child being asked to take a nap -- “but I’m not tired”.

“T’as not my shirt,” he mumbles into his blanket. He’s got the heating blanket pulled up his nose, wrapped tightly around his shoulders and hands.

Emily looks down at it and frowns. “Well, then who the hell else’s is it?” She reaches for the TV remote on the coffee table, turning it on without waiting for his answer. Clearly, she doesn’t care who’s it is, she’s not taking it off now. His grunt, muffled by the blanket, means he doesn’t know and he doesn’t really care enough either to figure out who it is.

He doesn’t last much longer, falls asleep with her squishing him on the couch (though, arguably, he’s squishing her). She’ll brush off his timid embarrassment at having to need her around the next morning, for waking up in the middle of the night having to be held down. Sobbing incoherently about something, neither of them really sure what. Only calming down when she put his head in her lap, stroking his hair back until he fell back asleep. Which is how he wakes up, his head in her lap and his hand holding her’s hostage.

But she shrugs it off and says she only did it for the free shirt, “don’t worry about it.”

She keeps the shirt, uses it several more nights as they graduate from sleeping on the couch to him finally going back to his bed. To being mentally present enough again to fight her about taking meds, to walking her to the front door every night, and watching her leave.

She buries the shirt too. It feels too tight on her skin, wrong. She touches the material and remembers seeing him hysterical, writhing in pain, and unable to be comforted. Can smell the antiseptic from his skin. Can hear the doctor warning her about his heart. That shirt feels like losing her best friend but she can’t bring herself to get rid of it.

JJ uncovers it a year later (before Emily has done the unspeakable, the unimaginable, and died and come back to life). It’s a girls night gone wrong but not impossibly so.

“Just grab one of my shirts,” Emily says, still laughing.

JJ glares back at her. She’s covered in water from the sink -- Emily sprayed her with the faucet. It’s revenge, payback for the pasta sauce JJ swiped down her cheek.

“You two are devious,” Penelope insists, waving her fingers at them. She’s still chopping up mushrooms, trying to size them as best as she can so that they are spread evenly throughout the alfredo sauce. “Behave before you ruin the sauce and I have to tell Dave that I not only shared his recipe but that you two ruined it.”

JJ has to search for a shirt from Emily’s pajama drawer. She doesn’t want any of the old college shirts and certainly doesn’t want any of the dopey graphic t-shirts Emily is so partial to. She ends up on a grey shirt, worn and old and soft.

Emily knows the shirt the second the JJ comes out and it takes her a moment to hide and stifle the anxiety that its presence gives her. Hotch’s health is better, he’s got a routine down with the medication he’ll be taking for the rest of his life because of that attack, but he’s smiling again. It’s harder than it was before to win one out of him but he can do it, they happen.

“Which one-night stand is this?” JJ asks, plucking the shirt with her fingers and raising an eyebrow.

Emily shakes her head, clears her throat of the residual guilt, and smirks, “trust me, you don’t want to know.” Hotch would be mortified at the insinuation but it’s funny and what he doesn’t know (and what they don’t know) can’t hurt him. She’s sad to see the shirt go, it’s a door closed, but relieved of its burden she can breathe again. Feels Foyet leave her completely.

JJ goes unburdened.

That old shirt is a comfort. She nurses Henry through fevers in it. Uses its edge to wipe his tears from his face. It’s always at the top of her laundry basket, the first thing she puts on when she gets home from a rough case. Will isn’t sure where she got it from because he knows it’s not his. It’s not the first time JJ’s stolen someone else’s clothes (he’s picked up enough of them to know that Reid wears a size small, that dark shirts sized medium are Morgan, and that white t-shirts in a medium are Hotch’s). He thinks it’s cute, she’s been stealing his shirts for as long as he’s known her.

In October, the fall of the same year that Emily leaves for Interpol, JJ gets held up in a meeting with Hotch. Something to do the with Department of Justice and all she manages to get out over the phone is that she’s absolutely pissed and Reid can just faintly hear Hotch offering her a coffee before she thanks him and the line goes dead. Will is on night shift and he can’t come home. So Reid fills in, their impromptu babysitter for the night.

It’s fine, calm… for the most part.

Reid lasts about an hour and a half before he finds himself in need of a change of clothes. He’s got pumpkin all over him and his fun little idea to let Henry carve a baby pumpkin was obviously a bad idea. He just didn’t know that in advance. He’s watched Jack enough times to feel fully confident in his skills but the age gap between Henry and Jack is severe. There are a lot of developmental differences in children only two years apart in age, Reid was not prepared for that.

He feels weird about stealing a shirt but his own is soaked in pumpkin guts and Henry’s bathwater.

JJ doesn’t notice the shirt exchange. She just grins at the sight of Spencer and Henry curled up on the couch, Will sitting beside them eating popcorn while “It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” plays softly.

Three days later Morgan sees his shirt on the back of the couch. It’s been washed and is waiting to be returned to JJ but he knows damn well that it’s his. “How the hell did you find this?” Morgan asks, lifting it up. Reid had called him over to fix a leaking pipe (Reid is supposed to call his Super who has a mechanic who can do it but he’s too anxious for that) and Morgan was less than prepared to find his missing shirt.

Reid frowns, confused, “that’s JJ’s. I borrowed it Thursday night when I babysat.”

Morgan shakes his head, no this is his shirt. He’s sure of it. It’s been gone for years. He thought the washing machine ate it. He couldn't remember where else it would have gone off to. That or he left it in some hotel but here it is. Grey and worn and soft, it’s his.

He takes it to work in his go-bag and all but rolls his eyes into the back of his head when he watches Garcia stumble and drench herself in cold, left-over tea. He stands from his desk, sighing hard, “it’s alright, baby girl. I’ve got a shirt you can borrow.”

He’s never getting this shirt back.

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #dererk morgan #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #spencer reid #penelope garcia

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i-stan-nct-and-satan · 5 years ago

Text

Not Broken Part 10 (Jaehyun Mafia AU)

Not Broken Masterlist

Jaehyun X Reader

Y/N is a burlesque dancer living in Seoul. Jaehyun is one of the most powerful mafia men in Seoul. How will Y/N survive when Jaehyun suspects that she is involved with a rival gang?

Reasons to read this story: Ten's a cross-dressing madam so..... yeah read it ya freaks.

Trigger warning: mentions of physical abuse, mentions of sexual abuse

“Wow.”

Taeyong was the first to break the silence once the tape ended.

Everyone in the room turned their heads to look at their boss. They had been gauging his reactions as they all listened to the tape, but no one dared to make eye contact with him until now.

His unreadable expression juxtaposed the guilt-ridden faces that filled the room.

Jaehyun remained silent as he processed the contents revealed in the tape.

“Damn. We fucked up,” Mark offered, attempting to ease the tension in the room.

An abrupt fist slammed onto the table, immediately prompting Mark to regret the words that fell past his lips.

“What did you just say?” Jaehyun dared Mark to repeat himself.

“Uh. I-I just,” Mark stuttered.

“You what?”

“I was just saying that we made a mistake. That’s all.”

“A mistake? You think that I made a mistake?”

“N-no sir, I just meant.”

“What else could you have meant?” Jaehyun challenged, standing up from the table.

“What about the rest of you? Who else thinks that I made a mistake in how I’ve chose to deal with the situation at hand?”

The room was silent as Jaehyun looked around at his men.

“Don’t think that this changes anything. This tape is just another factor to consider. We’ve dealt with hostages in the past who have come up with more convincing stories than this one. The fact of the matter is that we’ve just heard another story and we don’t know if it’s true or not and even if it is, that still doesn’t mean that we were anything less than professional in how we’ve gone about this mission. I expect you all to remember who we are and why we’re here.”

Jaehyun looked at his second in command whose eyes were currently glued to the floor.

“To find the bastard who killed IU. Don’t let your feelings get in the way of that. Y/N isn’t a woman, she’s a suspect. Remember that.”

<><><><><><><><>

I shut the water off.

“Finished?”

“Yeah.”

“Here’s a towel.”

I instinctively crossed my arms over my breasts, half expecting Winwin to pull back the curtain completely. I was relieved when instead, Winwin’s hand enter the shower only to hand me a fluffy, oatmeal-colored towel.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, cursing myself under my breath for having thanked one of my captors.

“When you’re done drying off, wrap yourself **** and then come out,” the raven-haired boy instructed.

I quickly ran the towel over my body before using it to give my hair a quick ruffle with it to keep my hair from dripping all over. I didn’t want to rush, but I didn’t want to risk irritating the man acting as my prison guard, so I wasted no time in wrapping the towel around my frame before stepping out into the spacious bathroom.

Winwin’s eyes only looked over my body for a brief moment before he walked over to the door. The apparent disinterest in his stare caused me to wonder if he was only looking to make sure I wasn’t hiding anything under my towel. Maybe he really wasn’t interested in women, not that a man’s lack of attraction to me meant that he lacked an attraction to any woman. I wasn’t deluded enough to think that.

“Are you coming or not?” he asked, obviously annoyed.

Yet again, I had found myself distracted by unimportant thoughts. I followed him out the door and back into the large bedroom.

“What’s your size?”

“Excuse me?”

Winwin rolled his eyes as he grabbed my free hand, the one that wasn’t holding my towel in place. He guided me over to a black dresser whose shiny painted coating gave it an obsidian-like appearance. I lost myself in the reflection of the black surface and for a fleeting second, I questioned whether a dresser made of obsidian was really that farfetched of an idea, especially in a house like this.

Winwin kneeled in front of the dresser and opened the bottom drawer. He took out a few pairs of pants before closing the drawer and opening the one above it. I watched as he continued to open each drawer, take out a few articles of clothing and then close them again. Once his arms were filled with clothing, he stood up and walked over to the neatly made bed. He dropped the clothing onto the bed, ruining its once wrinkle free surface.

“See what fits.”

I turned to Winwin, now aware of what he had meant before when he asked for my size.

“I don’t want to change in front of you.”

Winwin rolled his eyes for the hundredth time.

“Then I guess you better check the sizes to see what fits **** you don’t have to do it more than once,” he instructed.

Knowing that he wasn’t going to budge, I walked over to bed and inspected the labels on each article of clothing. I had only meant to look at the sizing, but I couldn’t help but notice the branding that adorned each piece. Dior, Chanel, and Versace littered the bed spread. Lucky for me, the clothes all seemed to be roughly my size with only a few exceptions that were definitely meant for someone much thinner than me. For some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to choose any of the articles that appeared to be on the more expensive side, so I grabbed the plainest white T shirt I could find and a pair of jeans. I couldn’t help but notice that even the T shirt, which the average person wouldn’t have been able to distinguish from one that came in a Hanes value pack, had a Gucci tag on the inside.

Rich people, I swear.

I turned away from Winwin and gave my best attempt to put on the shirt and jeans while still hiding my body with the towel. There wasn’t any underwear on the bed to choose from, but I figured that was because Winwin believed that no underwear was better than used underwear, a sentiment I agreed with.

“Hey Winwin?” I asked as I awkwardly changed into the fresh set of clothing.

“Hm?”

“Whose room is this?”

Winwin paused for a few seconds as he organized his thoughts.

“Lee Ji-eun's.”

I shot Winwin a glance while continuing to change.

“Oh. Who is that?” I probed further as I pulled the shirt over my head.

“Jaehyun’s sister. The one who was killed by Lucas.”

The towel dropped to my feet.

<><><><><><><><>

“So, what do we do now, sir?” Johnny asked, cautious not to piss his boss off any more than he already was.

“Right now, we have to check her story out for any inconsistencies. Taeil, recheck the footage from the ball. If there’s anything we missed, we need to find it.”

“Got it,” Taeil obliged, opening his laptop.

“Johnny, go tell Winwin to take the girl back to the basement,” Jaehyun commanded.

“On it.”

Johnny turned to leave when the sound of vigorously clacking keys came to a sudden stop.

“Um, boss?” Taeil gulped, causing both Johnny and Jaehyun to turn towards him.

“You might want to take a look at this,” he continued, rotating the screen so they could see.

“Crap,” Jaehyun muttered, gritting his teeth.

Taeyong positioned himself beside Jaehyun so that he could see what his friend was referring to.

“Oh no.”

“What? What is it?” Mark asked as he tried to see the screen only for Jaehyun to close it.

“They know.”

Everyone’s eyes were on Jaehyun as Taeyong took the lead in updating everyone.

“That was a message from Wayv. They know Y/N killed Lucas and they know we have her. Not only that, but they’re demanding we give her to them.”

“Wait, so that confirms that Y/N’s story is true, right? That she didn’t have anything to do with IU’s death,” Mark exclaimed excitedly.

Jaehyun sent a glare towards Mark.

“What it means is that we have a rat among us, moron,” Doyoung spat.

“W-what?” Mark faltered.

“That’s right,” Jaehyun began.

“It makes sense that word would spread after the events of the burlesque show. It wouldn’t be that much of a surprise if they figured out the identity of the girl we took or even why we took her, but one thing’s for sure, there was no way that they could have found out about the contents on the tape without someone here leaking it.”

“Jae, you know that no one here would betray us, and besides, there are over ways they could have found out. They could have hacked us,” Taeyong voiced.

“How Taeyong? We used as old-fashioned recording device,” Jaehyun boomed.

“No evidence of hacking our networks either,” Taeil chimed in having reopened his laptop.

“What about hidden cameras?”

Taeil lifted his head from the laptop.

“Not a chance there either. I implemented a system that messes with the electromagnetic frequency of certain HighTech transmitting recording devices. That’s why we use older forms of recording devices.”

Taeyong sat down, looking defeated.

“Okay, but... who could it even be?”

A pregnant pause washed over the room as everyone attempted to cease their wandering eyes.

“Fuck!” Jaehyun cursed causing everyone to look at him.

“Winwin is alone with Y/N right now! That bastard!”

Jaehyun turned to Taeyong.

“Hurry, we need to find them before-”

“Before what?” Taeyong panted.

“If Winwin’s the mole, he might be under orders to hand Y/N over to Wayv or to kill her on the spot. We have to find them, now!” he yelled before they both started charging towards the East wing.

Johnny hesitated for a moment before turning to the remaining members at the table.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Now it was Johnny’s turn to start running towards the East wing with Mark following quickly behind.

Doyoung got up to follow but was stopped by a sudden hand that tugged at his wrist. Doyoung faced his purple haired partner.

“What?”

“You don’t think that Winwin’s actually the mole, do you?”

Doyoung’s face softened slightly before looking down at Taeil, who was purposely avoiding his gaze.

“I don’t know, but it’s not our place to challenge orders.”

Once the blue streaked boy disappeared from their vision, Yuta and Taeil merely stared at the empty doorway.

“Winwin please,” Taeil prayed softly

<><><><><>

“Are you done changing?” Winwin asked.

“Oh, umm. Yeah,” I commented, having been suddenly caught off guard.

I bent over to grab the towel that had fallen at my feet.

Winwin did his best to explain everything to me. He told me that IU was Jaehyun’s sister and that she was killed by Lucas. He explained how Wayv defected from NCT and how they’ve been unable to find him since the incident. Winwin even told me how the necklace I was wearing the night I was kidnapped had belonged to her and that led Jaehyun and the rest of NCT 127 to believes that I had something to do with his sister’s death. I stood there and listened to him without any comments or questions. It was too much to take in all at once.

“What? Are you surprised?” he questioned, observing your reaction.

“No,” I lied.

I thought they were interrogating me for Lucas’ death but instead they thought I was responsible for his sister’s death? I almost died because of that mistake. Even if that’s why he acted the way he did, he nearly beat me to death and over a goddamn misunderstanding. I scoffed in bewilderment. Winwin stared at me eyebrows raised.

“I was just noticing how I’m getting better at understanding your accent,” I lied again.

I was amazed that Winwin’s eyes didn’t fall out of his head due to all the eyerolling he did.

“Oh wow. What an honor,” he mused sarcastically.

“So...” I began.

“So...?”

I laughed at the amount of courage I was feeling. Especially since it didn’t make much sense in this situation.

“So, what was she like?”

“IU? Well... She wa-”

Winwin was cut off when the door to the bedroom was slammed open. The interruption was so abrupt and unexpected that I fell back onto the bed. Winwin, however, seemed unaffected by the pink haired man who had suddenly crashed the conversation. Only seconds after Jaehyun entered the room, a certain fiery red head soon followed suit.

Jaehyun’s gaze met mine and a wave of relief seemed to wash over him, softening his usually stiff features. I, of course, hadn’t noticed this. I was too anxious to decipher the meaning behind his expression since I was still in fear for my life.

His breathing was heavy and uneven making it obvious that he had run here. He stared at Winwin, giving himself a few seconds to catch his breath and assemble his thoughts before approaching the composed man in a less than composed manner.

“You bastard!” Jaehyun’s hands grabbed Winwin’s shoulders, forcing his narrow frame into the wall.

Despite their similar heights, Winwin’s body, which looked as though it had been defined through years of hand-to-hand combat, looked almost fragile next to Jaehyun’s more muscular build. Anyone else would have surely felt overcome with alarm and panic if put in Winwin’s position, yet the man himself seemed to be more annoyed than anything.

“Admit it, you worthless piece of shit.”

Johnny and Mark were the next to run through the bedroom door, then Doyoung, but I hadn’t noticed their presence until Taeyong’s hand came into my field of vision. I looked up at him, realizing that he was offering to help me up. I accepted without thinking.

“Mark over here is going to take you somewhere. Follow everything he says, okay?”

Despite his intimidating features, his gaze resembled that of a concerned mother. His watery eyes mirrored mine and I couldn’t help but trust that his instructions were in my best interest. I nodded in response before the nearby blonde guided me into the hall.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Winwin’s bitter stare bore holes into the hands that were wrinkling his shirt.

“And what exactly is it I should be admitting?” he challenged, making no effort to remove himself from his boss’s grip.

“Don’t fuck with me, Winwin. Or should I say Sicheng?” Jaehyun spat.

Winwin’s irritation turned into genuine confusion once the name had reached his ears.

After a short pause, Winwin’s eyes widened in realization only for them to tightly squeeze shut.

“What did Kun do?”

An oppressive force filled the room and the now somber atmosphere resembled that of a funeral rather than an interrogation.

Jaehyun removed his hands from Winwin but his unmoving figure informed his curly haired underling that he wasn’t finished with him yet.

“Wayv knows.” Jaehyun carefully analyzed Winwin’s reactions as he disclosed this new information.

Winwin looked past his boss’ shoulders at the other four men standing in the room with them. Doyoung stared back at him while Johnny and Mark did their best to avoid meeting his gaze. Taeyong simply shook his head at what was happening in front of him.

“About what? The girl?” he finally responded.

When Jaehyun gave no hint of confirming nor denying his presumption, he continued to press on.

“And what? You think I’m the one who told them? What evidence do you have of that? None, right?” Winwin scoffed.

“Well who else would it be?”

“Winwin is innocent!”

Everyone’s eyes shot towards the two men who had abruptly entered the bedroom.

“What do you mean?” Jaehyun asked.

“The message from Wayv. It wasn’t traceable.” Yuta explained.

“So? It isn’t uncommon for an enemy message to be untraceable. It’d be sloppy of them if it was.”

“Yes, but this time it’s different,” Taeil began.

“Normally with messages like these, we can at least trace them back to an IP address even though they’re almost always dead ends, but when I traced the origins of this message ...”

“Get to the point, Taeil,” Jaehyun ordered.

“Yes, sir. When I searched for the message’s origin, the IP address the message was sent from matched the IP address of the computer that received it.”

“In other words, it was sent from Taeil’s laptop,” Yuta translated.

“Wait, what does that mean? So, someone had access to Taeil’s computer?” Taeyong asked.

“Well kind of. As you all know, I’ve been the only one who’s had any direct physical contact with my laptop over the last few days,” Taeil explained.

“So, what are you saying?” Jaehyun huffed.

“Someone hacked my laptop without me knowing. I gotta give it to them, I had no idea and right now I don’t have any idea how long they’ve had access or how much control they had, but at this point, it’s highly probable that they’ve accessed control of everything my laptop has control of, including any systems we’ve implemented not to mention it’s microphone and camera.”

“So, they can hear everything Taeil’s laptop could hear,” Yuta summarized.

Jaehyun turned back to Winwin.

“Don’t think this means we’re done here,” He growled.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Winwin smirked at his boss.

“Taeil? Where’s your laptop right now?” Jaehyun asked the brown-haired man.

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

“So, how are you?” Mark asked as we walked down the winding hallways.

I stopped and looked at him, the irritation in my face somehow went over his head.

“So, is that like a not good?”

“Oh no, I’m great. I might have two black eyes but at least I don’t have three,” I spat out before resuming my pace.

Mark sighed.

“Where are we even going?” I asked, still peeved.

“You know what, I don’t actually know. Taeyong didn’t give me any orders beyond telling me to get you out of there.”

“How did I get myself into this mess?” I muttered under my breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Mark looked around as we continued down the hall. I could tell there was something on his mind, but I couldn’t bring myself to care what it was.

“Hey,” He loudly called out even though I was walking right next to him.

I gave him a quick glance before returning my gaze forward.

“What?” I asked.

“Are you hungry?”

Before I could even think of an answer, my stomach thought of one for me.

Mark’s laughter added to my annoyance, but I chose to stay silent.

“I know where we should go.”

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

“Boss, what are we planning to do?” Johnny asked following his colleagues as they journeyed down the East wing’s halls.

“Do you think that we can mislead them by giving them fake information or something?” Yuta half-asked half-suggested.

“Not an option,” Taeil chimed in.

“Exactly. If Wayv has complete access to Taeil’s laptop, then they already know that we’ve found them out. The only thing we can do now is destroy it and initiate the emergency systems.” Jaehyun stopped before looking to Taeil.

“Unless you think you’d be able do anything.”

“Sorry, boss. That’s a no go. They’re already ten steps ahead of me if they managed to hack into my computer system and if they know that we’ve discovered their presence, they’re probably working to get twenty steps ahead as we speak.”

“Then it’s settled,” Jaehyun began as he and his men turned the corner entering the kitchen.

“We’ll incinerate the laptop before we-”

Jaehyun’s words came to a sudden halt as he found himself staring at Y/N and Mark sitting and eating on the kitchen counter.

“What do you think? I was right, huh?” Mark asked, handing me the packet of gummy candy we were sharing.

“Hmmm. I don’t know, I kind of like the sour apple ones better than the watermelon.”

“Psh, whatever. More for me I gue- Boss!”

I turned towards the group of men who had entered the kitchen. When my eyes landed on the man who was responsible for my wrecked state, I froze.

“What is this?” Jaehyun demanded as he approached us.

Despite knowing that the question was directed more towards Mark than at the both of us, I still struggled to form anything even close to resembling a coherent thought. I had just watched this man get into it with Winwin without personally feeling the slightest ounce of fear, but now his aggression was being directed towards me and Mark. I hadn’t noticed until Mark started speaking that he must have felt the same way.

“I umm we-”

“I instructed Mark to take Y/N to the kitchen to get her some food,” Taeyong winked.

Jaehyun turned back towards the redhead that was standing behind him.

“Well let’s hope for your sake and theirs that they didn’t say anything of any importance while sitting only one room away from our little problem.”

“Huh? What problem?” Mark inquired more curious than fearful at this point.

Instead of answering, Jaehyun motioned for Doyoung to come closer. After whispering in his ear and pointing towards the living room, Doyoung nodded and left for the nearby room.

“Taeil and Yuta, go catch Mark up on everything upstairs” Jaehyun ordered.

“As for you,” Jaehyun rumbled, turning his head towards Winwin.

“Until we know for sure what’s going on, Johnny will be tasked with staying by your side. Johnny, make sure you keep an eye on him.”

“Um. I can watch him boss,” Yuta volunteered.

Jaehyun immediately shook his head.

“Johnny will be in charge of watching Winwin and that’s final. I need you to help Taeil explain the situation to Mark in terms that he’ll understand. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir.” Yuta acquiesced.

Mark hopped off the countertop and offered me up a sympathetic look before heading off with his colleagues.

It was just us three now. I could hear my heart beating in my chest. It only made me more anxious as I feared that he could hear it too and that he might end my life just to rid himself of the bothersome sound.

I kept my eyes glued to the floor as to not disrespect the man in front of me. I wasn’t going to risk pissing him off any more than I already had, not while my skin was still splashed with shades of blue and violet.

I could sense his stare and though I was fearful of the consequences that would arise might my eyes meet his, I couldn’t suppress my curiosity for more than a few brief moments and so I surrendered to his gaze. Though I had expected to see a look of rage, what I was met with instead was that of confusion. He looked over my body as though examining an antique he was trying to set a fair price for. It wasn’t the most objectifying look I had received. Far from it, in fact, but I couldn’t help but feel self-conscious under his scrutinizing gaze. I had no idea what was going on. Now that they found out what happened with me and Lucas, NCT 127 had no use for me anymore and Jaehyun was probably thinking of what to do with me. If he was going to kill me, wouldn’t he have done it by now? Perhaps he had something else in store for me. Was this pink haired mob boss contemplating whether I’d be profitable if he were to sell me as a sex slave?

“Those clothes,” He growled.

I blinked a few times, waiting for him to finish his thought.

“Take them off.”

“W-what?” I stuttered aghast.

“Boss?” Taeyong quirked, voice riddled with concern.

“I said, take them off. Now.” His voice boomed.

My already uneven breathing quickly turned into full on hyperventilation. I looked for an exit hoping to find any way out of the mess that I was in, but it was no use. My heart was beating faster than a rabbit whose foot was caught in the teeth of a large predator. Adrenaline filled my veins, yet I was too fearful to use it. I was frozen in place, unable to think, speak, or move even an inch. The familiar sight of black dots began to dull my vision until there was nothing else to be seen.

“Shit!” Taeyong cursed as he scrambled to my side.

“What the hell was that?!” He shouted as he checked to make sure the fall didn’t do any serious damage.

“Those clothes,” Jaehyun muttered bitterly. “They’re IU’s.”

“So?! Just because you don’t like seeing someone else wear IU’s clothing doesn’t mean you can just order them to strip, Jaehyun! Do you have any idea what she must have been thinking?”

“She’s not just someone else. She’s the girl who’s involved in IU’s death.”

“No, she’s not, Jae. You saw Wayv’s message. Her story was true,” Taeyong stood up from Y/N’s side. He was practically yelling at his boss.

“You don’t know that. She could be working with them!”

Taeyong grabbed Jaehyun by the shoulders.

“Snap out of it, Jae! Stop looking at her like she’s the person who killed your sister and start seeing her for what she is, one of Lucas’ victims, just like your sister. No, actually. Scratch that. You should start thinking of her as the girl who killed the man who killed your sister because that being the case, maybe you should thank her instead of doing whatever the hell it is you think you’re doing!”

Taeyong immediately regret the words as they left his mouth, but it was too late. He braced himself for whatever reaction Jaehyun would have to his verbal lashings, but he wasn’t prepared for his boss’s lack of a reaction.

Jaehyun scowled at his second in command before looking at the hands that still held onto his shoulders. Taeyong noticed this and immediately released his hold on the mob boss in front of him. Jaeyong continued to stare at Taeyong as he contemplated his words.

“Then what do you suppose we do with her?” He asked through gritted teeth.

Taeyong took a step back and looked down at my unconscious body.

“She doesn’t know that much about what’s going on so letting her go wouldn’t harm us in any way, but with Wayv after her, she’s not exactly safe anywhere but here.”

Jaehyun’s eyes, which had previously been glued to Taeyong were now gazing at the figure laying on the kitchen floor. After a few moments of silence, Jaehyun sighed.

“Put her in one of the spare bedrooms while we figure this all out,” He decided, hands rubbing at his temples.

“Yes sir.” Taeyong lifted my body off the ground in a less than graceful sweep.

“And send someone to get her some clothing. I won’t have her wearing any more of IU’s things.”

“Yes sir.”

196 notes · View notes

pinnithin-writes · 4 years ago

Text

The Weight of Living

When the rift in space was sealed and the Resonance Cascade had ended, one glaring problem remained: they were homeless. Not in the “dire financial straits” way so much as the “our living quarters were destroyed by an interdimensional anomaly” way. It was midnight when they left the Chuck E. Cheese, and they had nowhere to go.

Hi I wrote this to cope. Sometimes you just gotta have a nervous breakdown in a hotel room with the love of your life. 5285 words.

It was never really discussed that Gordon would go with Tommy. It just sort of happened. Bubby and Dr. Coomer had dispersed to figure out their own way, and Tommy’s father had vanished to deal with some vast, cosmic problem. Once they were alone in the parking lot, Gordon had grabbed Tommy by his lapels and kissed him, searing him to his core like a solar flare.

They drove. Las Cruces was sleepy and dim; the only businesses open in the middle of the night were 24 hour diners and the Walmart Supercenter. They stopped to venture into that liminal space, numbly picking up packets of clean underwear and cheap t-shirts and armfuls of snacks while the employees they passed quietly stocked shelves. It felt surreal, dreamlike after the chaos and gunfire of the past week. Tommy found himself on edge despite the lack of danger as they wandered the aisles, bathed under the incandescent light.

Tommy paid. Gordon’s wallet had been destroyed along with his locker.

Gordon dozed with his head against the window pane, drifting in and out of consciousness, mumbling half-baked observations as he fought to stay awake. Stuff about the night sky and funny billboards they passed, his voice low and soft in his exhaustion. “There’s a La Quinta over there,” he murmured sleepily, and Tommy pulled in.

A double room was $55 a night. They must’ve looked awful, standing at the reception desk in their bloodstained clothes, plastic grocery bags in hand, one man half dead with exhaustion and the other a rubber band about to snap. The receptionist made the transaction without comment, smiling mildly as they handed over the envelope with their keycards.

“Down the hall to your left,” they said, and Tommy steered Gordon in the right direction.

Perhaps this was one of those situations that should have warranted some nervousness on Tommy’s part. He and Gordon, alone together in a hotel room. Their relationship didn’t exactly fall into any category Tommy would have previously considered: they were strangers not even a week ago, but living through the worst experience of their respective lives together had drawn them to certain unnameable proximity. He felt a twinge of loss as he swiped the key card and unlocked the door. This should have thrilled him. In another life, they would have been able to do this like real people - flirt in passing in the break room and take each other out to dinner and maybe fool around later after a bottle of wine.

Now they were both just tired.

The room was clean, decorated with that bland tackiness that marked a place as temporary. They deposited their grocery bags on the desk and Gordon drifted to the bathroom while Tommy stocked their perishables in the mini fridge. He heard the water cut on.

Keeping himself busy, he took out the phone charger he’d bought and removed it from the packaging, casting around a moment for Gordon’s phone before remembering it was gone along with his wallet. He plugged his own cell in instead, standing in that little aisle between the beds where the nightstand was. Connected his phone to the hotel wifi. That’s another thing Gordon would need, he thought as he mindlessly opened messages and didn’t answer them. A phone and a wallet and an apartment and a ring of keys to call his own and a bed and a good night’s sleep and a job he didn’t hate and -

He locked his phone. At least right now he was getting a shower. Gordon deserved a lot of things - a shower was a decent start.

Tommy removed his shoes, which were all but ruined. Undid his tie and shucked off his lab coat, folding them neatly out of habit even though he immediately crossed the room to pitch them in the trash. His ears were ringing with a staticky fuzz in the calm silence, like they were expecting a flash grenade or the wail of a monster that would never come.

It was over. It was over.

The water cut off, and after some shuffling the bathroom door opened, letting out an exhale of steam. Gordon emerged, looking more human than Tommy had ever seen him.

He didn’t know why he felt the need to avert his eyes. It wasn’t like he was naked as he stood there in his one dollar pair of Hanes and his three dollar souvenir shirt and his gentle smile that couldn’t possibly have a price. Hair soft and clean, steadily drying in the open air, falling freely around his shoulders. The HEV suit had made Gordon’s silhouette hard around the edges, solid and unyielding, but now his shoulders were sloped in a relaxed set of parenthesis.

Soft and achingly mortal. How he survived all this was a miracle. Tommy only stared at him a little like that.

Gordon caught his gaze and raised his eyebrows ever so slightly. “What?”

Tommy faltered. “Here’s - I - you can use my phone if you need to make any calls,” he said, nodding to where the device sat on the table. “I left it unlocked.”

He quickly hurried past him to the bathroom, snatching the grocery bag with his clothes in it on the way.

---

He was never looking at showers the same way ever again.

Tommy found himself running his fingers through his hair over and over afterward as he stood in front of the mirror. Clean, clean, finally clean. A quick pass over his jaw and he felt stubble. Too bad he forgot to pick up a razor.

He didn’t know wearing clean clothes could feel so much like putting on new skin, how much he took that luxury for granted before the events of the past week. He ripped the tag out of the shirt collar, flicked it in the trash, and pulled it over his head. Once he’d slipped on a pair of sweatpants - glorious, comfortable - he left the bathroom.

Bare feet on carpet felt good, too, even though it was that questionable, threadbare hotel carpet. There was just this inherent sensation of being able to breathe, finally, after peeling off the layers of blood and sweat and dirt that the Resonance Cascade had coated them with. The lights were all out except for the lamp on the nightstand. Tommy was ready to collapse into bed.

He stopped short when he saw Gordon, still awake at the edge of the bed he’d picked, the one closest to the window. His legs were tucked up criss-crossed and he was staring at his hands, loosely interlaced in his lap. He looked up at Tommy’s approach and his breath audibly caught.

No one had ever looked at Tommy like that before. Like he was some kind of unexpected gift.

Gordon finally found his voice. “That shirt looks good on you.”

Tommy glanced down, caught the Chuck E Cheese logo with its mascot printed on its surface, and snorted out a laugh. “Thanks,” he said. “Yours is good, too.”

“Yeah?” Gordon asked, smiling despite his exhaustion. He was wearing a shirt with chili peppers - one green and one red - and the text Go Both Ways stamped across the front. “I thought it was befitting.”

Chuckling, Tommy sat at the edge of the other bed, and his legs stretched long enough to almost bridge the gap between the two. He checked the clock. It was 01:15.

“You’re - I thought you’d be asleep already,” he admitted.

Gordon shook his head, still openly staring. “Couldn’t,” was all he said.

He didn’t have to elaborate. The safety in numbers instinct had ingrained upon them so rapidly in Black Mesa that it was difficult to imagine sleeping without someone taking watch. Even in this dingy hotel room, miles away from what used to be the facility, neither of them felt completely safe. Probably wouldn’t for a while.

“I’ll be right here, Mr. Freeman,” Tommy told Gordon, indicating his side of the room.

Gordon nodded, his smile fragile. “Okay.”

“It’s over,” he said, firmly, in as much an attempt to convince himself as it was for Gordon’s sake.

He nodded again. “Yeah.”

They sat there like that, the distance yawning between them, waiting for the other to speak. There was so much to be said, and hurtling through hell they had never been able to find the time or space to say it. Now, it was like the weight of their words would shatter them if they voiced them aloud. The space between the set of beds may as well have been the ocean.

Tommy broke the silence. “Do you wanna-”

“Yeah.”

And then Gordon Freeman was climbing into bed with him.

Tommy felt a brief swoop of panic in his stomach at the willingness with which the other man did so. It shouldn’t have felt so natural, to scoot aside and make room for him, to settle against the pillows together, Gordon on the right side and Tommy on the left. But they’d done this before, hadn’t they? Resting with their backs to a wall so they couldn’t be crept up upon, shoulder to shoulder, bone tired, weapon in hand. Rather, weapon as hand.

A hotel double in a La Quinta was not quite the same thing, but Tommy couldn’t imagine sleeping alone right now, and he suspected Gordon felt the same way. He’d clambered in close but not too close, keeping to his side of the bed so Tommy could have his space. Something welled up in his chest as he watched Gordon situate himself, pulling the covers back with careful hands, and he took a moment to examine how he felt.

This wasn’t a thrill of proximity, and his pulse didn’t race rabbitlike under his skin at the thought of Gordon sleeping with him. It was quieter than that. Gentler. An affection that crept up on him slow like a sunbeam across a hardwood floor. Gordon, here beside him, wonderfully human as he was. Just as he had been the entire week, and as Tommy hoped he would be for weeks to come. The thought of them folding into sleep together was a comfort. It felt… right.

It felt like home.

Once Gordon had set his glasses on the bedside table, he gave Tommy a weary smile. “Goodnight, Tommy.”

“Goodnight.”

He reached for the light switch, but his hand hesitated midair. Several seconds of stillness passed where Tommy watched him carefully.

Then the muscles of Gordon’s throat worked delicately as he found his voice. The words came out unstable. “Shit... I really can’t do this, huh?”

Tommy understood all at once what the problem was. The last time the room had cut to black, foreign hands held him fast and a blade cleaved through his arm. Sure, his father had given the limb back to him, but the fear the incident birthed had crawled inside him and settled there, stuck tight to his lungs.

Tommy chose his words carefully. “You can um, you can leave it on,” he said. “If you want. It won’t bother me.”

Gordon balled his hand into a shaking fist and let it drop to his side. The laugh he let out was soured. “I shouldn’t have to. I sh - I should be able to turn the fucking lights off, man.”

It didn’t matter what he should have been able to do; the fact remained that he couldn’t, and probably wouldn’t for a long while. Tommy didn’t know how to tell him that without sounding like some detached, emotionless asshole, so he remained silent. Gordon kept his eyes on the duvet. His hand was still in a fist.

“This week fucking took everything from me,” he said, so quiet he was almost inaudible.

“It - yeah,” Tommy agreed softly. “It was pretty fucked up.”

Another humorless laugh hissed out of him. “It was so fucked up,” he nodded, his words teetering on the precipice of something. “God, Tommy, it was so fucking fucked up. Why did we-“ half a sob choked out of him. “Why did it have to be us?”

“Mr. Freeman...”

“We went through all that bullshit and everyone at Black Mesa still died . We didn’t save a single fucking person, and now I can’t even - I can’t - I c - c-“

Gordon pressed the heel of his hand so hard against his teeth Tommy worried he was going to draw blood. Tentatively, he reached out to touch his shoulder, light and questioning. Gordon leaned into it immediately as he fell to pieces, curling in against Tommy while short, gasping breaths ran through him.

As soon as he was certain the other man wanted to be held, Tommy slid both arms around Gordon and pulled him in tight.

Gordon was suffocating at the bottom of the ocean, finding himself face to face with everything he’d done all at once. Tommy held him close as sob after shuddering sob wrenched out of him. There were no words to make this better, to undo what had happened to them. He rested his chin on top of Gordon’s head and let him cry messily into his shirt.

The sound of his grief was awful. Something small broke inside Tommy upon hearing it. He threaded an idle hand in his hair, running through the dampened locks over and over, a repetition to soothe himself and Gordon in equal measure. He smelled like salt and cheap hotel soap, and his sobs rolled through him like tidal waves.

This hurt. This was good and it hurt. This was good for him.

Gordon fell asleep like that, against Tommy’s chest, completely worn out. There was a damp spot of tears and drool on Tommy’s shirt, which he didn’t mind, whisking it away with a small wave of his free hand. He kept his other hand buried in his hair, holding him close until his eyes drifted shut, too.

He left the light on.

---

Gordon slept for eighteen hours.

Tommy slept for ten, which was still a lot considering his usual sleeping habits. When he awoke with Gordon still curled up against him, one heavy arm slung around his waist, he nearly forgot how to breathe. His face was soft and yielding, untroubled by gunfire and alien teeth as he slumbered. Tommy took a moment just to stare at him like that, small and quiet and temporal. He was beautiful.

How could someone so soft and lovely endure so much? How could he keep that heart full of love through all that pain? Whoever Gordon Freeman had been at the start of this disaster, he certainly wasn’t the same person now, even as he slept so deep and gentle into the crook of Tommy’s shoulder. Tears welled suddenly in his eyes and he brushed them away with haste.

It was a perversion of humanity, a death of the self. What an injustice.

He eventually extricated himself from the warm tangle of limbs under the covers, leaving Gordon to doze into the hotel pillow without much disturbance. He took care of all those things that humans needed to take care of upon awakening - used the bathroom, washed his face, brushed his teeth. Normal. This was what normal was. As he got dressed, he avoided looking at his reflection in the mirror.

Tommy busied himself until Gordon awoke. He took out the trash in the wastebin - it reeked from their discarded clothing - and walked it to the dumpster out back. He unloaded the rest of their purchases from the previous night, sorting and organizing them on the polished wooden desk. Pairs of socks, a cheap wristwatch, a packet of hair ties. His and Gordon’s. Gordon’s and his. His hand paused over an empty picture frame he had watched Gordon grab off the Walmart shelf on impulse.

The smiling, watermarked child that stood in as a placeholder for a real photo was identical to the one Gordon had kept in his old locker. Tommy traced his finger along the edge of the frame and smiled. He set it on the desk next to his wallet.

He paced. Showered again. Thought about turning on the TV and decided against it. He didn’t want the noise to wake his companion.

He was sitting against the foot of the bed and scrolling through apartment listings on his phone when a muffled noise signaled Gordon waking. Tommy set his phone down and watched the other man shift and yawn, blinking sleepily as he raised his head to look around. There was a brief flicker of confusion in his eyes before they landed on Tommy, and his expression relaxed.

“Mornin,’” he mumbled. His voice was low and hoarse from days’ worth of shouting, coming out of him in a lovely purr.

Affection spread slow and warm in Tommy’s chest. “It’s seven o’clock in the evening,” he informed him.

Gordon scratched his head, hair tousled and wonderfully messy. “How long was I out?” he asked.

Tommy told him.

“Fuck,” he said. “Alright.” He raised his arms overhead in a massive stretch. “Gotta… get back on a routine, huh?”

Tommy liked Gordon like this. Muted and calm, not fully awake, words slow to rise to his mouth. “We’ll figure it out,” he assured him.

They had time, here. In this temporary home they’d made for themselves.

Gordon’s gaze stuck on Tommy for a while longer until he registered the distance away he sat, the glow of the lamp on the bedside table, still alight from the previous night. His breath hitched suddenly in his throat. “Oh, shit,” he uttered, dropping his eyes self-consciously to the comforter. “Tommy, I’m sorry. I like - I just kinda fell apart there.”

“I’m - I think you had every right to, Mr. Freeman,” Tommy intoned quietly. “You went through a lot.”

“So did you, man,” Gordon replied immediately, dark eyes snapping back up to meet his. “So did you. Thank you for being there for me.”

Tommy didn’t acknowledge his answer fully. He spun his phone around in a circle with his index finger and said nothing. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Gordon with the heaviness that now settled in the pit of his stomach. He did. He just didn’t know how to articulate it, how to take it out and examine it under the light and untangle it thread by painful thread. It was safest, he felt, to leave it untouched for the time being.

“Anyway I’m starving,” Gordon said finally, sensing Tommy’s discomfort and changing the subject appropriately. “You wanna like, order takeout or something?”

He nodded. Takeout sounded good.

The following hours passed, in which Tommy and Gordon slowly remembered how to be human. They remembered the taste of cheap noodles out of styrofoam containers. They remembered the dull roar of cars on the distant highway. They remembered laughter, passing Tommy’s phone back and forth to share funny videos.

They didn’t go anywhere – there was little to do in Las Cruces in the middle of the night, and they were both a little fragile to drive to the nearest city with its loud noises and flashing lights. Instead, they tightroped between close and casual in the quiet cocoon of the hotel room.

Some activities were perfectly safe. Mundane and natural. Watching old game show reruns, throwing out guesses and commentaries at the Wheel of Fortune contestants like it was a football game. It felt good, caring about something that had such little consequence.

Other things felt so desperately intimate Tommy thought he might drown. Working out the knots in one another’s shoulders, skin on scar-tallied skin, after carrying the collective weight of the world together. Tommy was struck by how impossible it seemed, that this soft, wordless love was their reward for what they endured.

It didn’t feel entirely real to him. He didn’t feel like he deserved it.

Morning began to dawn, thin and pale, behind the window. Tommy drew back the curtain and watched the distant desert bleed with gold. Behind him, he heard Gordon yawn.

“You should sleep,” Tommy suggested quietly.

When this was met with silence, he turned to look at Gordon, where he sat cross-legged on the bed that was still made. He had the hotel notepad balanced on one knee, glasses halfway down the bridge of his nose as he wrote something down. He raised his eyes to look at Tommy when he noticed him watching.

“Huh?” he asked.

“If you’re tired, you should sleep,” Tommy reiterated.

“Oh, no I’m-“ his sentence was split by another yawn. “I mean, I am. But I can-“ he flicked a look to the alarm clock on the bedside table. The face read 06:27. “I can stay up a few more hours. Maybe falling asleep at noon will get me closer to normal.”

Tommy guessed that Gordon would crash long before that, if his own lingering exhaustion was any indication, but he didn’t voice this aloud. Instead, he offered, “the breakfast buffet should be open,” and watched the other man’s expression brighten.

He volunteered to load down a few plates with food and bring them back to their room so they could eat with their privacy intact. Tommy made a note to remember what Gordon asked for - sausage and eggs, biscuits and gravy if they had any. Now that they no longer had to concern themselves with the immediacy of dying, Tommy wanted to memorize all of Gordon’s favorite things, learning them and tucking them away over time like he was supposed to. How he liked his coffee. If he even liked coffee at all.

There was time for this now. It was over.

---

When Tommy returned, paper plates in hand, he found Gordon sitting on the edge of the bed by the window and watching the news. The story was about an explosion in the New Mexico wilderness, out near Doña Ana County. He drew up beside him as the reporter mentioned something about the Black Mesa Research Facility.

Tommy didn’t expect the name to make him flinch, but it did.

“Hey,” Gordon said, reaching for the remote and ticking down the volume. “We’re in the news.”

Tommy averted his eyes from the screen in distaste. “I - Can we turn that off?” he began. “I don’t - I’m not…” he paused, resorted his words, and tried again. “Sorry. I don’t want to hear about it right now.”

“Really?” Gordon asked, but he complied, hitting the power button and killing the feed. “I thought maybe you’d want to know if there were any survivors.”

“There weren’t,” Tommy said flatly.

He wordlessly passed Gordon his breakfast plate before taking a seat beside him. The syrupy waffle he’d made for himself suddenly didn’t seem as appetizing as it did before, even as the pat of butter in the center melted and swirled hypnotically.

Gordon accepted his food, but didn’t pay attention to its contents as he fixed Tommy with a questioning gaze. “How do you know?”

He picked at the waffle with his fork, not meeting the other man’s stare. “Dad told me,” he muttered.

There was a long stretch of silence, in which Gordon worked through some thoughts, attempted to speak, and stopped to rework. The eggs and sausage he held remained untouched. Finally, he pulled in an unsteady breath and set the plate aside. “He told you how many people died,” he began, quietly, “but he didn’t… tell you anything about what was going on? So you could save them from dying?”

Tommy’s throat went suddenly tight. “I saved you,” was all he could say.

It was all that mattered to him. If he dwelled too long on all the people he failed to rescue in that week of nightmares, he’d wind up at the bottom of a pit he’d never crawl back out of.

“You did,” Gordon agreed. He was staring at Tommy very intently, dark eyes burning like smoke from a car fire. “You did, Tommy. And I’m - god, I’m so glad you did, but like…”

He slid off the bed suddenly, taking Tommy’s food without resistance and setting their plates side by side on the desk by the TV. Returning his attention to Tommy in earnest, he carefully took Tommy’s hands in his, boring into him with that dark burning stare while the other man kept his gaze down. Like this, with Tommy sitting on the hotel bed and Gordon standing before him, they were almost the same height.

Okay, they were doing this. They were having this talk.

“This hurt you, too,” Gordon said, and every word felt like a knife. “I don’t know what kind of fucked up game your dad was playing, but it hurt you, too. You should have had the option to leave.”

“I did,” Tommy admitted, barely audible. He studied the scarred fingers linked in his, unable to raise his eyes. “But you didn’t.”

Gordon’s grip tightened on Tommy’s hands as his words sunk in. His voice was edged with sorrow. “Tommy…”

“You didn’t have a choice and - and Bubby and Dr. Coomer didn’t and all the - every person who worked at Black Mesa didn’t get to just leave if they wanted to.” It wasn’t fair, didn’t make sense that Tommy of all people was saddled with the burden of choice and still decided to stay. An opportunity wasted on the likes of him. “I know it doesn’t make a lot of sense, but I had to stay. I couldn’t just… leave you like that. E-Even if I didn’t know you very well.”

He dared a look at Gordon. His jaw was tight, brow darkened, anger lining the corners of his mouth, but it wasn’t directed at him. Outrage on his behalf, though Tommy didn’t feel his poor decision making was worth the sheer, burning heat of Gordon’s emotions. Gordon’s jaw worked silently, at a loss for words, still clinging tight to his hands.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy went on quietly. “I’m sorry it had to be you.”

Gordon swallowed angrily as his words returned to him. “Why the fuck are you apologizing to me?” he asked. “None of this is your fault. Especially not all the fucked up shit you had to go through.”

“Chose to go through-”

“Bullshit,” Gordon interrupted. “You didn’t choose anything. You were expected to pick between leaving people behind to die or putting yourself through hell, Tommy. That’s not a choice,” he said. “For you? That was never a choice.”

His words fell steadily out of his mouth and into Tommy’s lap, where he could examine them in detail and find them to be true. He felt his chest constrict, and suddenly Gordon’s hands in his were the only thing tethering him as his resolve crumbled.

Tommy didn’t sob outright. He didn’t weep. He broke apart quietly, hiccupping out shuddering gasps while his fingers shook. He leaned forward and buried his face in Gordon’s shoulder, strangled repetitions of it’s not fair, it’s not fair murmured into his shirt.

Gordon let him lean on him, strong and without judgment, freeing one of his hands to cradle the back of his head. “I know,” he whispered. “I know. It’s not your fault.”

Tommy hadn’t realized he had been blaming himself to begin with until he heard those words spoken with such conviction in his ear. And it wasn’t that he had been asking Gordon to forgive him, because he wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for, but a part of him was stuck back at Black Mesa all the same, begging to come home.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair and it’s not your fault.

This was the absolution of a sin that was never committed. Tommy cried silently, heartbroken in his blamelessness. Gordon ran his fingers through his hair, sniffling softly as he cried, too, and they mourned together on the edge of the bed while their breakfast went cold.

---

They stayed at the hotel in Las Cruces for another week, using it as their home base while they took care of the necessary chores that came with rejoining the living. Trips to the bank to replace Gordon’s debit card. A few hours at the public library to use the computer lab. Gordon checked the news while Tommy browsed a shelf of paperback thrillers, still not ready to revisit what happened.

They tried new restaurants. They visited parks. They rediscovered the world and all its joys, and Tommy thought that maybe surviving the Resonance Cascade wasn’t always going to be a burden on his shoulders. While hand in hand with Gordon, laughing with him while he pointed out ground squirrels and gave them funny names, maybe the weight of living was worth it.

Eventually, they signed a lease after visiting the many apartment complexes Gordon had scribbled down on his notepad list. A quiet little place called Monte Vista near Guadalupe County. Perhaps here they could build the home they had fought so hard for. Tommy’s hand trembled as he filled out the paperwork.

When it came time to check out from the hotel, the atmosphere was subdued, both absorbed in their thoughts about what the future held as they packed up their few belongings. They thanked this in between space for allowing them to become human again within its walls. As Tommy collected his things into a bag, his hand found the picture frame from earlier.

“Here’s - Don’t forget Joshua,” he reminded Gordon, proffering it in his direction.

Gordon laughed as he took it. “My beautiful son,” he said, “I could never. Does this look like a face you could forget?” His smile showed his even teeth as he held up the stock photo beside his face.

Tommy’s mouth quirked in a smile of his own. “I can see the family resemblance,” he said.

Lowering the frame, Gordon chuckled again. He fell silent as he studied the picture inside, his smile tinged with something that was almost wistful. His hair was tied back in a ponytail, showing off his round cheeks and those dimples he loved so much. Tommy watched him in contemplative silence.

“Y’know,” Gordon finally began. “When I bought this for my locker - like, not this one, but the first one? I didn’t… have anything to put in there. So I just sorta left the stock photo in and hoped that like - y'know, maybe one day I could find something worth framing.”

Tommy didn’t really know how to respond to this, so he remained silent, watching the studious wrinkle in between Gordon’s brows deepen. There was a hesitant wonder behind the lenses of his glasses.

“Guess I can’t say that anymore, huh?” He raised his gaze to meet eyes with Tommy. He didn’t look sad, just tired. Hopeful. “Do you still have those selfies we took on your phone?”

He nodded. Of course he did. He’d never delete the first photographic evidence he had of this newfound happiness, their faces smushed cheek to cheek to fit in the shot, alight with laughter. It made his insides go soft, to hear that Gordon was as fond of them as he was.

“Maybe we could get some prints of those,” Gordon said, stowing the frame in the grocery sack he carried with the rest of his few belongings. “If that’s okay with you?”

“Yeah,” Tommy said, fighting for control over his voice. He exhaled shakily, warm in the knowledge that Gordon wanted something permanent in its physicality, a reminder to look at every day. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Piece by piece, they were going to build this new home together. Even with how painful the past was, how heavily the onus of survival rest on their shoulders. Tommy was looking forward to rediscovering joy again and again, with Gordon Freeman by his side.

He couldn’t wait to live.

#ink #fanfiction #part of my endeavor to relocate all my ao3 work #i think this is the last of it #thanks for bearing with me #hlvrai

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emma-frxst · 5 years ago

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Smooth Criminal 9

Summary: you've been hit by, you've been struck by a smooth criminal.

Pairing: Detective!Colossus (Piotr Rasputin) x Criminal!reader

warnings (for this chapter): talk of stealing and illegal behavior

a/n- its good to be back!!!! I’ve missed this series so much, thanks for bearing with me. let me know what you think, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! thanks for reading.

p.s.- I promise this series wont drag on forever!

You pulled your jacket tighter around you as the cold, winter air nipped at your skin. You did hate the cold, but you hated it a little less now thanks to Piotr and his tendency to have a massive amount of body heat that you loved to snuggle into.

Piotr had been busy with work recently, so you hadn't seen him that much. You missed him.

Another strong wind pulled you from your thoughts, refocusing you to the task at hand. You were headed to meet Victor for another job.

Entering the run down bar, you tried to ignore that bad feeling in your gut that always made itself known whenever you came here.

The bar was only a cover for the smuggling and theft ring run by Shaw.

Taking a seat on the barstool, you flagged down the bartender.

“What can I get ya?” he asked in a heavy New York accent.

“A Mona Lisa, lemons on the side.”

Your drink order was your secret code to let them know you were here.

He nodded and disappeared into the secret back room- where the people like Victor and his associates took residence.

People like you.

The bartender came back out and gave you the go ahead.

You found Victor in his usual corner booth, unceremoniously sipping his whiskey.

“There she is.” He proclaimed. “Drink?”

“No. Just need to know the job.”

“Straight to the point, as usual.” He said while pulling out an iPad. “I’ve always like that about you, y/n.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and not in a good way.

“The iPad.” You demanded.

He handed it over and you scrolled through the information.

The coveted item was a vase. Looked ancient with intricate detailing engraved into it.

Item description: Hane-like flower vase, white with blue detailing.

Origin: Satsuma Province, Japan.

Location: The Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History, Washington D.C., USA.

“This is in the Smithsonian are you insane? Shaw wants me to steal from the Smithsonian?”

Your heart began to race and your palms grew sweaty. That place was locked down tighter than bark on a tree.

“Yes, but this one has an excellent reward and you’re the only one available who can pull it off.” Creed replies

You tugged at the collar of your shirt and swallowed thickly.

“There’s video surveillance, recordings of security shifts as well as blueprints of the building on the private cloud.

You nodded and slipped the iPad into your bag.

“It’ll take some time. You and Shaw know that.”

“Buyers want it ASAP.” Victor responded.

“Yeah, what else is new?” You let out a sigh.

Victor chuckled slightly.

“Alright. I’ll have it ASAP.” Not that I have much of a choice -

Unlocking the door to the loft, your eyes beheld the mess that you had been meaning to clean up for the past two weeks. Unopened boxes of books and supplies, receipts and paperwork everywhere. Balancing your two lives hadn't left a lot of time for things like cleaning.

You decided to order a pizza and begrudgingly start on the stuff Creed gave you. this was gonna take so. much. planning.

The blueprints were laid out all around you and you were in the middle of reviewing security shift overlaps when there was a knock on the door.

Your pizza.

grabbing your wallet, you waltzed over to the door.

“Well that was quick-“

The person standing there was not the pizza man.

Colossus.

You immediately noticed he wasn’t his usual self, the dark circles under his eyes, his posture- usually perfect- was slouched.

“Hello darling.”

“Piotr. Is everything okay?”

He didn't answer right away and you knew something wasn’t right.

“May I come inside?” -

Tags: (tag list of open, send me an ask if you want to be tagged, removed or only tagged for certain characters.) @chromecutie @xenomorphique @evelyn120700 @nightriver99 @iamwarrenspeace @this-that-and-every-thing-else @hsk-puma @bungeewabbit @pianomad @lesbianstarkx @hazilyimagine @super-darkcloudstudent @thehuntress26 @siren-lamented-vampire @mooleche @rovvboat @leo-writer @dandyqueen @nitemaremotionless @thewintersoldierswife

#colossus x reader #Piotr rasutin x reader #colossus reader insert #Piotr rasputin reader insert #colossus/ reader #peter rasputin x reader #colossus x reader series #deadpool fanfiction #xmcu #mine #kacceywrites #smooth criminal #sc #writers on tumblr

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h-styles-babes · 7 years ago

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No Control | Chapter Seventeen

Summary:

Micky Bennett: college student, loyal friend, aspiring nurse, One Direction fan, Harry Styles enthusiast. Her best friend, Trevor, wins tickets to a show in New Jersey with meet and greet passes. Micky expects a quick photo op with the boys and a great night at the concert with her best friend. What she gets a whole lot more than she bargained for.

To read previous chapters, you can go here.

*Please feel free to reblog and send feedback. It’s much appreciated :)*

*Gif is not mine.*

SEVENTEEN

The Coopers stick around well into the evening, playing a game of croquet in the yard that Robin set up after we all ate. The adults all play while the younger crowd sits back and laughs as the intoxicated parents bumble around, trying to knock the other balls off course. Harry keeps me in his lap all day, hands roaming over my jeans and up under my shirt to touch my bare skin when he can. Around the time the sun starts to go down, I can feel him begin to get restless, shifting in the seat constantly. Jen hasn’t really taken her eyes off us the entire day, so I think it’s in discomfort of having her practically stare at us, until he whispers in my ear.

“I need to have you, pet,” he says, lips grazing against my earlobe. He pulls me closer against him, and I can feel his erection press into my bum, making him hiss at the contact. “Think we can sneak away for a bit while everyone’s preoccupied out here?”

I glance around, taking note that Gemma’s on her phone, taking pictures of the game on Snapchat, laughing as her mum stumbles over her own feet for no reason. They’re all well entertained and not at all paying attention to Harry and me, except for Jen.

“In your mum’s home, Harry?” I ask, unsure if this is a good idea.

“It’s turning me on more thinking about it, angel,” he admits, teeth nipping at my ear now. “Never had anyone there before.”

“The sneaking around and the possibility of getting caught turns you on, doesn’t it?” I guess.

“Absolutely.”

I don’t really have to think about it; I just hop off his lap and grab ahold of his hand, helping him out of the lounger and letting him lead the way inside. I haven’t made it past the first floor all day, so I have no idea where his bedroom is. He leads me up the stairs and down the hall to the very last door on the right. I’m actually quite thankful that his bedroom is so far, hoping that maybe it’ll make it less likely for anyone to hear anything that might come from his room.

“Strip for me,” he demands, shutting and locking the door behind us. When he turns back to me, there’s a look in his eye that makes me shiver and heats me from the inside out all at the same time.

I smirk and let my fingers untie the material at the bottom of my shirt. “Anything for you, daddy.”

Harry and I leave early the next morning for the three hour drive to London. We stay just long enough to have a cuppa with Anne and Robin, and I thank them profusely for having me and welcoming me into their home for the day.

“It was wonderful to meet you, darling,” Anne insists, reaching over from where she’s sat across from me to grab my hand. “Anyone that Harry is so comfortable with and enjoys so much is more than welcome in our home.”

I can feel the blush rising on my face as Harry smiles at me, looking very content and a little blissed out, if I’m quite honest. The sex the night before was amazing, but I don’t think it warranted this level of relaxation twelve hours later. I smile back at him shyly.

The weather has gotten a bit nippy, so I’ve dressed in jeans, one of my favorite tees, and a black and pink Valentino bomber jacket that is much too expensive. The jacket, as well as the black Coach ankle boots I’m wearing were gifts from Trevor that resulted in his father not being able to see him on holidays. Whenever that happens, his dad wires him more money that usually results in shopping trips from Trevor. And since his own closet is to the point of nearly bursting, he takes it upon himself to make sure I’m well dressed, too. In the beginning, I flat out refused to accept any of the designer things he always bought, but he eventually wore me down, saying it’s what friends are for and he likes being able to do something nice with the guilt money that his dad’s always sending him.

“Like that jacket,” Harry compliments as we merge onto the highway. I look down at the bird and flower design and run my fingers over the slick satin. “It was a gift from Trevor. Valentino and I don’t even want to know how much it cost him.” I cringe just thinking about it.

“Valentino?” Harry asks. He glances over and looks at the jacket, rocking his head back in forth in contemplation. “Probably about three thousand pounds.” I gape. “That’s nearly four thousand dollars.”

Harry shrugs. “It’s Valentino, love. Shit’s not cheap.” He pulls at the jacket he’s wearing, a brown leather thing a pocket at each breast and diamond shaped cutouts. “Saint Laurent. About twenty-five hundred pounds.”

“Oh God,” I breathe out. “I don’t even want to know how much those damn button down shirts you wear cost. Could probably pay for my entire wardrobe with three of them.”

He chuckles and glances over at me, pushing his sunnies up into his hair as the sun goes behind the clouds. “Probably. I only wear them when I know I’m gonna be out, though. I don’t wear them to just lounge about the house.”

“Oh, that’s a relief,” I mutter sarcastically. I take a look at what he’s wearing now. He’s got on a tunic style grey shirt underneath with some buttons that go until about mid-chest, all unbuttoned of course. It looks like he could have bought it for thirty quid at TopShop, or it could be a ridiculously expensive article from Gucci or something equally over the top.

“Also Saint Laurent,” he quickly tells me, seeing me eyeing the shirt.

“Are we going out today, then?” I ask. I’ve seen him in a regular t-shirts before that I know were bought in the package because I could see the Hanes label on the neck, but I’ve only seen him wear those to lounge around in.

“Gonna stop by my house first, and then I have some mates who want to go to lunch, if that’s alright?” He looks over at me, a look of slight concern on his face, like he thinks I’ll nix his plans for the day, even though he’s probably had these plans a week out. I’m not his girlfriend and I’m not in the business of telling him what he can and cannot do, so I just shrug and nod.

“Fine by me. When do you think you’ll be back?” I ask. It’s been awhile since I’ve been to London, so I’m sure I can find something to do if I venture out on my own while he catches up with friends. There’s a medical museum in the area that I’d like to visit, now that I’m thinking about it.

His eyebrows shoot up on his head. “What? You’re not gonna come with me?”

I furrow my brows in confusion. “You want me to come with you? To meet your mates?”

“Well…” he gives me a look like that was obvious, “yeah. I want them to meet you. I wasn’t gonna bring you to London and then abandon you as soon as we got there. All my plans for the next few days now include you.”

“Oh,” is all I can say for a few moments as I realize Harry actually wants me to tag along with him. “Well, okay. Where are we going, then?”

“Just an Indian place in Covent Gardens,” he assures. “Might go out to do a bit of walking afterward.”

I look down at what I’m wearing again, taking in my plain jeans and the shirt I did get from TopShop for thirty quid. It’s just a white tee with the words “Females of the Future” in black block letters on the front. I look nowhere near acceptable to be standing beside Harry Styles, much less having lunch with him and his undoubtedly famous friends. The expensive-as-hell jacket I’m wearing is not a very good facade for what I’m wearing underneath. “Should I change?”

“No. I like your shirt. And your ass looks good in those jeans.” He smirks over at me.

I glare at him. “Yeah, and they were a bitch to get on this morning, thanks to you.” The bruises that had finally begun to fade from my bum were replaced with a vengeance last night.

“Weren’t complaining about it when I gave them to you, were you, princess?” Harry asks rhetorically. “Actually, I quite vividly recall you begging for them.”

“The term ‘princess’ is forever ruined for me. I’m gonna get turned on any time anyone says it in any context, now.”

Harry laughs, a loud barking laugh that I love hearing out of him, because it’s something he can’t control and it’s absolutely adorable how embarrassed he gets by it. “How do you think I feel about ‘daddy?’ I’m never gonna be able to have kids. They’ll have to call me by my first name or something.”

We tease each other back and forth for the remainder of the drive into London. We don’t ever pass through central London, but we eventually get towards a residential area near Hampstead Heath, and Harry slows the car down. We pass by a few little family-owned shoppes before he turns into the beginning of a driveway, closed off by a barn door style gate set into a brick wall that surrounds his property and butts up to his white house. He presses a button that he keeps on his visor like a garage door opener and the door begins to slide open, revealing Harry’s yard and the backs of the houses his is next to.

Harry’s house is large, but not overly so. It’s three stories, from what I can ascertain, and it’s got lots of little square windows. It’s big for a house in London, or the UK in general, but it’s about the normal size of a home in America. Harry pulls his car in and parks it just inside the wall, waiting for the gate to close before getting out. He quickly comes to my side to help me out, and I’m hit by the humidity and coolness of London. We live further from the coast, so we don’t get much of the mugginess, but I can nearly smell the water here.

Harry holds my hand and carries both of our bags over his shoulders as he shows me into his house. The door he leads me through takes us directly into a modernly furnished sitting room, but I can definitely tell that only a man lives here with it’s sharp lines and neutral colors. It smells like Harry, though, even though he hasn’t been here in awhile, the cinnamon smell of his parents’ house permeating here as well.

“This is the sitting room, and through there is a family room,” he says, beginning a tour. He points to our left where an archway leads to a more cozy, intimate looking room is decorated with photos and warm colors. He pulls me toward a hallways and motions to the right. “That’s the kitchen, and straight ahead is the gym.” He has me follow him up a flight of stairs to the next floor. When we get to the landing, he points left first. “Bedroom I turned into a studio.” Points ahead. “Guest room.” Points to the right. “Extra room I have nothing to do with. No idea what to do with it, honestly. It’s a bit small.” We turn and head up to the final story, which only has the landing and two doors on it. “That door leads to the rooftop patio. Nice to go out there at night.” He takes hold of my hand again and pulls me through the remaining door. “And this is the master bedroom.”

His room looks cozy, with the warm colors and the dark wood of his furniture. It’s manly but also warm and very him. There’s artwork on the walls and a binder on his dresser that looks to be chuck full of something. The room is massive, and the bed in the center is a four poster with lots of pillows and fluffy looking grey bedding. He’s got a telly set up on the wall opposite the bed as well as a small entertainment center that holds a DVD player and a game console. There’s sliding doors that I assume lead to his bathroom, and, judging by the square footage I know is left on this story, it’s massive.

Harry sets our bags down on a leather seat that runs the length of his bed at its foot, then turns and pulls me against him, his hands resting on my hips. He leans down and presses his forehead to mine, our noses touching.

“I’m glad you came with me,” he tells me, his voice barely above a whisper. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be right now, Harry,” I admit.

Harry presses his lips to mine, delicately cradling my face in his hands. We kiss leisurely and without intent of this going anywhere else. We’re just enjoying the feeling of having each other.

He pulls away when his phone starts ringing in his pocket. He pulls it out and answers it without hesitation.

“Hello?” He listens intently as the person on the other end speaks. “Alright, we’ll be there in twenty.” Harry’s about to hang up when the other person hurries to tell him something, which makes Harry curl his lip up in annoyance. “Couldn’t have sat inside?” Another pause. “Fine. No, it’s fine. We’ll deal with it.” He hangs up the phone without preamble and sighs. “We’re sitting outside, so just be prepared. Shouldn’t be too bad, since no ones knows I’m in London, but it probably won’t take them very long to figure it out.”

“Hey,” I say, grabbing onto his hands and giving them a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not afraid of some silly pictures, Harry. My face is already out there and it hasn’t been that big of a deal.”

He purses his lips to the side as his thumbs stroke over my knuckles. “I know, I just wish I could keep you to myself.”

I smile reassuringly. “I’m all yours, H. No one can take that away form us. We’ll figure it out, remember?”

Harry smiles and kisses me one more time. “Yeah, we will. Just don’t be afraid to tell me if this all gets to be too much, yeah? Your comfort is my priority while you’re with me.”

“I can handle it, Harry. Promise.” I stand on my tip toes and peace him on his nose, making him scrunch it up with a goofy little grin. “Now c’mon. Don’t want to keep anyone waiting.”

Harry parks his car in a lot a few blocks from where we’re set to eat. He twines his fingers with mine immediately, keeping me close to him as we begin to walk the streets of London. He pulls our hands up to his face as we wait at a crosswalk, kissing the back of mine and smiling at me.

“You’re okay with the PDA?” I ask, slightly surprised. It’s one thing to be out together, but it’s an entirely different thing to have him be so openly affectionate in a non-platonic way. The photos of us in New York were pushing it, but there’s nothing about his gesture now that would leave room for question.

“Can’t let the media rule my life,” he explains as we begin to walk. “My fucking life. I’ll love on who I please and not give a shit about who sees. You’re my girl, Mick. Not gonna let fans or paps ruin that.”

My heart swells at his sweet words and his disregard for anyone else’s opinions. I’m not sure his management would feel the same way, but I don’t really care about them. Harry’ll be rid of them in a few month’s time anyway, so there’s not much they can do about it. His fans are a whole other monster, though. But they’re a hurdle no matter what he does, so I’m sure he’s pretty over it by now.

We walk up to chic-looking Indian restaurant that has a few tables outside, right next to a Jamie Oliver’s and a few other places. There’s a group of three already sat at a table, but they seem to be the only ones. It’s only a little before noon, so I’m sure the restaurant has only recently opened for the day. Harry slings his arm around my shoulders as we get closer, and I wrap an arm around his waist so we can walk together comfortably.

The group’s faces become clear as we approach, and I balk a little at who I see. Sat at the table are none other than Nick Grimshaw and a couple of his and Harry’s mutual friends.

“Is that Cara Delevingne and Rita Ora?” I ask, hearing the own trepidation in my voice. Nick I was expecting, because he and Harry are close, and I can handle him seeing as we’ve spoken on the phone before, but Cara and Rita are on another plane. They’re both completely gorgeous and I’m intimidated to be even within twenty metres of them.

“Yeah,” Harry answers casually with a shrug. Then I think he realizes that I’m not also a famous individual and looks down at me. “You alright, princess?”

“Yeah, just gonna be constantly judging myself against a gorgeous model and a beautiful singer. No big deal.”

Harry laughs and presses a kiss to my temple. “They’re just as weird as I am. You’ll get used to them. Plus, you’re every bit as stunning as both of them.”

There’s a hostess outside who’s eyes widen when she sees Harry and moves to greet him, but he just waves her off with a polite smile. “’S alright. We’re right here,” he tells her, gesturing to the people sitting at the table.

The sole man turns his head round over his shoulder and lights up with a big smile when he spots Harry.

“Baby Harold!” he greets, getting up from his seat to sling his arms around Harry in a hug. “How kind of you to join us. Who’s your friend?” Grammy looks me up and down, his grin never leaving his face.

“Grim, this is Micky. Believe you met on the phone last week.”

Grimmy’s eyes bug out a bit as he looks at me, his grin widening. “The famous Micky. You’re just as stunning as your voice suggested.” He doesn’t hesitate in pulling me into a hug as well, lingering like we’ve known each other for years instead of a two minute phone call and the previous thirty seconds. “Come, sit. Tell me all the dirt you’ve gotten from Harold in the last week. I need more blackmail material.”

I laugh as Harry pulls out a seat for me. As he sets himself down he gestures at the two other women at our table. “Mick, this is Cara and Rita. Guys, this is Micky Bennett.”

Both of them smile at me warmly and greet me kindly.

“Nice to meet you guys,” I say, tamping down the anxiety I feel building in my chest. I’ve had the biggest crush on Cara since I found out who she was, and Rita is so gorgeous and she’s got a great voice, and I feel so insignificant amongst all the pretty faces at the table.

I can feel myself getting hot, so I unzip my jacket and remove it to rest it over the back of the chair. Harry’s reaches under the table and sets his hand on my thigh, offering me comfort when I’m sure he can see I’m a bit overwhelmed.

“Oh, my God,” Nick bursts, hands braced on the table from where he’s sat at the head. He’s gawking down at my shirt, and I’m not sure what he’s on about until he says, “I’m sorry, but you’ve got the best pair of tits I’ve seen. No offense, Cara. Yours are great, but Micky is killing it right now.”

She shakes her head with a shrug. “No, you’re right, they’re great,” she says, looking over my chest. “Like the shirt, too. I’ve got one in red print.”

Harry and Rita laugh at my obvious astonishment at this chain of events. I’m not sure what it is about gay men and my breasts, but I just kind of roll with it at this point. Trevor has a weird thing for them, and apparently Nick has now joined that wagon.

“Uh…thanks?” I mutter, glancing down at myself. They don’t look particularly perky today or anything, though they do kind of pull at the material of my shirt in a way that very obviously shows I’m not wearing a bra. Having worn one for the entirety of the day before reminded me how much I hate them, so I made sure I would not be wearing one today.

“Alright, enough staring at my girl’s chest,” Harry announces. “Let’s order; I’m starving.”

I don’t miss how the other three at the table raise their eyebrows at each other with Harry’s declaration.

EIGHTEEN

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #one direction #No Control

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satansoori · 8 years ago

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Annoyed Angel

(BTS Suga Shorts) PART 1

Genre: Semi smut, Comedy-Romance (inspired by Jin and Yoongi, Best Roommate)

Author: tedryse

Summary: Despite being rich and being an only child that both her parents spoil, Y/N is just a lonely girl ever since she was a little girl. She doesn’t want to be in the spotlight, she avoids them at any cause.

Each night, she will talk to a bright star, wishing that it was actually a real person who likes listening to her and would love to be friends with her. Until her wish came true. But... it was completely opposite to what she asked for.

Tags: Make-out session, heated session, inappropriate touching, dirty thoughts (from an angel) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

She lightly pressed her fingers on the piano, pressing each chord that she needed to play. She took a deep breath.

“Love love the stars Love love the moon Byeol dareul geot eopsi Ttokgateun gonggi Ttokgateun chimdaeeseo Boineun cheonjangkkaji

Wae byeol iyu eopsi Gongheohan geonji Geujeo myeot sigan jjae Meongman ttaerineun ge, yeah”

Y/N hummed the rest of the verse and smiled. She often likes living in this kind of way. Alone, even if it gets too lonely. But, she likes the quiet yet soothing atmosphere. Especially when she plays the piano.

“Da neoui ban ban Banui banui bando Chaewojujil mot hane Chaewojijiga anhne, yeah

Ttak neoui ban ban Banui banirado naege namassdeoramyeon Ireohge bung tteoissjineun anheul tende”

A knock interrupted her bubble, and she stopped. She sighed in annoyance. I told them not to interrupt me when I’m in here. She thought, but lets them off this one time. “Yes? Come in.”

The door creaked open, revealing her butler. “Miss L/N, would you like to start dinner? Your parents stated that they would be home late, and it is already 18:30.” Y/N pursed her lips. Of course. They would always come home late. Six thirty, huh? That’s a bit early...

After a while of pondering whether she would have dinner, she smiled at him. “Go and start your own dinner with the maids. I’ll just have strawberries for dinner tonight.”

Her butler stared at her for a moment, and nods. “Certainly, Miss L/N. I would have your strawberries be delivered,” He paused, and Y/N answered the question in his mind. “My room.” He bowed at her and left, closing the door behind him quietly.

Y/N sighs again. Sometimes she’s sick from all of this service people are doing for her. She bathes and brushes her teeth herself, but she needs to be clothed by her two personal maids each day. She just feels sick whenever her parents spoil her. She is an only child, but she never asked for people to kneel down in front of her and wash her feet.

She won’t lie, it’s fun but it gets really boring when she literally has everything. Everything but a friend.

Y/N munched on her strawberry. She was currently looking up at the stars, trying to reach for them. The cold breeze from outside her window hits her face as she continues on focusing at one bright star that keeps winking at her from afar. “Ahh,” She munch on another strawberry, smiling as melted chocolate meets her tongue. “It sucks, you know that?”

“I’m living my life but...” She tilts her head, clicking her tongue. “I’m not happy with it. At all.” This girl, aish. You are going crazy. Why are you suddenly talking to me? Anyways you’re rich, and you literally have everything! What more can you ask for? She imagines the star talking to her, and she sighs.

“I do, but not everything. I don’t have a friend.” She pouts at it, taking another bite from her strawberry. Psh, stop complaining. I mean, you have me. Even though I’m too far away from you right now.

Y/N propped her elbow on her knee, “I wish I actually have someone here to talk with than a star that can’t respond.” The star only winks at her. Of course, it wasn’t really talking to her. It was only in her imagination. Sadly.

She frowns, taking a handful of strawberries and stuffing it in her mouth. She felt as if she’s going to cry but she stopped it from forming in her eyes.

“If only there’s someone--” She gasped when a shooting star came in view. Her eyes lit up, her mouth still filled with strawberries filled with melted chocolate. “Oh my god!”

She never believed in any of those wishes at shooting stars kind of things, but it was worth a try.

Y/N pressed her hands together, gulping down the chewed strawberries. “Okay, okay. I have one simple wish,” She took calmed herself down and took a deep breath, “I wish I have someone with me that’ll be understanding, and a very good listener! Like an angel or something. Yeah! An angel!”

She closed her eyes, putting her bottom lip between her teeth. “Send me a friend. Please.” Once she said this countless of times, she opened her eyes slowly. The star that was winking at her was gone, and she frowns. She couldn’t say thank you to it when it’s already gone.

I wonder if it went somewhere because it was tired from hearing my complains. She thought, but then nervously chuckles to herself. I must be really going crazy, huh? Gosh...

She pouts at the night sky that was filled with stars, but hers was nowhere to be seen. I sure hope it works...

Y/N stirred in her sleep, feeling as if something or someone was poking her cheek. “Yah. Wake up already.” She heard a groan, “Aish, why would you even summon me here... Wake up!”

That’s when she felt that she can’t breathe at all, as something was pressing down on her body. Her eyes opened in shock, gasping for air.

“Finally.”

Her eyes adjusted to the light, and on someone’s face. Wait... Someone?!

“What the hell--” Before she can scream, someone covered her mouth and gave her an annoyed look. “Don’t scream. We don’t want any of your maids or butlers come running in on us. We’re practically in a weird position right now.”

Y/N stared at the person. It was a guy. What’s behind his back? It’s all white and feathery. It kinda looks like--wings?!

The guy groaned, “Look, if I release you, promise me you won’t scream bloody murder or I will go back to where I came from.” Y/N nods, her heart jumping in joy? Shock? She doesn’t know.

The guy sighed, “Alright. At three, okay?” She nods at him, still staring at his milky and smooth skin. An angel? A ghost? He looks unbelievably pale. “One. Two... Three,” He uncovered her mouth, “I swear to god if you--”

“W-who... Are you real?” Y/N reached her hand out to touch his face. When her hand touched his skin, she shudders. He smirked at her, “Well, duh. How come I’m in this position right now with you?”

“What?” Her eyes widens, “G-get off of me!” The guy wouldn’t get off and keeps her pinned down on her bed. He looks at her with his starry eyes. Y/N gulped. He looks undeniably perfect. Just perfect.

“W-what even are you?” She stuttered out as he leaned in closer to her body. He gave her a cheeky smile, “I’m your wish come true, baby.”

Part 2: http://satansoori.tumblr.com/post/161815669713/annoyed-angel

I’m taking requests btw. Feel free to ask for some imagines //winks

#bts #bts suga #min yoongi #suga x reader #bts smut #semi smut #fluff #comedy #comedy romance #angel

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queerofthecastle · 7 years ago

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GET TO KNOW ME

RULES: ANSWER THE 30 QUESTIONS AND TAG 30 FOLLOWERS THAT YOU WOULD LIKE TO KNOW BETTER TAGGED BY: @marybethpotter

NICKNAME: Ronnie, Nannie Ro, Nan GENDER: nonbinary (they/them pronouns) STAR SIGN: Gemini or Cancer… I think. But I don’t play into star signs at all so I’m not sure (I’ve been assured that I’m a Cancer by some people and a Gemini by others. I personally think I’d rather avoid Cancer so… Gemini?) HEIGHT: 5'7 TIME: 9:56 BIRTHDAY: June 25 FAVORITE BAND(S): ugh so many… off the top of my head: Sex Bob-omb, the Beatles, ACDC, Guns n’ Roses, Pentatonix, the Black Keys, Scott Bradlee’s Postmodern Jukebox, Avriel and the Sequoias, the Wicked Tinkers… I should stop now or this will be a page and a half long tbh FAVORITE SOLO ARTIST(S): Beck, Thomas Sanders (who totally counts, fight me), Paul Simon (so many others, but let’s quit while we’re ahead) SONG STUCK IN MY HEAD: Ramona (the Beck version) LAST MOVIE I WATCHED: Narnia: the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe LAST SHOW I WATCHED: Rick and Morty (s3e2 came out last night!!!) WHEN DID I CREATE MY BLOG: …like April or May of 2017? WHAT DO I POST: Everything. And yet, also nothing. LAST THING I GOOGLED: Song of the Sea Merchandise (if you haven’t seen that movie, it is a spiritual experience, and you should watch it. ALSO anything by that studio (Cartoon Saloon) or by Studio Ghibli is amazing.) DO I HAVE OTHER BLOGS: Yeah I have another blog. It’s a mental health blog that I use as a journal though, so if you’re into that kind of darkness look me up @easywitheyesclosed DO I GET ASKS: lol I wish WHY DID I CHOOSE THIS BLOG NAME: …. It’s a pun with the word queer in it that implies my royalty but only on a petty scale. It’s pretty insanely perfect, let’s be real. FOLLOWING: 61 FOLLOWERS: 8 (what’s up my 8 friendos?) FAVORITE COLOR(S): blue AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: there is no “average” because either I sleep for an eternity or I don’t sleep at all. There is no in between LUCKY NUMBER: 7 or 3 INSTRUMENTS: I’ve done 13 years of piano and 4 of vocal instruction, I’m handy with a tin whistle, and I’m trying to pick up the guitar (with little success as of yet) WHAT AM I WEARING: Hanes underwear (I’m laying in bed stop judging me) HOW MANY BLANKETS I SLEEP WITH: ALL OF THEM (literally around 14 blankets. I can’t sleep without the weight of them. Also I get cold really easily) DREAM JOB: traveling novelist DREAM TRIP: European tour (I’m almost there, I’m going to college in Europe starting in September *cue happy dance*) FAVORITE FOOD: cheesy lasagna, (or as I like to call it, spaghetti cake) or anything with pasta NATIONALITY: I hail from the USA. At least it’s not an actual war zone (although politically…) FAVORITE SONG: Sleazy Bed Track by The Bluetones (don’t judge it by the title) TAGGING: uhhhhhh I’d tag @marybethpotter but she already did it…………. so… nobody I guess. Yep. But if you see this and want to do it, just pretend I tagged you. I don’t mind.

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 3 months ago

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The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 8

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 8

Word Count: 3394

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Notes: Check out the new tag I needed to add! It might be triggering and it will be addressed further in other chapters! Thank you!

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @jqperi

Masterlist

When he comes back from the bathroom, he seems much more composed. You have already changed into some comfortable pyjamas, and are sitting at the edge of the bed, laptop open and checking your notes. Law begins searching his bag for some sweatpants and a T-shirt. You see his jaw clenching tight but he doesn’t speak so you try to lighten up the mood.

“All things considered it wasn’t such a bad night. We survived.” You say sarcastically and Law freezes, ready to enter the bathroom again to change. When he turns to you, there’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes so you give him a thumbs up. “Could’ve gone worse!”

He shakes his head at you and scoffs before re-entering the bathroom. You're left wondering if that worked to alleviate some of the lingering tension when he opens the door to the bathroom, already dressed. Leaving the door open he begins brushing his teeth and you realise that it was a silent invitation for you to join him.

So you do.

There are two elegant sinks incorporated in the counter and you take the one on the left - the vacant one. Law continues brushing his teeth while you methodically take off your makeup. Then, you brush your teeth while Law uses floss on his own and when you reach that same step, he begins applying a face cream. Silence surrounds you both yet it’s not constricting. You managed to alleviate the tension indeed.

It all feels so intimate, so… domestic.

The last time you did ‘domestic’ with someone was with Ichiji and… and your relationship with him was anything but healthy. Closing your eyes tight, you drop the floss and grip the sink with both hands, your teeth clamping as you bite back the sting of tears. It’s no time to cry right now. Bygones are bygones and you got out! Granted, it took him cheating to finally force that decision out of you, but you did it! So why does thinking about him make you feel so trapped, again?

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Law’s voice is back to its controlled edge. No longer vulnerable, no longer broken or bruised. He’s back. “Do you need to talk about what happened?”

You shake your head vigorously, trying to tell him that it’s not that, but your breath comes in violent gasps as you try to fight the tears and heartache. Your heart is pounding faster and louder by the second and you feel a tightening in your chest, a suffocating feeling of despair as silent drops of tears begin to flow from the clenched corners of your eyes.

You’re experiencing a mild panic attack.

Your hands are beginning to numb with the grip in which you hold the sink and dizziness is overpowering you. You need to fight this. It’s too overwhelming.

Law says your name calmly, his hands pulling each of your fingers away from the basin, slowly and steadily. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re all right. I’m here, let’s get through this together.” As he loosens your grip on the sink, you feel him herding you a few steps back to sit on the toilet seat. Your eyes are still squeezed shut and tears are now streaming freely down your cheeks.

“I’m going to count slowly and I want you to take a deep breath in and then when I count again, you take a long breath out. Got it?” His fingers press against your pulse and you nod, a pitiful whine escaping your lips unwarranted as you struggle to breathe. “Good. That’s good. Come on, now, sweetheart, one: breathe in through the nose, that’s it, you’re doing great, two: out through the mouth, all of it, slowly. Good, you’re doing so well. One more time, let’s go…”

Once he reaches ten your breathing is back to normal and so is your heartbeat. There are thick beads of sweat dripping from your temples and your face is drenched in tears. You still haven’t opened your eyes, but you feel calm now. Once again, Law has managed to help you overcome anxiety.

His fingers release your wrist and you feel both his hands cupping your cheeks to wipe away your tears with his thumbs. “It’s over now, sweetheart. It’s over.” You nod, still silent and still withdrawn from him and the world around you. He gives you a final caress on the cheek and you sense him shift. Another strangled whine leaves your lips at the distance and he speaks, “I’m just getting a wet towel for your neck and forehead. You’re drenched in sweat. I won't leave you.”

As he returns and presses the cool cloth against your scalding skin, you release a deep sigh and finally open your eyes. He’s looking at you, worry etched upon his face, his professional doctor persona mingling with his personal relationship with you. “How are you feeling?” He asks, kneeling back down between your legs, pressing the cloth against your neck.

“I’m… better.” Your voice still feels strained and hoarse. “Thank you.”

A few seconds pass in silence until he speaks. “Was it because… of earlier?”

“No.” You shake your head, a soft smile turning your lips. “It’s stupid, really.” His brow lifts and you sigh. “It all felt too blissfully domestic. A perfect couple scene.” His inquisitive gaze still probes you for more answers and you feel your cheeks flush. “I was only ever domestic like this with Ich-... my ex. And it brought back unpleasant memories. It triggered me.”

Your hands wring together and you chew your bottom lip. Your anxiety still lingers very close, on the borders of your mind, but Law’s presence alone is helping to keep it at bay.

Law nods, his face now composed, not a hint of emotion seeping through, just that tiny crease in his forehead that indicates a lingering worry. “Do you want to talk about it?”

About Ichiji? About how you only realised you were in a mentally abusive relationship after you left him? Or after he forced you to leave him? No. You don’t want to talk about it. Even more so because you’re pretty sure Law knows Ichiji. He has to. Even if Law rarely comes home or frequents all of the Donquixote events, he’s on the board of the company. He knows the Vinsmokes.

“Not right now, if that’s okay.” He nods again and you take a very shaky breath. “I guess I should just go to sleep. It’s been a long day.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” He rises, but his cold stare is still pressed upon your agonised face. “Need help getting up?”

“No, thank you.” You shake your head. “I’m just going to finish my routine and go to bed.” Law nods again and turns to leave. He hesitates for a moment, almost as if he’s going to say something else. But he doesn’t and the moment passes when he exits the bathroom, closing the door and telling you to call him if you need him.

Your mind is still filled with hurtful thoughts about Ichiji and your crappy relationship when you finish your nightly routine and finally open the door to return to the room. When you do, you find Law stacking blankets on the floor, at the foot of the bed.

Raising your eyebrow, you approach him. “Whatcha doing?”

“Building a fort.” He replies dryly and you’re not sure if you should smack him or thank him for trying to bring the mood back to your light banter. You do neither.

“There’s no need for you to sleep on the floor, Law!” You point at the bed. “This is a king-sized bed. We can both fit.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind the floor.” He starts to open a blanket, but you grab it, crumple it and throw it to the armchair behind you. Law crosses his arms, eyebrow slowly lifting as he stares you down intently.

You throw him back a defiant look but he doesn’t budge. So you kick the rest of the blankets he set on the floor under the bed in a very bratty manner. “There, no makeshift bed anymore. Now you have to sleep with me.”

You can almost catch a glimpse of amusement in his eyes. A mere flicker of light as his lips twitch. But he doesn’t indulge in it and instead he grunts. “Careful with what you wish for, sweetheart.”

The low drawl of his voice almost makes you forget the dread still coiling in your stomach. It’s sharp and, at the same time, velvety smooth. How does he accomplish that?

His piercing gaze draws goosebumps all over your skin and you break eye contact first before climbing into bed. “There really is no need for you to throw your back. There’s plenty of room up here.” You open the covers and pat the other side of the bed so he climbs up. Which he does, with a resigned sigh.

And the fact that you’re both, once again, in such a cosy, domestic setting, turns your stomach into a fluttering mess again and you sigh, lying down and turning off the light on your side. “Good night, Law.” You’re pretty sure he’s still staring at you, maybe trying to grasp your mood swings and failing to. You haven’t told him the whole story, so how can he?

Besides, you went from almost having sex to awkward silence, to a panic attack, to blatant flirting and now you’re giving him the cold shoulder. Any sane person would be fed up with your attitude by now. So maybe you should get your shit together, stop being an emotional mess, and just help Law through this.

Is it so hard?

And who are you upset with anyway? Yourself? Ichiji? Doflamingo? It’s definitely not Law, right? Why would it be Law? Just because he let his uncle get into his head, making you doubt your feelings for him? Making you want him in more ways than just physically? Making you blur the lines of what’s real or what you want to be real? Making you feel as if you could have this domestic bliss you actually crave…

Weren’t you off men in general? Trying to heal and whatnot? Why is this turning so goddamned complicated?

“Good night.” His words shut down your brain and you let out another tired sigh. Will you even be able to sleep?

-*-

It has only been about half an hour. It can’t have been more. Yet time seems to have stretched forever. Law’s presence by your side - though your back is turned to him - takes up the whole space. It expands with every breath he takes, overpowering you with every inhale of his scent.

It’s intoxicating.

You don’t think he’s asleep, or if he is, he’s the lightest of sleepers. You don’t hear a sound from him. Just a gentle stir now and again. You, however, can’t stay still. To try and eliminate Law’s presence, your brain conjures up the last time you slept like this with someone, so Ichiji is back on your mind.

Could speaking about him help ease the pain?

Worth a shot.

You take a deep loud sigh and Law stirs. He’s awake. “I told you about my relationship, but I didn’t tell you how toxic it was, even before I found out about the cheating.” Your voice comes out a little hoarse and it’s barely a whisper. Still, you don’t have to turn to sense that Law is listening, so you continue. “I stupidly thought we were in love. That he was the one. He proposed, in what I thought was a very romantic way, though in retrospect, it really wasn’t.”

The scene replays in your head and you roll your eyes in embarrassment. Before you can ponder whether to share it or not, your lips are already parting. “We were at a grand event - they have those a dime a dozen in Grand Line City - and I was feeling unwanted, invisible, like a chess piece being moved around on his ever-changing board. He was making connections, networking, talking business…” A huff leaves your lips. “Until he made a grand speech filled with generic facts about our relationship, dropped to one knee and popped the question. The ring was beautiful though, it was probably chosen by his assistant. One he was fucking, coincidentaly.”

A stubborn tear slips from your eye, soaking the pillow. Law remains quiet, but his presence is grounding and you take a deep breath before continuing. “I said yes. There was too much pressure. We were surrounded by very important people, I couldn’t say no. Even if I had been feeling ignored just moments before.”

Your heart still clenches at the thought. “I fooled myself into thinking it was romantic and a grand gesture, but in reality, I would have preferred a much more intimate setting. A simple declaration… a rose instead of an audience. But that was much of our relationship. Me moulding into whatever he wanted me to be. Happy, pretty, silent… a doll. A simple possession. He was manipulative and…” The word catches in your throat. “Violent…” It comes out as a mere whisper.

Law doesn’t physically move, but the change you sense in him is profound. You can almost perceive the storm brewing on the other side of the bed as the silence stretches and shifts. “There was one time…” You haven’t thought about this in a while, yet it still hurts. “We were at another one of his functions - how he loved those - and we were speaking with a CEO of another company, one of his partners, and I was giving input because I knew what I was talking about, I worked for his father’s company after all.” Pride swells in your chest, you were very good at your job.

“Anyway, I thought everything was going well, until the CEO told my ex how much of an asset I was, how lucky he and his company were to have me on their team, and how invaluable I was. I remember being happy, flushed with pride, beaming to be able to help him with his business. But instead, even though he agreed with the CEO, to save face, once we were alone…”

You sense Law stiffen and the mattress shifts as he approaches you. Yet he still doesn’t speak or make any move. You remain still and continue.

“Once we were alone he made sure to remind me how dispensable I actually was.” You could still remember the sting of his words. How cruel he’d been, telling you to stop acting so smug as if you knew everything. To stop showing off in front of important people because you were nothing. At least nothing without him. “I made the mistake of answering back and… well… he meant it as a warning, but the way he grabbed my wrist…” The memory of the pain returns, and you shift, grabbing your wrist and massaging it slowly as if it still aches. “It scared me. Of course he apologised immediately with hollow, soothing words. But it always returned to the same demeaning speech: I was only good enough if he was by my side. I was only worth something, because I was with him…”

Your voice fades, your hand still gripping your wrist, squeezing it as tightly as Ichiji once had. The pain of the past overflows, flooding the present. Your throat feels tight. You have nothing more to give. Ichiji broke you a long time ago and you are better now for it. You survived it, survived him.

Perhaps you can allow yourself the luxury of feeling worthless once in a blue moon.

Why today has to be the day, you don’t know. But you’re with Law, in the middle of an important ruse. And you need to keep your shit together.

However, though your brain grasps that important concept, your tears didn’t get the memo. They flow freely down your face and you’re trying your hardest to keep your relentless sobs hidden from Law. You already had your breakdown in the bathroom! Do you really need him to see you broken again?

Would he have still chosen you to act as his fake girlfriend if he knew how messed up you truly were?

Without a single word, Law reaches over, enveloping your waist with his strong arm, and rolling you over, so you can lie against him. You nestle your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, hoping it can soothe you and mend your pain, his arm drapes around your back, pulling you closer to him in a silent gesture of comfort.

You take it all.

For a moment, neither of you moves, neither of you speaks and the only sounds that surround you are the gentle hoots of the owls outside the window and your harsh breaths as you hold back sobs.

Then, as soft as always, Law’s fingers brush the wrist you were gripping so tightly a moment ago. He’s tender, gentle, but his touch leaves a trail of fire on your skin. The blaze erases any and all bad memories and the phantom ache dissolves into nothingness.

A breath of relief escapes your lips. For a moment you wonder if you should apologise for your behaviour. This isn’t getting your shit together. It’s just breaking apart.

“I wasn’t just scared.” Your voice is muffled against his shirt, you don’t dare to look up into his eyes. “I was also ashamed. Ashamed that I let him talk to me like that, that I allowed him to touch me like that. And then… and then I felt guilt. Because maybe it really was my fault, maybe-...”

“Stop.” It’s the first time he speaks since you started sharing your story. A story he deserves to know. He told you about Monet. There should be no more secrets between the two of you. His voice is level and controlled, but you can still sense a hint of barely contained anger in the way his hand clenches around your waist. You’re beginning to know all of his tells.

A funny thought crosses your mind: after all this sham comes to an end, you’re going to know Law like an open book. And closing that book, ending that story, will be the most painful thing you’ll ever have to do.

“It wasn’t your fault. You don’t have to be ashamed, much less feel guilty. He’s the asshole. You just thought you were in love.”

You bite your lip to hold down a violent whine. “No, I was just the idiot that let herself stay with the asshole for four years! That’s what I’m ashamed of.” This whole confession, the way you’re sharing this with Law, is freeing. You never told a soul about Ichiji’s violent tendencies. It’s lifting an extreme weight from your chest. It's liberating and overwhelming at the same time.

It’s almost too much.

Law’s hand on your wrist climbs up your arm, grasps your chin and lifts your face to meet his eyes. They’re steely and the molten gold is dark and ominous. But there’s a flicker of care there and you grasp onto it as if it were your lifeline. “You’re not an idiot. You got out. You’re stronger than you think.”

He pierces you with his gaze until you relent and nod. Then he lets go of your chin and you settle back against his chest. Maybe you’re overstepping your boundaries, it isn’t really clear anymore. This night has blurred the lines beyond any and all recognition, but you feel so safe in his arms, so whole, so… at peace.

You never want to let go.

The hand on your back shifts as he starts to caress your hair in such a gentle way that you’re not sure you’re not already asleep and dreaming. Your eyes have fluttered shut a while ago and your sobs have subsided. Though Law’s shirt is soaked through, he doesn’t complain.

Sweet oblivion is reaching out to you but you can still hear him as clear as day, even though his words are a simple murmur. “If this were real, you would never feel small with me. I would lift you up, not bring you down. You shine too bright to be dimmed, sweetheart. Rest.”

|Chapter 9|

#one piece #one piece x reader #x reader #op #the meet cute #law x reader #modern day au #reader x trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #reader insert #reader x law #you x law #law x you #Spotify

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babblingbr00k · 6 years ago

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Inventory in a Pepto Bismal Stripper Room

~I will never forget that first morning for as long as I live. I was told the night before that, Monday through Saturday, all those individuals that couldn't pay the fee to be in the program, must work at the Thrift Store. It's here that we Earn Our Keep. It's also where Character is built.

~I sat up on the edge of my bed and attempted to stand. My heart rate began to climb and was beating about 40 beats too fast. As I stood up, the room began to spin and my eyesight went black. Afraid that I would pass out, I retreated back into the loving arms of my bed and caught my breath.

~Having gotten, both, my eyesight and horizon back, I was now able to focus on my next objective.

~My mission, if I chose to accept it, was to place one foot in front of the other. Making my way towards the closet, dressing, and vanity area. Once there, my next obstacle was to pick out my frock for the day, adhorn said frock, and try my best to appear halfway decent.

~I made my way, in the darkness, to the back of the house where the vanity, dressing, and closet areas were.

~I felt like Dorothy. Stepping from the black and white Kansas world into the Technicolor world of Oz.

~Giant mirrors covered the 3 walls of this world. Above the mirrors were bright iridescent light bulbs. Below the mirrors, at waist height, was a shelf, colored to match the walls. It was on this Pepto Bismol pink colored shelf, that little workstations were sectioned off for each girl. Makeup, curling irons, straightening irons, hairsprays, body sprays, purfume’s, blow dryers, styling gels, lotions, facial creams, hair bows & headbands of every color, as well as brushes, picks, and combs of every possible shape and size, could be seen stuffed into every available nook and cranny.

~The room was wall to wall chaos right now. Each girl bouncing back and forth, borrowing this, using that. Every couple of seconds you could see each girl shove her face into any one of the mirrors, each painstakingly perfecting their very own work of art.

~Fighting back the urge to vomit, I grabbed the only empty chair and made a left into the dark, quiet, and safe confines of the closet. It was in the farthest right corner where I unfolded and placed my chair. I sat down with a sigh of relief and looked up into my designated storage section.

~I glanced over at each of the girls closet space and felt a wave of shame pass over me. Just like the vanity room, here in the closet, every possible corner, cubby hole, and shelf was overflowing some kind of article of clothing. I returned my gaze to my collection and quickly took inventory of everything I owned in the whole world.

Itemized Inventory in Closet

~One (1) medium LSU Tigers T-shirt-Yellow-Small hole right underarm.

~One (1) XXXL Gonzales Fire Station T-Shirt-Faded Blue-Bleach stain on the bottom hem in the back.

~One (1) pair of XL Crocs-Green-Traction on bottom soles worn away due to over use and advanced age of almost 10 years. These Crocs are sentimental to me...I’ll explain later.

~One (1) pair of Fruit of the Loom Bikini Cut Cotton Underwear-Pink Paisley in color-Unsure of size because the tag is too degraded-Clean-Waistband beginning to come apart.

Itemized Inventory on Person (Me)

~One (1) Pair of light blue scrub bottoms-Small-Starting to smell-Needs to be washed.

~One (1) Fruit of the Loom Sports Bra-Grey-Used to be Medium in size but stretched to XL from 3 years of use. Absolutely no support whatsoever. Needs to be washed.

~One (1) XL Plain white Hanes Crew Collar T-Shirt-Stole from Phillip-Dingy from years of wear. Needs to be washed.

~One (1) Hanes Women's Bikini Cut underwear-Faded Purple-Stained-Stretched and Smelly~Needs to be Washed

~One (1) Pink ankle sock with hole in baby toe-Needs to be Washed

~One (1) Black Crew Sock-Needs to be Washed

~These few items of clothing was all that I had left. Everything else I had to leave at the rental house that Phillip and I shared. The cute little cottage house where Phillip abandoned me almost two weeks before.

~I angrily stormed out of the closet and made my way back to my bed. These people cannot expect me to work in this condition. They can’t MAKE me do anything. There is no way in hell these people can MAKE me work. Not in this condition.

~I stubbornly laid there in bed, daring any one of the girls to say one single word to me. I laid there listening to the laughter and happy banter coming from Pepto Bismol Pink Stripper looking Vanity Room. The happier they got, the angrier I got.

~A few minutes before 7 a.m. Amy came bouncing out of the Stripper Room and plopped down on the bed opposite me. She informed me that they were ready and asked if I was. I pleaded with her to let me stay behind.

~“I already asked Stacey. She said that you are not allowed to stay here by yourself. Your going to have to come with us.” She said as she looked at me pathetically.

~I sat there quiet for a couple of seconds, debating on whether or not I should release my own private hell on this unsuspecting girl. But just when I was about to open my mouth, I was interrupted by my roomates exiting the vanity room, making their way to the kitchen.

~“How dare all these girls feel so happy and good when I am feeling so miserable!?! A Plague on ALL YOUR HOUSES!!!”

~It was a short walk across the parking lot to Miracle Place Church. We made our way through the main doors, through the empty, dark sanctuary, into a long hallway, and finally into a room that was decorated in Coca Cola memorabilia. There was a couch and also some chairs.

~"Brook? Why don't you lay down on the couch and get a little more rest while we have Devotion. You can listen and follow along but you don't have to join in." Amy told me. "Devotion lasts an hour." she also said.

~I took Amy's advice and laid down on the couch and just tried to relax a little. My heart was still beating about 40 beats faster than what it should have been. I could hear it in my ears. This made me winded and I felt even more anxious. I wanted to come out of my skin. I wanted to be anywhere but in my body. The nausea came and went. Irrational thoughts and paranoia invaded my brain. I knew I had to try to calm down. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and tried to go to my happy place. I knew that if I went to my happy place and concentrated enough, my heart rate would come down to a more comfortable level. Once I could get my heart rate down to a comfortable level, the anxiety, nausea and uneasiness would subside.

~My "Happy Place" has always been the same. I'm on a deserted beach. There's absolutely no sign or noise of anyone else being there. It's night-time and I'm laying on the beach just enough into the water so that it laps over my body. I focus on the night-time sounds that my "Happy Place," has to offer. The sounds of the waves as they crash into beach. I focus on the distinctive yet individual sounds that each ones makes as they come onto shore. The sound of the wind as it comes in from the ocean, and the sounds of the insects as they are preparing their nightly ritual.

~I concentrate on each part of my body. First, the muscles in my feet. I flex the muscles in my feet by moving my toes. Once I feel the muscles in my feet relax, I move onto my lower legs. I move onto each part of my body until, hopefully, my entire body is completely relaxed.

~I'm not sure how long passed but I was brought back to that Coca Cola room as I felt each girl lay their hands on me. From my head to my toes there was a soft little hand. I kept my eyes closed and nervously waited. Waited to see what weird stuff they were going to do to me. For a few seconds I was imagining some weird little spiritual ritual that I was about to be party to.

~Another couple of seconds passed and just as I was about to open my eyes, Amy began a prayer. Amy was praying for me. My mind, body and soul. She prayed for supernatural healing. She asked God to, please, heal my mind and body of all nausea, anxiety, panic, fatigue, depression and uneasiness. She prayed for God to take away any and all withdraw symptoms. Take away my craving for the drugs.

~Emma's prayer began just as Amy's ended. Each girl took turns as they prayed for my body and mind. I focused on each prayer. I focused on each lovely word that came from each mouth of these lovely ladies.

~Can I be honest with you? I expected it to work. I listened to these prayers and expected all of my pain and discomfort to go away. I expected to open my eyes, get up, and be able to run a marathon. I expected to open my eyes and all of this was going to be over.

~I opened my eyes and still felt like crap. I opened my eyes and felt a wave of anxiety and panic rush over me. I sat up and wanted to die. In my head I TOLD God to kill me. I was always considered to be a very strong person, but this was too much. There's just so much a person can take and I had reached my limit. I had made up my mind that if God wasn't going to put me out of my misery then I was going to do it myself.

~I began crying as I started my own prayer. Verbally asking God to kill me. The girls listened to me beg God to put me out of my misery.

~"Please release me from the pain of this miserable existence." I told God.

~I got angry. Accusing God of taking the wrong person. He shouldn't have taken Coleson. Coleson was the better person. He would have done more for this world than I ever would have. Why take Coleson, such an angel, when he could have taken someone who actually deserved death, like me? The girls let me vent. They let me say what I needed to say. My prayer ended. I'm not sure how long passed but I eventually passed out. And when I woke.....it wasn't my body that was healed.....It was my attitude.

~When I opened my eyes I saw these lovely ladies, all sitting around me. I knew that God had sent each one. Each one was going to help me get through this. I knew from that moment on that I wasn't going to be alone. These women were praying for me. They were pulling for me. Each woman was behind me and they were going to fight for me if they needed to.

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kungfubreakfast · 6 years ago

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All The Goddesses

So so so so so many lovely ladies today with nine new sets including three multi-muse sets! Time is going by so fast this year. I’ve can’t believe we’re already halfway in to March. I have a cold this week so that’s a bummer but tomorrow I’m planning on making the journey to Lake Elsinore to see the Super Bloom. SoCal so rarely gets its rain but when it does (plus a few other conditions) like this year then the fields are littered with wild flowers including the poppies. Two years ago I got a chance to do my one and only shoot with Mandee Leslie in the superbloom in Antelope Valley so I’m stoked to do it again. Keep your fingers crossed my cold is gone by then.

First up we have a new set with Sister Bonez. The good Sister has really been one of my absolutely favorite Muses to work with over the past year. She always has killer looks, poses, great ideas, etc. It’s been so rainy here lately that I was a bit worried we might get rained out but luckily the worst we got was a sprinkle during the opening portion of our shoot in Pomona. We shot some cool urban stuff and then Sister Bonez treated me to a cup of a coffee at this cool Mexican coffee place called Mi Cafecito Coffee where we both got marzipan lattes with oat milk. They were seriously to die for. After that we headed to a beautiful botanical garden for the second leg of our shoot. I had never been to this particular botanical garden so it was fun to check out. They had some really interesting structures and art pieces. We also caught some sunset vibes that really brought out our best. Finally we spent the third part of our shoot over at the bartending school where Sister Bonez learned to mix drinks. We shot some photos and a short video of her doing some mixology and then took some sexy photos in their Playboy themed bathroom. As usually we got a lot accomplished and had a blast doing it.

Up next is a new set with long-time muse Lina Savanna and she brought her friend Hollixberri. Lina and I are good friends and text as friends do. She told me her friend Holli was visiting her from out of town so I offered up the idea of shooting with the two of them. I figured it would be a fun, low-key, hang out with the homegirl and her homegirl kind of situation. Of course it was all of those things but also much more! They ladies put together some great looks and really brought the fire. I absolutely loved the energy Holli brought to the shoot and I hope she comes and visits again. We started our day in Chinatown kind of just exploring around. We really hit a highlight when we found this practically abandoned shopping center near where we had parked. After that we travelled to nearby Elysian Park where Lina showed us a part of the park I had never seen before. It was a bit cold and windy but we powered through and even got a shot of a wandering coyote. Finally as it got a bit too cold for shooting we made our way to Holli’s AirBnB where we shot some fun and sexy lingerie looks. Major fun vibes on this shoot.

For our third set I’d like to welcome back someone near and dear to my heart, the lovely Chelsea Hanes. Portland-based Chelsea was in town visiting so we made some plans to catch up and do a little shoot at one of my favorite spots, Stoney Point. Chelsea adorned herself in rose petals and cannabis leaves (courtesy of Aesthetic Cataclysm). Chelsea always brings the Goddess vibes but this was really on a whole other level. We kept the shoot relatively short due to weather conditions but still got in a full set’s worth of amazing shots. Not too much else to say about the shoot other than that it was magical and we found a graffiti sign telling us the point at which no muggles were allowed past.

From Green Goddess to Rock Goddess we have a new set with Alicia Vigil. Fresh off of a European Tour with her band Vigil of War, Alicia Vigil is back with our second set together. I wanted to really switch gears with Alicia from our first set in the woods, so I took her to maybe my favorite spot to shoot, Angels Gate Bunkers. Not surprisingly, Alicia really brought it with some cool looks and a fun interaction with the environment. Going to The Bunkers with a new person is always a wild experience and makes me feel like Hammond on the helicopter turning to the others and say, “Welcome to Jurassic Park.” After the Bunkers we stopped by The Korean Bell of Friendship for a few more dope shots. Really been loving working with Alicia and hoping for another rad shoot in the near future.

Spooky girl love continues with a KILLER new set featuring the lovely Lady Krondor. Lady Krondor have had some of my favorite shoots when we’ve shot in her various homes. In Lady Krondor’s current place we shot our last set in her home photo studio and once again decided to make some work there. Part of the inspiration was that our mutual friend Necro Natalie painted this spooky backdrop for her. We had a fun time playing around and then ventured out to the mean streets of West Hollywood so shoot a bit more. Sometimes the best shoots are the simplest ones.

I feel my heart swelling as honestly this series of sets covers some of my favorite humans including Fablechan. Fable and I have been talking about a new set since our last set but it’s been way a bit too chilly since our schedules really only like up for late afternoon/evening shoots. Luckily we found a slightly warmer day. Once again I headed down to deep Orange County for our shoot. We started off in this cool woodlandish park for a very glamorous look. When we were coming out of the park we met some guy from Arizona that REALLY wanted to show us his photos he had taken of girls in bikinis. We probably would have talked with him more but we were racing the sun to our next spot just outside of a cool drain pipe tunnel. We did a drain pipe tunnel in our last shoot but I will always been down for things off the beaten path. The little area outside the tunnel had some fun graff including a Rick and Morty piece but inside the tunnel was for me where the real magic happened. We finished off the shoot with some nighttime park stuff including a bit of nudie time. I’m sure as the weather gets nicer there will be more nudity for all my pervy followers.

Up next is a mini set with my loves Miss Chaos and Liza. Sometimes I shoot sets simply because I have plans with my friends that are also my Muses and why not? Well on this very evening the three of us headed to Bar Sinister’s newish event appropriately named Wednezdays. We shot some cute photos in the bar, I almost lost my glasses, the night was a little crazy and then we went back to Miss Chaos’ place where she busted out the whip and paddle on Liza. Pretty typical evening.

So when I say all the Goddesses, this next set might take the cake. Brittny Nicole hit me up asking if I’d like to tag along with her on a shoot for her friend Adrienne’s brand Little Black Diamond in San Diego. Of course my answer was yes so we made our way down to San Diego (which means “A Whale’s Vagina”). This wasn’t technically my shoot, which is always a weird situation as I don’t like to step on other’s toes, nor do I allow people to take photos on my shoots, but it was a really chill time. The shoot happened at this cool psychedelic art bar called Kilowatt in the neighborhood of Ocean Beach. There was something like 8-10 girls on the shoot and one main photographer so Brittny and I started shooting in spots while she wasn’t being used and other models that weren’t being used at the time followed. Adrienne and I clicked right away as Brittny had been telling both of us about each other for a while. Adrienne and all the girls were super stoked to have me there and we had a really cool time. I wasn’t sure if this should be a solo set with guests or a multi-muse set but ultimately I decided that this was still Brittny’s journey and if I ever shoot with any of these girls again (which I plan to) then of course this set will be listed on their pages. I really think my story isn’t even doing this set justice so just go check out the photos.

And to wrap things up is a new solo set with Miss Chaos. It seems like every time I post a set with Miss Chaos that it’s actually two sets but she’s one of my closest homegirls. Despite her namesake, Miss Chaos actually really helps me keep my sanity. She’s a loving, supportive friend, a great Muse, and an ear for me to vocalize my thoughts, good or bad. One of our mutual loves is for abandoned places. Back in the Fall she found on Instagram photos of an an abandoned airplane in Ontario, CA (just about an hour outside of my place in Highland Park). It was a little tough for our schedules to get out there until now but we finally did last week and it was WELL WORTH IT. We got some directions how to find the place from an awesome artist on Instagram named Chuck Hodi who had been there before. Once we arrived it was actually really easy to find (like too easy). Not only did we find the plane but there were actually TWO PLANES! We had an awesome shoot and no one bothered us. This was by far the easiest and yet strangest abandoned shoot I think I’ve ever done. I mean two abandoned planes in the middle of a small airport and not one person told us to leave (big ups to Ontario Airport I guess!) After that we found a cool little park to shoot in and Miss Chaos rocked her 90’s No Doubt look while we played on a kids playground. Afterward we stopped for the delicious marzipan coffee at the same Mexican coffee shop that Sister Bonez took me to in the beginning of the set. Everything truly comes full circle. Until next time, enjoy!

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suzanneshannon · 6 years ago

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Conversations with Robots: Voice, Smart Agents & the Case for Structured Content

In late 2016, Gartner predicted that 30 percent of web browsing sessions would be done without a screen by 2020. Earlier the same year, Comscore had predicted that half of all searches would be voice searches by 2020. Though there’s recent evidence to suggest that the 2020 picture may be more complicated than these broad-strokes projections imply, we’re already seeing the impact that voice search, artificial intelligence, and smart software agents like Alexa and Google Assistant are making on the way information is found and consumed on the web.

In addition to the indexing function that traditional search engines perform, smart agents and AI-powered search algorithms are now bringing into the mainstream two additional modes of accessing information: aggregation and inference. As a result, design efforts that focus on creating visually effective pages are no longer sufficient to ensure the integrity or accuracy of content published on the web. Rather, by focusing on providing access to information in a structured, systematic way that is legible to both humans and machines, content publishers can ensure that their content is both accessible and accurate in these new contexts, whether or not they’re producing chatbots or tapping into AI directly. In this article, we’ll look at the forms and impact of structured content, and we’ll close with a set of resources that can help you get started with a structured content approach to information design.

The role of structured content

In their recent book, Designing Connected Content, Carrie Hane and Mike Atherton define structured content as content that is “planned, developed, and connected outside an interface so that it’s ready for any interface.” A structured content design approach frames content resources—like articles, recipes, product descriptions, how-tos, profiles, etc.—not as pages to be found and read, but as packages composed of small chunks of content data that all relate to one another in meaningful ways.

In a structured content design process, the relationships between content chunks are explicitly defined and described. This makes both the content chunks and the relationships between them legible to algorithms. Algorithms can then interpret a content package as the “page” I’m looking for—or remix and adapt that same content to give me a list of instructions, the number of stars on a review, the amount of time left until an office closes, and any number of other concise answers to specific questions.

Structured content is already a mainstay of many types of information on the web. Recipe listings, for instance, have been based on structured content for years. When I search, for example, “bouillabaisse recipe” on Google, I’m provided with a standard list of links to recipes, as well as an overview of recipe steps, an image, and a set of tags describing one example recipe:

A “featured snippet” for allrecipes.com on the Google results page.

The same allrecipes.com page viewed in Google’s Structured Data Testing Tool. The pane on the right shows the machine-readable values.

This “featured snippet” view is possible because the content publisher, allrecipes.com, has broken this recipe into the smallest meaningful chunks appropriate for this subject matter and audience, and then expressed information about those chunks and the relationships between them in a machine-readable way. In this example, allrecipes.com has used both semantic HTML and linked data to make this content not merely a page, but also legible, accessible data that can be accurately interpreted, adapted, and remixed by algorithms and smart agents. Let’s look at each of these elements in turn to see how they work together across indexing, aggregation, and inference contexts.

Software agent search and semantic HTML

Semantic HTML is markup that communicates information about the meaningful relationships between document elements, as opposed to simply describing how they should look on screen. Semantic elements such as heading tags and list tags, for instance, indicate that the text they enclose is a heading (<h1>) for the set of list items (<li>) in the ordered list (<ol>) that follows.

HTML structured in this way is both presentational and semantic because people know what headings and lists look like and mean, and algorithms can recognize them as elements with defined, interpretable relationships.

HTML markup that focuses only on the presentational aspects of a “page” may look perfectly fine to a human reader but be completely illegible to an algorithm. Take, for example, the City of Boston website, redesigned a few years ago in collaboration with top-tier design and development partners. If I want to find information about how to pay a parking ticket, a link from the home page takes me directly to the “How to Pay a Parking Ticket” screen (scrolled to show detail):

As a human reading this page, I easily understand what my options are for paying: I can pay online, in person, by mail, or over the phone. If I ask Google Assistant how to pay a parking ticket in Boston, however, things get a bit confusing:

None of the links provided in the Google Assistant results take me directly to the “How to Pay a Parking Ticket” page, nor do the descriptions clearly let me know I’m on the right track. (I didn’t ask about requesting a hearing.) This is because the content on the City of Boston parking ticket page is styled to communicate content relationships visually to human readers but is not structured semantically in a way that also communicates those relationships to inquisitive algorithms.

The City of Seattle’s “Pay My Ticket” page, though it lacks the polished visual style of Boston’s site, also communicates parking ticket payment options clearly to human visitors:

The equivalent Google Assistant search, however, offers a much more helpful result than we see with Boston. In this case, the Google Assistant result links directly to the “Pay My Ticket” page and also lists several ways I can pay my ticket: online, by mail, and in person.

Despite the visual simplicity of the City of Seattle parking ticket page, it more effectively ensures the integrity of its content across contexts because it’s composed of structured content that is marked up semantically. “Pay My Ticket” is a level-one heading (<h1>), and each of the options below it are level-two headings (<h2>), which indicate that they are subordinate to the level-one element.

These elements, when designed well, communicate information hierarchy and relationships visually to readers, and semantically to algorithms. This structure allows Google Assistant to reasonably surmise that the text in these <h2> headings represents payment options under the <h1> heading “Pay My Ticket.”

While this use of semantic HTML offers distinct advantages over the “page display” styling we saw on the City of Boston’s site, the Seattle page also shows a weakness that is typical of manual approaches to semantic HTML. You’ll notice that, in the Google Assistant results, the “Pay by Phone” option we saw on the web page was not listed. If we look at the markup of this page, we can see that while the three options found by Google Assistant are wrapped in both <strong> and <h2> tags, “Pay by Phone” is only marked up with an <h2>. This irregularity in semantic structure may be what’s causing Google Assistant to omit this option from its results.

Although each of these elements would look the same to a sighted human creating this page, the machine interpreting it reads a difference. While WYSIWYG text entry fields can theoretically support semantic HTML, in practice they all too often fall prey to the idiosyncrasies of even the most well-intentioned content authors. By making meaningful content structure a core element of a site’s content management system, organizations can create semantically correct HTML for every element, every time. This is also the foundation that makes it possible to capitalize on the rich relationship descriptions afforded by linked data.

Linked data and content aggregation

In addition to finding and excerpting information, such as recipe steps or parking ticket payment options, search and software agent algorithms also now aggregate content from multiple sources by using linked data.

In its most basic form, linked data is “a set of best practices for connecting structured data on the web.” Linked data extends the basic capabilities of semantic HTML by describing not only what kind of thing a page element is (“Pay My Ticket” is an <h1>), but also the real-world concept that thing represents: this <h1> represents a “pay action,” which inherits the structural characteristics of “trade actions” (the exchange of goods and services for money) and “actions” (activities carried out by an agent upon an object). Linked data creates a richer, more nuanced description of the relationship between page elements, and it provides the structural and conceptual information that algorithms need to meaningfully bring data together from disparate sources.

Say, for example, that I want to gather more information about two recommendations I’ve been given for orthopedic surgeons. A search for a first recommendation, Scott Ruhlman, MD, brings up a set of links as well as a Knowledge Graph info box containing a photo, location, hours, phone number, and reviews from the web.

If we run Dr. Ruhlman’s Swedish Hospital profile page through Google’s Structured Data Testing Tool, we can see that content about him is structured as small, discrete elements, each of which is marked up with descriptive types and attributes that communicate both the meaning of those attributes’ values and the way they fit together as a whole—all in a machine-readable format.

In this example, Dr. Ruhlman’s profile is marked up with microdata based on the schema.org vocabulary. Schema.org is a collaborative effort backed by Google, Yahoo, Bing, and Yandex that aims to create a common language for digital resources on the web. This structured content foundation provides the semantic base on which additional content relationships can be built. The Knowledge Graph info box, for instance, includes Google reviews, which are not part of Dr. Ruhlman’s profile, but which have been aggregated into this overview. The overview also includes an interactive map, made possible because Dr. Ruhlman’s office location is machine-readable.

The search for a second recommendation, Stacey Donion, MD, provides a very different experience. Like the City of Boston site above, Dr. Donion’s profile on the Kaiser Permanente website is perfectly intelligible to a sighted human reader. But because its markup is entirely presentational, its content is virtually invisible to software agents.

In this example, we can see that Google is able to find plenty of links to Dr. Donion in its standard index results, but it isn’t able to “understand” the information about those sources well enough to present an aggregated result. In this case, the Knowledge Graph knows Dr. Donion is a Kaiser Permanente physician, but it pulls in the wrong location and the wrong physician’s name in its attempt to build a Knowledge Graph display.

You’ll also notice that while Dr. Stacey Donion is an exact match in all of the listed search results—which are numerous enough to fill the first results page—we’re shown a “did you mean” link for a different doctor. Stacy Donlon, MD, is a neurologist who practices at MultiCare Neuroscience Center, which is not affiliated with Kaiser Permanente. Multicare does, however, provide semantic and linked data-rich profiles for their physicians.

Voice queries and content inference

The increasing prevalence of voice as a mode of access to information makes providing structured, machine-intelligible content all the more important. Voice and smart software agents are not just freeing users from their keyboards, they’re changing user behavior. According to LSA Insider, there are several important differences between voice queries and typed queries. Voice queries tend to be:

longer;

more likely to ask who, what, and where;

more conversational;

and more specific.

In order to tailor results to these more specifically formulated queries, software agents have begun inferring intent and then using the linked data at their disposal to assemble a targeted, concise response. If I ask Google Assistant what time Dr. Ruhlman’s office closes, for instance, it responds, “Dr. Ruhlman’s office closes at 5 p.m.,” and displays this result:

These results are not only aggregated from disparate sources, but are interpreted and remixed to provide a customized response to my specific question. Getting directions, placing a phone call, and accessing Dr. Ruhlman’s profile page on swedish.org are all at the tips of my fingers.

When I ask Google Assistant what time Dr. Donion’s office closes, the result is not only less helpful but actually points me in the wrong direction. Instead of a targeted selection of focused actions to follow up on my query, I’m presented with the hours of operation and contact information for MultiCare Neuroscience Center.

MultiCare Neuroscience Center, you’ll recall, is where Dr. Donlon—the neuroscientist Google thinks I may be looking for, not the orthopedic surgeon I’m actually looking for—practices. Dr. Donlon’s profile page, much like Dr. Ruhlman’s, is semantically structured and marked up with linked data.

To be fair, subsequent trials of this search did produce the generic (and partially incorrect) practice location for Dr. Donion (“Kaiser Permanente Orthopedics: Morris Joseph MD”). It is possible that through repeated exposure to the search term “Dr. Stacey Donion,” Google Assistant fine-tuned the responses it provided. The initial result, however, suggests that smart agents may be at least partially susceptible to the same availability heuristic that affects humans, wherein the information that is easiest to recall often seems the most correct.

There’s not enough evidence in this small sample to support a broad claim that algorithms have “cognitive” bias, but even when we allow for potentially confounding variables, we can see the compounding problems we risk by ignoring structured content. “Donlon,” for example, may well be a more common name than “Donion” and may be easily mistyped on a QWERTY keyboard. Regardless, the Kaiser Permanente result we’re given above for Dr. Donion is for the wrong physician. Furthermore, in the Google Assistant voice search, the interaction format doesn’t verify whether we meant Dr. Donlon; it just provides us with her facility’s contact information. In these cases, providing clear, machine-readable content can only work to our advantage.

The business case for structured content design

In 2012, content strategist Karen McGrane wrote that “you don’t get to decide which platform or device your customers use to access your content: they do.”

This statement was intended to help designers, strategists, and businesses prepare for the imminent rise of mobile. It continues to ring true for the era of linked data. With the growing prevalence of smart assistants and voice-based queries, an organization’s website is less and less likely to be a potential visitor’s first encounter with rich content. In many cases—such as finding location information, hours, phone numbers, and ratings—this pre-visit engagement may be a user’s only interaction with an information source.

These kinds of quick interactions, however, are only one small piece of a much larger issue: linked data is increasingly key to maintaining the integrity of content online. The organizations I’ve used as examples, like the hospitals, government agencies, and colleges I’ve consulted with for years, don’t measure the success of their communications efforts in page views or ad clicks. Success for them means connecting patients, constituents, and community members with services and accurate information about the organization, wherever that information might be found. This communication-based definition of success readily applies to virtually any type of organization working to further its business goals on the web.

The model of building pages and then expecting users to discover and parse those pages to answer questions, though time-tested in the pre-voice era, is quickly becoming insufficient for effective communication. It precludes organizations from participating in emergent patterns of information seeking and discovery. And—as we saw in the case of searching for information about physicians—it may lead software agents to make inferences based on insufficient or erroneous information, potentially routing customers to competitors who communicate more effectively.

By communicating clearly in a digital context that now includes aggregation and inference, organizations are more effectively able to speak to their users where users actually are, be it on a website, a search engine results page, or a voice-controlled digital assistant. They are also able to maintain greater control over the accuracy of their messages by ensuring that the correct content can be found and communicated across contexts.

Getting started: who and how

Design practices that build bridges between user needs and technology requirements to meet business goals are crucial to making this vision a reality. Information architects, content strategists, developers, and experience designers all have a role to play in designing and delivering effective structured content solutions.

Practitioners from across the design community have shared a wealth of resources in recent years on creating content systems that work for humans and algorithms alike. To learn more about implementing a structured content approach for your organization, these books and articles are a great place to start:

Content Everywhere, Sara Wachter-Boettcher

“Content Modelling: A Master Skill,” Rachel Lovinger

Content Strategy for Mobile, Karen McGrane

Designing Connected Content, Carrie Hane and Mike Atherton

Conversations with Robots: Voice, Smart Agents & the Case for Structured Content published first on https://deskbysnafu.tumblr.com/

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 3 months ago

Text

The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 4

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 4

Word Count: 5946

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Notes: Oh... chapter 4 is so much fun... My favourite so far, please enjoy! Special shout-out to @jintaka-hane for showing me a fanart of Law with the cute Bepo pen! I HAD to add it to this chapter!

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil

Masterlist

Law took you up on that promise for the second-best coffee in town, using the excuse that he had some free time and wanted to check on your father. It didn’t really matter that he barely took five minutes to assure your father was fine before you two talked for almost two hours over coffee about books.

You also used your father as an excuse the same week, when you visited Law at the clinic saying that you weren’t sure about one of the pills he had to take, because it made him droopy and sleepy. You knew it didn’t matter and Law assured you his medication was fine but if he was uneasy about the side effects of that pill, he could take a different one - which he prescribed. And then he took you out to coffee - the best in town - and you talked for another hour before he had to get back. This time he shared a bit about his hobbies and you shared yours.

Kaya had an insufferable dreamy look on her face when you went back to the clinic with Law because your car was parked there and you had forgotten to validate the parking ticket. You couldn’t help the creeping blush on your cheeks as she, Penguin and Shachi watched you both arrive at the clinic together, looking fresh out of a coffee date.

Penguin and Shachi made smooching sounds at Law and you were pretty sure, based on Law’s pulsing jaw, that they would both be on the receiving end of his anger soon enough. Kaya, instead, decided to take all the fun out on you. “How was your date?”

“Not a date! Please, Kaya, validate the ticket. I need to get back to my dad.”

“Sure, sweetheart, sure. I’ll see you soon. I’m not sure the two of you can stay apart from each other until Monday.” Rolling your eyes to the back of your head, you tell her goodbye and turn to leave, but she doesn’t let you go easily. “I’ve never seen him this happy in years, honey!”

You don't turn back to her, but you can’t help the silliest grin ever from forming on your lips.

About a month rolls by slowly. Your dad is perfectly fine now, though he’s still not allowed to lift heavy things; your part-time job has a fairly good chance of turning into a full-time one with more responsibilities and an increase in your salary; you haven’t thought about your dumb heartache in forever and…

Well you and Law keep having little coffee dates. The tension between both of you is becoming increasingly larger and much more charged. He was away for about a week at a medical conference, and you suffered from withdrawal. You both texted, but you didn’t want to bother him and he was pretty busy, being one of the main speakers - man’s a genius!

Kaya keeps pestering you about how perfect you both are for each other and now that you’ve met Usopp - her fiancé - he says the same. And the way he says it makes everything sound even more romantic and story-like than when Kaya does it. You’re confused about the way you feel about the doctor, but you can’t help the little jumps and pangs in your chest whenever you’re together.

So today, as you stand in front of the mirror adjusting some of your cutest clothes, you can’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach. Law texted you saying he needs to speak with you urgently. You’re beyond curious as to what he means by that and your mind has already conjured about fifty different ideas of what it could be. Your anxiety is already building, making plan after plan about what he’s going to say, how you will respond and all the possible outcomes. About half of your thoughts end with you two making out. The others are terrible scenarios about complications with your father’s exams or the possibility that Law is moving to a different country.

You’re not in control. And you hate it.

Sighing you grab your jacket and sunglasses and tell your dad you’re going out and don’t know when you’ll be back. You manage to ignore his smirk, but can’t ignore the ‘Tell Law I said hi!’ he sing-songs to you as you leave, though you never told Shanks who you were going to meet.

Law told you to meet at Sanji’s, but when you arrive, he’s waiting by the door with two cups of coffee in his hands, and you realise he doesn’t want to hang around the café. Before you open your mouth, you have to swallow the hard lump that’s formed in your throat. A simple week of absence made the eyes grow fonder! You know that’s not the saying, but damn, the hot doctor looks even hotter now. He’s wearing his scrubs, but instead of the white doctor’s coat, he has a long black coat over them.

“Hi.” You whisper as he smirks at you, his eyes taking you in, making you realise you made the right choice of outfit.

“Hello, you look as gorgeous as ever.” You can’t hide the pink in your cheeks. It’s something you should’ve already grown accustomed to. Law always praises you, telling you how beautiful you look and what good taste you have. As if that weren’t enough, he pulls doors and chairs for you, he’s a gentleman. Though he doesn’t often show it, since, to almost everyone else, he’s just a moody, broody, stoic doctor. But he makes you feel special.

From your talks, you know he had etiquette lessons growing up with his uncles. Though he never cared for them, Law couldn’t help but absorb the lessons like a sponge. He told you that’s how he knows so many things. He just absorbs information, even useless stuff.

And at least now, as he claims, he’s putting those etiquette lessons to good use, because you melt every time he treats you like you’re the only person in the world. And he seems to enjoy leaving you speechless in his presence.

“Thank you. So we’re walking?” You ask as Law hands you the coffee.

“Yes, I need to ask you something and I’d rather not be too exposed to do it.”

Oh? What does he want to ask you? You can’t help but make more silly little scenarios in your head and get overwhelmed by them, but then he softly nudges you with his shoulder.

“Relax. Let go. You don’t need to be in control all the time, we’ve been through this.” He smirks at you and you chuckle back at him. He can always read you so well. He’s teased about what he could do to make you surrender control to him. He’s never been too explicit and you were always too afraid to ask.

But you know what he means. He’s talking about intimate settings, where you can let him take charge. And you can’t deny that it’s an alluring thought, to just let go of being responsible, of always having to be in control, of constantly needing to know what happens next.

But is it a door you really want to open?

“You’re doing it again.” He states, deadpan, and you sigh.

“I can’t help it. It’s stronger than me.”

“Right, I’m aware of that.” He leads you to the park, to a more secluded bench, where you both sit down. You sip your coffee in silence, waiting for him to speak, and you’re grateful you grabbed your jacket, as the weather has turned chilly.

He seems to be debating something in his head, opening his mouth and closing it again, perhaps unsure of how to approach the subject he wants to tell you about.

Until he sighs and finally does it.

“Remember when I told you about my uncles?” You nod. “Well, my uncle Doffy has an adoptive daughter - Baby 5 - and she’s getting married next weekend.” He sighs and you nod. You already knew Doflamingo had a daughter and that she was beautiful - Ichiji had made sure you knew, trying to get a rise out of you while blatantly flirting with her.

“Doflamingo he… well he’s always taken a special interest in me. He made sure I went to the best schools, had the best teachers and received the best education possible. He polished me to follow in his footsteps, to take over his enterprise as an heir. I never showed any interest in it.”

Interesting. “Why not have his own daughter take over the company?” You blurted out before filtering the question through your brain. Maybe he didn’t want to share more details than he was willing to give.

“Ah, because my cousin is very fickle with her affections… she loves too hard, too fast. She’s always willing to accept any proposal from any man who dares to stare at her a moment too long. This is her third attempted marriage, actually - Doffy called off the other ones before they went through.” He chuckles, clearly understating his cousin, and you can’t help but be surprised. “So my uncle can’t risk some man telling Baby 5 she’s beautiful and getting her to sign a prenup that takes away the company.”

You nod in understanding and take another sip of coffee.

“Anyway, I never meant to take over his place and, for now, he doesn’t press the subject. He knows I want to practise medicine. Though he makes sure I know everything that happens in the company - which I do - and he keeps me on the board. Unfortunately, Doffy also thinks he has a say in who I date - or eventually marry - even going as far as setting me up on dates with ‘possible candidates’.”

“That seems a bit controlling…” You mumble.

“It is. Doffy is many things, and controlling and manipulative are some of them.” Law takes a long sip of his coffee until the crinkle between his eyebrows relaxes and disappears. It’s the second time you’ve seen him rattled beyond his mask of perfect control. And Doflamingo always seems to be behind it. “I’ve avoided bringing any girl back to his house because he can be very inconvenient. But I know that if I show up to my cousin’s wedding without a date, he’ll want to introduce me to every eligible young lady he deems fit to welcome into the family.”

Controlling seems like an understatement, then.

“That sounds terrible, Law.”

He agrees with a nod and the crinkle is back. You feel the urge to smooth it out with your fingertips to help him relax. Or maybe by pressing your lips to it.

You drink your coffee instead.

“It is. That’s why I’ve been thinking and… well I’m going to bring a date to the wedding. A perfect date. Someone he can’t manipulate and someone he won’t be able to find fault with. She and I will seem so much in love that he’ll be forced to ease up on his agenda and let me be for the whole wedding weekend. Doesn’t that sound perfect?” He smirks at you, the crease disappearing when his eyes meet yours.

You’re suddenly a bit jealous, though you really have no right to be. But who is this girl? Why is she so perfect? So much in love? Why haven’t you ever met her?

“Sure, seems perfect. Flawless plan.” You whisper, barely able to shake the frown from your lips.

“I’m glad you agree. Because you’re her.” His smirk turns into a grin as you cough and sputter coffee everywhere, barely avoiding staining your outfit.

“What do you mean?” You ask, accepting the tissue he hands you with a gruff ‘thanks’ and wiping your mouth.

“We're friends, we get along well and… we can't deny this… tension between us.” He smirks as your cheeks warm. “I know we can pull off looking like a couple in love.”

The way your breath hitches in your throat has nothing to do with choking on your coffee, and everything to do with the implications of what he said.

“I know we're capable of doing this. I've planned the outcome. It's flawless. The thing is…” He scratches the back of his neck, his amber gaze fixed somewhere far away. “I also know I'm being selfish. I want to do this for my reasons alone. But to do so, I'll have to drag you into this mess. I've considered the implications, and if you say yes, you'll need to be aware of some things, but…” His sigh comes from deep within, from a place he's not yet intent on showing you. “I don't want to do this with anyone else but you. And I can't miss this wedding. And I definitely can't be paraded around like a prized pig.”

A strained chuckle escapes his lips as he tousles his dark hair again. “It's a damned if I do, damned if I don't situation… what do you say?”

You've been quietly sipping the rest of your coffee, trying to ignore the tightening in your chest at his words. A fake relationship? It does sound simple. You know him well enough by now, he's right, you're friends. He's also right about the tension between you two, and you could pull off being completely enthralled by each other without much effort. You wouldn't even be faking the attraction.

But what does he mean by the implications? Something about his family? Or the forced connection between the two of you?

Maybe both?

“I'm considering it. I want to help you, you're my friend.”

“But?” He asks while raising an eyebrow.

“What are the implications?”

The crinkle in the middle of his brow is back and before he even speaks, you already know it’s about his family.

“Doffy isn’t easy to deal with. He'll be imposing, inappropriate and most likely, manipulative. He'll want to know all about you and will probably test you, push you, to see if you're really interested in me.” He lets out another one of those deep, soul-shaking sighs. “I really didn't want to drag you into this, but I can��t take another family function meeting women I don't care about and never will.”

You can handle some probing. Hell, you went through the same thing when you and Ichiji made things official. How different can Donquixote Doflamingo be from Vinsmoke Judge? Probably not too different - same cold, smug look, same indifference… probably!

Seeing the slight distress in Law's eyes only strengthens your resolve. “I'll do it.” You give him a strained smile as he raises his eyebrows.

“Are you sure?”

“I’d never let a friend down, Law. Besides, how bad could it really be? Free food, dancing, pretending to be your girlfriend… I can think of worse things! A girl can be spoiled sometimes.”

He chuckles at your silliness, but the tension in his brow remains. “My uncle can be a handful… he… there was…” He looks like he's about to tell you something important but quickly shakes his head. “Never mind. As long as you're sure.”

You nod, finishing your coffee, and take out your trusted notebook. “But I'm not going in blind, mister. We'll need to learn everything about each other. If we're doing this, we're going to be superstars at it!”

Finally the crease between his eyebrows softens as he watches you with a flicker of amusement, a slight easiness overpowering his usual scowl. “I knew you’d say that.”

You grumble through your teeth, too focused on trying to find a pen in the chaos that is your purse, but you must have misplaced it because there’s nothing there. “Do you have a pen?” You gesture to his pocket, seeing some sticking out.

Sighing, he reaches without looking and gives you the first thing he grabs. As the pen touches your hand, you raise your brow. What the heck? Your eyes go from the pen to Law and from Law to the pen, an amused smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

“What?” He asks, taking another sip of coffee.

“This is freaking adorable. I’m dying. Trafalgar Law, the moody, broody, humourless doctor has a teddy bear pen. I might need to take a photo of this.”

Law’s ears turn slightly red and he purses his lips, but he tries to look unaffected. “So what?” He reaches, trying to take it back.

A giggle escapes your lips before he can snatch the pen from your hands. “It’s too much to handle. I never thought you would have anything like this on you!” You keep deflecting his moves so he doesn’t grab the pen and you can almost see smoke coming out of his ears.

With a low grunt and a quick move, Law grabs your chin and moves his face closer to yours, a glint of amusement and impatience in his eyes. “I like cute things, obviously.” He says as his eyes give you an appreciative once-over and you blush. “Is that a problem?” You can barely think with his face in front of yours, so you don’t say anything. He smirks, tilting your head higher. “Didn’t think so.” Then he snatches the pen from your hand with a quick gesture. “Stop being a brat.” His tone is sharp but his gaze is playful.

When he releases you, searching his pocket for another pen, you have to swallow hard and take a deep breath before you can remember why you needed the pen in the first place. As he hands you the other pen, he watches you with an insufferably smug look. “You were making notes about what we needed to learn…”

“Right!” You exclaim, feeling your cheeks flare up and start scribbling furiously.

He tilts his head to spy what you're writing and can't hide another smirk from overcoming his lips. “Favourite music, colour, movie, place… is this fifty questions type of thing?”

You don't stop your furious scribbling and you don't need to meet his eyes to know he's staring at you with mild amusement. “I told you I'm not going in blind. We need to cover everything. You've got work today?” He nods and you hum in disappointment.

“Tomorrow?” He says tentatively, not knowing where you're going with this.

“Yes. Only in the afternoon, though. Can we meet at your place?” You've been at the door of his apartment but you've never crossed the threshold. Are you being too forward?

Heck, nah! You're going to be his girlfriend for the weekend anyway!

“Sure. What do you have in mind?” His voice deepens as he raises his hand, placing his arm on the bench behind your shoulders, his hand caressing your hair softly as if by accident. Your pen drills a hole in the notebook and you curse and clear your throat.

“Studying. I'll compile this list and then we're going to answer these questions and learn everything about each other.”

His smirk only deepens as he hums even lower. No matter how much time passes between you two, his voice is something that always makes you shiver. “Studying each other sounds great.” You make another hole in the notebook and he chuckles again. “You're trying to be in control of everything again.” He says deadpan.

“I know! Let me cope, Law. It's the only way I know how to do this.”

He hums and you can almost feel the way he's trapping more words behind his tongue. He wants to say something else, but he just raises his arms in the air. “Fair enough.”

And then, to indulge you, he throws in some more topics you should cover before heading back to work.

After this interaction you're left thinking that this will either be the greatest time you've had in your life, or the worst.

-*-

During your free afternoon, you compile the list on your laptop, complete with a spreadsheet so you can note down Law’s answers and your own. You’ll then share the list so you both can study and leave nothing to chance.

You arrive exactly on time and by the second knock, Law opens the door to his apartment to let you in. He must’ve come directly from the clinic - or the hospital - with barely time to change, because he’s still in jeans and a dress shirt - with half the buttons undone, showing off his amazing chest piece.

As you stare at him from outside his apartment, a definite blush on your cheeks, as you feel yourself burning up, he leans his arm against the threshold while the corner of his lips slowly curls up. “Hi.” That low timbre in his voice has you gulping in no time. His amber gaze shifts to your laptop and he lets out a low chuckle. “You came fully prepared, I see.”

Clearing your throat, you manage to let out a pathetic ‘yes’ to accompany your nod and his grin intensifies. “Come in.” He slurs, barely moving so you’re forced to brush against his body to enter his apartment.

You immediately remove your jacket upon entering - the heat is already overwhelming. As you take a look around you notice he really is someone who’s always in control. His home is minimalist - at least the living room! Who knows if he has a hidden room where he hoards comics or coins or something like that - and everything’s in its rightful place. He has taste, the furniture is beautiful, but it doesn’t scream opulence.

“Nice place.” You say genuinely while removing your shoes by the entrance.

“Thanks.” Law says as he closes the door and gestures towards the couch. The small end table has an assortment of cookies and two cups of steaming coffee ready for you.

“Third-best?” You ask as you approach the refreshments, pointing at the coffee.

“I’m aiming for second. I bribed Sanji to point me to some tastier beans than the ones he showed you.” Your grin matches his.

“Competitive much?”

“You have no idea.” The intensity of his gaze doubles as you both sit on the couch. “So,” he starts while changing the subject, “what’s this all about? Fifty questions turned to one hundred?”

He’s joking, but he’s also right, so you give him a strained smile while you open your laptop and set it on your lap. “Something like that. Get comfortable.”

With a groan he picks up his coffee mug and lets himself slide down the couch while you giggle.

-*-

“Okay, that about settles tattoos and marks!” You don’t really have any more clothes to remove, as you’ve already stripped down to your simple dress, yet the heat remains unbearable. Law’s torso is still bare, since he showed you all his tattoos, and, even though you already knew they were sexy as hell, you were still unprepared. “Now…”

“There’s more?” He interrupts, another muffled groan escaping his lips as he puts on his shirt but leaves it open. “I refuse.” He closes your laptop as he sits down near you, the gesture earning him an indignant gasp.

“Law!”

“You’re too much in control.” He says your name sternly. “This is looking like an interrogation. What happened to talking and doing this the normal way? Where’s the spontaneity?” He adds cheekily, his arms resting behind his neck as he leans back, his chest muscles rippling with the gesture.

“There can’t be any. We need to be thorough, we need to sell this act! How can we do that if we don’t know everything there is to know about each other?” You spent hours on this list - even though you didn’t tell him that - this is the one thing, the only thing you can control because all the variables of the wedding in itself are daunting and terrifying.

You can’t control who will believe or doubt you, you can't control how Doflamingo will act with both of you, hell, Law doesn’t even know who all the guests are! What if any of the Vinsmokes are there? What if Ichiji is there?

Too many things can go wrong!

“We can very well sell this act on actions alone.” His voice promises more. Your heart hammers against your chest as your pulse quickens. The idea of not having control over the situation is still too overwhelming.

“That’s impossible, Law.”

“It's not.” He leans forward, leaving just a breath of space between you, his amber gaze locking you in effortlessly. “If you think that knowing my favourite book or food is going to be the only thing that convinces people - especially my uncle - you’re dead wrong.” His soft breath tickles your eyelids, he’s that close. He might be trying to make you flinch, or pull back. To challenge you and see if you recoil from his proximity.

You don't.

You stand defiantly, your eyes never leaving his gaze. Even if you're burning up, heat pooling somewhere in your belly, turning into an ache between your legs. “It’s not completely about what we say or how we say it. It’s about how we act. But mostly…” His hand moves, brushing a strand of hair away from your face and you tremble slightly. “It’s about how you react to me.”

You fight to regain control of your breathing, but then you counter his gaze with a mocking grin. “You think a few light touches and a piercing gaze have any effect on me, Law?” You try to scoff but the sound comes out weird and high-pitched. “I think you’re underestimating my self-control.”

“Really?” The huskiness in his voice sends shivers down your spine.

“Hmm, hmm!” Is your clever reply. You’re bluffing and he knows it.

“Then why are you clutching your laptop so tightly?” He raises an eyebrow as your eyes dart downward to your hand. Your knuckles are already turning white from gripping the laptop and you curse, trying to play off your gesture with a slight shrug, but he’s seen through you.

His other hand grazes your bare leg, starting at the knee and climbing up, a phantom touch, a mere whisper of his fingers against your skin. Your breath hitches as he locks your eyes with his gaze again. “You don’t need to control everything, all the time. I’ve got this. I’ve got you. It’s not a list that will make us believable. It’s this.” He leans slowly forward, his lips brushing ever so lightly against the corner of your own as his fingers graze the inside of your thigh, leaving a trail of warmth behind.

Your gasp turns into a soft moan-like sigh and you almost melt into his touch as your body gives in. How can something so trivial as a light touch feel so damn good?

“There. People will believe that.” He smirks, satisfied, as he leans back against the couch, leaving you breathing hard, trying to regain composure, as if he hasn’t completely aroused you with just a touch and a few words. “Is this enough for today?”

You get up, leaving your laptop on the couch and start pacing back and forth, hands wringing together, trying to regain feeling in your limbs. How could he affect you so much with a few touches? A few words? One glance?

What’s this hold he has on you?

“No.” You find your voice after clearing your throat and try again. “It’s not enough. We need to know how to behave as… as boyfriend and girlfriend. Like you said, we need to have knowledge about each other, but we need to get accustomed to each other’s touch.” A sigh escapes your lips. This is dangerous territory. “To… kissing…” His eyebrows raise but you pay it no mind as you continue, already rambling a bit.

“I don’t have a lot of experience with boyfriends…” A crimson blush spreads across your cheeks. “My ex… well when we were out in public, at big events, he tended to ignore me. He liked to showcase me as a pretty thing dangling from his arm, but then he didn’t really care much about me, drinking with his acquaintances, not caring about where I was or what I was doing… He barely touched me. Just enough so people knew we were together, but that's not going to cut it if we want to fool your uncle. I don’t really know how we should act and-...”

“Okay.” Law stands up and takes a step closer to you, making you stop pacing. His presence becomes suddenly overwhelming and commanding.

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, I’ll show you how I would behave with you in public, so you get used to it. I would never, ever ignore you. You’re too special to be left alone.” A flicker of something primal touches his eyes. A sort of possession in his gaze. “And I wouldn’t barely touch you.” His smirk makes your breath hitch. There, this right here is dangerous territory.

But it's necessary.

As you nod, he steps even closer. His hand reaches as he places it in the small of your back, his fingers clinging to you as he pulls you nearer. His eyes never leave yours, though the amber is slowly giving way to a darker shade, his pupils dilating. “If this were real, I’d keep you close to me, so people would know we were together.” You swallow a lump as he pulls you even closer, showing you how he’d stake his claim on you, a bit possessive, but nothing aggressive, just a statement.

“And if this were real, I’d steal light touches, to keep you focused on me.” His other hand traces the curve of your neck and shoulder, slowly trailing down your arm and stopping at your wrist, his thumb brushing small circles against the sensitive skin. You can feel your heart beating erratically against your chest, his voice enveloping you in a thick haze: commanding, seductive, enthralling. You try to focus and remain composed, but he’s making it so hard.

The fire in your belly stirs and ignites again. The embers turning bright and stoking the flames of desire within you.

He tilts his face, his soft lips grazing your earlobe and his whisper creates goosebumps on your neck. “If this were real, I’d have you in my arms all night, to remind everyone that you’re mine.” His hand slides up your side, his thumb grazing the underside of your ribs, just barely brushing against the curve of your breast. A fleeting touch, a feather-like graze that sends a tingling sensation through you, making your breath catch in your throat as a hiss escapes your lips.

The flame roars, grows and spreads its tendrils through you.

Law’s lips brush against your collarbone, sending heatwaves down your chest that pool in your stomach. Your hands clench, aching to touch him and pull him closer, but you remain firm, grasping the last bit of control you think you still have. “If this were real,” he whispers against the hollow of your throat, then pulls slightly back as his thumb brushes against your jaw, tilting your head upward so you can meet his gaze, “I’d make you beg for my kiss.”

You can barely breathe. Law’s presence is overwhelming, he commands all your senses, there’s nothing you can think about other than his voice, his lips, his touch. Every other thought, every other worry is erased from your mind. All you can think about is that you need his lips against yours; you need his touch. Now.

Is this what he meant by helping you let go? Surrender?

Somehow, you find a semblance of strength to speak. “I don’t beg.” Your voice comes out ragged and hoarse, charged with intensity, pure need and unbridled desire.

Law’s smile widens, lending him a sort of unhinged - but still very much in control - look that makes you weak in the knees. “No?” He murmurs, his voice filled with amusement. “Are you sure?”

His lips graze against yours, not a kiss, barely even a touch - just a tease. His hand slides back down to your lower back and he pulls you impossibly close to him, his body heat radiating from his bare chest and pressing against you as you tremble and squirm under his touch.

“Look at you,” his voice is tantalisingly low, slurred and full of promises, “I barely even touched you and you’re already a mess, sweetheart.” His fingers keep tracing your arms and neck, his lips taunting and teasing your most sensitive spots. You’re trembling and squirming under his caresses, hot, hard pants leaving your lips, your breath slipping away from you in ragged gasps.

You are a mess.

“I want to hear you ask for it. Beg. Tell me what you want.” He whispers in your ear, his thumb brushing against your lower lip and you close your eyes, whimpering involuntarily as your body responds to every touch, every teasing word. He’s right, he’s so right.

He hasn’t even kissed you and you’re already falling apart.

“Just say it.” He urges you.

You clench your fists, trying to regain control, trying so hard to win back something you never had to begin with. But it’s all too much. It’s too overwhelming and you need some sort of release.

“Please…” Your whisper is barely audible but you know he hears you. He tilts his head to lock his gaze into your eyes, his hand on your neck, holding you and tilting you towards him.

“Louder.”

If you had any thoughts left in your mushed brain, you wouldn’t be able to hear it because the pounding of your heart reverberates against your ears. “Please.” You repeat, louder this time, your voice trembling as you succumb to that final loss of control. “Kiss me.”

To the final surrender.

Law smirks, satisfied and pleased with your response, his teasing successful. “If this were real,” he starts again as his lips brush ever so slightly against yours, “you’d be begging like this all the time.”

He’s still not kissing you. He’s a breath away and not giving you the release you crave, the one you so desperately need. “Please, Law!” You beg again, a muffled hiccup leaving your lips. His jaw clenches slightly and he grunts - that primal sound that makes you roll your eyes in anticipation - before he leans in and captures your lips with his, his hand pressing on your neck, tilting your jaw as he pulls you closer.

He starts slow as you moan into the sensation, but soon his hands grip you tighter and he deepens the kiss, his mouth claiming yours with fierce intensity. He dominates the kiss, holding you against him as his tongue slides against yours in a wordless claim.

You whimper again as you dig your nails into his bare chest, holding on for your sanity and trying to ground yourself as your body and mind unravel for him, surrendering completely to his hold, to his control. He kisses you as if you are truly his. His touch, his scent, his presence: it’s all overwhelming and intense and you want to give all of yourself to him, because this sensation is freeing.

He pulls away too soon and you’re left trembling. Ragged breaths escape your swollen lips and you can feel your cheeks burning. You’ve never felt this way before. Your eyes widen as you stare at him, dazed and completely undone.

You’re at his mercy.

“If this were real, I’d kiss you like this every time.”

You can only nod, your head still dizzy as you try to regain control. Your mind is still too addled from the way he made you fall apart without breaking a sweat. His gaze softens somewhat as he pats you lightly in the head and gives you a smug smile.

“Good girl.”

|Chapter 5 🔞|

#one piece #one piece x reader #x reader #op #the meet cute #modern day au #reader x trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #reader insert #law x reader #reader x law #Spotify

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 3 months ago

Text

The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 3

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 3

Word Count: 3599

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Notes: Chapter 3 is now up! Let's enjoy these simple interactions before everything becomes fun complicated, shall we?

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06

Masterlist

You barely sleep all night. Every moan or noise coming from your father wakes you up. If he grunts in pain, you are by his side in a second. You keep checking to see if he’s feverish, cold, asleep or awake, struggling or sleeping soundly…

You are even more exhausted than yesterday.

When the morning nurse comes to check on him, you excuse yourself to get some breakfast and to go to the property to check on the animals or see if Ace needs any help. You gulp down a huge cup of coffee before leaving, though, hoping that it gives you enough energy to handle the rest of the day.

When you get home, Ace tells you he has everything under control and you should just go rest. You don’t rest, but you take a well-deserved shower, change clothes, have breakfast, drink another big cup of coffee and go back to the hospital. You have this day off work as well and then it’s the weekend so you can stay by your father’s side the whole day.

As you reach the hospital, you have another coffee and this time you feel it kick in as exhaustion is pushed to the back of your mind and you feel a bit more ready to tackle the day.

“Hey, dad. I’m back.” You say as you enter the room and sit by the chair. “How do you feel?”

He grins. “Much better. The nurse bathed me.”

Your smile quickly turns into a frown. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, bug. And then she gave me some more drugs because my back was throbbing like hell, and now I’m suuuuuper fine.”

You want to keep giving him an annoyed look, but you can’t help but chuckle at his silliness. “You’re incorrigible dad.”

He nods and grabs the remote, leaving it on some news channel. “Bug, you look like shit.”

The frown is back on your face in the blink of an eye. “Dad!”

“Sorry, but you do! Have you slept?” His gaze leaves the TV to settle on you again.

“I… I… a bit!” You stammer. “But I drank coffee, I’m fine!”

“Your eye bags say otherwise.” He shrugs. “Lean back, bug. Sleep a little bit. Or go home. I’m fine.”

You shake your head, cross your arms and stare at the uninteresting show with the highlights of some football game. “I’m not sleepy.”

“How many coffees have you had?” His voice is stern so you avoid his gaze.

“Some.”

“Bug…”

“Three! I’m fine!” Then you fish a book from your purse and open it, clearly putting an end to the conversation. “Let me read.”

Shanks doesn’t press and you actually manage to read a few chapters uninterrupted. For about an hour before you’re overcome by yawns. Looking at the time, you decide to try and take a quick nap before Law comes over to check on your father. Just a quick shut-eye.

You close your book and are about to get comfortable when the door opens and Law comes in, effectively chasing away all semblance of sleep left.

“Law!” Your dad exclaims, clearly still under the happy effect of the drugs. The doctor nods at him as he greets both of you and enters the room. His eyes linger on you, a slight crinkle between them as he takes in your state.

Your dad said you look like shit and he's not the most attentive person on earth so… you really must be looking terrible. Dreadful enough for the handsome doctor to notice.

“How are you both feeling today?” Shanks grins and gives him an enthusiastic thumbs up. Then Law says your name and you shrug, forcing a tired smile to form on your lips and mumbling a weak ‘fine’. “Maybe you should be resting. You know your father is fine and he's got the best care team looking out for him.”

Sighing, your smile turns real. “I know. But I need to be here for him. I need to know everything that’s going on and if I'm home alone, I'll just go crazy!”

That sly smirk tugs at his lips and he nods slowly. “It's a control thing, right? You just can't let go.” Your chest constricts and your breath hitches, the way he speaks those words… they bring such promises attached to them, it makes you want to let go, to surrender. But to what?

To him?

He keeps holding your stare. A piercing amber gaze that seems to bore straight into your soul, leaving your secrets bare and open for him to find and read them.

“Let's check you out, shall we, Mr. S.?”

And as he examines your father, you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and splash some water on your flaming cheeks.

-*-

By the time you get back, Law is finished and the nurses are bringing lunch for your dad. Your stomach growls as it smells food - even though it's hospital food - and you wonder if you should eat a sandwich from the machine or at the hospital bar.

Law says goodbye to your dad and intercepts you at the door. “Have lunch with me.” It's not a request. It's basically a command, the way he carries his low voice, a slight slur to the words. You want to say yes immediately, but you're frightened - and intrigued - by the hold this man has over you, so you shake your head.

“I shouldn't.” But you don't elaborate. Because why shouldn't you? You like speaking with Law and he's not your doctor. He's your father's doctor, so there’s nothing inappropriate about a simple lunch.

And he immediately sees through your facade.

“You shouldn't, but you want to.” Fuck. “We'll just grab a quick bite. You need to eat. I'm alone, you're alone. It's perfect.”

It really is.

“Go with him, bug!” Your dad sing-songs from his bed as the nurse helps him eat.

“Butt out, dad! And eat the food by yourself! You're perfectly capable of doing it with one arm! You've been doing that practically my whole life.”

Law purses his lips but you can see the amusement in his eyes before he raises his eyebrows. “Come with me.” He says and you let out a big sigh.

“Fine. Let me get my purse.” Entering the room, you glare at Shanks who keeps being fed by the nurse and tell him you won't be long. As you cross the mirror peeking at you from inside the bathroom, you frown and tell Law you'll meet him in five by the hospital entrance. Then you try your best to look presentable by combing your hair and fixing your clothes. It will have to do.

-*-

“So you entered university two years earlier. You're a prodigy.” A smirk leaves your lips as you nibble your food. Conversation has been flowing smoothly between you both and you've learned that he lived with his uncles since he was ten until he entered university, because his parents passed - he didn't share how and you didn't press. He just added that information when you shared you were a child of divorce and were reconnecting with your father.

You've been sharing professional and educational experiences and turns out Kaya was right. The man is a freaking genius. And you realise that that fact just turns his sexy points up by one thousand. You're so doomed.

As he's about to answer you, his phone rings. He excuses himself and takes a look, then a frown and a deep scowl etch upon his face but he quickly dismisses it and sets the phone aside. Just for it to start ringing again.

He sighs. “Sorry, I can't mute it because of the hospital and the clinic, but this is a bothersome call that I would rather not take.” Another sigh as the caller tries one more time. He excuses himself but doesn't get up to answer it. “I'm busy.” It's all he says, but you can sense him tense up, the mask of perfect control he usually holds crumbling slightly as he clenches his jaw with stress and tension. “Yes, I RSVP'd, didn’t I?” His throat bobs up and down and you try to focus on something else because you don't want to pry. “I don't know yet. Bye.

Law locks the phone with a grunt and sighs. “Sorry about that. It was my uncle.” You smile and nod. Could it have been Doflamingo? You noticed the way he talked about his uncle Rosinante - Cora - with a fondness in his words and kindness in his eyes, but he didn't elaborate on his relationship with the eldest uncle so it strikes you as somewhat strained. “Where were we?” He continues where you left off and you keep talking and getting acquainted.

-*-

Lunch went by in the blink of an eye and, once again, you realise how simple and nice it is to speak with Law. He's very profound in many subjects, intelligent, clever, witty and with an odd sense of humour. The only thing you barely got a read on, was his emotions. He seems to guard the way he feels about things behind a well-crafted mask of control and assertion. And you have yet to take a peek behind it.

Though his uncle calling him certainly got a rise out of him and they barely exchanged three sentences.

Law walks you to the hospital and stops. He had said earlier that he was returning to the clinic for some appointments and then had surgery to perform before dinnertime. He promised to visit your dad before heading home, to see how he was doing.

You start to feel exhaustion settling into your bones again, so you sip your coffee while nodding.

“You can't fight exhaustion with coffee for too long. Get some rest. Your father’s fine. This is an order. A doctor's order.” He adds with a slight smirk.

“I told you I don't follow all manner of instructions, Law.” He hums low and your knees tremble.

“I can see that.” He uses your name sternly and your eyes glint with amusement and desire. “We're still getting to know each other, but I'm sure you'll soon find out that following my instructions can be quite… rewarding.”

You can feel your pulse quicken as his amber gaze pierces, once again, so deep that it almost reaches your soul.

“I'll think about it.” You say meekly and the semblance of a smirk he had before transforms into a deep grin.

“Good.” He drags the word and you're left craving for more. Good girl, that's all you wanted to hear from his lips. He said it once. It was meant as a joke but the sound still echoes in your brain. Fuck.

You're so doomed.

-*-

When the sun begins to set on the horizon, you try to fight sleep so you can be awake for Law's last check-up before he leaves. But he said he was going to be in surgery so maybe the surgery ran late because he should've appeared by now.

Your dad is engrossed in another football match and you can't focus on the words of your book anymore. You try to browse through your socials but easily lose interest. Games don't help either, so you decide to just lay your weary head down for a moment.

You cross your arms on your father's bed and lay your head on them, your back stretching a bit from your sitting position on the chair but you have been bent for a while so it's a welcome stretch.

Closing your eyes, you sigh softly. You don't even notice when sleep claims you.

-*-

Law removes his contaminated scrubs and washes his hands. His surgery took much longer than planned and he hated that. He should be used to it by now, surgeries very rarely take the time they were meant to. And he always adjusts his plans according to that. But this one ran three hours late.

And he promised you he'd check on your dad before he left for the day.

And as much as he likes being in control, he hates to break promises.

So he rushed his after-surgery routine, hoping you'd still be there by your father's side, waiting for him.

You have an inexplicable hold on him. He can, at the same time, understand you as if you were an open book and yet be left wanting to learn more about who you are. He suspects there are parts of yourself still hidden from your own knowledge.

And Law thrives on knowledge so he's very eager to learn all there is to know about you.

By the time he reaches your father's room, the lights are already dim and dinner has been served. His own stomach grumbles to remind him he should eat something too, but he pushes his hunger to the back of his mind as he pushes the doors to the room open.

He's about to start talking when Shanks shushes him with a finger to his lips and a whispered shh. His chest constricts as he sets his eyes on you. You're in a godawful position that is not doing your back any good, but you look adorable in your sleep.

There's a strong feeling within him that urges him to protect and care for you and he doesn't really know how he can feel so strongly about someone he practically just met.

Truth be told, you have spent some time together thanks to your father's appointments and exams, and you have claimed permanent residence in his brain, complete with zip code, mailbox, address, you name it! Still…

He sighs as he sets down your father's patient chart. “That can't be comfortable. How long has she been in this position?” He whispers as he approaches.

Shanks shrugs and pats your head softly. “Hours. She has been surviving on coffee for more than a day. She just blacked out.”

“Yeah, she didn't look her best earlier and I did tell her to rest. But her back is going to kill her tomorrow.” Law sighs once more as he removes your purse, book and jacket from the corner chair and presses the switch to recline it. Then he sets the pillow near the head and approaches you.

This is the tricky part, how to move you without waking you up?

Easily, it seems. You must've really been exhausted because he picks you up bridal style and lays you on the chair, setting you in the most comfortable way before using his doctor's coat to cover you up and you barely stir.

He doesn't resist tucking your hair away from your face before turning to your father - who's watching him with slight amusement.

“Well done, Law. She didn't even stir. Those surgeons' hands are very steady.”

Law chuckles as he begins his routine examination. “They have to be, Mr. S. People's lives depend on it. And your daughter is just a heavy sleeper.”

“Perhaps… but I've noticed the extra care.” He winks before a frown takes over his face. “She could really use the extra care…”

Law doesn't really want to press, though he's curious. He's pretty sure your father said that because of your cheating ex. And though he's itching to know what kind of special asshole is capable of cheating on you, he lets it slide, as he adjusts the drugs in the IV and checks if the incision in Shanks’ back is recovering nicely.

Law and Shanks make small talk during the rest of the examination and Law can't resist tugging the coat a bit more snugly around you and making sure you're comfortable before heading towards the door.

Shanks’ eyes are closed when he speaks, but the older man can't quite hide the grin that overcomes his face. “You know, having a doctor as a son-in-law is something I wouldn't mind.”

Law snickers as he says goodnight and closes the door. That's a thought that will wander through his mind tonight.

-*-

You wake up to the sound of chatter in the room. The morning nurse is fussing over your father, giggling like a schoolgirl as Shanks cracks jokes filled with innuendo. You blink and take a while to adjust to your surroundings because you're quite sure you'd fallen asleep near your father's bed, in the uncomfortable chair.

A familiar soothing scent overwhelms you and you smile, feeling relaxed and at peace. It's a musky scent with hints of pine and… disinfectant?

Looking down you immediately find the source of the scent: it's Law's coat. The corner of your lips tugs upwards as you smile and remove the item from over you. He must've found you asleep when he came to see your father yesterday. Was he also the one who moved you? Couldn't have been Shanks.

“Hey, sunshine! You're up.” Your father greets cheerily as the nurse tugs the sheets around his torso and gives him a sultry wave before leaving.

“Dad. Stop flirting with the nurses.” You say sternly as you get up, stretch and fold the coat neatly before settling it back down on the chair. Then you saunter towards Shanks and give him a peck on the forehead. “How do you feel? What did Law say yesterday?”

“I don't flirt with the nurses, bug, they flirt with me. I'm irresistible.”

“Insufferable is the word you're looking for.” You correct him with a smirk.

“Law said everything was recovering nicely and I might even go home earlier than expected.” You sigh in relief. You know there's still a fair amount of chance for infections or other problems to arise, but it seems your dad is on his way to recovery. At least he's in good spirits and that always helps. “You know what Law also did?”

The blush in your cheeks is faint but you still turn your face away. “I can put two and two together, dad.” You mumble as you fidget with your phone.

Shanks smirks. “So can I, bug.” You stare at him deadpan as he raises his eyebrows suggestively.

“Well, you seem to be feeling fine, so I'm heading home to check on the property.”

“Ace's got it, bug!”

“And to take a shower and change. Need anything?” You add as he shakes his head. So, gathering your stuff, you promise to come back later and repeat the routine from the day before. Except this time you pack a meagre lunch so you don't have to go out to eat. Law said he would visit your father but he had a very busy day at the clinic so he wasn't quite sure when he would appear.

As you return to your father's side, you discover that Law had already come by - much to your chagrin. You weren't quite sure why you felt disappointed not seeing him for the whole day, so you brushed that thought aside as you made small talk with Shanks.

-*-

The weekend ended pretty soon and Law said your father would be released by Monday at the end of the day, depending on how he was feeling by then. He had already been able to get up on his own, shower and use the bathroom without any help. His back was still swollen, as expected, but otherwise he was recovering fully. You had been sleeping at home since you really didn't see the need to be by his side all the time and you were fully rested.

On Monday, almost at dinnertime, Law released your father from the hospital. He advised caution, rest, no heavy lifting or driving, and reminded him to take his pills.

The follow-up consultation - back at the clinic instead of the hospital - was set for next week and you were already feeling a pang of longing from not seeing Law every day, like you've now grown accustomed to.

“If you have any doubts, worries, or just want to talk about something,” Law's eyes glance at yours, “just call me. If I don't pick up immediately it is because I'm in surgery, but even then, if it's urgent just text, I usually have a nurse monitoring any urgent texts.”

“We would never disturb your surgery hours because of something small.” You mutter as his gaze rests on you again.

“Fair enough. But if it's serious, just do that. Okay?” You nod and your dad thanks him. He walks you both to the hospital entrance and before you leave to get the car, he touches your arm. It's a very light touch, barely two fingers, but it manages to send a jolt of electricity up your arm, making you gasp as you turn to him, lips slightly parted at the intensity you just experienced. “Don't be a stranger.” He murmurs and you smile.

“Well, remember I have the best coffee in town - second only to Sanji's - whenever you feel like drinking something other than hospital swill.” You smirk and he grins.

“I might just take you up on that.”

“Please, do.” You notice how his pupils dilate and his lips purse as you say ‘please’. It nearly has the same effect on him as him saying ‘good girl’ to you. The tension between both of you is palpable.

If only you were brave enough to glimpse inside the door you closed for yourself. No men. No relationships. No heartache. As simple as that.

But it’s all so tempting.

“Bug, the car?”

“Right!” You answer, a bit dazed by the intensity of the situation. “See you soon, Law!” You exclaim before leaving to get the car so you and your father can both head home.

|Chapter 4|

#reader x trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar d law #trafalgar law #law x reader #x reader #reader insert #fem reader #one piece x reader #reader x law #law x you #you x law #the meet cute #modern world au

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